Title: Closer to Fine
Author: Xscout
Rating: R
Spoilers: Grotesque, Tunguska, Terma, Paper Hearts
Timeline: Approximately end of sixth season, but before Biogenesis. This is an AU created in my other story 'Fine;.
Summary: A serial killer and a deadly disease could lead them to disaster. Or it could take them closer to fine.

Disclaimer: The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions, no infringement intended. All works list as being written by Edgar Allen Poe are part of the Public Domain but please be aware that they are fully the product of his brilliant mind.

Author's Note: This is a sequel to a previous story called 'Fine'. I highly recommend that you read it first or this won't make complete sense. If you're clever you could probably figure it out, but why bother? Thank you to Kel for her medical advice, letting me bug her at all hours for the sake of accuracy. Originally written in 2000. Side note - if you're wondering why some things take longer to get figured out by the agents than you'd think, remember that the internet wasn't as readily available or as thorough as it is today. Acronyms: VCS - Violent Crimes Section; ISU - Investigative Support Unit

CLOSER TO FINE

Georgetown, Virginia
Dana Scully's Apartment
Monday
6:23 a.m.

She wrinkled her nose at the tantalizing aroma that wafted into the room. Cracking one eye open, she looked over at the clock on the nightstand. Almost half past six, too damn early to be awake. Scully stretched her arms languorously and a huge yawn escaped her lips.

She heard the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen and smiled to herself. Who would have thought Fox Mulder had a domestic side? She pushed herself into a sitting position and then swung her legs over the bed, toeing blindly until she found her slippers. She padded quietly down the hall and through the living room, noting that the sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon.

He was standing at the stove, carefully turning the bacon so it cooked evenly, his spatula-free hand holding a glass of orange juice that he sipped from occasionally. She snuck up behind him and slipped her arms under his, pulling him into a hug.

He didn't even flinch. "Morning, sleepyhead. Finally decide to join the land of the living?"

Dana was mildly disappointed that she hadn't been able to startle him. "Mulder, six-thirty is hardly what I call 'sleeping in'. Why are you up so early?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

She tightened her embrace. "Nervous?"

He turned around within the circle of her arms and looked down into her eyes as they stared up at him. "Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I am."

"Me too." Stretching up on her toes, she placed a warm kiss on his lips. "I'm worried about you pushing yourself too hard and making your condition worse. I know I can't do much about it, but I can still worry. So what's *your* reason for being nervous?"

Mulder swiveled around to turn the bacon over. "It's not so much the idea of profiling that bothers me. I did it for years; I can do it again. Especially now that I have you to make sure I don't become too... involved. I think it's the fact that I'll have to face a lot of people who see me as... not quite sane."

"That's never bothered you before," Dana pointed out.

"I know. But in the VCS, it's important that they take me seriously, that they take my work seriously. Otherwise, people could die."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mulder. I think your reputation as the best analyst in Violent Crimes is well known throughout the Bureau. Besides, it's been what, eight years since you left? How many new faces do you think you'll see?" she reasoned.

"True. Other than all the assistants and researchers, I believe there are only a few people who I won't know. I think there's only been about three who've left the unit, not including Patterson. That leaves seven full-time profilers who would recognize me by more than my name. Richard Davis took over for Patterson as head of the ISU, he's a pretty fair guy, doesn't hold a grudge."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that other agents might hold a grudge against you? Whatever for?"

He sighed. "Because I had a tendency to be right more times than they were."

"In other words, they were jealous that you were the fair-haired child and couldn't stand the fact that you had a much higher solve rate as a rookie?"

"That about sums it up. The last thing I need is for them to see me as a crippled prodigy. That'd just add fuel to the fire." Mulder removed the bacon from the pan and set them aside to cool. "How do you want your eggs?"

"Over medium." She leaned against the tiled counter beside him. "Do you really think that your condition will make that much of a difference in how they perceive you? Most of them already know you, have worked with you before, and the new agents were brought up hearing 'Spooky Mulder' stories. Trust me when I tell you that all of them will have preconceived opinions about you. The fact that you have an unexplained illness will just be something to add to your mystery." Scully sat down at the breakfast table as Mulder set her plate in front of her.

He walked back to get his own plate. "My mystery, huh? And do you find my mystery alluring, Agent Scully?"

"Absolutely," Dana purred.

His answering chuckle was broken off by a gasp. Scully looked up to see that Mulder had stopped halfway between the kitchen counter and the table, his face a mask of pain. She stood up quickly, moving forward to catch him if he fell.

He didn't. But the plate in his hand did. It crashed to the floor, fried eggs and bacon strips spilling onto the tile. His arms wrapped around himself in a useless gesture of protection against the agony, his muscles spasming as the tremors ran their course. Then, as quickly as it had come, the seizure subsided.

It took him a second to reorient himself and when he did, he let out a tiny cry of dismay. Dropping to his knees, he began to gather up the remnants of his breakfast. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry."

She knelt beside him and stilled his frantic actions with a touch of her hands. "It's okay, Mulder, that's why we bought plastic dishes. Nothing a little water and a sponge won't fix."

Mulder picked up his plate, bacon grease and egg yolk dripping off the edges, and walked over to the sink. Suddenly, anger swept over him and he slammed the dish into the basin. "God damn it! What the hell am I going to do when this happens in front of the team?" He placed his palms on the edge of the counter and leaned forward, his chin almost touching his chest. "What am I going to do?" he whispered.

