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 - Chapter 2
Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport
Cincinnati, Ohio
4:53 p.m.
"I think it's over this way." Mulder tugged at her hand, pulling her along behind him. It was odd that, after all his years of flying about the country, he had never been to this particular airport. He had no idea where the baggage claim was and the corridors were teeming with travelers. Luckily, he could see over most of their heads and he was able to make out the directory signs. Scully, vertically challenged as she was, had to trust him and hold on tight so as not to get lost in the sea of people.
Weaving their way through the living maze, Mulder pulled them up alongside conveyer belt and scanned the area for any sign of their suitcases. Scully made a circle in the spot where she stood in order to pinpoint the location of the car rental desk. "I'll be right back," she told him after finally seeing Hertz's yellow and blue sign.
Without turning around, Mulder called after her, "Call me on my cell if you get lost."
Dana chuckled as she dodged past a group of screaming children. She reached the rental desk and was about to ask the clerk for the usual forms, when a loud voice drew her attention.
"Agent Scully! Agent Scully!"
She looked to her left and saw a man jogging towards her, calling her name. He was about six feet tall and twenty-five years old at the most, reddish brown hair swept off his forehead, dark sunglasses adorning his nose, and a long trenchcoat swaying about his knees. He might as well have been wearing a sign that said 'FBI'. He waved at her when he saw that he had caught her eye and slowed his pace a bit. He had to hastily sidestep a couple and their child so that he didn't run into them and came to a halt in front of the female agent. He flashed her a grin and held up his right index finger, indicating that he needed a moment to catch his breath. She raised her eyebrows and waited.
After several long, deep breaths, he nodded at her and removed his sunglasses. "Agent Scully, I'm Agent Phillips, I was sent to pick you and Agent Mulder up."
Surprise flashed in her eyes momentarily but she hid it well. "That was very thoughtful of SAC Hallowell. Mulder's over at the baggage claim."
Phillips' head swiveled around to search the direction Scully had indicated, seeming disappointed when he didn't find the agent in question. He gave Dana another nod and started off towards the luggage area, she having to wait behind a moment to allow a caravan of elderly people to pass. She caught up with Phillips and directed him towards where she knew her partner was waiting. All of a sudden, the throng of people parted like the Red Sea, revealing Mulder at the other end of the corridor of humans. She could see confusion and then suspicion flit across his features as he saw the man she was walking next to.
The two joined him and she opened her mouth to introduce their escort but she was beaten to the draw. Phillips snatched up Mulder's hand and was shaking it vigorously. "Agent Mulder, it's an honor to meet you, Sir. I've heard so much about you and I am looking forward to working with you."
Scully snickered quietly as she watched Mulder carefully extract his hand from the younger man's grasp. "Thank you, Agent..."
"Phillips, Sir. Keith Phillips."
"Agent Phillips. Am I to assume that you are here to give us a ride?"
"Yes, Sir. Here, let me get your bags." Phillips began reaching for Mulder's suitcase.
Scully noticed the irritation building in her partner's eyes and quickly moved to circumvent any possible arguments. "Agent Phillips, would be so kind as to carry one of my suitcases? I have an extra one that is filled with the case notes and such."
"Certainly, Ma'am." The kid hefted the bag that Scully had indicated and then swept his hand out before him. "This way please."
The partners shared a look of amusement before moving to follow. It was obvious that Phillips was as green as they came. Having been brought up through the academy on Spooky Mulder stories, he looked upon Mulder as a legend in his own time. Scully didn't mind the fact that her partner was famous within the law enforcement community, knowing that he in no way tried to consciously perpetuate it or use it to his advantage. Mulder was one of the most modest men she had ever met - just another one of his endearing traits.
Phillips led them out the entrance and down several rows of parked cars before turning down one of the rows. He walked up to a black Ford Taurus and used a button on his key chain to pop the trunk. He set his burden in the trunk and graciously held it open so the other two agents could deposit their suitcases. Mulder kept his carry-on with him, wanting to add a few notes to his profile-in-progress.
Another button on the keychain unlocked the doors and Phillips made to open Scully's door, but was warned off by a glare from Mulder, who took the opportunity to do it himself. Scully smiled at him in thanks and in a silent reminder to behave before she got in the vehicle. Shutting the door after her, Mulder pulled open the rear and settled himself in the back, wasting no time in getting to work. He was already scribbling away on a yellow note pad before Phillips was able to start the engine.
Five minutes into the ride and Scully could tell that Phillips was getting fidgety. He was constantly glancing in the rearview mirror and then back to the road. She figured that he was probably trying to figure out how to ask Mulder something and she also knew that her partner wouldn't particularly appreciate an interruption right now.
"So, Phillips, how long have you been on this case?"
He jumped slightly at her question, not expecting it. "Um, since uh... let me see... since the beginning, I guess. It's my first case in the field, Ma'am."
'You're kidding' she wanted to say sarcastically but smiled kindly instead. "Not exactly what you were hoping to start out with, is it?"
The kid gave a half-hearted laugh. "No, Ma'am, I was kinda hoping for something easier. But I am learning a lot and am looking forward to watching you and Agent Mulder in action."
"Enough with the 'Ma'am', Phillips. You can call me Dana, and Mulder prefers just his last name."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Um, I mean, Dana." He paused and appeared to consider something. "Everybody calls me Gopher, but you can call me Keith if you like."
Scully chuckled. "I think every new agent gets stuck with that one until another newbie joins the unit, so don't take it personally."
"Uh, Da- Dana," he stumbled over her name, "is he really as good as they say he is?"
