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Melody's e-mail address has changed to: harmni@mchsi.com
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SPOOKED

by "Melody", and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
harmne@kans.com, Ecksphile@aol.com
August, 1997

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter One



Chapter  Six

VCU Office
Thursday, March 27
11:57 PM


	It was coming up on midnight and I was still at my 
desk.  Every time I closed my eyes I could still see Blevins' 
smirking face - I'm sure he thought this 'special project' would 
be the final straw that would break me.  Although I was dead 
tired, it was worth putting in these long hours to meet his 
impossible deadline.  Another couple of hours work would 
put me close enough to finishing to be able to go home at last.  
But the coffeepot was empty, and I need more caffeine to keep 
me awake.

	Walking back from the water cooler through the 
darkened section gave me the creeps, so I kept my eyes on 
my desk and the island of light around it. When I caught a 
movement out of the corner of my eye I jumped, fumbled, and
nearly dropped the glass carafe of water in my hands.  Agent 
Mulder was back, pacing silently around and around the table 
where the SOC photos were laid out.  Damn, that was how 
many times he'd scared the shit out of me now?

	He looked up as I stepped forward again, and gave me 
a tired smile. "Chandra, you're still here?  It's awfully late."

	"I'm still working on Blevins' 'special project'," I 
explained as I poured the water into the coffemaker and turned
it on.  "Another hour and I should be gone. What's your excuse?"

	"I just went by the photo lab to check on the status of 
those enlargements.  They told me they were finished and you'd 
already picked them up.  I came here hoping you'd left them out 
where I could find them."

	"They're right here."  I pulled them out of the file drawer 
where I'd put them while I was working.  I had thought about 
leaving them on the table Mulder was using, but I was a little 
afraid they'd 'disappear' before Mulder had the chance to see 
them.  He didn't need more problems.  "And I also have the
transcript of the interview with McNulty, if you're interested."

	"Thanks.  That'll be helpful - sometimes it's easier to 
catch things when you see them in print."  He took the envelope 
and I sat down to get back to work.  He wandered over to his 
work table and sat, squinting to see in the dim light. I thought
about telling him to turn on the lights, but as focused as he was 
I doubted he'd hear me. He reminded me a little of Sven that way. 
Ah, Sven....  Shaking my head, I got up and turned the light on 
for him, then poured us both a cup of coffee.  He didn't notice 
when I put his down on the table beside him; he was totally 
absorbed in the photo enlargements.  Larry had done a good job 
on them, I noticed, as I peeked over Mulder's shoulder. Even the 
enlargements from the fuzziest part of the photo had come out 
usable.  I made a mental note to bring Larry some of the homemade 
cocoa cookies he liked so much.

	I went back to my desk and got back to work, entering 
the information from the old files into the database.  From time 
to time I'd look up to see what Mulder was doing.  He drank his 
coffee absentmindedly, and got up once to refill his cup.  Most 
of the time when I looked over he was frowning at a photograph, 
peering at the transcripts through his wire rims, or staring into 
space.  I recognized the process.  In the VCU they call it 'getting 
into the killer's mind', and I've seen it in varying degrees in the 
other agents.  I've never seen anyone like Mulder, though. As the 
time crept past it was as if he turned inward completely - as if he
were watching the killer inside his mind somehow.  It was a little
frightening, especially when I caught sight of his eyes.  They'd gone 
blank. Totally... vacant.  No one home, insane - no, *malevolent*....  
It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

	I think I've figured out why they call him "Spooky".

	I tried to concentrate on finishing up the last file, but one 
eye wanted to stay on Mulder and I kept getting goosebumps.  
Little wonder I made no progress, but noticed every move he 
made.

	One minute he had devil's eyes; the next, he shook his 
head and blinked and was once again the Mulder I was familiar 
with.

	Fatigue was in every line of his body as he pushed his chair 
back and stood up, stretching until I heard his bones pop. Hooking 
his coffeecup with one finger, he ambled over to refill it, then 
slumped gracefully into the chair next to my desk.

	"How'd you know I took sugar in my coffee?  I didn't say 
anything when you brought me a cup black."

	It was just about the last thing I expected him to say.  It 
took me a moment to recover, and the surprise brought a bubble 
of laughter to my voice as I answered, "I may be only a GS-05 
clerk, but I *am* capable of doing that much investigation on my 
own!"  He raised his eyebrows and his lips quirked, and I caved.  
"I saw Scully refilling your cup when she got herself one," I
admitted.  "She put one cream in hers, one sugar in yours."

	He chuckled.  I really liked the way humor lit up his face; I 
wondered what he would look like in other, happier situations....  
Even exhausted and rumpled, Mulder was one good-looking man.

	"You look dead on your feet," I chided.  "Why don't you 
go home and get some rest?  You've only been on this case two 
days and you've already made more progress than the whole 
department did in seven months.  No one's going to think you're 
slacking if you take time out to sleep."  Well, in point of fact 
Blevins probably would, and Mulder's twisted smile said he knew 
it.

	"I will in a bit.  I wouldn't be able to sleep right now, 
anyway...."  He sighed, looking blankly out into the shadows of 
the room.  "Things are falling into place almost too fast.  I keep 
thinking I'm missing something, but I just can't see it. I wish we 
could eliminate the others in the picture.  It could still be one of 
them.  At least we have full names for those people now - we 
have nothing more than a first name for that mysterious girl Vinnie 
was talking about."  He broke off and turned to face me.  "By the 
way, I'm sorry for that."

	"For what?"  I had a good idea what he meant, but since 
I was still feeling pretty uncomfortable about it, I chose to play 
dumb.

	"The taped interview.  I knew it was pretty rough stuff, and 
I intended to say something to you before it started.  I forgot."  He 
angled his neck and looked at me appraisingly.  "I'm sorry it shook 
you up."

	It was on the tip of my tongue to deny that hearing the 
tape had done any such thing,  but I knew he'd see through that in a 
New York minute.  "That's okay.  It was my fault.  I knew when you 
looked over at me that you were giving me a chance to bow out.  I-I
thought I could take it, that nothing I could hear would bother me 
anymore."  I shrugged.  "I was wrong."

	He smiled a little. "You know, I'm just as glad it did."

	I looked at him quizzically.

	"There are some things people should never get completely 
hardened to.  That's one of the reasons I left the VCU in the first 
place.  It came down to a choice - either I would have to get 
hardened to all the horror around me in order to survive, or I would 
have to leave.  I left." He shrugged.  "I'm glad you haven't become 
hard like the others in here.  I'm *glad* that hearing what those 
kids did made you sick.  And it did make you sick, didn't it?  
Literally."

	Face warm with embarassment, I nodded.

	"It's nothing to be ashamed about, Chandra.  Shit, it made 
me want to throw up, too. I'm just relieved that working in this 
place, being exposed to everything that passes through here, isn't 
dulling your sense of what's right and what's terribly wrong.  A word 
of advice, though - if at some point you find you *aren't* getting 
sick at that sort of thing, it's time to get the hell out.  Get out 
before this place twists you into someone you don't want to be."

	"Oh, with any luck I'll be long gone before that has a chance 
of happening," I assured him.  "This only only a temporary gig, a 
step on the ladder.  Once I finish my degree I'm out of here.  Out 
of this department, anyway.  I want to stay with the Bureau, that's 
the main reason I'm still here, but I hope to move up either into 
tech support or one of the Computer Labs."

	"Really?  That's great, Chandra.  I'll ask Scully to put in a good 
word for you."

	"You'll ask Agent Scully?  You won't do it yourself?" I asked,
smiling.

	He grimaced.  "Scully has more pull with the scientific types
than I do.  Besides, in certain areas, a word of recommendation from 
me is like the kiss of death.  We want to get you promoted, not 
thrown out of here on your ear."

	"Thanks," I said, warmly.  Then changing the subject, I asked,
"Are the photo enlargements going to help any?"

	"Some, maybe.  Hopefully they'll at least convince the rest 
of the unit that I'm not seeing things." He stretched to reach the 
photos then leaned forward to show them to me.  "Now it's perfectly 
clear that these *are* black candles, and that this is a scrying dish.  
Even the pentagram came out clearly."

	I wouldn't have dared question another agent, but Mulder is 
so much more approachable I ventured to ask, "Don't 'white' witches 
- what do they call them, Wiccans?  Don't they use a five-sided star 
symbol, too?  What makes this different?"

	Mulder nodded and drew one on my notepad.  "The "white" 
witch symbol has the single point turned upwards, and it's called a 
pentacle.  For black magic, the point is down. It's easy to remember 
if you look at a pentagram with your imagination.  Facing up, the 
points of the v-shape look like the Devil's horns."

	I shivered involuntarily.  Mulder didn't notice, thankfully, 
and went on about the pentagram in the enlargement.  Looking 
closer, I noticed something....

	"It looks like it was drawn on the wall with pencil or 
charcoal, doesn't it?  Maybe they intended to paint inside the 
lines?"

	I'd just been thinking aloud - a result of my fatigue - but 
Mulder nodded absently.  "That would make sense."  He frowned 
then, and shook his head.  "I need to go home and try to stop 
thinking about this for a while.  This isn't getting me anywhere."

	"Sven has a saying for this sort of situation," I offered 
helpfully, hiding a smile.  Hopefully one of Sven's sayings would 
have the same effect on Mulder that they did on me.

	"Who's Sven?" Mulder asked, sidetracked.

	"Sven's my - what was that acronym the guys next door at the 
IRS dreamed up?  POSSL-Q?  We live together.  It's yet another on 
the long list of things Blevins holds against me."

	"Why should Blevins care if you live with Sven?" 

	"Because Sven was born and raised in Sweden, still has 
family and citizenship there. Sven's in the process of getting his 
citizenship papers here, though, he's already passed the test.  
There's just some red-tape snafu somewhere that's holding them 
up."

	"What's his last name?  I'll see if I can find out what the 
problem is."

	"I thought you didn't have friends in high places." 

	Mulder shrugged.  "I have friends that might have friends...."

	"We'd both appreciate it, if you could," I hurried to assure 
him.  "His full name is Sven Lindqvist."  I wrote it down for him.

	"So, what is the saying?" Mulder asked patiently as he 
took the paper.  It took me a moment to recapture the thread of our 
earlier conversation.

	"I can't say it in Swedish - Sven says I mangle it.  But it 
translates 'No matter how you twist and turn, your butt is always 
in the back'."

	His eyes smiled first, then his face, then a laugh bubbled 
up from his toes.  I laughed, too, glad it had had the desired 
effect.  Mulder was still chuckling when his cellphone rang in 
his pocket.  He answered it so automatically I wondered if he'd 
forgotten it was nearly midnight.  Or was he used to middle-of-
the-night calls?

	"Mulder," he said, then he paused to listen.   After a 
moment he flashed me what could only be described as a guilty 
look, and I knew who the caller had to be.  "Yeah, Scully, I know 
it's late. I was working and lost track of time.... No, I'm on my 
way home now, honest...."  He turned away from me slightly now, 
and I could almost see him crossing his fingers as he spoke. I had 
to bite my lip to keep from snickering.  "...And what are *you* 
doing up at this hour,  Agent Scully?"  His lips quirked and I wished 
I could hear the other half of the conversation.  From the amused, 
bemused expression on his face it was a pretty safe bet that 
Scully was giving him an earful.  He turned away from me slightly 
and his voice dropped.  I thought I could hear him asking her how 
she was feeling, but why would he be secretive about that?  He'd 
already mentioned Agent Scully wasn't feeling well... It wasn't 
long before he said,  "I will....  G'night, Scully," in a soft voice, 
and hung up.