Scully was beside him instantly, taking him into her arms. "Oh Mulder, is that what is *really* worrying you? We are due to meet with Davis the first thing this morning and we'll clarify a few things about your condition. Then we are going to go in there and we are going to show them the best damn pair of agents that the Bureau has ever had, regardless of physical impairments. We will explain it to them, tell them how to deal with it when it happens, so that they realize that it is nothing to be afraid of. If we treat it as a fact of everyday life, they should accept it as such and that will be the end of that."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then they'll have to face my wrath," she intoned ominously.

Mulder grinned. "They'll learn real quick that dealing with serial killers is safer."

Quantico, Virginia
8:55 a.m.

They stood in the elevator, briefcases in hand, eyes fixed on the numbers above the doors.

"Jesus, Mulder, how deep is this place?"

"Sixty feet down. The ISU is what used to be a bomb shelter built during the McCarthy area. See, there *are* worse places than the basement."

"Do they have heat and air conditioning?"

"Yeah, I think they installed it a couple years ago."

"Then it's the Hilton compared to our office."

Mulder grinned. "Well, you know my penchant for choosing the less... reputable hotels."

"I *knew* you did it on purpose. Do you know how many times-" she broke off her sentence as the elevator announced its arrival at their destination. She gave Mulder's hand a quick squeeze before the doors slid open.

They stepped out into a large room that contained nothing but workstations. Most were occupied but a few were empty, their owners off on one errand or another. Both walls to the left and right were lined with doors that led to private offices, assigned to the senior profilers. The wall opposite the elevator housed only one door - the one for the head of the Investigative Support Unit. That specific door had just opened and a man emerged, heading straight for the newcomers.

He was a tall man, thinning hair, meaty limbs, could stand to lose a few pounds. His large nose was placed in a cock-eyed position on his face, set below a pair of brown eyes. His mouth was open, revealing a row of slightly discolored teeth, evidence of too much coffee. As he came towards them, his arms opened wide and he boomed in a friendly voice, "Mulder! Welcome back!"

Those who hadn't looked up before did now, upon hearing the legendary name. Heads swiveled to stare at the man who could write the impossible profile, catch the uncatchable. Spooky Mulder. A soft murmur ran through the room as the newer members of the team questioned the older agents on the return of the Golden Boy.

Mulder reached out to take Davis' proffered hand. "Rick, good to see you. Who would've thought they'd saddle such a good guy with Patterson's job."

Davis laughed loudly at this. "No one else wanted it, so I got stuck with it."

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Mulder pressed Scully forward slightly. "Rick, this is my partner, Dana Scully. Scully, this is Rick Davis, head of the ISU."

"Ah, the eminent Dr. Scully. It is a pleasure to have you working with us." He shook her hand aggressively, jarring her arm in the process.

She carefully extracted her hand from his grip. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Come on, let me show you your office. In fact, I think it's the same one you had before, Mulder." He turned and walked to the left, his finger pointing at the door farthest from the elevator and closest to his own office. He held the door open as the two agents entered. "Why don't we have our first meeting in here?"

"Fine," Mulder said absently, his eyes inspecting every inch of his new home at the FBI. He kept trying to keep in mind that it was only temporary. "I see you didn't bother to fix the hole." He gestured to a large dent in the drywall just to the right of the window.

Davis shrugged. "It's kind of a historical monument. I still remember the look on Patterson's face went you did that."

Dana's eyes went wide. "You did that, Mulder?"

"Yeah." He looked sheepish. "I wanted to transfer out of here and Patterson wouldn't let me. I took it out on the wall. All I got for my trouble was eleven stitches and another year in the ISU."

Scully grimaced at the thought of Mulder's knuckles slamming into the wall. She decided to change the subject to safer territory. "Look, there's even a couch in here."

Davis nodded. "Yup. I had it moved in here when Skinner told me about Mulder's condition. Thought it might be useful."

"I'm fine. I'm not sick, I don't need to take naps." Mulder's face was stony.

Scully moved to intervene in what appeared to be the makings of an argument. "That was very thoughtful, Sir. Though Mulder won't be needing it as a result of his condition, I'm sure it will be put to good use in the context of daily work."

Davis looked confused for a moment but then realization dawned in his eyes. "Still don't sleep much when you're on a case, huh Mulder?"

Mulder ignored him.

The older man shrugged and seated himself on the object of conversation. Mulder had already taken the high-backed chair behind the desk and Scully leaned back on the edge of the desk. "All right, let's get serious. Mulder, you know the drill, I expect you to show Agent Scully the ropes. Assistant Director Skinner specifically requested that you two not be separated, so you'll share this office. I requisitioned another desk, but it won't be here until tomorrow.

Now, Skinner didn't go into detail about your... special case, so I was hoping that you could clarify some things for me."

Scully decided that this was a line of questioning that was better suited to her expertise. "Agent Mulder is suffering from a non-communicable condition in which he experiences seizures of an undocumented nature. They are periods of intense pain that usually pass within a half-minute. They can last up to a minute, but any longer is rare, though not unusual. There is no known treatment and no prescribed methods to deal with the seizures. Just wait them out."

"Hmmm. And you're cleared to work with these... seizures?" Davis chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Skinner okayed my return to work, but without field agent status. I'm not allowed to drive but I can visit crimes scenes, do interviews, all the stuff I used to do here." Mulder couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into his tone.

Davis had only one more question. "Do you want me to talk to each of the team members about this, or do you want to approach them yourselves?"

Scully answered for her partner. "I think we should do it ourselves. Coming from us would make it less foreboding and more of a reality than coming from their superior. They can ask questions and we'll explain that this is nothing that they need to be concerned about."