The words were whispered in awe and Scully resisted the urge to turn and see if Mulder had heard the comment, knowing that he was miles away instead. "Everyone wins some and loses some, Keith. No one is infallible."
The youth stared ahead of him and chewed on his lip, digesting that statement. The rest of the drive was spent in thoughtful silence.
Brentanos Plaza Hotel
5:46 p.m.
"There's a briefing at six, so if you just give the bellhop your luggage, he can take it up to your rooms and we'll be able to make it to headquarters in time. It's only about ten minutes from here, seven if you hit the lights right." Gopher was talking fast, his excitement at being the one 'in the know' seizing him.
Mulder and Scully did as recommended and they all piled back into the car, barely having time to buckle their seatbelts before Phillips had them racing down the streets. Contrary to what he had claimed, they made it in five minutes, most likely due to the young man's expedient use of side streets and a discreet disregard of the speed limit.
The Cincinnati Regional Office was a nondescript building on the outside and a reproduction of the J. Edgar Hoover building on the inside. They crammed into the elevator with several other people, some of whom were casting curious glances at the Washington agents. Mulder didn't seem to notice the attention, his gaze focused inward. Scully was slightly worried about his demeanor. He had responded to nothing but direct statements ever since the airport and she hoped that he would be able to pull himself together enough to face the team of agents they would have to work with for the next who knew how long.
They exited the elevator on the fifth floor, greeted with the drearily blank hallways all government buildings seemed to possess. But this one wasn't bubbling with activity, as bullpens usually were, indicating that a meeting was about to commence. One of the people bustling down the hall stopped when he noticed the trio of agents standing in front of the elevator doors. Phillips raised a hand in acknowledgment and ushered his charges forward. They met the other man halfway.
"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to have you aboard. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but in this line of work, how often is that?" He shook each of their hands, his meaty palms engulfing theirs. He was a few inches taller than Mulder, his jaw was thick and square, his torso was practically a rectangle, and his muscles flexed when he moved. He looked as though he could break a man in half with his bare hands, though his jocular manner belied the sheer power of his body. He appeared to be jovial and upbeat, but the dark circles under his eyes told of the constant strain he was under. They all stared at each other for a while until the man realized what the two agents were waiting for. "Oh, how silly of me. I'm Todd Hallowell, SAC on this case. You can call me Bear, I don't believe in wasting time with niceties."
Scully turned to Mulder and raised an eyebrow out of the big man's view. This was the Special Agent in Charge of a publicity nightmare serial killer case? Whose bright idea was that? Mulder's shoulders hitched up a fraction, enough to tell her that they should just go with it. Hallowell swiveled around on a heel, his tree limb of an arm gesturing before him. "You're just in time for the six o'clock briefing. This way."
They let him move away a few steps, their hesitation keeping them immobile, and Gopher was somehow able to sense their doubts. "Don't let his vigorous nature deter you, he's one hell of an SAC. He can be sweet and kind one minute, ready to rip you in two the next. That's why we call him Bear." Phillips grinned at that. "You know, like a teddy bear versus a grizzly..."
"Yeah, and I'm sure his size has nothing to do with it," Mulder said, his gaze raising to watch the retreating back of their new superior. "Well, you heard the man, let's get going." He placed a hand on Scully's back and started after the SAC, Phillips trotting along behind.
They reached a set of double doors, opened to reveal a large room, a huge wooden table set in the dead center. The far wall was covered with photographs, maps, and scraps of paper with dozens of different handwriting upon them. Boxes were pushed up against the wall in a haphazard fashion, plastic bags sticking out, labels identifying them as pieces of evidence. There were about seven agents sitting at the table, another eight or so milling about. Once Hallowell entered, everyone quieted and found their seats quickly. The SAC moved to the head of the table, the chair creaking under his considerable weight. Mulder and Scully took the vacant seats to his left and Gopher remained standing, ready to live up to his nickname. Murmurs rippled throughout the room as the men realized who the newcomers were.
"All right, people, settle down," Bear instructed, standing as he spoke. "I see you all noticed that we are being joined by some new members. Agents Mulder and Scully have been gracious enough to lend their support to our efforts and I am sure that we will all benefit from the association." A stern glare was sent around the table, emphasizing the seriousness of his comment. His gaze rested for a few seconds on the man opposite him at the other end of the table. Roberts refused to flinch and the SAC moved on. "I'll introduce the team leaders now and the rest of you can get acquainted later. Agent Jackson Brenner is heading up the victimology team," Bear nodded to his right at a lithe man with a dark complexion and a thin face that showed the tension of his job. "Ulysses Vangelis is in charge of crime scene analysis," his chin tilted farther down the table. A man with curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes inclined his head in their direction. "Dr. Chris Walden from the Portsmouth PD has been instrumental in dealing with our forensics and I know that he has been itching to have a word with you, Agent Scully." An elderly man about three chairs to Mulder's left flashed a grin at the redheaded pathologist, nodding his head eagerly. "And I believe you both already know Tony Roberts, working on the profile for this case. Mulder, I'm sure you and he will have quite a bit to talk about after this meeting. Now, Uly, why don't we start with you?"
Vangelis rose as the SAC lowered his bulk back into his chair. Running a hand through his tangled locks, the man used his other hand to flip open a file folder on the table before him. "Latest results from the crime lab show that there were no biological traces of the UNSUB at the scene, no fiber, blood, prints, hair, gunpowder, arson traces, and no signs of drug use. Nothing, same as the rest. All we have is the note, which reads,
'The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-'
We haven't been able to identify which of Poe's writings it's from, but we're fairly positive that it is a line from a poem. There appears to be no link between this dumpsite or any of the three previous ones, just the fact that they lie within the same fifty-mile radius. Access to the site is open to almost anyone willing to go in and there are no security measures for the building, so we're stuck when it comes to narrowing down people with right of entry. Since the victim was found frozen in a meat locker, we were hoping forensics could find something substantial preserved with the body." Uly dropped into his chair in defeat.