	For a long moment Mulder sat looking down at the phone 
in his hand, then he seemed to remember where he was and 
reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. "I'd better be heading 
home," he said.  "I told Scully I was already on my way."

	I had barely opened my mouth to tell him goodnight when 
his phone rang again. He was grinning slightly as he answered it, 
as if he suspected it was Scully checking up on him again.

	"Mulder."  His face registered surprise, and it was quickly 
apparent that the caller wasn't Scully.  "No, that's all right, I was 
still up...."  He was silent for a couple of minutes, his eyes 
remote.  "No, I agree, I don't think there's anything to worry about 
either, but it won't hurt to check....  All right, I'm on my way."

	"Duty calls," he said with a wry smile. "Thanks for the 
coffee, Chandra.  Don't work too late!"  Then he was gone.

	I sat staring at the empty doorway for several minutes 
before I sighed and turned back to my work.  I felt a lot like I'd 
just been caught in a whirlwind.  The clock read 12:38, and I 
glared at the remaining files on my desk.  Thanks to my goofing 
off for the last hour and a half, I hadn't managed to get nearly as 
much done as I'd thought I would.  Crud.  

	There was no way I could work any more that night.  I was
exhausted, seeing double, still unsettled by the things I overheard 
on the interview tape, and to top it all off I wasn't wild about the 
middle-of-the-night drive home.

	I'd done enough.  I would finish the project tomorrow come 
hell or high water, I resolved to myself, but tonight I needed sleep.  
Turning off the coffeepot and flipping off the lights, I checked to 
make sure the door locked behind me and headed home.


End of Chapter Six



Chapter Seven

J. Edgar Hoover Building
VCU Section Office
Friday, March 28, 1997



	The morning started badly.  I didn't get home last night - I 
mean, early this morning - until nearly one, and I'd left a lot more 
work undone than I had hoped.  I *should* have gotten through a 
lot more, but stopping to talk to Mulder....  Okay, so it was my 
watching him that put me so far behind.  My fault. Then on top of 
that, when I finally did get home I found a message from Sven on the 
answering machine saying he had been invited to visit the gallery 
owned by the man he'd had the meeting with.  The gallery was in 
New York, so he'd be gone overnight.  Wonderful.  I didn't sleep 
well, alone in that huge bed.  I slept through my alarm this morning, 
not waking up until an hour later when the radio turned itself off.  
This wasn't a major disaster.  I usually give myself plenty of time 
in the mornings to get up, eat breakfast, and get ready for work.  
Sven wasn't home to get in my way or... distract...me.  I took a 
quick shower with my hair pinned up instead of washing it, since 
it takes forever to dry, and by rushing a little I was ready to leave 
at my normal time.  It would have been fine.  Except that the person 
in the car parked opposite mine in the apartment building's lot 
decided to back out of his space at the same time I did.  You 
wouldn't believe the amount of damage a 5 mph collision can cause 
in modern cars.  By the time we got that mess sorted out I was well 
and truly late.

	It was a quarter till nine when I finally made it into the VCU.  
I almost expected Blevins to be standing at my desk, but oddly 
there was no one around.  I hastily got myself settled, made 
coffee, and got to work.  It was only a few minutes later when 
Agents Carlile and Santos came in.  Johnson came in right behind 
them and made a beeline for the coffeepot.  Carlile, one of the 
louder antagonists, called out,  "Hey, Johnson, where's the Wonder 
Boy this morning?"

	Ben took a sip of his coffee before he answered.  "Mulder 
hasn't come in yet."

	Kasey Anderson, who was just coming in, added,  "I heard 
he missed a meeting with Assistant Director Skinner first thing this 
morning - didn't even call in.  His ass is grass," he practically 
chortled.

	It looked like I wasn't the only one having a bad morning. 

	For a morning that started later than normal, it seemed to 
stretch on for extra hours as I waded through piles of field notes 
and dictation tapes.  Mulder's clues the previous day had generated 
more paperwork than I'd seen in months.  It all had to be sorted out, 
labeled, transcribed, and entered into the computer.  Luckily I 
didn't have to do it all myself - some of the dictation tapes went 
to the typing pool to be transcribed.  I took a stack of them over 
myself on my way to a much-anticipated extended break.  In my 
hurry this morning I'd neglected to eat, and I was starving.

	My friend Megan was waiting for me at a table in the 
cafeteria.  She's a clerk on one of the main floors and hears most 
of the gossip before I do, and today she was practically bursting 
at the seams.  Rumors were rife this morning, she told me while 
I ate.  It was all over the building that Mulder was cracking again 
after only two days back in the VCU.

	"I really doubt that, Megan," I defended.  "I worked late last 
night, and I know Mulder was here until after midnight.  He probably 
just slept through his alarm or something."

	"No way, Chandra.  Mulder doesn't sleep, haven't you heard 
that by now?  No, he's gone off somewhere to hide or something.  
Look, there's his partner, Agent Scully.  I bet she knows where he 
is and is just covering for him."

	I looked up and caught sight of the petite redhead as she 
paused to pay the cashier.  If she realized most of the eyes in the 
cafeteria were on her, she didn't show it.  In fact, she didn't show 
any sort of emotion at all as she collected her bagel and drink to 
leave, but as she passed our table on the way out I was able to see 
her eyes.  They were shadowed, and she was holding herself so tightly 
I was sure she was hiding *something*, but I had no clue what it 
might be.  Megan was going on about something but I didn't listen.  
In fact, I pretty much tuned her out completely as I quickly finished 
eating.  Mumbling something about getting back to my paperwork, 
I headed back to my desk.

	Most of the guys were out on break or on other assignments.  
Johnson was sitting at the table where the pictures were still laid 
out, studying the enlargements Mulder had been working with the 
previous night.   Since Ben was one of the least likely to brush me 
off, I decided to ask him.

	"There are a lot of rumors flying about Mulder today."  I 
tried to make it sound conversational, but Ben saw through me and 
grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his ebony skin.

	"I'll bet.  Old Spooky provides a lot of fodder for the mill, and 
on a pretty regular basis, too."

	"Some people think he's hiding."

	He shook his head.  "I doubt that.  Mulder's not that sort."

	I sighed.  Ben wasn't being very forthcoming....  "What do 
you think is going on, then?"

	He put down the photos and turned around to face me.  
He looked pretty serious.  "Mulder has always been a kind of a 
loner, Chandra.  He's constantly going off on his own, checking 
on things no one else will take on.  Don't get me wrong - he 
usually turns up something on his solo jaunts.  And he's pretty 
damn near one hundred percent when it comes to solves."

	"So why does everyone make jokes about him?"

	He shrugged.  "He attracts a lot of attention, what with his 
solve rate and everything.  He doesn't play by the book, and seems 
to get away with it.  And I gotta admit, he's not very likable when 
the guys are razzing him, either.  He starts acting like a smartass 
and rubs them the wrong way."

	I didn't think that was fair.  "He wouldn't do that if they didn't 
make all the nasty comments," I pointed out.

	"Yeah, I know," he admitted.  "But you know what the guys 
are like in here.  That's what people remember."

	He turned back to the photographs and I headed for the 
computer.  I didn't agree with what he'd said, but at least I had 
some idea what was going on now.  Was that what Agent Scully was 
hiding?  That she was worried about him?  *Had* he gone off on his 
own again?

	I settled back into my transcribing, as the agents began 
to trickle back in from break. I didn't notice at first - they were 
talking but I had my headphones on to listen to the tape.  When 
they got louder, though, I stopped typing and started paying 
attention.  Blevins had come in from his office and was making 
some sort of announcement.  I nudged the headphones aside so I 
could hear.

	"The rumors you've been hearing around the building this
morning are true, to an extent," he admitted.  "Agent Fox Mulder
did not report to work this morning, nor did he call in.  All attempts 
to get in touch with him have been unsuccessful."

	"So what's new about that?" someone droned in an
exaggeratedly bored voice.

	"They start checking the bars?" Santos smirked.

	"No, no - the local loony bins.  That's where the smart
money's going."

	"Money - hey, are we gonna have a lottery about this?  
I've got five bucks on the loony bin," another called out.

	"Mulder'll show up a week from now, after we have the 
killer behind bars, and wonder what all the fuss was about.  
He's probably chasing some ghost up in Maine or something."

	"No, it'll be that UFO sighting down in Alabama - don't you 
read the tabloids?"

	"Oh, good, maybe a gator'll get him."
 
	"My money's goin' on the Sci-Fi marathon going on down 
at the Rialto.  We'll probably find him down there surrounded by a 
shitload of jujubes and Milk Duds, dug in for the duration."

	"Oh, no," declared Kasey.  "If he's watching movies, then
my money's on that video porn collection I've heard rumors about.  
They'll probably find him colder than a carp, with a terminal 
hard-on and a huge smile on his face."  It was the kind of remark I
would have expected from Anderson - the bastard had never had a 
thought originate north of his groin since I'd been there.

	There was a ripple of laughter - I thought Blevins was going 
to bite through his lip, he was trying so hard not to join in.  I 
looked at him, sure the disgust I felt must be written all over my 
face. With my usual luck, he of course glanced over at me just at 
that moment.  His face darkened, whether with embarrassment or 
anger, I couldn't tell.  I sighed - another black mark to add to my 
collection.  Well, I didn't give a damn.  I couldn't believe this was 
going on. Hell, all the leads they had managed to pick up had come 
from Mulder!

	"Yeah," piped up Walsh, almost choking on his own laughter.
"Maybe he found the killer and the two crazy S.O.B.'s killed each 
other off.  Then they'd *both* be outta our hair!"

	"Nah, we wouldn't get that lucky," another voice said.  

	I was completely disgusted by what I was hearing.  This 
was a fellow agent, for God's sake, who was missing, possibly in 
terrible danger - if he was even still alive.  This was a new low, 
even for these callused guys. I turned back to my desk, thinking 
it was perhaps time to put in a serious request for transfer.  With 
horror, I noticed two people standing in the doorway to the office.  
One was Agent Scully. The other could only have been, from the 
descriptions I'd heard, Assistant Director Skinner. They stood as 
if carved in stone, Skinner livid with rage, and Scully....  God, I 
could only imagine what she was feeling right now.

	I knew that she and Mulder were close.  I had seen them, 
seen how fluidly they interacted, like the proverbial well-oiled 
machine.  There was trust there, and respect....  The rumor mill said 
they were much closer than normal, even for partners.  Of course, 
I had heard the stories. The clericals always get the latest gossip 
first, and according to the grapevine it was even money that they 
were lovers.  But whether or not they slept together - and it was 
nobody's business but theirs, really -  they were still close, and 
the betrayal by these guys had to hurt.

	I couldn't take my eyes off Agent Scully.  Except for the blue 
flame of her eyes, her face was totally devoid of color.  Whether it 
was from shock or fury, I couldn't say.  She was certainly entitled to 
both.  It took every bit of discipline I had to keep myself from 
screaming at the others to shut up, to just shut up, as I saw every 
word strike her like a bullet.