"Well, that's about it." He stood from the couch and took a step forward so that he was right in front of the desk. "I hope you don't mind, but I put together some case files that needed to be looked at. Don't worry, I kept it light so that you could get back into the swing of things." He headed towards the door after nodding to both of them. "Glad to have you aboard." With that, he disappeared into the bullpen.

Scully levered herself off of the desk and circled around to face her partner. "He gets right to the point, doesn't he?" She surveyed the office and her eyes came to rest on the stack of folders lying on the hardwood desk. Fingering through them, surprise lit her eyes. "There must be thirty case files here!"

"Well, he did say that he had kept it light."

"You call this light? How many is normal?" Scully raised an eyebrow in consternation.

"Fifty or so are always open, though I try to focus on only one at a time. Just think, now that I have someone else to work with, we'll get it done twice as fast." He smiled evilly as he reached for the folder on the top of the pile.

"Wait a minute." Her fingers touched the back of his hand, aborting his motion. "I think we should talk to the team first. Why don't I go introduce myself to them and ask them to come in one by one?"

Mulder sighed. "All right. But get the senior agents first. They tend to get testy if rank isn't respected."

"However did you last three years down here, Mulder?"

11:29 a.m.

"That was the last one."

"Good. I think the kid was about to wet his pants."

"He did look kinda shaky, didn't he?"

Mulder grimaced. "If he had trembled any harder, I would have thought that it was *him* with the seizure problem."

Scully couldn't help but laugh. "Well, it's over and done with. Now all we have to worry about is how they'll react when they see it for the first time. It's a good thing that we made it through all the interviews without you having one."

"Yeah, I thank my lucky stars," was the sarcastic reply.

Dana glanced at the windows, double-checking that the blinds were drawn, then moved around to stand behind Mulder, placing her hands on his shoulders. He rotated his neck as she rubbed away the tension, his head finally falling back to rest on her stomach. "I'm sorry, Scully. I know that I haven't been the most positive person ever since..."

She bent down and kissed his upturned forehead. "No, Mulder. You would be surprised at how much more upbeat you have become. I have never seen you smile so much."

He swiveled sideways in his chair, grabbed his partner and pulled her down into his lap. "And what do you think caused my change in attitude?" His lips left a burning trail down the side of her face and her neck.

"Mmmm," she hummed in pleasure. "I love you too."

He pulled back and flashed her a huge smile.

"What?" She cocked her head in confusion.

"Nothing. It's just that I love it when you say those words to me. I can't get over it."

Her eyes softened and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Fox William Mulder, with all of my heart."

Mulder had to struggle to keep tears from springing to his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, smelling the delicate fragrance that was her. "I love you so much, Dana."

Scully was fighting her own tears, the desperate tone in her partner's voice making her heart skip a beat. His arms tightened around her and she returned the gesture. His embrace grew even tighter and she was starting to have a problem breathing. "Mulder?" she gasped.

She could feel the shudder that ran through his body. She squirmed in his arms so that she could see his face, pushing against his chest until she had enough room to breathe. His eyes were clenched shut, his breath being sucked in through his nose as he tried to deal with the pain. Her hands moved up to his face, caressing his temples, wishing that she could alleviate his agony.

Finally it passed and his arms relaxed, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He opened his eyes to find Scully staring at him with concern. His own eyes mirrored hers. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, not at all." One last stroke of his cheek and she pushed her self out of his lap. Both regretted the sudden lack of physical contact, but the seizure had drawn them both back into reality. It was time to get to work.

5:51 p.m.

"You almost finished with that one?" She waited patiently for an answer. "Mulder?"

"Huh? What?"

"I asked if you were almost done?" Worry stained her irises gray.

"Um, yeah. I just have to add a few more notations," he said absently, his eyes never leaving the paper he was scribbling on.

"Then I'm going to run these finished files over to Davis. Be right back."

No reply. She didn't really expect one. She heaved a sigh and left, walking the few feet to their new superior's office. She noticed that most of the workstations were now empty, but lights could be seen in several of the other offices. Looked like the older profilers usually stayed late, unlike the less seasoned agents. She knocked on Davis' door and entered after she heard a grunt of assent.

"Sir, I brought today's finished assignments." She held up the stack of folders for him to see.

"That many? Spooky hasn't lost his touch." He used the nickname without malice, more like reverence, so Scully didn't comment on it.

"It's just one preliminary profile and three local police consults. He is finishing up another consult right now." She set the files on his desk and waved her hand at them, a sad expression on her face. "It is certainly a learning experience."

"Yeah. I remember my first day in the unit. I don't think I ever threw up so much in the space of eight hours. It is horrifying to think of all the sick people in this world. I thought I would go crazy if I dwelt on it too much." He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his stomach. "Mulder was brought in only a few months after I started. He was so good it was scary. It was like he had been doing it all his life. But he really connected with everyone - the victims, the killers, everyone. I had learned that I had to distance myself from the people involved or the depression would swallow me whole. I know it was eating *him* alive. I couldn't help but wonder why he did it. Why did he put so much of himself into his work that he was so affected? One day I got up the nerve to ask Mulder. You know what he said? I'll never forget it. He said, 'Because I can'. Then he picked up a photo from the case he was working on and passed it to me. It was a candid shot of a little girl. Pigtails, freckles, smiling from ear to ear, and eyes as blue as the sky. I remember that picture vividly. So there I was, with the photo of the All-American Girl in my hands and I didn't get it yet. Mulder gestured at the picture and said, 'Look at that little girl and tell me if she isn't worth it? If she deserves any less?'