Bear chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Okay, Dr. Walden, I believe that's your cue."
The white-haired medical examiner adjusted his glasses and shuffled the papers in front of him. "Victim is female, eleven years old, white, seventy-three pounds. Death has been determined as severe hypothermia from prolonged exposure to temperatures below zero degrees Celsius. There is no trace of antimony or carbon monoxide in the blood, nor any other toxic substance. The victim was knocked unconscious with a hard object, most likely metal, as no splinters or fibers from the weapon have been found, resulting in a cracked skull." Walden paused momentarily as he became aware of a mumbling voice to his right. He looked around and saw that several of the others were staring at Mulder, whose lips were moving. The doctor strained to make out the words, but couldn't discern anything intelligible. He tried to dismiss it and continued with his report. "From the amount of frostbite, I would have to say that the victim was in that freezer for approximately eight hours, but she was not conscious for any of them. At least we can be thankful that she didn't feel anything. I hate to disappoint you boys, but I can't tell you anything more substantial than that." Finished with his summary, Walden was greeted by an eerie silence. The team members were directing their attention to the man near the head of the table, expressions of wonder and suspicion on their faces. After a moment, the old man was able to make sense of the words spilling from the profiler's mouth.
"...with a love
That the winged seraphs of heaven,
Coveted her and me."
Bear looked at the new member of the team and was surprised to see that Mulder's eyes were almost shut, his face calm and expressionless. "Mulder?" No change except that the words dipped down beneath the edge of hearing. The SAC glanced at Scully, searching for an explanation. She shook her head, indicating that she didn't know what her partner was talking about either. Bear was at a loss. He had heard of Mulder, was thrilled to have him on this case, but he had never worked with the man. He thought all the rumors were exaggerated, that they were beanstalks of hearsay grown from seeds of truth. Now he wasn't so sure. It was as though Mulder was in some sort of fugue state, unresponsive except to anything pertaining to the killer's thoughts. He uneasily decided to let Mulder be, instead motioning to Brenner to update them all on the victimology.
Brenner's gaze flicked back and forth between Mulder and Bear, unsure as what to do. He cleared his throat and nervously plucked at his tie. "Um, yeah, okay. The victim has been identified as Loren Moniker, who disappeared four days ago on her way to James A. Garfield Elementary. It was initially believed that she had been kidnapped for ransom, as her parents are one of the wealthiest couples in Portsmouth, with a waterfront home on the Ohio River. Loren was well liked by her friends and classmates, a model student as well as actively involved in community affairs through Girl Scouts. One other victim, Harper Bingham, was a member of Girl Scouts, that being the only link we've found thus far."
A low monotone voice followed on the heels of Brenner's last statement.
"So that her high-born kinsman came,
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea."
"Mulder? Is there something you want to share with us?" Bear raised his eyebrows at the younger agent. "Mulder?" He waited a moment longer until he was positive that Mulder had no intention of replying. With a deep sigh of resignation, the SAC waved at Roberts. "Would you please go over your profile, Tony."
Roberts tossed a look of disgust in Mulder's direction and then puffed out his chest in self-importance. "*My* profile says that the killer is in his late twenties and lives by himself. He cannot hold a steady job, often doing menial labor for minimum wage. He comes from a broken home where he was abused both physically and sexually. His mother was the source of the abuse and the UNSUB holds aggression towards women because of this but an adult woman is too intimidating for him, therefore he turns to children to vent his anger-"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"No, he isn't angry."
Roberts glared at Mulder. "Really? You think I'm wrong, huh? Well, why don't you enlighten us as to what you believe are the killer's motives?"
All eyes were riveted on Mulder, as though waiting for an oracle to speak.
The younger profiler lazily blinked his eyes. "He does it out of sorrow. He isn't angry with the children, he doesn't hate women either. Something happened to him, maybe he lost someone, and he was so hurt by it that he feels a need to release that hurt. He loves those children."
The elder profiler snorted in contempt. "Uh huh. And how did you come to *that* conclusion?"
"The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!-that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee."
Silence reigned for a good two minutes as the team members realized that Mulder had just quoted the poem from which the note on the body was taken. Mulder had sunk back into himself, ignoring the pointed stares. A surprised grunt broke the utter stillness.
"So, you're saying that the victim matches the girl in the poem? That makes sense, since she was well off and lived by a body of water. Her death was certainly chilling, being frozen in a meat locker and all. But I still don't get why he would kill a little girl if he actually loved her." Gopher glanced around the room, hoping someone would shed some light on the mystery. Most just returned his look with one of disdain, as though he was wrong in voicing his belief in Mulder's theory.
"I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee."
Mulder's voice was quiet and slightly muffled, as his chin was almost touching his chest while he stared at his hands, folded on the table. He said nothing more, as though that quote explained it all.
"Bullshit."
Heads whipped around in the other direction. Roberts was standing, leaning over the table, his palms placed flat on the glossy surface. "What, Mulder? You think you can waltz in here, tell me I'm all wrong and just rewrite *my* profile because you know some poetry? Well, forget it! I have spent the past four days on this case and I think I'm more qualified to interpret the meaning behind the note as well as the motives behind the killer's actions. Furthermore-"
"That will be enough, Agent Roberts." It was a low warning growl but it had the same effect as if it had been shouted across the room. Bear was standing as well, his massive bulk tense with anger. "Mulder is here to solve this, just like you. I will not have you harassing him or belittling him. Constructive criticism, fine. Reasonable arguments on major points of the profile, okay. But outright dismissal of a fellow agent's insights is unacceptable. Do I make myself clear?"