	The laughter and jesting was trickling to a halt as the other 
agents noticed the pair in the doorway.  But Jerry Walsh, the self-
proclaimed life of the party, had his back to the door, and wouldn't 
shut his trap.  "Hey, it probably wasn't the murderer at all.  He 
probably got his wish and got himself kidnapped by those little 
green - oh, sorry - *gray* men he likes to chase.  He's probably 
sitting on his ass in some UFO right now, driving them cr- "  Jerry 
broke off as he realized he had lost his audience.  Some were 
studiously surveying the floor, others were trying to make eye 
contact with him, using head gestures in an effort to force him to 
shut the hell up and turn around.  Slowly, he did.  His eyes 
widened.  Then, with a dusky flush coloring his cheeks, he 
slouched down at his desk.  Blevins, of course, was now acting 
as if he disapproved of these goings-on.

	"I was under the *impression* we all worked for the Bureau, 
that we were all on the same team," Skinner thundered.  Suddenly, 
Agent Scully cut in, her voice low and icy cold, only a slight quaver 
betraying the rage she must have felt.

	"With what Agent Mulder has experienced, being abducted 
by aliens would probably be his worst nightmare."  She paused, then 
began again with more heat.  "Then again, it would beat his having 
to come back in here.  What is *wrong* with you people?  I don't 
understand you.  What makes you this way?  Mulder was *ordered* 
on this assignment, he didn't barge in because he wanted to.  Christ, 
he wanted nothing to do with you bastards!  He's served his time in 
this hell.  Nothing would have made him happier than never to set 
foot in this section again and never to lay eyes on any of you.  But 
he did what he was ordered to do.  And what does he get for it?  
This *shit*?"

	I saw Skinner's hand move to take her gently by the arm in 
a gesture that was at once restraining and oddly protective.  His 
expression, beneath the anger, was almost sad.  Softly, he murmured, 
"Agent Scully, - "

	Sharply, she shrugged away from his hand and turned furious 
eyes on him.  "No!   I'm going to have my say.  God knows it's 
long overdue."  She stepped forward, once again skewering the 
agents in the room with her stare.  "Ever since we came in on this 
case, we've been subjected to your hostility and your resentment 
and your bullshit.  You couldn't solve this one on your own, and it 
hurt your precious egos that Mulder was called in.  Well, tough shit!  
Mulder is the finest agent I've ever seen, and if you can't handle 
that, then keep it to yourselves, instead of acting like a bunch of 
two-year-olds!"  She paused for breath.  When she began again, 
her voice throbbed with intensity and filled the room, growing 
stronger with every word.

	"Mulder wanted nothing to do with you *or* this case.  He 
wanted nothing to do with picking up after you, cleaning up your 
mess.  I was naive - I actually thought that something called 
professional courtesy and respect between fellow agents in the 
Bureau extended to the VCU," she spat out bitterly.  "Mulder knew 
better.  He *knew* the reception he'd get from you.  Do you think 
he couldn't see your sarcasm?  Or hear the remarks made behind his 
back?  Is he just 'Spooky' to you people?  A freak?  Oh, you'll use 
his talents, his gifts, his genius, like the parasites you are.  But 
treat him like a colleague, like a human being?  You fucking 
*hypocrits*!" she shouted.  Suddenly, her hand flew to her face, 
and she turned and rushed from the room.

	I don't think I ever heard a silence so complete.  Everyone 
just sat, stunned.  Skinner's eyes followed Scully down the hall.  
Then he turned back to the assembled agents and strode into the 
center of the room.    A vein in his temple pulsed wildly.  He 
hesitated, probably to get himself under some sort of professional 
control. My eyes caught on the sidearm he wore on his left hip, and 
I was glad he was taking the time.  He looked furious enough to kill 
right now.  

	I didn't wait for the diatribe to begin.  Quietly, I picked up my 
purse and left the office, looking for Agent Scully.

End of Chapter Seven


Chapter Eight


J Edgar Hoover Building
Friday, March 28
11:47 A.M.

	Behind me in the office Skinner was in high gear, delivering 
a blistering tongue-lashing to the VCU agents.  The hallway was 
deserted, but as I approached the ladies room I thought I could hear 
the sound of running water.  I paused, my hand on the cool metal of 
the door.  I hadn't thought about what I'd say to her.  But after what 
had gone on I knew someone had to *do* something, *say* 
something, to try to make some sort of apology.  I blamed Blevins 
for a lot of this - the callousness, the cutthroat competition, the 
lack of teamwork, the unbridled egos.  But he couldn't take 
responsibility for all of it.  These guys were responsible adults, 
for God's sake.  Supposedly civilized human beings.  Nothing 
could excuse the demonstration to which Agent Scully had just 
been subjected.  I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

	She was bent over the sink, her back turned to me, bathing 
her face.  I thought at first she had been crying - until I saw the 
bloodstained tissues wadded up in the waste bin.

	"Agent Scully!  Are you all right?"  My voice was sharp with 
alarm.

	She straightened.  She didn't turn around, merely looked at 
my reflection in the big mirror as I moved to the sink next to her.  
I could see where she had been scrubbing at a bloodstain on her 
blouse.  There was resignation in her face, in her voice.  "I'm fine.  
I - I'm sorry, I know you work in VCU and I should remember your 
name, but...."

	"It's Chandra - Chandra Jones.  Look, I know it's none of my 
business, but the blood - "

	"It - it's all right.  Really.  Nothing to worry about.  It was a 
nosebleed.  I get them sometimes."

	"But - "

	"It's... hypertension.  High blood pressure.  When I get 
upset I sometimes get a nosebleed," she said dismissively.

	I may not be a highly trained agent, but I know when I'm 
being lied to.  "You should get that checked out by a doctor," I 
said in a carefully neutral tone.

	She snorted bitterly.  "I *am* a doctor. And my own physician 
is more than aware of my condition."

	All right. I could see she had closed the door on that 
particular subject - closed and locked it. I tried again. "I came 
here - followed you, really - because... well... it's not enough, but 
I'd like to offer you an apology for all that."  I hitched my chin in 
the direction of the office.  "It was completely inexcusable.  I 
know why they're that way. It's the work.  It makes them so hard.  
They have to shut off their feelings, so the work doesn't get to them, 
and I think they forget how to turn them back on again.  But it still 
doesn't excuse what they said, or how they've been treating you 
and Agent Mulder."

	She nodded and bent over the sink again. She finished 
rinsing her face and I handed her some paper towels.  "Thanks."

	"You're awfully pale," I commented.

	The wad of paper towels followed the bloodstained tissues 
into the waste bin.  "That's not surprising, all of my makeup just 
went down the drain. I guess I'll just have to look like a ghost for 
the rest of the day."  

	It was begging the question.  I knew it, she knew it, and 
she knew I knew it. Sure, she was stubborn, tough.  But still, she 
looked shaky.  I dropped my handbag on the counter and fished 
around until my hands touched my makeup case.  "The color's
probably not right for you - you're so fair - but you're welcome to
use anything in here, if you'd like."

	She gazed at her reflection, then turned to me and took 
the makeup case.  "Thanks - I might scare people or start some 
ugly rumors looking like this," she replied, a touch of bitterness 
to her tone. She lightly brushed on some blusher and applied a 
little mascara, then surveyed herself critically in the mirror.  "I 
guess this will have to do.  Thanks."

	"How about some coffee?  You look like you could use 
some."  When she hesitated, I rushed on, "No, not back in the 
office.  Or in the cafeteria. I know a place on the next floor.  It 
should be deserted this time of the day."
	
	Reluctantly, she nodded.  "Yeah.  I guess I could use 
some coffee, thanks."

	Normally I would have taken the stairs, but I still wasn't 
convinced Agent Scully wasn't going to pass out on me.  If she 
were going to faint, I figured it would be safer in an elevator than 
on a staircase.  We glided silently up to the next floor.  There 
were few people in the hallway, and we reached the door marked 
"Custodian" unquestioned.  I grinned at my companion's quizzical 
expression and turned the knob. Inside, a woman was seated at 
the small rectangular table.  I would have preferred if no one were 
there at all, but as luck would have it, it was Elaine, a friend of 
mine.  As Agent Scully preceded me into the little room, I 
gestured to Elaine that we needed the place to ourselves.  She 
nodded pleasantly at Scully, collected her lunch remains and her 
romance novel, and left.  Thank God it was Elaine - there were a 
dozen others who wouldn't have left if we had sprayed the room 
with Uzi-fire.

	"I didn't even know this place existed," the agent murmured.

	"I'm not surprised," I tossed over my shoulder, as I poured 
out two mugs of coffee at the counter.  "It used to be a custodian's 
office.  But in the last round of budget cuts, he was laid off.  The 
cafeteria's too far to go for breaks, usually - by the time you get 
there and wait in line, your break's over.  So a few of us 
appropriated this place for ourselves - fixed it up, scavenged the 
table and chairs, brought in a coffee maker and the little fridge."  
I looked around at the buttercup-yellow walls decorated with vacation
snapshots, picture postcards, and a bulletin board for messages and 
job postings.  "It's not much, but it's ours.  Besides," I added dryly,  
"there's just something about participating in a conspiracy within the 
very walls of the J. Edgar Hoover building that's very exhilarating."

	I carried the mugs over to the table.  "I guess I'll have to 
swear you to secrecy now.  I'm sure if the existence of this place 
were known, the head honchos would close it in a heartbeat."

	"Your secret's safe with me," she replied, a ghost of a smile 
curling her lips.

	I went back for the powdered creamer, stirrers, and packets 
of sweetener, then sat across from her.  "You know, if it's any 
consolation - I really don't think most of them really feel that way 
about Agent Mulder.  Most of the guys probably just don't say 
anything when the others start acting like jerks.  Not that they 
shouldn't defend him.  But it's just that Agent Mulder's kind of a 
legend in the section, and some of the incredible stories of his 
investigations....  Well, it makes it hard for the guys to follow 
in his footsteps, you know?  Some of them can't handle that.  So 
they get angry and frustrated, and take it out on him."

	"You should have been a psychologist," she observed wryly.

	I shrugged.  "More like just good old common sense."

	We were silent for a while, sipping our coffee.  I was relieved 
to see that a little natural color had crept back into her cheeks.

	Finally she spoke, although I think it was more to herself 
than to me.  "I really hope he's just ditched me again," she said 
softly, her eyes staring into space.

	The grapevine had been informative on that subject as well.  
It seems Mulder was always striking out on his own, usually without 
his partner's knowledge.  Some of the grapevine participants believed 
it was just Mulder reverting to type - the Lone Wolf, traveling 
swifter and surer into hostile territory unencumbered.  The romantics 
in the group felt he was protecting his petite partner.  The few who 
were well-versed in women's issues were incensed either way.  "Do 
you think his disappearance might have something to do with this 
case?" I asked.

	She pulled herself from her dark thoughts with an effort.  
"No, I... I really don't know, actually."  She smiled briefly but 
there was no humor in it.  "Mulder doesn't lack for enemies.  
Sometimes I think they'd have to take a number and wait in line."  
She drained the remains of her mug like it was nectar from the 
gods.

	"Can I get you some more?"

	She hesitated, then pushed her mug across the table 
towards me. "Yeah, thanks.  Why not.  It's not like I'm going to 
be getting any sleep, anyway - not until he shows up."

	I poured more coffee for the both of us.  Hopefully, Elaine 
had spread some story - like incipient plague or something - 
that would keep the break room off limits for a while.  When I set 
the mugs down again, I noticed Scully's brows knit in a frown, 
and her lips moving silently.  Once I sat down, she began to think 
out loud.

