'Love Lost'

Original story by CSM'sWife, adapted by ToonedInUK

Disclaimer: Neither myself or CSM'sWife own "The X-Files" or any of the characters (Fox Mulder, A.D.
Skinner, Dana Scully A.D. Skinner's secretary, Samantha Mulder, Duane Barry
etc.) - they are the property of CC and 1013 Productions. I do not own
"Profiler" or any of the characters (Bailey Malone, Samantha Waters, John
Grant, Grace, George Fraele etc.), they are the property of the NBC network and the creators.

Any other characters are the property of either myself or Michelle.

No real life people have been written into this story, any likeness to a

person (by name or otherwise) or event is completely unintended.

Classification: XF/Profiler Crossover. A, S (both Shipper & No-Romo friendly).

Rating: PG (not too much to be worried about - the odd swear word)

Spoilers: Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath. (Don't know about Profiler tho')

Feedback: would be most appreciated by either myself (ToonedInuk@yahoo.com) or CSM'sWife (CSM'sWife@aol.com)

Authors' Notes: This is the first time either myself or CSM'sWife have attempted to write anything to do with Profiler, so bare with us! Also, because I ('I' being Anna-Marie) haven't really watched many Profiler episodes, it's based more on The X-Files, but I hope it will still please the Profiler fans out there! We are very aware of some fallacies in this story (ie things that don't correlate with the series), but most of them are intentional. I will get severely miffed if people comment on my spelling - I'm English so I spell things the English way! We don't mind flames - they'll go on the fire to keep CSM'sWife and myself warm during the winter months ;-)

Apartment #42

March 24th

06:45 a.m.

He reached out for her, but he was too late. She tried to call his name but failed as 'They' grabbed her waist. 'They' pulled her back, out of the room, backwards into the blinding light which soon engulfed his entire vision. As quickly as the light had appeared, it disappeared. She too, was gone.

"No!" Mulder awoke with a jerk. He had been having those nightmares ever since 'They' had taken her away from him. He tried to stay optimistic about her return, yet he knew that even *if* she was returned, she would not be found without injury - possibly without life, even. Oh, how he longed to see her again, if only for an instant. He missed her quiet laugh - even if it was at his expense - he missed the way she looked at him, the way she would know how he was feeling at each and every moment in time. But most of all, he missed the way she was always there to help him through the bad times and the good. No one else had ever done that for him - only her.

Removing himself from the sofa, he proceeded to scour the kitchen for anything remotely edible. He found half of a chocolate bar in the refrigerator, but then remembered all of the things she would say if she were there about eating chocolate for breakfast. He didn't ever listen to what she told him about such things, but today, she wouldn't be able to grace him with her presence, let alone chew him out for his bad habits. He threw the sweet delight into the bin, along with a carton of congealed orange juice he had been keeping. I'll get something on the way to the office Mulder thought. He walked over to the television and turned it on. He sat still for a few minutes, channel surfing until he found a suitable programme. The news was the only thing he would be able to watch, nothing like other people's problems to take your mind off your own. He then left the room to go and get showered and dressed for work.

After he was in suitable attire for another day in the basement office in the FBI building, he returned to the main room. Hadn't been paying much attention to what CNN were showing until the anchor said the two words

"…serial killer has butchered four men in this manner, and the latest was found here in Rhode Island just two days ago. The 'Violent Crimes Task Force' from Georgia or 'VCTF' as it is also known, has been roped in to investigate these horrific murders. That's all we have for now, back to you Tom."

"Thanks Gina…"

Mulder turned the television off before another word got out and he left the apartment.

Mulder's Basement Office

J. Edgar Hoover Building - FBI Headquarters

Washington DC

10:05 a.m.

The cases he had been investigating since her abduction had really meant little to him, and the prospect of helping to catch a serial killer was beginning to sound appealing. He knew of course that it would be unlikely that he would become involved in any investigation of that nature. As he leaned back in his chair, Mulder looked at the photograph of himself and his former partner. They were at a crime scene talking over what they had found, and one of the reporters turned his attention to them at that particular moment. Mulder liked the way the photo caught the redness of her hair perfectly, and her eyes were glittering. He remembered that they had found a suspect for the crime, which was why she looked even remotely pleased. The suspect didn't pan out, but that was beside the point. The point was that she was happy, well…ish. They were a team - total opposites, but that's what made it work. They were unbeatable, like Holmes and Watson - except when it involved Professor Moriati. With Mulder, it was always 'the Syndicate' that got the better of he and Dana Scully; they stuck together like metal to a magnet. That is, until Duane Barry came into the equation.