"To this day I still think back on that conversation. Since then, I have never looked at a body as just a piece of evidence, seen victims as sources of information. They deserve nothing less." Davis inhaled deeply and then let it out in a long, slow breath. "Agent Scully, I won't lie to you. I don't know if profiling is the best way for Mulder to recuperate from his condition, if he will be able to deal with so many traumas at once. I was reluctant when Skinner came to me, but I certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity of getting Mulder back in profiling. You are his partner, his doctor, and his friend. He trusts you. I expect you to let me know if it is too much for him to handle."

Dana was touched at the senior agent's concern. "Yes, Sir. I intend to keep a close eye on him."

"I'm sure you will." A huge grin was plastered across his face upon that last remark.

Scully wasn't sure if it meant what she thought it did, or if she was just being paranoid. They hadn't precisely kept their relationship a secret but they hadn't advertised it either. She mentally shrugged and left the office, still pondering on the insights of the head of the ISU.

Dana Scully's Apartment
7:16 p.m.

"Not bad for a first day's work, wouldn't you say?" Scully asked as she spooned spaghetti onto the two plates. "Mulder? Mulder, did you hear me?" She set the pot down and wandered into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. She found her partner sitting on the couch, a file open in his lap, several others piled on the coffee table. "Mulder?"

His head snapped up, his glasses slipping down his nose at the hasty movement. "I'm sorry, what?"

She put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Dinner's ready. Are you working?"

Mulder ran a hand over his chin and mouth in a nervous gesture. "Um, yeah. I wanted to get a head start on tomorrow. We still have at least four more priority cases to go through."

Scully walked over and held out her hand. Mulder didn't move. A dangerous gleam came to her eyes and he bowed his head in defeat. He closed the open folder and placed it in her palm. "Today was our first day back at work, I think it can wait. Besides, I prepared a special dinner to celebrate. Spaghetti with my mom's secret sauce."

Before she could set the file back on the table with the others, Mulder was in the dining room, standing by Scully's chair. She smiled and followed at a less frantic pace. Sitting gracefully into the chair he pulled out for her, she couldn't help but wonder if the way to a man's heart really *was* through his stomach. Mulder disappeared for a moment and she soon heard noises from another room. "Mulder? What are you doing?"

"I'll be right there, hold on a sec." Eventually he returned, trying to carry several things in his arms. Somehow he made it to the table without dropping anything. He placed the candles on the table and lit them with a match. Then he moved over to the stereo and placed a CD in the tray, the soft strains of Bach dancing through the air. Lastly, he popped the cork of the champagne he had managed to hide from her and poured two crystal goblets to the brim. Finally he took his own seat and looked expectantly at his partner.

Her face, softened even more by the candlelight, was set in an expression of wonderment. Her cheeks flushed and the moisture on her lips catching the flickering light, she was the most beautiful creature Mulder had ever seen. And he had brought that look of happiness to her face. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Raising his glass, he made a toast. "To us. Working together, being together, loving together."

Dana picked up her own glass and brought it forward to delicately clink with Mulder's. "To us," she repeated and took a sip. "Mmm, that's good."

"Better be, at the price I paid for it." He forked some noodles into his mouth, savoring the taste before swallowing. "Delicious."

"Thanks. Wait until I try out Mom's meat loaf recipe." Scully waggled her eyebrows.

"Ooh, I think I just got a chill of anticipation."

Dinner passed in contented conversation, banter about inconsequential matters. When they had both cleaned their plates, Mulder stood and moved to stand next to Dana. Her head tilted back on her shoulders to look up at him and she was caught a bit off guard by the hand he held out in front of her. She raised an eyebrow in question.

"This is a full service celebration, Scully. That means dinner, dancing, and debauchery."

"You make it sound so romantic," she chuckled. She placed her own hand in his and he pulled her out of the chair, into his arms. Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 was playing and they swayed around the room, holding each other close. They danced around furniture as they moved from room to room, both knowing their destination.

The last note of the concerto was joined by the decisive thud of the bedroom door shutting.

Two Weeks Later
Monday
3:11 a.m.

It had begun.

She knew it would eventually, had accepted that fact when they took the assignment. But she had hoped that maybe her influence would help keep it at bay. After a fortnight in the ISU, she had almost believed that to be true.

I want to believe.

She caught the flailing arm just in time to avoid it being slammed into her face. "Mulder! Mulder, wake up!"

"No! No, don't!" The cry was torn from his throat, a testament to his inner struggle.

"Mulder, please!" Scully pulled on his other arm and pinned them both to his side. "It's all right, you're just dreaming."

He sat bolt upright with a gasp, his eyes wide and dark. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with both hands. Breathing loudly through his nose, he rocked back and forth slightly.

Dana crawled across the bed and knelt behind him, placing her hands on his back. His shirt was damp beneath her palms and his shoulders heaved with each deep breath. "Mulder?"

He remained silent, continuing his rocking. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to decide if he just needed more time or if she should start to seriously worry. Before she could determine her course of action, he took the matter out of her hands. He stood up suddenly and strode quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a force that wasn't quite a slam, but couldn't exactly be considered soft either.

Scully remained where she was, her hands now resting on her knees. She held her breath, her ears straining to pick up any noise from the bathroom. Nothing. Apparently Mulder hadn't reached the scale of nightmare that caused him to expel everything he had eaten in the past twenty-four hours. She chuckled humorlessly. How many other people had a rating scale for nightmares?