Roberts' face had gone sheet white, his knees buckling so that he sank into his chair. "Yes, Sir."
"Good." The SAC turned his attention to the entire room. "Now, I want you all to go home and get a good night's rest. Tomorrow, we are going to rehash this whole thing from the beginning, with a fresh pair of eyes and a possible new perspective on the killer. Dismissed."
The room erupted into chatter and noise as chairs slid across the linoleum floor and men excitedly discussed the events of the past half-hour. They all began to slowly file out, heading home or to the cafeteria for a fresh cup of coffee. Most kept their eyes averted as they passed Tony Roberts, a few muttering condolences on being shown up by the Spook. The elder profiler methodically put his notes into his briefcase and shut it with exaggerated care. Then, with stage-performance precision, he strode from the boardroom, his back straight and his face set in stone.
Bear watched the man go and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Asshole," he muttered. Turning slightly to his left, he dropped his hand away from his face. "Mulder, sometimes I wonder about you. I know Roberts is an arrogant pain in the ass, but there's no need to antagonize him. If you disagree, do it in a manner that isn't so... so absolute. There is always room for interpretation and I want everyone to work together to come up with the most accurate information available." He leaned forward and placed his meaty palms on the table. "Mulder?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened them and wearily looked at the other man's partner. "Scully, take him back to the hotel, make sure he gets some sleep, huh?"
"Yes, Sir." Dana stood, gently wedging a hand underneath Mulder's arm. "C'mon partner, time to go."
Without any visible acknowledgment, Mulder stood, wavering slightly and raised bloodshot eyes to the SAC. "I apologize for causing disruption among the team members, Sir. In the future I will try my best to be more aware and respectful of the other agents' theories, no matter how much they differ from my own."
Bear's mouth dropped open. Did Spooky Mulder just apologize? It wasn't that the SAC thought that Mulder felt he was above apologies, it was just that Mulder was famous for being stubborn and refusing to back down. Maybe his years with the X-Files had mellowed him a bit. Maybe his partner played a large role in the change. Who knew? But whatever it was, it floored the older agent. "Thank you, Agent Mulder. Now, get some rest, you two look like you could use it."
Mulder grinned. "Sir, if *we* look tired, *you* must be in a coma."
Bear, belatedly realizing that he himself wasn't exactly the most well-rested person in the room, guffawed loudly and slapped Mulder on the back, jarring the younger man slightly. "Damn straight!"
7:53 p.m.
Phillips had the privilege of driving the two agents back to their hotel. He was quiet most of the way, his free foot tapping nervously next to the break pedal. He kept glancing in the rear view mirror at Mulder, who was sitting lengthwise in the back seat, laptop resting on upraised knees. Scully was in the passenger seat, reviewing the files she had received from Dr. Walden.
"Go ahead, ask."
Gopher jerked his eyes back to the road. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You're going to get us into an accident if you keep that up any longer, so go ahead, ask me whatever it is that's on your mind." Hazel eyes peered back from the rear view mirror.
"I, uh, wanted to know how you knew what poem the note was from?"
"I went to Oxford, Phillips; Edgar Allen Poe is required reading in England. As luck would have it, I did my American Literature thesis on him and so I read all his works, including poems. My memory is fairly good, so it was simply a matter of remembering which poem the excerpt was from."
Dana harrumphed loudly. "Fairly good memory? Don't mind him, Keith, he's being modest. The man has a photographic memory and remembers almost everything." Her voice dropped a decibel. "Of course, he has a tendency to conveniently 'forget' certain things."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Scully. I remember every-"
"Where you put your cellphone, what happened to your last gun, what time you were supposed to meet-"
"Okay, okay, I don't remember *everything*. I only have so much room in my head and sometimes the more mundane everyday matters are sacrificed for the greater good." His head swiveled back to the driver. "Phillips, when you get a partner, make sure he or she is either less punctual than you are or more prone to lose equipment. It'll save you a world of headaches."
"Don't kid about it, Mulder. Do you know how tempted I've been to Velcro your phone to your hand? Or your gun? Maybe super glue would work."
Mulder sniffed in disdain and shut his laptop with an audible click. He set it aside carefully and moved to sit normally in the seat. "Scully, why don't you use that super glue to adhere your high heels on your feet? Then you wouldn't have to worry about losing them when we're chasing a suspect."
Up front, Gopher was trying his damnedest not to burst out laughing. He failed when Dana whirled around in her seat and Mulder jerked back just in time to avoid being hit in the face with a stack of rolled up autopsy notes.
He was still chuckling a bit when they pulled up in front of the hotel. "Here we are. I'll be back tomorrow morning to pick you both up at seven thirty."
Mulder was already out of the car, laptop slung over one shoulder, briefcase dangling from hand, and opening the door for his partner. Scully smiled over at their escort. "Thanks for the ride, Keith, see you in the morning." She took Mulder's hand as he helped her out of the vehicle and ushered her inside.
Phillips watched the two stride into the building, their heads tilted together in conversation, their bodies brushing together every so often as they walked. He sighed forlornly and pulled away from the curb.
Brentanos Plaza Motel
8:13 p.m.
"Don't worry about it, Mulder. Roberts is an idiot and a blowhard, everyone knows that and most of them don't take him too seriously." Dana walked through the open connecting door and sat down on her partner's bed.