	"The body in Richmond was the work of the same killer, 
we're sure of that," she murmured.  "He had been dead at least 
four days when I did the autopsy yesterday.  We found the portrait 
within arm's reach of the body.  He was in the photograph - the 
victim, I mean.  About twenty years younger, but it was definitely 
him.  And yesterday's witness just added more confirmation to it."

	"Do you know yet if the portrait was left at the scene by the 
killer?"  She looked startled by my question.  Blushing, I continued.  
"Sorry.  I mean, I know I'm only a clerk-typist, but I pick up a lot 
of what's going on in the section.  I heard the tape of the interview 
that you and Agent Mulder conducted yesterday. I know that the 
portrait is pivotal to the case, and...."  I trailed off.  Had I lost 
my mind?  What was I doing, discussing a case with an agent - 
a consultant Special Agent at that?  My last evaluation had 
mentioned something about knowing my place and saving my 
energies for the performance of the duties in my job description.  
Obviously, I was going to have to work a little harder on that.

	She smiled then, a genuine smile that made her look more 
like a college coed than a physician or an FBI agent.  "That's all 
right.  I was just thinking out loud.  But you wouldn't be working 
here if you weren't intelligent and extremely discreet.  The victim 
- Richard Cleaver - lived alone, estranged from his wife and kids 
for many years.  We know after talking to McNulty yesterday that 
the killer brings the portrait along to the crime scene.  But Mulder 
was already pretty sure that was the case. The rest of the victim's 
place was pretty cluttered and dusty, and there was very little dust 
on the portrait, so it looks like he hadn't had it for long.  Mulder 
was the one who picked that up. I don't know anyone better at SOC 
investigation than he is. How he does it, I can't even begin to 
guess...."  Her eyes clouded with worry again.

	Encouragingly, I said, "You'll find him."

	"I wonder," she replied.  She leaned forward, elbows on the 
table, massaging her temples. "This has happened so many times 
that I can't help but think that sooner or later our luck is going to 
run out.  Maybe this time...."

	"He's strong and he's resourceful," I maintained.  "And so are 
you. You'll find him."

	"*If* his disappearance has something to do with this case - 
and that's by no means certain - the interview with McNulty is our 
best chance of finding him.  Of the twelve people in the photograph, 
only four men, including McNulty, and one woman are still alive. 
We've made some headway on contacting the others in the picture.  
Who knows, one of them may turn out to be the murderer."  

	"Well, that's progress. It sounds like you know a lot more 
now than when I spoke to Agent Mulder."

	She looked up from her mug sharply.  "You spoke to Mulder? 
When?"

	"Last night.  Before he disappeared.  He was here around 
midnight," I explained.  "I was here in the office, working late on a 
project Blevins dump- ..er, assigned me, and -" 

	"What did he say?  Tell me exactly what you discussed."  
Her whole demeanor had changed - alert, analytical, determined.  
I was thankful I wasn't a suspect.

	"Well, okay.  He came down looking for the enlargements 
he'd wanted made from the SOC photos, the ones of the witchcraft 
items and symbols from the backgrounds.  I asked him if he wanted 
to see the transcripts of the interview with McNulty. I had just 
finished typing them up and he hadn't seen them yet, so he asked 
for a copy.  I recall he said sometimes it was easier to catch things 
when he could see them in print."

	She nodded.  "Good. Go on."

	My brow furrowed.  There was a lot riding on this - I wanted 
to get it right.  "Okay... he was different - more introspective, 
more remote.  He didn't say anything for a long time, just looked at 
the photograph and the transcripts.  He was kind of like the way the 
guys in VCU get - you know, when they're profiling?  Trying to get 
into the mind of the killer?"

	She nodded again, a bit impatiently this time. "And did he 
say anything about that?"

	"No, not to me, anyway.  He left a little while after."

	"That was it?  That's all he said?"  

	I could see the disappointment - verging on despair - now 
touching her face.  "Well...there was the phone call from you," I 
said hesitantly.  "And then there was another phone call."
	
	"Another call?  From whom?"

	"I don't know.  He never mentioned the name of the caller,
I'm sure of that.  But he was concerned, and said he was on his
way."

	"On his way...," Agent Scully repeated, lost in thought.  "Did
it seem to you that he was going to have to go some distance?  Did
he use the phone again, to make plane reservations or anything?"

	"No, not while he was in the office anyway."

	"Did he give you any indication, any hint at all, whether the
call had to do with this case, or was it personal?  His mother 
hasn't been well," she explained.  "I just want to be sure he hasn't 
gone up to Connecticut to see her. I haven't wanted to call her - I 
don't want to alarm her if I don't have to."

	I closed my eyes and tried to think back to the previous 
night. "No, there was nothing to indicate it was of a personal 
nature. I heard the way he spoke to you, and his tone was different
on the second call.  It sounded like something to do with his work."  
I opened my eyes again and saw that she was slightly flushed. Did 
it disturb her that Mulder's feelings for her were so transparent?

	She stood up.  "Let's go."

	"Both of us? Where?"

	"You're coming with me to Skinner's office."

	"The AD?" I squeaked.  Oh, the next evaluation was going to 
be really something - assuming there ever *was* a next evaluation.

	"You're not in trouble," she assured me.  "I just want you to 
tell him what you told me.  Come on."

	Making a mental note to apologize to whoever ended up 
washing out our mugs, I followed Scully out the door.

					- - - - -

	Tiny as she was, I had a tough time keeping up with Agent 
Scully as we made our way to the 'God pod' - the term we peons 
used for the floor that housed the offices of the head honchos.  
Without preamble, she strode into AD Skinner's outer office and 
addressed his administrative assistant.  "Is he in, Kim?"

	"Yes, Agent Scully.  Just a sec."  Kim picked up the receiver 
and spoke into it softly, then put it down with a smile.  "Go right 
in, Agent Scully."  If she was surprised to see me go in with her, 
she gave no sign.  But that's Kim - *very* well trained.

	Skinner rose from his chair as she entered, once more 
looking worried.  When he spotted me, he frowned a bit, but 
motioned us both into chairs.  He looked expectantly at Agent 
Scully.

	"Sir, this is Chandra Jones, clerk in the VCU section.  I 
believe she may have been the last to see Agent Mulder before 
his disappearance."

	The AD's head swiveled toward me.  "Is this true, Ms. 
Jones?"  Scully's gaze had nothing on the piercing glare he gave 
me.  Jeez, how could such nice brown eyes seem so menacing?
Trying not to shrink back in my seat, I managed to return it calmly.  

	"Yes, sir.  I was working very late last night.  Agent Mulder 
came down to look at some of the evidence.  He stayed for about 
an hour and then left."

	"What time was this?"

	"I would say between twelve thirty and twelve forty-five, sir."

	"What were you doing in the building that late?" he rumbled 
suspiciously.

	I guess Agent Scully could see that I was getting a bit 
intimidated.  Well - more than a bit.  Smoothly, she said, "Section 
Chief Blevins assigned Ms. Jones a large project with a close 
deadline."

	Skinner turned back to me, his eyes narrowed.  "Does 
Section Chief Blevins require you to work those kinds of hours 
often, Ms. Jones?"

	"Not if I can help it, sir," I answered honestly.  "I take 
classes at night and I don't like to have to miss them."

	The AD nodded to me as if he had dismissed the subject, 
but I could see he had filed it away in his mind for further action.  
Damn, maybe I had answered a bit *too* honestly.  I knew that 
the accepted drill was to make Blevins appear to be the perfect 
boss, and myself the perfect employee - that's how the game 
was played, that's how one got ahead.  That was *not* what came 
naturally to me, however, as my counseling sessions with Blevins 
amply demonstrated.  But I needed this job.  The difference between 
the relatively good GS-05 wages and what I could earn on the 
outside was what paid for my college tuition.  If Blevins got his ass 
chewed for working me like a dog, or if Skinner got the idea I was a 
slacker - 

	"...Ms. Jones?"

	I looked up sharply to see AD Skinner and Agent Scully 
looking at me.  "Sir?"

	"I asked if there was anything else you can remember about 
your conversation with Agent Mulder last night?"

	"I'm sorry. No, sir."

	"Did he say where he was going?  That he was going to 
check out a lead?"

	"No, sir.  I just got the feeling that the person who called 
him needed to see him for some reason."

	"Did he seem alarmed?"

	I hesitated.  "Not really alarmed. Concerned, yes - alarmed, 
no.  Not an emergency, just something that should be checked out."

	The phone on Skinner's desk buzzed insistently.  He picked 
up the receiver.  "Just take a message for me -"  He listened for a 
few moments.  "I see.  Thank you."

	He turned to Scully.  "They just found Agent Mulder's car 
on a road off of State Road 382 near Croom."

	"Croom?  We had to go through there to get to McNulty's 
place,"  Agent Scully said.

	"That's not the worst of it," Skinner continued grimly.  "They 
found blood on the hood of Agent Mulder's car.  They've taken a
sample of it to the state police lab nearby for analysis.  They're waiting 
for the results now."

End of Chapter Eight


Chapter Nine


Friday, March 28, 1997
7:58 p.m.

	I looked up at the clock on the wall in the empty office.  
It seemed hours since the hands had shown any movement at 
all. Nearly eight o'clock - my third late night in a row.  Blevins' 
project had been finished on time, piled in an impressive stack 
on his desk.  But the triumph I had expected to feel was missing.
Not only was Blevins not there, but I was worried sick about 
Agent Mulder.

	After Skinner got that phone call this afternoon all hell 
broke loose.  He excused me from the room, but as I turned to 
close the door behind me I saw his and Scully's heads bent together 
over the desk, coming up with a plan of action.  Before I even got 
out of the outer office Skinner was barking out instructions to Kim 
over the intercom.  Then, I hadn't been back at my desk more than 
five minutes when he and Agent Scully strode into the VCU section 
office and closeted themselves with Blevins.

	Ten long minutes later they came out.  Skinner's commanding 
figure drew every eye in the office.  "Approximately twenty minutes 
ago I received a call stating that Agent Mulder's car had been found 
on a road near Croom, Maryland.  I need all the information you've 
gathered so far today and I need it now.  Status reports."

	Ben Johnson stood up at his desk.  "Sir, we've ID'ed the 
other people in the group photo and have virtually eliminated them 
as suspects.  Martha Jo Gallegher died of leukemia several years ago.  
Walter Jackson is living in Russia as a rep for an oil company.  
Charles Stiner became a member of a religious cult about fifteen 
years ago, and is living in a commune in Montana.  There's no 
phone there so we couldn't call to check on him, but we have the 
local cops driving out to the commune to verify his presence there.  
Jack Ouellette - Charlie, did you find out about him?"

	"I spoke to him myself.  He's in California, alive and well, 
and apparently unaware of what's been happening to his former 
friends."

	"So that seems to indicate a killer who resides on the East 
Coast and who possibly lacks the financial resources to chase these 
people all over the country.  Or lacks the time.  Or both," Skinner 
summed up.  "What about this Phyllis woman?"