Mulder had always been prone to bad dreams, how could he not with a life such as his had been up to this point? But, ever since he had come to live with her, the frequency and severity of those dreams had lessened considerably. She could only hope that this was one of those few times and not a byproduct of profiling.

Fat chance.

The sound of running water filtered under the bathroom door and she could picture Mulder standing over the sink, bringing his cupped hands to his face to splash the cool liquid on his features. Then he would run a damp hand through his tousled hair, teasing it into a semblance of calm before he felt recovered enough to confront the world.

When he finally emerged, the droplets glistening on his face and in his hair were evidence that her imaginings had become reality. He wouldn't look at her as he moved to the closet, pulling his tennis shoes from the bottom.

"What are you doing?" Dana asked quietly.

His voice was even and measured as he answered, "I'm going for a run."

"It's almost three-thirty in the morning, Mulder." She waited for a response, but he just continued to tie his laces. "Can't we go jogging after the sun comes up?"

"Go back to sleep, Scully, I'll be back in an hour."

"What? You want to go running by yourself?" She stared at him in astonishment. They had been jogging together in the mornings so she could keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't put too much strain on his heart. "Mulder, what if you have a seizure and fall and seriously hurt yourself?"

All of a sudden, his calm veneer disappeared. "What do you want to do, Scully?! Do you want to spend the rest of your life holding my hand as I do simple things that I have been doing for most of my life? I am not a fucking invalid! I can take care of myself, for Christ's sake!"

Her face went pale at his tirade and she bit her lip to keep the tears from coming. She would not cry, she would *not* cry. Not over an inane argument that was caused by too much stress. Mulder was just affected by the nightmare, that was all.

He saw the color drain from her face and with it went his anger. He pushed himself up from the floor, walking over to the bed. He knelt in front of her and covered her hands with his own. "Scully, I'm sorry. I had no right to yell at you like that, especially about your supporting me through all this. I appreciate the fact that you worry about me, that you want to be sure that I'll be all right; it makes me love you all the more. But, Scully, this is different.

"Usually when I have nightmares, I can turn to you and know that I can find comfort in your arms, solace in your words. But profiling dreams are different. In them I see the killer or, more likely, from the killer's point of view. It is like it's me committing the crime, causing death and sorrow, enjoying it." He swallowed loudly before continuing. "When I wake up from those, I can't turn to you. I am so angry, so confused; I wouldn't want to... I don't want to..."

"You're afraid you'll hurt me," she finished for him.

He nodded solemnly. "It's sometimes hard to distinguish between my thoughts and the killer's. The only way I can vent all that anger and fear is to run it off. Thank God I was usually alone when I woke up, because I don't think I could have controlled myself. One time, I wasn't by myself. Diana and I had been seeing each other for months, and she stayed over one night." He shifted uncomfortably. Diana Fowley was still a bit of a sore subject between the two agents. "I had a nightmare and she had the misfortune of being there when I came out of it. I started yelling and throwing things, ranting and raving about whatever insanity was going through the head of the killer I was profiling at the time. I grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, ready to tear her apart, when I suddenly remembered where I was and what was going on.

"She was so terrified, Scully. She was afraid of *me*, afraid for her life. She told me that I needed to get out of the ISU, that someday I wouldn't be able to come back from wherever it was that I had been. The next day, we started looking for somewhere else in the FBI that I could put my talents to use."

"You found the X-files together," Dana murmured, remembering what Mulder told her when she had first met Diana.

"I don't ever want to put you in that position, Scully. I don't ever want to see fear in your eyes because of me. Maybe you should put in for a transfer to Quantico." His eyes were fastened on their hands.

"No," she replied immediately. "Mulder, look at me. Skinner kept us partnered because we're better together than we are apart and I, for one, am inclined to agree with him. Besides, what good would it do? You'd still be here with me. Or are you saying that you want to leave?"

His head shook rapidly. "No!" Watery eyes looked pleadingly into hers. "Unless you want me to."

Scully had to mentally stop herself from rolling her eyes and sighing. Sometimes he could be so daft. "Of course I don't want you to leave. Mulder, we'll deal with it. I don't know how, not until it happens, but we'll deal with it. I know what to expect... sort of... and I won't be afraid of you, because I'll understand. You're not going to get rid of me that easily, Fox Mulder." She took his face between her hands and leaned forward to kiss him gently. "Now, go run."

Mulder scooped up her hands and brought them to his lips. "Scully, I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I am thankful every day that I have you." He stood from his crouched position and headed into the hallway.

"Mulder," Dana called after him.

He poked his head back in, "Yeah?"

"Don't push too hard, remember what the doctor said."

"No extra stress, I got it." He grinned reassuringly before he departed.

Scully waited until she heard the front door close before she fell back onto her pillow. Grinding the heel of her left hand in her eye, she stared at the blurry red numbers of the alarm clock. Her groan of dismay was broken by a huge yawn.

Life with Mulder certainly kept her on her toes.

Investigative Support Unit
11:21 a.m.

'There are five short, jab-type, incisions at the lateral most lower left forehead. These just penetrate the outer table of the skull beneath this area, the largest being 0.2 x 0.1 centimeters. Just inferior and posterior to these jab wounds is a definite, penetrating stab wound of the skull. At the skin, this is diagonal with the blunt end 0.2-0.3 centimeters in thickness, and being at the anteoinferior aspect of the diagonal stab wound, and the acute angle at the superoposterior aspect of the wound being 1.4 centimeters long. At the skull, this makes a similar triangular-shaped wound, more horizontal over the right sphenoid bone, with a base thickness of 0.2-0.3 centimeters and length of 1.4 centimeters. The anterior-most 1.0 cm of this stab is the actual penetration of the skull.'