Mulder emerged from the bathroom, scrubbing his damp hair with a small towel. "It's not Roberts I'm worried about. It doesn't matter what he says, they all have preconceived notions about me already. My little stunt this evening certainly didn't help either."
"Well, I think all it did was perpetuate the myth. Like it or not, you have a reputation. Mulder, I hate to admit this, but you earned that reputation. I don't know how you do what you do, but I do understand that it isn't voodoo or some sort of psychotic dementia. Sometimes though, it seems like it."
Mulder's eyes flashed angry for a moment but cooled quickly. "It isn't voodoo, Scully, it's not that simple. I have a Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology, I've been trained to understand how the human mind works, particularly those with a violent tendency. I look at their behavior and the results of said behavior, and from that I can put together a psychological profile of that person's mind. It isn't an exact science, but it is as close to a science as anyone can get when it comes to comprehension of the human mind."
"You're preaching to the converted, Mulder. The audience you should be talking to is back at the office. What I'm trying to say is that you don't make it any easier for them to come around by acting like a prophet." Scully pulled her legs up and crossed them underneath her.
With a deep sigh that seemed to come from his toes, Mulder flopped down beside her and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "I don't do it consciously, I don't even realize I'm doing it until afterwards. I put my thoughts into words without any consideration of how it sounds or as to whether it makes sense."
Dana fell back to lie next to him. "Mulder, after six years with you, you *still* don't make sense to me."
A soft chuckle shook the bed. "I like to keep you guessing." He turned over and enveloped her in his arms, silencing all conversation with a long kiss.
Tuesday
1:26 am
Scully woke to the sound of sheets rustling next to her. The bed bounced slightly and creaked as weight was lifted from it. The sound of bare feet padding across the carpet told her that Mulder had gotten up. She dismissed it as a middle of the night trip to the bathroom and turned over, burying her head in the soft pillow.
Click, click, click, tap, tap, click, click, tap, click
One eye popped open and she drearily lifted her head. The light by the small table had been turned on. "Mulder?" No answer. Sitting up, she turned to find her partner seated at the round table, typing on his laptop. Putting her hands to her face, she shook her head and sighed deeply. A good scrubbing and she dropped her hands, using them to push herself up from the bed. She shuffled over to stand behind him, leaning sleepily on the back of his chair. "Mulder?" she asked again.
She got the same response as before - nothing. Leaning closer, she started scanning the words appearing on the small screen:
Ye who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since
gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall
happen, and secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away,
ere these memorials be seen of men. And, when seen, there will be some to
disbelieve, and some to doubt, and yet a few who will find much to ponder
upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron.
Not dead, not alive, but in some state which can be defined as neither. Loss
of a loved one is a fate worse than death for some, life without real life.
Writes of dead, describing through Poe's works the essence of each child.
Characteristics of the lost one, not a child, but a woman. Takes the obvious,
the bare meaning of each excerpt, not reading into the true value of the words.
Interest is perhaps in the man who wrote those words. Some corollary
between own life and Poe's. Must save those girls, save them before...
before what? Before they grow up and fall in love. Fall in love and make a
man so happy and then die and create a void that can never be filled. So alone,
need to stop the pain of being left behind. Angry, so angry at not being
able to follow but not angry with the children. Love them like surrogates,
save them from themselves, make them a link to the lost.
Kill them before they kill with love gone astray.
Kill them before they kill me again.
The cursor blinked lazily at the end of the last sentence, signaling Mulder's exhaustion of thought. Scully stared at the words, reading the last two statements over and over. Fear curled around her throat and made it hard to breathe, like a weight descending upon her and forcing her to dig her fingers into the rough fabric of the chair.
'...kill me...', *me*. That was what he had written. First person, not observer. Was this a sign, a warning that the descent into madness had begun? Or was it simply a mistake, a common occurrence among profilers when trying to see from a killer's point of view? Perhaps she was overreacting.
Perhaps not, she amended as she felt the chair beneath her hands begin to shake ever so slightly. Mulder's body was trembling, his breathing uneven and his glazed eyes turned inward. Laying her hand on his left shoulder, she squeezed gently. "Mulder?"
The tremors lessened and the drooping head raised slowly. "We're looking in the wrong place, Scully. We have to look into the background of Poe himself, not his writings. Do you know anything about him?"
Dana just blinked. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water. "Mulder, do you have any idea what time it is?"
His brows came together in a frown and his eyes darted to the screen. "A bit past one-thirty."
"And what do normal people do at this time of night?"
The indentation between his eyebrows deepened. "Sleep?"
"Correct! Vanna, tell our lucky contestant what he's just won!" Scully put her cupped hands to her mouth and mimicked a cheering crowd. The corner of Mulder's mouth quirked up and she dropped her hands.
"Scully, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were mocking me."
She simply batted her eyes at him. "Me? I would never."
A sly grin spread across Mulder's face, making years of exhaustion disappear. Then he became serious again. "But Scully, the sooner we get started on this, the sooner we'll have some more information for the team. He's going to take another girl before long and we might be able to cut him off at the pass."
"Mulder, everyone is asleep right now, there's not much we can do at this point. Come back to bed, get a few more hours of sleep and we'll start bright and early in the morning." She added a pleading note to her voice as she said, "Please, you need to rest."
For a moment he looked as if he might argue but his features softened. "All right." He waited for her to back away from his chair before he stood up. Taking her outstretched hand, he allowed her to lead him to the bed and push him down gently.
She climbed in next to him and curled up in the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest. "Sweet dreams, Mulder," she murmured.