	Dan Kravitz piped up. "We think her name is Phyllis 
Marchbanks.  So far we've been able to trace her whereabouts 
only up to 1988. We do know she has a long history of 
psychiatric admissions.  The first was early in 1975, when 
she attempted suicide following an abortion.  There've 
been... let's see... six others since that time, her condition 
apparently more serious as time went on.  The final admission
 - that we know about, anyway - was in 1986 when she was 
Baker Acted into Glenview Psychiatric Hospital in Virginia. She 
was released in 1988.  The usual - some shrink said she was cured.
Since then she seems to have dropped out of sight."  He passed out 
copies of a fax of an old snapshot to Skinner and the agents in the 
room.  Craning my neck over Dan's shoulder, I caught a glimpse of 
the photo.  Between the fact that it was a lousy photo to start with, 
the mess the fax had made of it, and then the multiple photocopies, 
Dan wouldn't have been able to recognize his own mother from the 
copy in his hand.

	"Well, since she's our best candidate for the suspect in these 
murders, we'd better find those missing years fast."  Skinner's 
glare took in the agents seated around the office. "She's also the 
most likely to be involved in Agent Mulder's disappearance.  Narrow 
your search to the geographic area we know she's frequented in the 
past - I think you'll find that that also takes in just about all the 
murder sites.  We need to move on this.  Blood was found on the 
hood of Mulder's car.  Tests are being conducted as we speak at 
the Highway Patrol Lab near Croom to find out exactly whose 
blood it is."

	From Skinner's tone, it was clear he had already assumed 
the blood would prove to be Mulder's.  If even half the stories 
passed along the grapevine were true, Mulder had a way of finding 
trouble.  Rumor had it that he had been close to being invalided 
out of the Bureau more than once for injuries received in the line 
of duty - and out of it.  Maybe that's why his ancient eyes were 
always so full of pain.

	"Is it really likely that Sp- Agent Mulder could have been 
overpowered by a woman?"  Jerry Walsh's voice was scornful in 
disbelief.

	"Mulder hadn't seen this photo of Phyllis Marchbanks... 
not that it would have helped much," Skinner observed dryly.  
"He left here at nearly one o'clock in the morning.  I got a follow-
up call from the Highway Patrol in Maryland while in Section 
Chief Blevins' office.  The officers who found his car also found 
fresh tire tracks immediately in front of his vehicle.  Apparently, 
the way they've reconstructed the scene, someone feigning car 
trouble or a flat tire might have flagged him down.  If that person 
was Marchbanks and seeing a woman alone and in trouble at that 
hour, Mulder would have stopped to help out....  At least long 
enough to find out what the problem was and use his celphone to 
call for a tow truck.  There were footprints in the mud by the side 
of the road - a man's size 11 1/2 and a woman's size 8.  Mulder 
wears an 11 1/2.  The man's footprints don't go back to his car.  
So in answer to your question, Walsh - yeah, I think if Mulder were 
unsuspecting, merely thinking he was helping out a woman in 
trouble, he could have been overpowered.  Maybe hit from behind 
and toppled into the trunk of the supposedly disabled car."

	I noticed Scully grow paler - if that were possible - as 
Skinner outlined the Highway Patrol's theory on what happened to 
her partner.

	Skinner continued.  "Now what I want from you people is 
this.  Two of you - Agents Kravitz and Haddox - will stay here and 
continue to work on finding this Phyllis Marchbanks.  The rest of 
you will accompany Agent Scully, Section Chief Blevins and myself 
down to Croom.  Chances are good that Agent Mulder is being held 
in the area.  Any information you come up with here is to be relayed 
to Agent Scully or myself immediately.  The Maryland Highway 
Patrol and the local police will be backing us up.  Kravitz, make 
sure you stay in communication with them.  They'll be given what 
information we already have to expedite finding Marchbanks and 
Agent Mulder.  Those coming with me - you'll be wearing your vests
on this one.  We're dealing with a deranged killer.  While there's 
been no indication that firearms are involved, we're going to play 
it safe."  His dark, glittering eyes swept the room.  "I want to make
myself clear - I'm holding each and every one of you personally
responsible for seeing that this operation goes without a hitch and 
that Agent Mulder is recovered safely.  Am I understood?"  There 
were murmurs of agreement.  "Very well.  We'll meet in the parking 
garage, sub-level three, in fifteen minutes."

	Skinner strode from the room, Scully only a few steps 
behind him.  As she passed my desk I put out a hand to stop her.  
"Good luck, Agent Scully.  I know you'll find him." I spoke with more
confidence than I felt, hoping it would reassure both of us.

	"Thanks.  I hope so.  We... we *have* to...."  her voice caught, 
then she nodded and quickly walked out the door, closely followed 
by the others on the team.  A couple still grumbled, still muttered 
about Spooky deserving anything he got, but I was relieved that most 
seemed determined to get their fellow agent back.  Too bad it took 
something like this and Skinner's harrangue to do it.  Too bad Mulder 
wasn't there to see the change in their attitude.

	The six hours since the rescue team left this afternoon had 
passed excruciatingly slowly. Dan and Charlie, with some information 
gathered by the Highway Patrol, had managed to trace Phyllis 
Marchbanks - now just Phyllis Banks - to an address on the outskirts 
of Croom about the time that the team reached the town.  Then they 
had left to join their colleagues, and I was left alone.

	I finished the project by five - barely.  I suppose I could have 
gone home. Instead, I picked up the phone and called Sven. Patiently 
I waited as the phone rang.  He rarely even heard the phone before 
it had rung half a dozen times.  On the ninth ring, he picked up.  
Quickly, I explained that I would be late again.

	"I thought you would have been finished with the Demon 
Blevins' project by now."

	"I did, but... Sven, Agent Mulder is missing and they think 
he may have been kidnapped by the serial killer they were after.  
The others have gone to try to find him. I just... I really don't 
want to leave until I know what happened."

	He grunted.  "This Mulder again.  I begin to be jealous of 
your Agent Mulder ~alskare~."  While there was some teasing in 
his voice, there was an underlying uneasiness.

	I felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt.  I guess I had been 
mentioning Mulder a lot in the rare moments Sven and I had 
shared over the past couple of days.  Despite his incredible looks 
and less... well, visible... attributes, Sven could be very insecure 
where I was concerned. "No need, my heart," I replied softly, my 
throat tight. "I am forever yours.  But... Agent Mulder is different 
from the others, so... vulnerable, I guess you'd say.  And he's a 
decent guy who treats me like a human with a brain, and not like 
some kind of servant.  I just care what happens to him."  I held my 
breath, hoping he would understand.

	"Stay, ~alskare~.  I hope your Mulder is found safe.  
Come home when you can.  I'll be waiting up for you."  His rich, 
deep voice held the promise of passion.

	My heart leapt.  Was it any wonder I loved this man?  
"I adore you, Sven, my heart.  I'll be home as soon as I know 
something.  And thank you. I owe you one."

	He laughed then.  "And I know what I want in return.  I 
have changed my mind again.  I have a fresh canvas.  Tomorrow 
will we start on your portrait."

	I smiled, my cheeks warm with the blush that had 
crawled up from my neck.  If posing me went as it had the last 
time, the portrait would never get started, let alone finished. "It's 
a deal, beloved.  See you soon, I hope."

	"And I hope, as well. Be safe, Chandra."

	"For you?  Always."  I replaced the receiver gently.

	I tried to settle down with some work that had piled up while 
I had slaved away on Blevins' project, but two hours passed and I 
was no further ahead than when I started.  I was just too nervous, 
too keyed up to concentrate.  What could be taking so long?  Why 
hadn't anyone called to let me know what had happened?  As I paced 
the office, I realized that that I was being somewhat unfair - no one 
would expect me to still be around, on the odd chance anyone would 
bother to call here anyway.  I shut down my computer - work was out 
of the question, I couldn't even think straight at that point, between 
fatigue and concern. Restlessly, I tidied the office and started a 
couple of pots of fresh coffee. The guys would be needing it when they 
got back. 

	I had just finished when several of them came in, grim-faced 
and blood spattered.  My heart sank.

	Horrified, I went up to  Haddox. "What happened?" 
Normally he was one of the more approachable and affable agents 
of the VCU crew.  But not now... Tonight he was as grim as the 
others and looked completely wiped out. His hands were clean, 
but his clothing was liberally smeared with blood, and there were 
spatters of it on his neck and in his hair.

	"It went down, but not clean."  He sighed and thrust a tape 
into my hands. "You'll have to do the transcripts at some point 
anyway, so you might as well hear it.  But for Christ's sake, use 
your headset.  Frankly, I don't have the stomach to go through it
again, and I don't think any of the others do, either." He turned 
his back on me and went over to the coffeemaker, poured himself 
a cup and slumped down over his desk.

	I was shaking as I took the tape to my desk and put it 
into my machine, putting on my earphones.  I waited tensely as the 
tape rewound, then I stabbed the play button.

	The voices on the tape were low, hushed. I turned up the 
volume.  Someone I didn't recognize was speaking.

	<<...farmhouse, just through those trees.  We think she's
alone, other than Agent Mulder.  One of my guys managed to get 
a microphone - a real sensitive, state of the art model - in there 
about an hour ago.  Taped it up to the outside of one of those little 
pet openings in the kitchen door.  We didn't hear much for a while 
- just the sounds of someone moving around and a lot of muttering 
which didn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense.  Then....>>

	There was a clicking noise on the tape, probably the 
sound of another tape player being turned on.  A hoarse, gravelly
female voice was saying with evident satisfaction, << <<So you've
decided to wake up again....>> >>

	<< <<Look... Phyllis... why are you doing this?>> >>  My
heart thudded.  It was Agent Mulder.  He sounded weak, but he 
was alive.

	<< <<I have to.  I have to pay them all back for what they 
did to me.>> >>  The voice sounded strangely reasonable.

	<< <<Did you kill Vinnie McNulty?>> >>

	<< <<Oh, yes.  I was there when he called you.  He didn't 
know I was there, of course.  Pissed me off - I had to rush things 
with him, couldn't take the time or the care I normally do.  You
see, I knew you would be on your way.>> >>

	<< <<Phyllis, this isn't going to help.  Killing me isn't going
to make you feel better.>> >>

	A cackle chilled my blood.  << <<Well, you're partly right 
about that, FBI man.  It won't be the same, but you'll have to do.  
There has to be thirteen, you see.>> >>

	<< <<Th-thirteen.  Because of the thirteen in the coven....>> >>

	<< <<That's right. Some of them are beyond my reach.  
If I could, I'd get to all of them, make sure they all paid.  But I 
got the ones I could reach - got 'em good.>> >> I envisioned her
leaning over Mulder and gloating, and I shuddered.

	<< <<What they did to you was terrible, Phyllis, but- >> >>

	<< <<They *defiled* me!>> >> she screamed.  With trembling 
fingers I lowered the volume.  << <<They fucked me and left me with 
Satan's bastard, and I couldn't...>> >> The voice broke, took on a 
pleading quality << << I couldn't get clean....  No matter what I 
did.>> >>  

	There was a few moments' silence.  When she spoke again, 
she seemed under better control.  << <<But I found a way to get 
clean - all by myself.  All that time in those hospitals, and they 
couldn't find a way...but I did. By sending them back to Hell 
the slowest and most painful way I could. So I could see how 
scared they were, like that night I -  ...Anyway, then, when they're 
dead,  I wash myself in their blood.  And every time I do it, it 
takes away a little more of the stink of their sin.  But I'm not 
clean yet. No, not yet.  Thirteen - thirteen and I'll be clean,>> >>
she finished in a sing-songy voice.

	I could hear her repeating her horrible little song, along with 
some staccato ripping sounds in the background.