Mulder pulled off his glasses and set them on his desk before squeezing his eyes shut. He *hated* reading autopsy reports. They always drew everything out to the last letter. Why couldn't it just say, 'The victim was stabbed over his right eye'? Wouldn't that have sufficed? He sighed at his own irrelevant question.

"What's the matter, Mulder? Already got you stumped?"

Mulder's head jerked up at the familiar voice and he stood automatically. "Me stumped, Sir? Never."

Skinner chuckled. "Well, I thought that perhaps I was lucky enough to catch you at the rare moment you were mystified."

Mulder waved at the other man. "Come in, Sir, have a seat." He motioned towards the couch. "What can I do for you?"

Skinner lowered himself onto the sofa, folding his hands behind his head and crossing his legs in a position of ease. "I just came by to see how you were doing. Where's Scully?"

"She just finished an autopsy. I was reading the results she faxed to me when you came in. I was despairing over the length to which she, the thorough woman that she is, goes to describe a hole in the head."

Skinner chuckled again and Mulder was shocked to realize he had never seen his boss so laid back before. The AD must have understood the confused look on the younger man's face because he explained himself. "Mulder, I'm not your direct superior anymore, Davis is. He still reports to me and it is ultimately my decision as to whether or not you work, but *you* don't have to report to me. So relax."

Mulder mock saluted. "Yes, Sir."

Skinner shook his head in defeat. "How are they treating you down here?"

"Just fine, Sir. Everyone has been pretty much trying to stay out of my way and give me time to readjust."

"In other words, they're scared of the great Spooky Mulder and are avoiding you like the plague."

Mulder pursed his lips. "Well, I *suppose* you could put it that way." An evil grin graced his lips. "You should have seen their faces when I told Roberts that he was completely off on the Blue Hills Strangler case and started pointing out all his mistakes."

"I wish I could have been there," Skinner amended. Anthony Roberts was the current prima donna of the ISU, the man who claimed he could write any profile accurately down to color of the UNSUB's - unknown subject's - car. The fact that he had an eighty-one percent solve rate just added to his feeling of self-importance. The arrival of Spooky Mulder, who had exceeded a ninety-percent solve rate, must have knocked the other agent down a notch or two. "Mulder, try not to alienate everyone, okay?"

"I am always the consummate professional, Sir. I told him-" He was interrupted as the door opened.

"Mulder, did you get my- Oh, hello, Sir." Scully nodded to the AD as she entered the office. "What did you do now, Mulder?"

Dark eyebrows shot up the high forehead. "You wound me to the quick, Scully. I have done nothing, the good AD has come by to see how we are settling in."

"How kind of you, Sir." Scully set her briefcase on her desk in the corner and turned around to lean against its edge.

"Mulder was just telling me how he was playing nice with all the other little boys and girls. Other than that, any problems?" Skinner knew Scully would understand that he was referring to Mulder's physical and mental health.

"As a matter of fact-" she began.

"As a matter of fact, there haven't," Mulder hastily interjected. He shot his partner a glare, which she returned without flinching.

Skinner was about ready to call a cease-fire, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Mulder barked.

The doorway became filled with the bulk of Rick Davis. "Assistant Director Skinner, I didn't know you were here. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not at all. In fact, I was just leaving." Skinner stood from the couch and inclined his head at the two agents. "Mulder, Scully. I look forward to continuing this conversation at a later date."

Scully smiled briefly, thanking him for his concern. Mulder rolled his eyes.

Davis stepped aside to allow the AD out the door and then shut it behind him. "Agents, I have a case for you. One that requires immediate attention."

The partners silently called a draw on their battle of wills and focused on the SAC. Mulder was the first to speak. "What is it?"

Davis handed him a thick folder, watching as he leafed through it. "A serial killer in Portsmouth, Ohio, has killed four ten to twelve year old girls over the past several weeks. All have been killed a different way, and there bodies dumped in dissimilar places. The only thing linking them together are the notes found with them."

Scully lifted an eyebrow. "Notes?"

"The guy leaves Edgar Allen Poe poems pinned to the bodies. The media's already named the guy 'Poe of Portsmouth'. What will they think of next? Anyway, I want you two on a plane this afternoon so you can meet with the team at the regional office in Cincinnati." Davis rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger absently. "Mulder, I know you can't actually physically go out and catch this guy, but you can visit the crime scenes, look at the evidence gathered, review the bodies, etcetera. Scully, your medical expertise will be an enormous help as well. We need to be as hands on as possible because the press is screaming bloody murder, if you'll pardon the expression. It's like they think we're all sitting around twiddling our thumbs."

"Sir?" Mulder looked up from the file. "Didn't you already put a profiler on this case?"

Davis appeared sheepish. "Um, yeah. I sent Roberts up last Thursday, but he hasn't had any luck. I was hoping that you would be able to get a handle on the guy."

"Roberts," Mulder repeated. "Oh goody."

"Yes, well, I'll leave you two so you can get packed. You're booked on a flight out of Dulles at one o'clock." With that, Davis retreated back out into the bullpen.

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder beat her to it.

"I didn't want you to tell Skinner about the nightmare because there is nothing he can do about it. It is a normal, at least for me, side-effect of profiling and not important enough to bring up."