Mulder would never forgive that S.O.B Duane Barry (who he had successfully talked out of a hostage negotiation no less!) for what he had done, given his partner and best friend to the secret government group he knew as 'the Syndicate'. He wondered what they were doing to her at that very moment, no doubt carrying out tests, drilling, prodding, poking. He wondered if she was in pain, perhaps she would see his sister. It was a long shot, but if he ever did see her again, at least she could fill him in on Samantha Mulder's status - whether it be in a dream or in reality. He doubted the latter. He was startled out of his reverie by the telephone ringing.

"Hello?" He asked, although he had a pretty good idea of who it was.

"Agent Mulder, Assistant Director Skinner has requested that he talk to you in his office."

"All right, thank you Kim." The woman on the other end of the line hung up. This was exactly what he had expected to hear, so he immediately headed up to his boss's office.

Providence

Rhode Island

Crime Scene

06:50 a.m.

Agent John Grant surveyed the crime scene. This was the forth victim of the New England serial killer in just eight days, or 'The Carver' as the tabloids were calling him. They had tried to keep a lid on it, but it didn't help that the person who found the second body was a reporter for a local newspaper. The first victim was found in New Jersey, the second in Maine, and the third in Massachusetts. Each victim was male and had a stab wound through the heart. In addition, each man had the name of a woman carved into his chest - each time it was different.

Grant and his team - Bailey Malone, George Fraele, and profiler Samantha Waters - had found that in each case, the men each had a recent traumatic break-up with a woman who they could only assume was the one referred to on their chests as huge ugly gashes. Each man had suffered greatly for his loss according to friends and family.

Grant looked up to see Waters approaching.

"So, what do you think Sam? Any new thoughts popping up?" Grant asked, the weariness showing in his voice. He didn't expect anything since there was nothing really different about this crime scene in comparison to the others.

"No, not really. I think it's likely that he too had a relationship with uh…Beth, and they broke up. From the looks of it, he was engaged to her - he was wearing a ring. Of course we'll have to double-check that." She paused for a beat and then went on. "Maybe 'The Carver' wants to put these men out of their misery. He may think he's helping them." She heard Grant take and let out a deep breath slowly.

"Hopefully the guy slipped up somewhere here, left us some forensic data - a fingerprint might come in handy." Sam chuckled at his pun, but it didn't last for long. "We'll have to take a look at all of the patterns again. Where he goes to kill his victims, how he finds them, every single one - we're going nowhere, fast."

"Maybe Grace will find something when she does the autopsy. Maybe he did slip up."

FBI Headquarters

Washington DC

AD Skinner's Office

10:13 a.m.

"Agent Mulder, have a seat." Skinner extended his hand towards the chair, gesturing for him to sit down. When Mulder was seated, he started. "I have noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm in your work, which is totally out of character for you, and under the circumstances, I think it would be wise if you were to take a bit of time off." Mulder knew that his boss was only using the lack of enthusiasm as an excuse for giving Mulder what he thought was much needed time away from work. In fact to Mulder, time off work was the last thing he needed. It would only serve the purpose of allowing him to wallow in self-pity for longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Sir, I think it would be better for me to--" Skinner cut him off in mid-sentence.

"Mulder, you look like hell, and it's pretty damn obvious you've not slept in weeks. So you have a choice now Agent. You can either take your leave voluntarily, or I will be forced to make you do so by suspending you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Mulder's expression was sour as those words left his mouth, and he stood up from his seat. As he was about to leave, the man on the other side of the desk stopped him by saying-

"I'll keep an eye on things while you're gone and try to minimise the damage done by that Cigarette Smoking bastard if he shows his ugly face."

"Sir, I realise that you are only trying to help, but both you and I know that you cannot 'keep an eye' on the X-Files. That Smoking S.O.B. will do as he pleases, and you won't be able to do a thing about it." Mulder replied calmly, looking straight into his boss's eyes. He then turned and left the office.

As he stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, Mulder was greeted with a pleasant surprise. In front of him were standing two old friends from the academy. John Grant and Samantha Waters were part of the VCTF now, but what were they doing here? They were based in Georgia for chrissakes! Then he remembered what he had seen on the television that morning. "..here in Rhode Island just two days ago. The 'Violent Crimes Task Force from Georgia or the 'VCTF' as it is also known, have been roped in to investigate…" The fact that they were there still made no sense, but perhaps he could find a way of getting them to let him help. It would certainly take his mind off Scully, if only for a short while.

