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, << <> >> << <> >> My heart thudded. It was Agent Mulder. He sounded weak, but he was alive. << <> >> The voice sounded strangely reasonable. << <> >> << <> >> << <> >> A cackle chilled my blood. << <> >> << <> >> << <> >> I envisioned her leaning over Mulder and gloating, and I shuddered. << <> >> << <> >> she screamed. With trembling fingers I lowered the volume. << <> >> 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. << <> >> 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. << <> >>There was no plea to the words, just a dignified, almost sympathetic calm. << <> >> << <> >> Again quiet, reasonable. My God, I would have been screaming by now. How could he - << <> >>The words were patient, as if she were talking to a slightly slow child. There followed a long, tearing sound - fabric, I thought. << <> >> << <> >>There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath, a bit-off gasp. <> It was Agent Scully. There was a click, presumably as the tape from the house was turned off. <> Skinner's voice demanded. <> the unfamiliar voice replied. <> <> Skinner said, but I could tell he hated having to admit it - he spat the words out like they were toxic. Then, more softly, <> <> she cut him off. She knew it, but she didn't have to like it, any more than I did. <> A sigh. <> 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. <> 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. << <> >> 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. << <> >> Skinner's voice was quietly urgent. <> <> <> 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. <> The captain seemed hesitant. <> Skinner was silent for moment. When he continued, his voice had that 'I hate this, but I have to say it anyway' tone again. <> <> <> 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. <> <> A long silence. <> 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. <> <> He sighed. <>> <> <> <> 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. <> <> <> <> 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. << <> >> A sharp slap rang out, and when she spoke, she was angry. << <> >> There was another long tearing sound. << <> >> << << 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. << <> >> A short unpleasant laugh. << <> >> Mulder sounded stunned. << <> >> << <> >> The volume on the house mike was turned down again. It was MacKenzie again. <> <> <> <> 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 - << <> >> << <> >> << <> >> << <> >> << <> >> Another hard slap, and Mulder fell silent. << <> >> 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. >> <> <> <> <> <> <> There was a muffled expletive, then <> Scuffling sounds.... <> <> More rustling. <> <> <> I heard Johnson crawl off, his voice in the background briefing the others. <> <> <> << 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.>> <> <> Skinner's tone did not invite argument. <> 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. <> <> 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. << <> >> << <> >> 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....>> >> << <> >> There were more staccato tearing sounds, and more of the soft rustle of plastic. << <> >> << <<*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. <> <> <> <> Then gunfire - lots of gunfire. There was a moment of perfect, stunned silence, then - <> <> Ben? Ben Johnson? What - <> <<...nah, suspect's deader than a doornail....>> <> <> Then Scully must have appeared. Skinner's voice bellowed over the shouts and cries, <> The cacaphony was dying down, enough to now hear a ghastly, gurgling, choking sound. <> A clearly horrified Agent Scully. <> Jesus! Ben.... No wonder the guys.... <> Skinner commanded from nearby. <> <> Scully sounded breathless as she cared for Johnson. <> called someone from a distance. <> 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. <> Skinner's voice was quiet and firm, but even he sounded shell-shocked. <> There was some murmuring I couldn't quite catch; if it was Mulder, he was awfully weak. <> There was a faint whisper, then the AD said dryly, <> The scream of the siren finally stopped and there was the clatter of boots. <> <> called Agent Scully. <> <> <> <> <> I think it was Jerry Walsh's voice. <> <> It was Charlie. <> <> <> 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.... <> <>> For once, Skinner seemed totally out of his element. <> <> <>> <> 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. <> <> <> I took a guess that that wasn't good, confirmed a moment later by 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. <> More mumbles.... <> 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. <> More mumbles. <> More clomping of boots. <> <> Agent Scully called. <> <> <> The tone could have frosted Miami. <> <> The voice lowered, muttering, <> More mumbles, followed by a chuckle from the paramedic. <> <> <> <> More mumbles.... Her voice was a whisper this time, perhaps meant for his ears only. <> 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