"It certainly seemed important enough this morning," Scully pointed out. He was going to argue but she held up a finger and silenced him. "Contrary to what you may think, I wasn't going to mention it. I was going to tell Skinner that everything was going as well as can be expected. I fully realize that your definition of 'normal side-effects of profiling' is a bit broader than mine and I am willing to abide by your version. But I will not allow you to put your own health at risk. Do I make myself clear?"

Mulder looked like a little boy who had just been scolded by his mother. "As glass."

"Good, now that we have that settled, let's get going. We don't want to keep them waiting."

Silently, Mulder gathered the files pertaining to their new case and walked around his desk towards the door. Scully turned to retrieve her briefcase and was startled by a loud crash. She whirled about to find her partner sprawled on the floor, surrounded by fluttering paper. The crash had come from the overturned lamp that he had clutched at to keep himself, unsuccessfully, upright. Presently, he was huddled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his ribcage.

Dana ignored the questioning voices coming from outside and hurried to her partner's side. She dropped beside him and put one hand on his shoulder, the other running soothingly through his hair. It was a bad one. She could tell by the breathy grunts he was making as waves of pain washed over him. It was his way of holding in the screams that any other person would be making.

Finally the attack subsided and he rolled onto his back, taking slow, deep breaths. "Damn it," he muttered.

"It's all right, Mulder, no harm done," Scully murmured as she set about gathering up the scattered papers.

"That's not what I was talking about." He carefully maneuvered himself upright, making sure he hadn't strained anything. Deciding that he had nothing more than a few bruises, he helped his partner clean up the mess he had created. When the last piece of errant paper was returned to the folder, he handed it to her so she could put it in her briefcase. He caught her hand in the process.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I have a tendency to overlook the fact that you're a doctor when you try to advise me on my health management. I know that it's only because you care, but sometimes I am just so sick of being treated like a cripple."

"You're not a cripple."

"I know, but it seems like it at times. I had to be self-sufficient at a young age and I'm not used to depending on other people. I get so frustrated at having to follow all these different rules and limitations, that I forget what's good for me."

"Which is?" she queried.

He pulled her into an embrace. "You."

FBI Regional Office
Cincinnati, Ohio
12:06 p.m.

"What the hell?!" A loud slap punctuated the statement as a hand slammed against a desk. "What do you mean, they assigned Mulder?"

"Look, man, I'm just the messenger here, don't yell at me." The younger man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "The order came down from Davis, so I have to assume he heard that the last profile hasn't turned up anything new."

Roberts clenched his fists in anger and began pacing alongside the oval table in the briefing room. "It's only been four days, what does he expect? Oh, what? He thinks Spooky'll be able to solve it in twenty-four hours?"

Agent Brenner shrugged. "I heard the Spook was the best."

The older agent whirled around, venom in his eyes. "The best? Listen to me, you little shit, Mulder is a nobody, a flash in the pan whose profiling skills died when he left the unit. *I* am the best analyst in the ISU, not that freak!"

Several others, who were returning from the fifteen-minute break they had been granted during the meeting, joined the two men. The newcomers didn't have to wonder what the commotion was about, they had heard it from down the hall. Agent Vangelis, always one to be on top of all bureau gossip, joined the discussion. "I thought Mulder couldn't come out into the field?"

Roberts snorted angrily. "He can't! Not exactly anyway. He doesn't have field agent status, but he can still visit the crime scenes. Seeing them first hand won't help him though, he lost his talent when he abandoned the ISU for the X-Files. And you know what? His partner is coming as well. He can't go anywhere without her because she's the only one who knows what to do if he has an attack."

A green agent, newly graduated from the academy, stared wide-eyed at his superior. "Attack?"

"Yeah. Mulder has these fits where he shakes and drools all over the place, pisses his pants and pukes everywhere." Roberts reveled in the looks of disgust that registered around the room.

"Why?" Vangelis asked.

"Hell if I know. I think it's from electroshock therapy they performed on him when he was in the loony bin," the profiler sneered.

Voracious laughter echoed throughout the briefing room.

Flight 1701-A
2:32 p.m.

Scully placed her hands on the metal surface of the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Well, Dana, you've got to get over it and get on with it," she muttered to herself. She had left her partner slumbering in his cramped airline seat, his soft snores the background music to which she had reviewed the case files, and hidden away in the lavatory to process her ambiguous thoughts.

She was looking forward to this assignment, as odd as that sounded. It was the first time that she and Mulder would go out and investigate a relatively normal case and she was eager to watch her partner in action. When she had first joined him on the X-Files, she had been wet behind the ears, lacking much time in the field, naive when it came to crime scene analysis. Give her a corpse any day, but the location of the corpse? It was from Mulder that she had learned the real art of investigating, not the stale explanations of a rulebook. It was like watching a ballet of sorts, seeing Mulder move about a crime scene, practically absorbing information through his pores. He used all his senses to *look* at the area from all perspectives, often picking out insignificant things that later became quite relevant. She had learned more about scene analysis from working one case with Mulder than she did in her years at Quantico. And this time, she was going to see him in full gear, no outrageous theories or unbelievable explanations to clutter the process.

But that also frightened her. Her memories of the Mostow case were far too vivid; the black pools of her partner's eyes as he stared into nothingness, the hollow note in his voice, the sallowness of his complexion. He had become a darker and more forbidding version of the man she had worked with, someone she didn't understand and couldn't reach. When Skinner had come to them three weeks ago with a proposition for Mulder to return to the Investigative Support Unit, it had been an image of that unrecognizable man that had haunted her. She had desperately wanted to believe that if they stayed in a nice, safe office, then the effects on her partner wouldn't be so drastic. It hadn't occurred to her that surroundings made little difference when you're inside a killer's mind. She chided herself for being so foolish, for thinking that her presence and no on-site investigating would keep the demons at bay. The nightmare of last night was proof enough that she was kidding herself.