Mulder started walking toward his friend who had yet to notice his presence. "John!" he called when he was about 10 ft away. John Grant turned quickly to face the person who was calling his name

"Mulder? Hey! How are ya?"

"I'm fine," he lied "how about you?"

"I'm good, and I heard about that thing with umm…" he trailed off and cast his eyes down, not sure exactly how Mulder would react to him bringing Scully into the conversation. "We don't seem to be going anywhere with this case I'm working on right now, and with all of the press coverage of it, I'm afraid our killer will go underground." He knew that this would get Mulder off thinking about his last comment.

"'The Carver' isn't it? That's what you're calling him, right?"

"Yes. I take it you watched the news this morning."

"Only part of it - a whole 30 seconds. How's Sam?" Mulder motioned with his head towards the blonde woman to his left. She was in deep conversation with an older man. I could have sworn I saw him in a James Bond film! Mulder thought.

"Sam? She's all right as far as I know, and she did a great profile for this case." Before Mulder could protest, Grant walked over to Waters and tapped her on the shoulder, there-by disrupting her conversation. He whispered something to her that sounded unintelligible to Mulder and she looked directly at her friend's face. She smiled warmly and walked over.

"Hey Mulder."

"Hey." Mulder replied. She gave him a quick embrace.

"I haven't seen you in sooo long!" The contact reminded him of Scully, and he visibly blanched. "Mulder, are you OK?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." He lied again. He didn't want to burden her with his problems, so before she could say anything more, he asked, "How's Chole?"

"She's fine, but was wondering why we haven't seen you these past two years."

"Well, you know me - work-o-holic, and with what's been going on with the X-Files since I acquired my new partner, I've not had much time. Plus you've been profiling a lot more."

"Where is she anyway? Dana I mean. I haven't met her yet, and it seems like every time I want to, either you she or I are doing something else."

"Sam, John." Neither agent had noticed that their superior was standing behind them. They turned to face him. "While you were all talking, I got another call. There's another one in Annapolis." Bailey Malone stated.

"Mulder, this is the head of the VCTF, Bailey Malone. Bailey, this is Fox Mulder." Waters introduced them. Mulder and Malone shook hands.

"Nice to meet you Spooky." Malone said with a smile. That soon faded when he saw Mulder's cold expression when he said that name.

"Nice to meet you." The words practically had icicles hanging from them.

"We've got to go." Malone said hurriedly, trying to get away as soon as possible.

"See you later Mulder." Grant said, turning away to follow Malone.

"See ya." Waters said after giving him another quick hug.

"Tell Chloe I said hello." Mulder said with that patented Mulder-smile. "I'm on leave now, so I'll call you later. OK?"

"The number's the same as it was last time." Grant said. On a good note, Mulder left the building.

Annapolis

Maryland

Crime Scene

12:06 p.m.

"Nothing again?" Grant asked Waters.

"Nope, nada, nothing, zip."

"Hey, maybe Mulder could help us. I mean we're going nowhere, and we can't afford to wait until this madman slips up and makes a mistake."

"Makes sense, but it'll have to be unofficial though."

"I'll send him a copy of what we have and he can phone or email us with anything he finds." Both Grant and Waters paused for a moment. "I'll bet that AD Skinner threatened Mulder with suspension to get him to take his leave!"

"Ten dollars?"

"You're on."

"I don't see why the AD would threaten him if nothing had happened, I would have thought Skinner would be happy for Mulder to be working."

"You haven't heard yet?" Grant asked, shocked.

"Heard what?"

"Only the most major piece of news in the history of Mulder gossip!"

"Well what's that?" Waters asked impatiently.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"KNOW WHAT?!" she almost shouted at him.

"The reason why you weren't able to meet Special Agent Dana Scully is because she is no longer with us --"

"You mean she's --" Waters butted in, in the middle of his sentence.

"No, no. Not quite that dramatic, but she's been abducted!"

"Ha, ha. Now really, what is it that I don't know?"

"That is it - Scully's been abducted!"

"That's ridiculous! What would anyone want with her?"

"To get to Mulder perhaps? Well, that's probably what he's thinking anyway."

"I don't understand, when did this happen? How?" she queried. Grant filled her in on the events that lead up to Scully's abduction whilst she stood there staring in amazement.

"Of course I can't be sure of the details, but that's what I hear happened."

"Oh my gosh, that's awful! How about I just give you the ten dollars now."