	<< <<Phyllis, don't do this.>> >>There was no plea to the 
words, just a dignified, almost sympathetic calm.

	<< <<I have to.  But with you, I'll take my time.  It's your 
own fault; after all, you spoiled the last one by rushing me. I won't 
be rushed this time.  You've only been bleeding for a few hours -
we have lots of time to go.>> >>

	<< <<I wasn't one of them, Phyllis.>> >>  Again quiet, 
reasonable.  My God, I would have been screaming by now.  How 
could he - 

	<< <<I know *that*.  I'm not crazy, you know.  But there has 
to be thirteen...thirteen and I'll be clean.>> >>The words were 
patient, as if she were talking to a slightly slow child.  There 
followed a long, tearing sound - fabric, I thought.  << <<Now, don't 
move.  This is very sharp, and I wouldn't want to get an artery by 
mistake.  Too much waste in arteries, can't control 'em.>> >>

	<< <<Phyllis, don't - >> >>There was a sudden, sharp intake 
of breath, a bit-off gasp.

	<<Oh, God!>>  It was Agent Scully.  There was a click, 
presumably as the tape from the house was turned off.

	<<How long ago was this?>>  Skinner's voice demanded.

	<<Not quite ten minutes ago,>> the unfamiliar voice replied.  
<<Your people were just pulling up.  We didn't want to blow this 
thing by rushing the house when your people weren't in position.>>

	<<You did the right thing, Captain MacKenzie,>> Skinner 
said, but I could tell he hated having to admit it - he spat the 
words out like they were toxic.  Then, more softly, <<We'll get him 
out, Agent Scully.  We have time, and we have to use it to our best 
advantage.  We get one chance to do this right.  One false move on 
our part and ->>

	<<I know, sir... I know,>> she cut him off.  She knew it, 
but she didn't have to like it, any more than I did.

	<<Scully...>>  A sigh.  <<I have to listen to the rest of 
this - for any clues as to the layout in there, her state of mind, 
where she is in relation to Mulder.... You don't have to hear it.>> 
 Skinner's voice was almost gentle, nearly unrecognizable from 
the furious AD who had given the VCU guys such a tonguelashing.  
It was a totally different side to the man, a very unexpected side.
And it was obvious that he cared for Agent Scully a great deal.

	<<No, sir.  I'm fine.  Go on.>>  There was another click and 
the tape from the house continued.

	<< <<...going to take forever at this rate if you keep clotting 
off.  I guess I'm just going to have to open that up again....>> >>
There was another indrawn hiss, and over it, an involuntary sound, 
probably from Scully.  << <<There, that's better now.>> >>

	Damn straight that microphone was sensitive... I could hear 
each drop of Mulder's blood as it dripped into something deep and 
hollow and metallic.  I wiped my forehead and upper lip where a 
cold sweat had broken out, and tried to get control of my rebellious
stomach.

	<< <<Another one, now.... No!  Don't move!  There... hands 
bleed so well, don't you think?  There was an odd noise, a soft 
rustling of plastic-like material.  << <<There's no point in doing 
this if I don't collect every drop, FBI Man....  Don't worry, you 
won't feel the tape coming off, if that's what you're worried about.  
By the time the bag's full and I untape it, you won't be feeling 
much of anything.  Such nice big veins you have.  Makes it so 
much easier on the both of us...>> >>

	Skinner's voice was quietly urgent. <<Captain MacKenzie, 
I want what's going on in there piped into us directly. Can you do 
that?>>
	
	<<No problem. Just take a minute... Herington! Get 
over here....  He's our best sound man, Mr. Skinner, the one that 
got the mic in there in the first place.>>

	<<We'll get him out, Scully.>>  The AD's voice was steely.  
There was no answer from Scully.

	For the next few minutes of the tape, Skinner outlined 
a course of action to the assembled lawmen.  The microphone 
from the house was plugged right into the tape from the scene, 
but mercifully, not a lot seemed to be going on in there - just 
Phyllis' demented ramblings, Mulder's calm attempts to reason with 
her, and worst of all, the steady drip of Mulder's blood.  Then there 
sounds of movement, as if the team was moving through the trees 
and brush. I imagined them surrounding a lonely, dilapidated 
farmhouse.

	Skinner spoke next, in a hoarse whisper.  <<MacKenzie!
She seems pretty focused on Mulder.  What are our chances 
of getting someone close enough to see into the house?>>

	The captain seemed hesitant.  <<It's risky.  I mean, it would 
be easier when we go in if we knew the layout.  It would be even 
better if we could draw your agent's attention, so he knows we're 
here and can distract her when we make our move.  But if she 
sees us....  Well, it's your agent who will pay the price.  I dunno.  
I guess that makes it your call.>>

	Skinner was silent for moment. When he continued, his 
voice had that 'I hate this, but I have to say it anyway' tone again.
<<Get your best man ready.  But give me a moment, all right?>>

	<<Sure thing.>>

	<<Agent Scully!>>  The words were still whispered and 
must have failed to get her attention.  There was another sound 
of movement through brush.  Evidently Skinner was carrying the 
tape recorder.

	<<Agent Scully?>>

	<<Yes, sir?>>

	A long silence.  <<That's the second nosebleed you've had 
within the past few hours, Agent Scully.  Is there something you 
need to tell me?>>  Skinner's voice sounded - I don't know, stilted 
or something, like he knew he was being recorded, and was trying 
to get his message across without having to actually say it.

	<<No.  No, sir. I'm fine.>>

<<We'll talk about this in my office on Monday.>>  He sighed.  
<<Scully, I have a decision to make and I'm asking for your input.  
We can send one of MacKenzie's SWAT team guys close to the 
house, close enough to see in, get the lay of the land in there, 
hopefully even tip off Mulder that we're here and ready to go in. If 
he can distract Marchbanks when we make our move....  Well, you're 
a trained agent, you know as well as I do what that could mean.  A 
cleaner operation, less risk all around.  But- >>>

	<<But if she spots MacKenzie's man, she could decide to 
kill Mulder immediately.  Is that it?>>

	<<Yes, that's it.  It's a decision *I* have to make, but I can 
take your opinion into consideration.  I know how....  I know that 
you and Mulder....>>

	<<It's all right, sir.>> Any tentativeness was gone from her 
voice now.  This was Special Agent Dana Scully speaking.  How 
she managed to draw that line, to cut off her emotions from this 
situation was beyond me.  God knows I couldn't have done it.  
<<Send the man in.  It's the decision Mulder would make, 
and it's what we would do if it were anyone other than Mulder in 
that house.>>

	<<But it *is* Mulder.>>

	<<I know.  But it's still the right decision.>>

	<<Thank you, Agent Scully.>> Skinner's voice sounded 
strained, as if he were speaking around a lump in his throat.

	There was another rustling sound.  Then the volume of the 
microphone in the house was increased slightly.		

	<< <<...very nicely.  But too slowly, too slowly.  There's 
such a thing as too much of a good thing.  Hold still....>>  

	A bitten off cry, then Mulder spoke again.  << <<Phyllis, 
this won't work.  *My* blood isn't going to cleanse you.>> >>

	A sharp slap rang out, and when she spoke, she was angry.  
<< <<No!  *you * don't understand, Mr. FBI Man.  I don't have any 
choice in the matter.  *They're* the ones.  I won't carry the stink 
of their sin around on me the rest of my life!  This is the only 
way.>> >>  There was another long tearing sound.  << <<Now 
*don't* move this time.  If you kick over that bucket and spoil this,
when I'm finished with you I'll find your pretty little partner....>> >>

	<< << How - how...aagh!>> >>  He was panting now, 
though whether from fear or pain or anger or weakness, I didn't 
know.  His voice was certainly weaker.  << <<How did you know... 
about my partner?  You've never... seen her.>> >>

	A short unpleasant laugh.  << <<And what makes you think 
that?  I knew about you, didn't I?>> >>

	Mulder sounded stunned. << <<You...  You were watching... 
when we went to Vincent McNulty's house.  He said... he had a 
feeling like.. he was being watched.>> >>

	<< <<For months.  You think it's easy, doing what I do?  It 
takes planning.>> >> The volume on the house mike was turned 
down again.

	It was MacKenzie again. <<Director Skinner, this is Bob Lin.  
He's my best guy for this sort of thing.>>

	<<You've been briefed?  Good.  Now if you can get Agent 
Mulder's attention, indicate that we'll be making our move in ten 
minutes.  Do *not* attempt to signal him if it in any way increases 
the risk of your being seen by the suspect, is that clear?  We need 
to know where they are, if the suspect is armed and with what, 
entrance routes, impediments, and Agent Mulder's condition.  When 
you're finished, get the hell out of there and report to me 
immediately.  Questions?>>

	<<No, sir.>>

	<<Good luck, Lin.>>


End of Chapter Nine


Chapter Ten

Croom, Maryland
Evening, March 28
Excerpts from Audiotape of Rescue Scene



	For the next couple of minutes, the agents surrounding the 
house must have been holding their collective breath, because 
there wasn't a sound from them.  The microphone in the house 
was relatively quiet, too - just Phyllis singing her nasty little song 
again.  There was no sound at all from Agent Mulder.  Then suddenly - 

	<< <<Phyllis - Phyllis, I need to talk to you.>> >>

	<< <<You haven't got anything to say that I want to hear, 
FBI Man.>> >>

	<< <<I want to understand, Phyllis.  Talk to me, help me 
understand why you're doing this.  I want to help you.>> >>

	<< <<Oh, you'll help, all right.  You're going to help make 
me clean again.>> >>

	<< <<But I'm trying to tell you, it's not going to h- >> >>  
Another hard slap, and Mulder fell silent.

	<< <<Not another word.  I have to concentrate on what I'm 
doing.  I have to do it just right....>> >>  The house grew quiet 
again.

	There were some scuffling sounds.  Then Skinner said, 
<< Good work, Lin. Report.>>

	Lin must have been in good shape - he was barely out of 
breath from his exertions  << It was close.  The back door is locked 
but not bolted.  It should go down fast.  There are seven windows in 
all - three at the back of the house, two in front and one on each 
side.  Two of the ones at the back are open an inch or two, the rest 
of 'em are locked.  The sashes are old, and will probably either jam 
or squeak if we try to open 'em, so I think the front and back doors 
are our best bets.  I couldn't check the front door, it was too risky.  
The front porch is a mess of dry rot - I got away with it because I 
don't weigh much, but some of the rest of these guys will go right 
through if they put a foot in the wrong spot.  I doubt the front door 
is used much.  The car's pulled around back, and the path up to 
the front is overgrown with weeds and shit.  My bet is she keeps 
that door locked.  Again, with the dry rot, it should break down 
easy, but we'll have to make it in really fast.  They're in the 
living room, not a dozen feet from the front door. She has your 
guy strapped to a wooden chair. There's a table set up about five 
feet away from him with knives, plastic bags, duct tape, and some 
other shit.  She's ripped his clothes so she can get at his arms and 
legs. It's... shit, it's thee damnedest thing I ever saw, sir.  She's 
cut him up, he's bleeding like hell from at least half a dozen 
places, and she's.... collecting his blood.  She has these big plastic 
bags taped around his wrists, and he's bleeding into those pretty bad.  
There's a couple of buckets on the floor that the blood from his arms 
is dripping into. There's blood on the back of his head, too, but 
that looks dried.  And he's pale, real pale. >>

	<<Did you get his attention?>>

	<<Yes, sir... and he saved both our asses.  When I 
looked in the front window she had her back turned, doing something 
at the table. So I signaled your guy and he nodded.  Then she 
suddenly turned around toward the window.  He called her, got her 
attention, started talking to her.  I think he pissed her off on 
purpose so she'd concentrate on him. That's when I bailed.>>

	<<Is Agent Mulder going to be any help to us when we 
go in?>>

	<<The way he looks?  I really doubt it.  He could pass 
out any minute.  And- >>

	<<What is it, Lin?>>
	
	<<In my opinion, sir, I think we'd better get in there 
fast.  She's got his tie off and his shirt unbuttoned and she was 
slicing open the front of his undershirt.  I think she's getting 
ready for something - like maybe she's gonna go for his throat 
or chest next.>>

	There was a muffled expletive, then <<Thanks, Lin, good 
work. >> Scuffling sounds....  <<MacKenzie, get your people 
in position. I wanted to go in when it was dark, but I don't think 
we dare wait that long. You'll go in the back door.  Have teams 
ready to go in through the windows at the back and west side of 
the house - but *only* when you hear the doors go down, clear?  
You've got four minutes to get into position, and for Christ's sake 
keep it quiet.  Johnson?>>

	<<Yes, sir. Coming...>>  More rustling.