But, as scared as she was, she knew it was for the best. Mulder was a restless spirit, a man who needed to be constantly busy. She had often wondered why he seemed to never take a break and she had come to the conclusion that it was a defense mechanism. It was a way to avoid the demons of his past, the ones that were always hovering at the edge of his consciousness, waiting to consume him. Sitting at home doing nothing was an invitation for disaster and she knew that if Skinner hadn't come to them, Mulder would have searched him out instead.

This was the right thing to do. Really.

Scully drew in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, blowing strands of hair away from her face. She straightened her jacket and opened the door. She had just stepped out when she jerked back, pressing herself against the closed door as a flight attendant rushed past with a hasty "'Scuse me". Watching the other woman hurry down the aisle, Dana was alarmed to discover that the reason for the attendant's celerity was none other than her partner. He was thrashing about as much as the cramped space of the airline seat allowed, his muttered cries drawing the attention of the other passengers. She hurried after the stewardess, who was trying to wake Mulder gently. The woman turned and looked at Scully with an unsure look in her eyes when the agent laid a hand on her arm.

"I'll take care of it, thank you." Dana nodded her appreciation.

The flight attendant let out a breath of relief and stepped away, returning to her duties with measured equanimity. Scully sat in her vacated seat and leaned over the arm to place her hands on Mulder's left shoulder and cheek. "Mulder. Mulder, wake up, come on."

His eyelids snapped open and his glazed eyes flitted about the room, not appearing to focus on anything. Suddenly he began speaking in a monotone voice, his words muted.

"Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, my soul, from our first meeting, burned with fires it had never before known; but the fires were not of Eros, and bitter and tormenting to my spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual meaning, or regulate their intensity. Yet we met; and fate bound us together at the altar; and I never spoke of passion, nor thought of love. She, however, shunned society, and attaching herself to me alone, rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder; - it is a happiness to dream."

Scully didn't know what to do. It didn't sound as though her partner were speaking *to* her, let alone from his own mind, quoting something she didn't recognize instead. His next words were still in the same expressionless tone, but she was able to comprehend their meaning with ease.

"The original profile is wrong. He is in his late forties, early fifties, married and living with his sister. He has a high-paying job, stressful, most likely in communications, services, something like that. He isn't doing this out of anger, but of sorrow. He had a good childhood, nothing remotely significant to point to as a sign of instability. His parents doted on him, his sister adores him. But something happened. Something tragic. It scarred him so deeply that he is trying to find a way to make the pain go away. But it won't. It never does."

His eyes closed with his last statement and Dana could see that he was struggling to come back from the darkness of the killer's mind. He took several deep breaths and then reopened his eyes, glancing about to evaluate his surroundings. They came to rest on his partner and she could see the tension seep out of him, only to be replaced with something close to embarrassment. "Guess I saved the airline the need for an in-flight movie, huh?"

She sighed in a mixture of relief and disgust. "Mulder, I..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"I never said it was going to be easy, or that there wouldn't be a few rough patches on the way. I can't help what I do, can't stop myself from immersing everything that I am into this. Having you here is making a world of difference and I am grateful beyond words; but if this is too much, maybe you should step away. I refuse to let you suffer once again because of me. I love you, Dana, with my entire being, but I can't walk away from this. Because I know that, in the end, all that matters is the lives of the victims saved. You can understand that, can't you?"

Scully remained silent after his discourse, too shocked by the idea that he was asking her to leave. Anger began to bubble up inside her, anger that he didn't seem to know her as well as she thought he did. She opened her mouth, ready to bombard him with an armory of hurt accusations and stinging questions, when she looked up at his face. The utter despair reflected in his eyes was enough to erase her anger instantly. It was then that she realized what he was doing.

He was pushing her away to keep her safe. How typically Mulder.

"Of course I understand, Mulder, that's one of the reasons I agreed to this whole situation. Hell, it's one of the reasons I joined the FBI in the first place. Do you honestly believe that I *could* walk away? From either you or this case? I am not doing this out of some sort of instinct to protect you, or because I pity you in any way. Mulder, I love you and I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what the future holds. That is *my* choice, it is what *I* want. How can I get that simple fact through your thick skull?"

Mulder looked reticent. "I'm sorry, Scully. It's just that... I don't know... maybe I'm afraid that if you see me... disconnected from reality, shall we say, that you won't want to be with me anymore."

"Mulder, if aliens, ghosts, mutants, goblins, men in black, werewolves, vampires, and a various assortment of genetic monsters can't frighten me, what makes you think a little foray into the mind of a serial killer will? All right, I'll admit that I was a little concerned for you during the John Mostow case." She saw his look of reproach. "Okay, I was more than a little concerned. But that was because I couldn't comprehend what you were doing, what you were going through. I do now and I'd like to think that I will be more prepared this time. I'm not going to kid you or myself; I admit that I am still anxious, but now that is tempered by understanding. We are in this together, Mulder, for better or worse."

Mulder's expression of apprehension melted away and he raised a hand to run his fingertips through the hair at her temple. "Thank you," he whispered in reverence.

Dana turned her head and kissed his palm in acceptance of his apology. "Never doubt how much I love you, Mulder. Never."

He bit his lower lip as a tide of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He leaned forward, kissing her softly and then touched his forehead to hers, looking her straight in the eyes. "Never. I promise."