Apartment #42

Washington DC

19:47 p.m.

Mulder hadn't done much since he returned home earlier that day. He watched a few of those videos that he maintained weren't his, and cleared the apartment of rubbish. He tried sleeping again, but the nightmare still haunted him like a plague. He opened his laptop computer and logged onto his email account. He had several new messages, but only one of them really caught his eye. "John_Grant@vctf.gov". The file was what Mulder had been waiting for, a cry of help so that he could assist with John's latest case. He read the short paragraph that Grant typed before launching into the case.

"Hey Mulder, Sam and I reckon you'll get pretty bored today, so we've sent you what we have on our 'Carver' case. We are hoping you will help us catch the bastard. We aren't going anywhere on this.

You realise this will have to be kept unofficial though. Thank you."

Hmm…unofficial eh? I can live with that. The next part of the email was of all of Grant's notes all neatly compiled into a table.

Name

Age

Location found

Occupation

Marital Status

Marcus Shane Connelly

34

New Jersey

Lawyer

Married

Nigel Terrence Davis

34

Maine

Insurance Broker

Married

Samuel Denton

40

Massachusetts

Publican

Married

Peter John Rogers

29

Rhode Island

Shop Assistant

Married

Alan Richard Zammit

33

Annapolis

Computer Technician

Engaged

Name

Date of death

Date found

Estimated time of death

Carved name

Marcus Shane Connelly

15/03

16/03

00:00- 02:00am

Michelle

Nigel Terrence Davis

17/03

18/03

00:00- 02:00am

Eleanor

Samuel Denton

19/03

20/03

01:00- 02:30am

Heather

Peter John Rogers

21/03

22/03

00:00- 02:00am

Bethan

Alan Richard Zammit

23/03

24/03

01:30- 03:00am

Caitlynne

Added to the email were several attachments. Mulder assumed that they were the crime scene photos, so he opened them up and one look at the first made him feel the contents of his stomach resurfacing. The men were each found on a park bench with an arm over their faces, as if they were sleeping. Mulder just sat there thinking about how sick the perp was. He printed out all of he information, including the grotesque photographs. Once done, he laid each piece of paper neatly on his desk and sat still for what he guessed was about an hour, looking for anything anomalous or something that jumped out at him. Nothing came.

He exhaled slowly and thought about going for a run. He'd done that everyday for as long as he could remember, but he couldn't remember the last time he had played basketball. He grabbed up his orange ball and went to change into his joggers and sweatshirt.

Basketball court

Somewhere in Washington DC

22:04 p.m.

"And he shoots, he scores! The crowd goes wild!" Mulder shouted, even though there was no one around to hear him. The rhythmic bouncing of the ball between his hand and the ground was relaxing, much like music. He had been playing for about an hour but he still had as much energy as when he had started and it also served to take his mind away from his ex-partner. He often used physical distractions to avert his mind from the never-ending nightmare that was his life. Of course that would mean that he would have to be asleep, but alas, being awake was worse. At least if he were asleep, he would awake to find it not real - it was just his luck that he could not awake from life.

As he started to think about his life again, he started seeing faces of his enemies on the backboard of the hoop. This made him want to hit the board harder. Then, out of out of the blue, he saw the image of Dana Scully standing as she had in the photo he had been looking at earlier. He stopped, not daring to look away even for a milli-second for fear that she would disappear, therefore, in his mind, gone forever.

He didn't hear the man behind him calling out to him, asking if he was OK.

"Hey mister! Are you all right?" The man said it a little louder than before, and it finally got through to Mulder.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just thinkin' of something, that's all." He replied. He still hadn't looked away from the net, the man was debating whether to stay or leave, he decided to stay.

"Do you want to play a little one-on-one?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why not."

"My name's Andrew Green, and you are…?"

"Er, Fox Mulder, but just call me Mulder." Nothing much was said after that and about an hour later, Andrew called off the match because he claimed that he was getting tired. Mulder suspected it was because he had been royally whooped.

"I'll see you around."

"Uh, sure." Mulder replied uncertainly as he took another shot. He watched the man walk away out of the corner of his eye. He was a little shorter than Mulder was, and he was quite thin, but didn't have very much in the way of muscles. His dark brown hair was tied up at the back of his head in a ponytail, and he was wearing khakis and a green t-shirt. After a few more shots, Mulder walked slowly home. He gazed up at the stars in the clear sky above, and asked himself if it were possible that his friend would ever be returned to him.