For once, he had no problems complying; he did not dream at all.
5:46 am
At least it wasn't typing this time. Scully was tempted to pull a pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the shower, but she knew that she would have to get up soon anyway. She had promised Mulder that they would make an early start today and she was going to keep her word. Too bad her definition of early was not the same as her partner's.
She compromised, pulling the sheets over her head and reasoning that she might as well grab a few more minutes of rest before Mulder got out of the shower. She drifted in and out for a bit and then finally woke up enough to realize that she had been dozing for what seemed a long time. Poking her head out from under the covers, she was startled to see the red numbers on the alarm clock stating that it was a quarter past six. And the water was still running.
Mulder had been in the shower for over half an hour.
Fear shot through her and she tossed back the blankets and sprang to her feet, her feet moving in tandem with her pounding heart. She skidded to a halt in front of the bathroom door and knocked quickly before grabbing the handle and twisting. She wrenched open the door and was assaulted by a hot blast of air, causing her to gasp involuntarily. Her eyes went straight to the shower doors, fogged over and obscuring her vision. She slid one of the glass doors open and the sight that greeted her produced another gasp. Mulder was huddled on the wet tiles, arms curled about his midsection as he rocked slowly, eyes clenched shut against untold agony.
She reached in and turned off the water with one hand, grabbing a towel from the rack with the other. She knelt down in front of her partner, the legs of her pajamas soaking up the remaining water and pulled Mulder forward so that she could wrap the towel around him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, just continued rocking.
"Mulder? Mulder, please talk to me."
She saw his lips move and leaned closer to make out his words. "Hurts...hurts...stop...hurts...Scully..."
She bit her lip as her heart constricted and she moved to sit down, pulling Mulder to her and stroking his damp hair. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, I wish I could make it stop," she whispered. A tear spilled down her cheek to mix with the droplets in his hair. This was the worst seizure he'd had in over a month and she was scared, so scared. What if the strain was too much on him? That, added to the stress of this case, it might be enough to tip the scales, put enough pressure on his heart that it finally quit.
Scully shook her head angrily. That could not happen, she wouldn't let it happen. She didn't know what the hell she could do about it, but she was going to do her damnedest to find a way. She held her partner and lover tighter, waiting for him to come back to her.
6:52 a.m.
He couldn't take it any more. "Stop looking at me like I'm about to spontaneously combust. I'm fine."
Scully gripped her briefcase firmly and took a deep breath. "I just don't know if you should be going to work so soon after what happened. Undue stress could-"
"Bullshit, Scully. You know that stress has nothing to do with this," he snapped. He watched her shoulders slump and was immediately repentant. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. I know you're worried, but I feel fine, aside from being a little sore. In all honesty, I wouldn't really mind a respite, but both you and I know that the next little girl can't afford us taking a break."
Scully licked her lips and appeared to concentrate on watching the road for a few minutes before answering. "You're right, I know you're right, but that doesn't stop me from worrying."
Mulder lifted his left hand and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. They had been over this too many times. "There's nothing either of us can really do about it, so there is really no point in worrying, is there?"
Dana clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead. Silence reigned until they saw Gopher's car round the corner and head their way. Mulder shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, working out his stiff muscles. This morning's attack had left him feeling as though he had been hit by a train and now he had pissed Scully off. What else could go wrong?
Gopher pulled up in front of the hotel and they moved out from under the overhang to get in the car, Mulder in back and Scully up front. Dana shut the door loudly and turned to the driver. "Keith, I'm sorry we woke you so early, but-"
"Actually, everyone is up and on their way in, didn't you know?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Know what?"
Mulder's heart dropped into his stomach and he felt the beginnings of a headache form behind his eyes. "Another girl is missing."
Gopher's grimace was enough to confirm Mulder's assumption. Dana shook her head. "It's too early, we should have a few more days."
Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Damn serial killers, they never keep a convenient schedule."
Cincinnati Field Office
7:17 am
It was only twenty minutes past seven in the morning and already the halls were bustling with people. Most of them were carrying papers or had a phone jammed between their cheek and shoulder. The primary team members were gathered in the conference room, each one outlining what he believed to be the best course of action. Vangelis and Brenner were loudly arguing over whether or not this was even the same killer, as their particular UNSUB should have remained quiet for at least another three days.
Bear brought their squabbling to an end with a fist brought down on the table. "That's enough! The last thing we need right now is to lose our tempers." He waited patiently as both men looked down in repentance and seated themselves. "I don't think the question here is whether this is our guy or not, because we're going to operate under the assumption that it is. Now, I want to know why he's escalated. Roberts, Mulder, I want your thoughts."
Mulder kept his mouth shut, knowing that Roberts would inevitably take the stand first. Tony stretched his lips into a thin line, his brows furrowing in concentration. "There has been some sort of unexpected event that has occurred to cause our UNSUB to shorten his timetable. Probably the loss of another job or perhaps he has been rejected by another woman. This is the most likely prospect, as it would just fuel his anger towards women and force him to vent sooner." Having finished his explanation, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach.
Waiting a moment to be sure that the other profiler was finished, Mulder took his turn. "I agree with Agent Roberts that an event has caused the escalation." A few murmurs of surprise along with Roberts' own widened eyes showed that this wasn't what the team expected to hear from Tony's rival. "However, I don't believe that it was one of bad fortune. He probably was promoted or given a raise, something he knew was going to lead to tragedy and so he had to speed up his work to make sure that the girls would be cared for. He's going to start drinking heavily now, his coworkers will see a change in his attitude for the first time and he may maneuver himself into getting fired."