	<<Johnson, I want you, Walsh, Anderson and Haddox to 
go in the front door - take a ram, it's probably locked.  Be careful 
on the porch, it's rotted and you could go through it.  Mulder's been 
signaled, he knows we're coming.  He'll distract her if he's able, 
but he's in bad shape and I don't know how much we can count on 
his help.  The rest of us will cover the east windows, the garage and 
her vehicle.  This woman is *not* to get away.  Clear?>>

	<<Yes, sir.>>

	<<Get in position.  We move in exactly... three minutes.>>

	I heard Johnson crawl off, his voice in the background briefing 
the others.

	<<Sir?>>

	<<Agent Scully.... How much of that did you hear?>>

	<<More than I wanted to.>>

	<< I think we're going to need your medical skills more than 
your abilities as an agent this time, Agent Scully.  Hang back.  
As soon as we go in call EMS.  I don't want to call them now -  if 
they come in with their sirens blaring, it's all over. We'll get 
Marchbanks restrained, then you see what you can do for Agent 
Mulder.>>

	<<Sir, if this has anything to do with ->>

	<<The only thing it has to do with, Agent Scully, is the fact
that you're a medical doctor. There's going to be about twenty people 
in there capable of taking the prisoner down - you're the only person 
here who can do something beyond rudimentary first aid.  You can't 
do Mulder any good if you get caught in the melee and need medical 
attention yourself.>>  Skinner's tone did not invite argument.

	<<Yes, sir.>>  Still the good soldier, but obviously upset at 
not being in the first wave.

	I wiped my sweating palms on my skirt.  My drycleaner was 
going to be rich.

	The next two minutes passed with only my galloping 
heartbeat to listen to.  Then there was a whisper.  <<Everyone's in 
position, sir.>>

	<<Very well - in thirty seconds.>>

	A few seconds later, the microphone from the house came 
to life again, first with the sounds of someone walking around, 
handling some implements that chinked together.

	<< <<Phyllis, what... what are you doing?>> >>

	<< <<Too long. It's taking too long.  Something's not 
right - I can feel it, it feels wrong, it feels like it's going to be 
spoiled. And I have to get this stink off.  I have to wash and get 
their stink off.>> >>

	Mulder suddenly seemed more alert, his voice raised as 
if he knew someone outside were listening.  << << You won't be 
able to collect the blood if you cut my throat....>> >>

	<< <<Why don't you let me worry about that, eh?  I'm an 
old hand at this....>> >>  There were more staccato tearing sounds, 
and more of the soft rustle of plastic.

	<< <<I can't let you do this, Phyllis....>> >>

	<< <<*You* don't have much choice.>> >>

	Come on, come *on*, I thought frantically.  Go in, go in *now*.

	Suddenly, there was a muffled crunch from outside and an 
enraged howl from inside the house.  Almost simultaneously there 
was a yell from Mulder, a soft thud, and two deafening crashes.  Then
bedlam ensued.

	<<Federal agents!  Move ba->> 
	<<Wait, where's - >>
	<<Get her, she's got - >>
	<<Drop it, drop it n- agghh!>>

	Then gunfire - lots of gunfire.

	There was a moment of perfect, stunned silence, then -

	<<Man down, man down!>>
	<<Fuck! get a paramedic, quick! Ben!  Ben!>>
	
	Ben? Ben Johnson?  What -

	<<Two - no, three men down!  Somebody for Christ's sake call 
the fucking paramedics!>>
	<<...nah, suspect's deader than a doornail....>>	
	<<Christ, have you ever seen so much fuckin' blood?>>
	<<Where the hell are they?>>

	Then Scully must have appeared.  Skinner's voice bellowed 
over the shouts and cries, <<Scully - see if you can help Johnson.  
No, I'll get Mulder. Just see to Johnson!>>

	The cacaphony was dying down, enough to now hear a 
ghastly, gurgling, choking sound.

	<<Ben, take it easy, we're trying to help you.>> A clearly 
horrified Agent Scully.  <<You - Santos?  Hold his neck right here.  
Pinch together -*hard* - and don't let go for anything.  Ben! Stay 
with us!  Come on, Ben, don't give up on me.... >>

	Jesus!  Ben.... No wonder the guys....

	<<Mulder, hold still,>> Skinner commanded from nearby.  
<<I'm going to cut the straps and get the chair off of you. Now, 
hold on!>>

	<<No pulse!  Haddox, do chest compressions, I'll breathe 
him.  Santos - just keep pinching that artery....>> Scully sounded 
breathless as she cared for Johnson.

	<<Agent Scully - Anderson needs help!  Gunshot wound in 
the arm, >> called someone from a distance.

	<<Tell him to get in line!>> she yelled, then breathlessly, 
<<...three, four, five.......one, two, three, four, five....>>

	The wail of an ambulance began to grow more insistent in the 
background.

	<<Don't move, Mulder. No!  Don't try to get up.>> Skinner's 
voice was quiet and firm, but even he sounded shell-shocked. 
<<No, leave those alone.>>  There was some murmuring I couldn't 
quite catch; if it was Mulder, he was awfully weak.  <<She's working 
on Johnson. I don't know, maybe we should keep those. No!  Agent 
Mulder, don't you dare pass out on me - that's an order.  Come on, 
Fox, stay with me.>>  There was a faint whisper, then the AD said 
dryly, <<I think that constitutes insubordination, mister.  I could 
write you up for that.>>

	The scream of the siren finally stopped and there was the 
clatter of boots.

	<<Jesus Christ - Marty, call for another unit!  It looks like a 
fuckin' slaughterhouse in there!  Christ, where do I start?>>

	<<Here!>> called Agent Scully.  <<Slash wound across the 
throat, severing the jugular and the carotid.  He arrested two - no, 
three minutes ago.  Take him *now*, and send for two more 
ambulances.>>

	<<Already called in, lady.  All right, buddy, keep doing the 
compressions while we get him into the MAST suit.  Vitals?>>

	<<No pulse, no BP, no spontaneous respiration.>>

	<<Shit....>>

	<<Save him!  You've got to save him!>>  I think it was Jerry 
Walsh's voice.

	<<Take it easy, buddy.  We'll do our best, but....  Okay, on 
my count we move him to the gurney.  Ready?  One... two... three....
Good.... Okay - Fred, compressions, Marty, you bag him. We'll 
intubate on the way - if we can.  You - holding his neck - you move 
with us out to the van....  Howard, we'll have to carry him over that 
fuckin' hole in the porch.  Okay, out!  Everyone clear, coming 
through. Clear the way, please!>>

	<<Agent Scully, is he gonna be okay?>>  It was Charlie.

	<<I-I don't know Charlie....  It doesn't look good....>>

	<<Scully!>>

	<<Coming, sir!>>

	All sound from the audiotape was drowned out for the next 
several seconds by the siren of the ambulance pulling away from the 
farmhouse.

	<< -kay....  I'm here, Mulder. Sir, get his legs up on the chair, 
shock position.  Mulder?  Mulder, can you hear me?>>  Mumbling....  
<<I know, but it's okay now...>>

	<<I didn't know what I should do about the.. bags....  I didn't 
know if - >>> For once, Skinner seemed totally out of his element.

	<<Take them off. Just untape them and get rid of them. 
It's mostly clotted, certainly contaminated.  They won't be able to 
use it for an autologous transfusion, if that's what you were 
thinking.>>

	<<I don't know what the hell I was thinking, at this point.  
Just... it's just that he looks so pale.>>

	<<I know....  Mulder - stay awake, Mulder!  Sir, I have some 
gloves you can use...>>>

	<<It's a little late for that, wouldn't you say?  I'm covered in 
blood already, his, Johnson's, and that woman's.  Hold on, Mulder.  
I'm just going to unbag you here....>>  There was another tearing 
noise, somewhat more muffled than any previous.

	<<*Shit!*>> That was the first thing Mulder had said that I could 
make out, but then his voice fell back to murmurs.

	The AD chuckled. The sound struck me as strange,  for some 
reason I couldn't quite grasp.  Then I realized it was because I don't 
think anyone had ever heard him do it before.

	<<What did Mulder say, sir?>>

	<<He said at least Phyllis promised not to hurt him when 
she tore of the tape.>>

	<<Quit bitching, Mulder.  Sir, apply firm pressure to those 
incisions.  I'm going to try to take his blood pressure if I can find 
a spot on his arm to put the cuff....  It's gonna feel tight for a 
minute, Mulder. ..Sixty over forty....Pulse - Christ, Mulder, slow 
down! - one forty eight.>>

	I took a guess that that wasn't good, confirmed a moment 
later by Agent Scully. <<It's official, Mulder, you're in shock.  Can 
you find him a blanket, please, sir?  We need to try to keep him 
warm.>>

	<<No problem, Agent Scully.>>

	Multiple sirens in the background grew progressively louder.  
It seemed every emergency vehicle in Maryland was converging on 
the farmhouse. It was a couple of minutes before I could hear anyone 
talking on the tape.

	<<Thanks, sir.  Here you go, Mulder.>>  More mumbles....  
<<Yes, I know you're cold,>> she said sympathetically.<<...but we 
have to leave your arms and legs out for a minute while we get you 
bandaged.  You're still bleeding, Mulder, we have to get it stopped.>>
There was another sound of ripping, paper this time, I thought. 
 <<Sir, take these dressings, fold them up and tape them down tight 
over the incisions.  Here....>> More mumbles.  <<Yes, Mulder, 'more 
fucking tape', we have to stop this bleeding.  ...Yes, good, that's 
good, sir....>>

	More clomping of boots.  <<Paramedics!>>

	<<Over here!>> Agent Scully called.  <<There's one in the 
kitchen, too, a gunshot wound.>>

	<<Andy, kitchen....  Okay, ma'am, just move aside.>>

	<<I'm a doctor.>>  The tone could have frosted Miami. <<He's
suffering from hypovolemic shock secondary to blood loss.  BP is 
sixty over forty, pulse one forty eight, respirations thirty.  He's 
responsive to verbal cues, but just barely.  Start an IV of normal 
saline, wide open.  Two, if you can.  You'll have to start it high in 
the cephalics - lower down, his arms and legs are a mess.  And he's 
type AB negative, so you'd better call ahead to your lab and the
local blood bank.  And start oxygen - by mask.>>

	<<Yes, *ma'am*!>>   The voice lowered, muttering,  <<Hey 
pal, is she always like this?>>

	More mumbles, followed by a chuckle from the paramedic.