Roberts' face was a vivid shade of red and he looked as though he was ready to lambaste the younger profiler. Bear intervened just in time by diverting his attention. "All right, no more pulling punches. I know that you two have developed profiles quite contradictory to each other and at this point, it creates nothing but confusion and is a hindrance to this investigation. Therefore, I am going to split the profiling team into two separate units, one following up on Mulder's profile, the other on Tony's. As much as I hate to say it, one of you is wrong. I am not going to take a chance and guess which one, so both of you are going to have to come up with something tangible in order for me to put it before this team and make some use of it.
"Now, I do feel that we make an official statement to the press and ask the public to take notice of their friends and family, reports any unusual behavior that includes drinking and such. You, Riggs," he pointed a thick finger at a shaggy-haired man close to Brenner, "I want you to coordinate the contact team, take the calls, weed out the cranks and make a list of all the possibles."
Riggs nodded, "Yes Sir, I'll get right on it." He left quickly, the double doors not quite closing in his haste.
Bear stood and surveyed the agents in the room. "That's about all we can do for now. Uly, I know you're dying to get over to the crime scene, so I won't hold you up. The rest of you are to continue the assignments handed out last night. Dismissed."
The room erupted into organized chaos as men sprang into action, conferring with each other's notes and some following Riggs out the door in order to start working in their different areas. Bear stamped out of the room, heading for his office to prepare an official statement to the press. Scully and Mulder looked at each other and silently agreed on what their next step of action would be.
"Agent Vangelis, hold up," Scully jogged over to intercept the man. "Would you mind some company on the ride to the crime scene?"
Uly's blue eyes sparked with something Dana recognized as an attempt at flirtation. "Why certainly, Agent Scully, it would be a pleasure."
"Mulder, c'mon," Scully called. She noted that Vangelis' demeanor shifted and was now cold. She realized he hadn't intended that Mulder be part of the deal. Well, he'd just have to get over it. They both waited as Mulder pulled on his coat while crossing the room. She saw his eyes flick from her to the other man and back to her. She thought she saw a hint of suspicion but it was so fast that she dismissed it as her imagination.
Vangelis opened the door and ushered Scully through, dodging in front of Mulder to follow her out. His plan backfired when Dana simply stopped and remained in one place until her partner was beside her. They accompanied Uly down to the garage in silence, piling into the car without discussing seating arrangements. He was about to start the car when they all heard a voice shouting for them to hold on. They turned as one and saw Phillips running towards them. Vangelis rolled down his window and motioned the kid to his side. "What do you want, Gopher?"
"Bear wanted me to go with you, I'm supposed to make sure that Agents Mulder and Scully have everything they need."
Uly shook his head and jerked his thumb at the back seat. "Get in."
Gopher nodded breathlessly and jumped in the back, grinning at Mulder like a kid in the candy store. His fast breathing was the only noise in the car for a few minutes.
When Vangelis pulled out of the garage, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Mulder started speaking in a quick and hurried manner, as though his mouth was trying to keep up with the speed of his mind. "Scully, remember when I asked you what you knew about Poe? What if the UNSUB is more interested in the man as a person and less on the contents of his poems? I mean, it is obvious that he only has a rudimentary understanding of the deeper inflections of Poe's writing. Perhaps he feels he's somehow connected to Poe, that he's a kindred spirit and is using his writings as a justification. It probably started at a young age, when he found out that Poe was an orphan just like himself. Later, he found other similarities that just cemented the perceived bond they shared. He fought with his adoptive father and tried to get into a branch of the military but was rejected and then-"
"Mulder, Mulder," Scully repeated, trying to get his attention. "Whoa, slow down. Where are you getting all this?"
Mulder grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Remember I told you I wrote a thesis on Poe? Well, that included doing research into his past. He was orphaned at an early age and adopted by John Allan. After a quarrel with his stepfather he enlisted briefly in the Army and won an appointment at West Point. But he was temperamentally unfit for military life and was dismissed for breaking the rules. His aunt took him in and he soon married his young cousin, Virginia. Meanwhile, he launched his literary career with publications of verses in Boston and New York. He was rewarded with a raise and a promotion, but then his wife became ill with tuberculosis and he began drinking. This cost him his job and had to make due with occasional literary periodicals. Virginia's health continued to decline and when she died, he was devastated. He never fully recovered and became ensconced in his work. Eventually he became engaged again, but before they could ever marry, he died from an unexplained fever."
Despite his obvious disdain of Mulder, Uly appeared interested. "Okay, but how close can our man's life be to that?"
Mulder chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Well, he was orphaned at a young age and after a disagreement with his adoptive father, he applied for the military. It doesn't matter what branch of service, because he was rejected. He then moved in with a female relative, probably his sister and found a job in publishing or journalism. His sister introduced him to one of her friends and soon they got married. But she became sick, not with tuberculosis but some other pulmonary disease and she eventually died. This was the initial event that started him on the path of murder."
"But why?" Gopher asked.
"He lost everything that was important to him, his wife was everything. He's known about Poe since high school, when he studied English, and knows of the similarities of their lives. He's come to the conclusion that this is a sign, that men like him are destined to lose their greatest loves. He has to stop it, has to make sure that no one else is forced to suffer like he and Poe did. So he kills the girls, before they can grow into adult women who break the hearts of men. He chooses them based on Poe's writings, killing them in a manner that reflects the poems.
"Think about it. Kelly Mervin was poisoned with atropine and carbon monoxide, mimicking the symptoms of Morella, the subject of the excerpt attached to the body. And then Harper Bingham was also poisoned with CO2 and atropine to look like sickness. She was blonde, rich, and proud, just like Lenore, the second poem. Jackie Wright was the daughter of a lieutenant commander in the navy and was drowned in a pond, hyacinth petals stuffed in her mouth. The note with her referred to Helen, who Poe wrote, 'On desperate seas long want to roam,' and is part of a larger poem that continues,
'Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home'
"You already know about Loren Moniker as Annabel Lee. Don't you see? He is killing children who he believes will grow to become the women in the poems and die, causing grief for some man. He has to stop them before that happens."
Scully shifted in her seat so that she could look behind her. "But Mulder, you said that he doesn't hate the girls. To me it seems that your postulating that he hates them for becoming women who hurt men."
Mulder shook his head. "No, because it is through no fault of their own that they die. It's always a sickness or an accident. If he hated them, they'd die much more violently. He made sure that Loren didn't feel the cold. He loved his wife and hence he loves these girls as harbingers of a new life."
Gopher was flipping through his own personal notes. "Agent Mulder, how do you know what poem the note with Harper referred to? I thought that our team hadn't identified it yet because the ink was partially smudged and all we could make out was 'died so young'."
Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the seat.
"Come! Let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung! -
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young -
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.
"Wretches! Ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,
And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her - that she died!
How shall the ritual, then, be read? - the requim how be sung
By you - by yours, the evil eye, - by yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"
The rest of the drive to the crime scene was in silence as each person reviewed the conversation with different perspectives.
1290 Doubleday Avenue
9:16 am
A low whistle sounded in the car. "Man, look at this place, it must've cost a fortune."
"Yeah Gopher, it'll take the rest of your career to earn enough to buy a lawn ornament for a place like this," Vangelis observed. "Looks like the Crime Scene Unit is here, let's get this over with."
They all got out of the vehicle and headed up the sizable walkway, nodding at the now familiar faces of the Scene Unit as they passed. Vangelis split off from the other three and moved over to take charge of the unit as the remaining trio entered the house.
"I feel like Annie at Daddy Warbucks' mansion for the first time," Scully said as she turned in a circle in the foyer. The white marble floor was towered over by vaulted ceilings decorated with baroque ornamentation and topped off by an ostentatious chandelier that could have rivaled the Phantom of the Opera's.
"Is that a Delacroix?" Mulder wandered over to an enormous painting that took up half of one of the walls. Leaning forward until his nose almost touched the painted surface, he scrutinized the signature located at the bottom right corner.
"Yes, it is," answered a deep male voice from behind them. "Are you with the FBI?"
As a group, they turned around to find a man standing before them. He was well over six feet tall, his thin bone structure and blond hair adding to his scarecrow look. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit and he was well groomed. His eyes however were red-rimmed and his pale complexion spoke of a tremendous sorrow. He must be the father.
"Mr. Belshe, I presume?" Mulder held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Agent Mulder. These are Agents Scully and Phillips. Sir, I know how you must feel right now, but is there any way you could answer a few questions for us?"
Belshe's eyes hardened at the mention of feelings and spat, "I don't think you could possibly have any idea as to how I am feeling right now. But, if your intrusion into my sorrow will in any way bring Georgia back to me, then I willingly capitulate." He motioned for them to follow him and he led them into a room where the walls were lined with bookcases, ceiling high.
They all sat down in the green leather chairs, except for Mulder, who preferred to stand during this particular interrogation. Formalities aside, he began asking questions that might help him refine his profile, questions that normal agents weren't trained to ask. Once all his inquiries were answered to his satisfaction, he decided to turn it over to Scully. "Mr. Belshe, I would like permission to examine Georgia's room."
"She was kidnapped from the front yard, not from her room, so I don't see what kind of good that would do. But go ahead, just don't..." he trailed off, his expression a mixture of anger and fear.
"I'll leave the room exactly as she left it, so nothing is different when she returns."
A tiny smile played at the man's lips. "Thank you, Agent Mulder."
Mulder nodded at Scully and Gopher, knowing that they would be able to handle it from there. He walked out of the room and turned right to go up the stairs. Ascending the stairway, he marveled at the decadence of the home. Intricate carvings, priceless paintings, lush rugs from India gracing the marble floors. Reaching the second story, he made a left and came to the room immediately next to the banister.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. He was immediately assaulted by the smell of sunflower potpourri and he had to quell the urge to squint due to the bright yellows inundating the room. Posters, bedspread, silk flowers, anything and everything that had to do with sunflowers filled the room to overflowing. Mulder walked cautiously into the room, taking in the bright colors. He noticed several collage frames depicting Georgia and her friends from gymnastics, their smiling faces a painful reminder of how victims were never too young.
Closing his eyes, Mulder imagined Georgia bringing her friends into this room, sitting cross-legged on the bed as they played Mystery Date or some other such game. They all wished for handsome husbands with good jobs and big houses, fancy cars and pretty dresses. Oh yes, and a horse. All little girls wanted a horse.
He could remember when Samantha was six; all she wanted was a pony. She begged and pleaded for months before her birthday. His mother had managed to hire a pony ride for Sam's birthday, but the child was still disappointed. So she wrote to Santa Claus and asked for a pony. Then, just to be on the safe side, she had dragged a very disgruntled brother to the mall in order to tell Santa in person. Fox, who was a very mature and intelligent ten-year-old, had hated every minute of it. But he could remember Sam's face as she sat in Santa Claus' lap and begged for a horse of her own, her big brown eyes so wide and believing. That Christmas he bought her an enormous stuffed horse that was large enough for her to sit on.
It was the closest she ever got.