	<<Good thing I didn't hear that, Mulder.  And - John, is it? 
I'm riding in the back with him on the way in.>>

	<<You're the doc.  I'm just going to get his IV's started and 
finish the pressure dressings.  Maybe get him in a MAST suit. Then 
we'll roll.>>

	<<Sir, could you stay with him for a second?  I want to
check on Anderson.>>

	<<I'll be here, Agent Scully.>>

	More mumbles....

	Her voice was a whisper this time, perhaps meant for his 
ears only.  <<I won't leave you, Mulder.  I'd never leave you.  I'm 
just going to check on Anderson for a minute, and then I'll be back.  
I'll be with you in the ambulance on the way in, and in the ER.  And
I'll be with you when you wake up in ICU.  Aren't I always?  ...No,
don't try to talk....  I know....  Hang on, Mulder.... I nee->>

	The tape snapped off with a sharp click and began to rewind.

	Unsteadily, I got to my feet.  Something dropped on the 
jacket of my suit.  It was only when I put my hand to my face that I 
realized my cheeks were wet, wet with the tears I didn't know were 
falling.  I went over to Charlie, who was still hunched over at his
desk.

	"Charlie...?"

	He sat up, his face devoid of expression though his eyes 
were red.  "She heard us.  Someone went through that fucking porch.  
Sounded like a fucking gunshot.  We broke down the door and we 
were in in less than two seconds.  Mulder tried - threw himself over 
in the chair, trying to knock her down before she could get to the 
door.  But she was too fast - her arm came up and Ben was spouting 
blood like a geyser...."

	"Charlie, is Ben...."

	He looked up at me dully.  "Didn't make it. DOA."

	"Oh, God!"  I felt the tears start again.  "Anderson?"

	"He's not bad, he'll probably be released from the hospital in the
morning."

	"And Agent Mulder?"

	He shook his head, and my heart just about stopped.  "I 
don't know.  Skinner was at the hospital for a while, but left to go 
break the news to Ben's wife Sheila, and stay with her until her 
mother gets there to be with her. Agent Scully's still with Mulder, 
hasn't left his side as far as I know.  They were taking him into 
surgery when I left."

	The phone rang.  I stepped back to my desk and picked it 
up automatically.  "VCU."
	
	"~Alskare~....?  ~Alskare~, are you all right?  What 
happened?"

	"Oh, Sven!"  The sound of his deep voice, so strong and 
caring, triggered the sobs I had been trying to hold in.

	"Chandra!  What's wrong?  Oh, no... Things have not turned 
out so good.  Stay put, love. I'll come to get you.  Can you meet 
me out front?"

	"Th-thank you, Sven."

        He murmured something gentle in Swedish before he 
hung up.  I fumbled to get the phone's handset back in its cradle 
and found my purse on my chair by touch.  Nearly blinded by tears, 
I fled.

End of Chapter Ten


J. Edgar Hoover Building
Several weeks later, Friday
7:18 p.m.

	I was still in a daze as I finished cleaning out my desk.  I'd 
been offered a promotion this afternoon that was both a step up 
and out of the VCU, into a position in Computer Crimes.  It was a 
bottom-rung position, true, but far better than I had dared to hope 
for when I had put in for transfer after the Phyllis Marchbanks case.   
I hadn't cared at that point - I just wanted out.  The attitudes of 
the unit after Ben Johnson's death and their unanimous shift to 
the opinion that it was somehow all Agent Mulder's fault was just 
the last straw.  I couldn't stay here any more.

	Shoving the last desk drawer shut, I put the last few personal 
items in the box to take with me.  I was forgetting something....  
My coffee cup.  It wasn't special or expensive, but I didn't want to 
leave anything of mine behind.  I fetched it from the shelf by the 
coffeemaker and had turned around to put it with the rest when a 
faint sound made me look toward the door.  The shape of a man 
stood in the shadows.

	I didn't jump, but I did catch my breath.

	"You're getting better," said an amused voice.  One I 
recognized, but had never expected to hear again.  I began to smile.

	"Mulder!  What are you doing here?" As he stepped forward 
I could see he'd lost weight, and his slow steps didn't quite mask a 
limp.  I dragged a chair closer and he sank into it with a surprising 
amount of grace.  "You aren't supposed to be back at work yet, are 
you."  I made it a statement.  Even I could tell he was still in pain.  
And I'd bet all my savings he refused to take pain medication, too.

	"I'm okay," he assured me, "just not quite back to normal 
speed.  I'm cleared to come back to work on light duty on Monday."

	"I hate to tell you this, Mulder, but that's still a few days 
away."

	"I know -  Jeez, you sound like Scully," he complained, but 
he was grinning so I knew he was teasing.  "I just came in for a 
little while to get out of my apartment.  I was going stir-crazy."

	"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better.  Would you like a cup 
of coffee?"

	"Yes, please."

	"So what are you doing wandering the halls of the VCU this 
late on a Friday night?"  I asked a few moments later as I handed 
him a cup.

	"I'm waiting for Scully.  She's doing an autopsy and asked 
me to wait for her." He made an exasperated sound and shrugged.  
"Well, more like she *ordered* me to wait.  She saw me limping and 
told me I shouldn't be driving yet, so she's going to drive me home."

	"So what's causing the limp?  Overdo it chasing the nurses 
at the hospital?"  I couldn't resist teasing him a little, and his 
reaction made it worthwhile.  For an instant he looked startled, then 
he laughed.

	"I wish!  I had a male nurse that looked like that football 
player they used to call the 'Refrigerator'!  No, one of the cuts 
around my ankle was a little too deep and got part of my Achilles 
tendon.  It's taking a while to heal.  So, what's with the box?" he 
asked, gesturing to my desk.  He wanted to change the subject, I 
realized.  He didn't want to talk about his injuries any more - or 
the case, either, I suspected.  So even though I could see the edge 
of bandages peeking out from under his sleeves, I did my best to 
ignore them and just talk to him.  It got a little easier when I 
suddenly remembered part of our late-night conversation weeks ago.

	"I just got promoted.  I start in Computer Crimes Monday 
morning...  Thanks to you, most likely.  You put in a good word for 
me, didn't you?"

	He looked confused. "No, I didn't. I was planning to get Scully 
to do it for me - I was afraid a recommendation from me would more 
likely get you fired than moved up - but things happened and I 
didn't get the chance to talk to her about it."

	Now I was confused.   I hadn't requested the Computer 
Crimes division, and Agent Mulder was the only one I've ever told 
about my computer classes.... "If it wasn't you, and it wasn't Agent 
Scully...."  I broke off, realizing I was speaking aloud.  Mulder was 
shaking his head.

	"Scully would have mentioned it if she had," he said firmly.  "It 
has to be someone else.  Who else knew you were taking computer 
classes?"

	"Just Sven, and the people in the class.  I don't even know 
most of their names."  That reminded me of something else -  "Sven's 
citizenship papers finally came through, along with a letter of apology.  
You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

	"Indirectly, maybe.  I made a phone call to some friends 
who said they'd look into it, but I haven't gotten back to them.  It 
could be that whatever was holding them up cleared on its own."

	"Well, thank you anyway.  Sven and I both appreciate it."

	"There you are."  Another voice sounded from the doorway, 
and I looked up to see Agent Scully coming in.  "I wondered where 
you'd gone.  I thought you were going to get a cup of coffee while 
I finished up."

	"I did - just not in the morgue.  I think they put formaldehyde 
in it over there.  Chandra's tastes much better."

	"I can't argue with that," Scully said, pushing her hair back 
with one hand.  She looked tired, although her suit was crisp and her 
makeup perfect. I motioned her to a chair and stood up to get her a 
cup of coffee, too.  "I can get it myself," she protested even as she 
sat down.

	"My treat tonight -- I'm celebrating my last day in the VCU," 
I told her.

	Mulder piped in,  "Scully, did you by any chance put in a 
recommendation for Chandra to be promoted?"

	"No, not yet.  I was going to - it's already written up on my 
laptop, waiting to be printed.  Why?"

	"My promotion was to the Computer Crimes department, and 
no one here knows I've been taking computer courses - except Agent 
Mulder."

	Scully frowned, thoughtful as she sipped her coffee.  Then she 
tilted her head to one side and looked at me.  "You mentioned taking 
night classes once, Chandra, but I don't remember your saying they 
were computer courses."  I couldn't recall it, and I must have looked 
puzzled, because she gently reminded me,  "When we spoke to 
Assistant Director Skinner, in his office. About your working late."

	Well, that wasn't actually the subject of our discussion in 
Skinner's office, but now I did remember it coming up in passing.  
I looked up just in time to see another example of their rare 
communication - Mulder gave her an inquiring look and she
returned it with an "I'll explain later" nod.  Was their code 
something instinctive between them, I wondered, or had it 
developed over their years of working so closely together? ...Then 
it registered what Scully had said.  Was she implying that AD 
Skinner...?

	Scully broke my chain of thought when she spoke 
gently to Mulder.  "It's getting late, Mulder, and I'm tired.  Are 
you ready to go home?"

	"Sure, Scully.  Why don't you go on out?  I'll be right 
behind you."  Another look flashed between them, too fast for me 
to catch.  Scully nodded and got to her feet.

	"Thanks for the coffee, Chandra.  Good luck with your new 
position."  Then she was gone.

	Mulder got to his feet a little more slowly.  "I didn't come 
down here just for coffee, Chandra.  I came to say thank you for 
all your help during the Marchbanks case."

	My help?  "I didn't do anything..." I started to say, but he 
cut me off with a wave of his hand.

	"You helped me every way you could, even when it got you in 
hot water with Blevins.  And Scully told me how you supported her 
when she needed it.  You told her and Skinner I had gone to meet 
someone after I left here that night, so that they'd already set the 
search for me in motion before they knew for sure I'd been kidnapped.
That saved some time, and probably my life.  To you it may not seem 
like you did much, but believe me, I appreciate it."

	Damn the man, he was going to make me cry....

	"You'll do great in the Computer Crimes section," he assured 
me seriously, then gave me a sudden cheeky grin that went all the way 
to his eyes.  "Besides, it'll be nice to have a friend to call on when we 
need help from the Computer department!" 

	I laughed, "Any time, Agent Mulder.  All you or Agent Scully 
have to do is ask."

	"Well, I'd better get going.  If I don't get moving Scully will 
be coming back down to get me.  Want to walk out with me?"

	"Thanks, but I'd better not.  I need to finish locking up here 
before I leave, then I have to go out through Security to get my new 
ID badge.  You'd better go on, don't keep Agent Scully waiting."

	"Well, goodnight then, Chandra."

	"Goodnight, Mulder.  Take care."

	I watched as he made his way out, following him as far as 
the doorway so I could watch his progress down the hall.  I smiled as 
he reached the elevators - Agent Scully was waiting patiently for 
him, leaning on an open elevator door to hold it on our floor.  She
didn't speak as he reached her, just straightened away from the door.  
His hand went possessively to the small of her back as they stepped 
into the elevator together.  And just before the door slid closed, I heard
his voice say, softly, "Let's go home." 

	Spooky and the Ice Queen, indeed. 


End of Spooked