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 3
En Route to the Cincinnati Field Office
12:33 p.m.
"Keith, would you mind if we stopped and picked up some food?"
"No problem, Dana. What do you feel like? Chicken, hamburgers, or tacos?"
"Chicken is the healthiest of the three, so let's aim for that. Mulder, what do you want? Mulder?" Scully twisted around in her seat and looked at the man behind her. He was sitting with his right elbow propped on the door handle and his chin resting in his upturned palm. At first she thought he was asleep, but upon closer inspection she saw that his eyes were slightly open and his lips were twitching every now and then as though he was trying to voice something but couldn't get it out. She was about to nudge him out of his reverie, her hand poised just inches from his arm, when she paused. They had just come from the victim's house where they had gained some information, however minimal, and it was obvious that Mulder was processing this. Was it her place to interrupt? She was only just becoming familiar with Mulder's behavior while profiling in an office and had barely any reference to his behavior while profiling in the field. What if this was normal? What if her interruption threw him off whatever scent he was on?
Pursing her lips, she pulled her hand back and rubbed at her chin. Finally she made her decision and turned to look at Keith, who was staring politely at the road. "Chicken is fine, Mulder'll eat anything that's put in front of him."
"Okay, Chaco Chicken it is."
"Actually, how about KFC instead?"
"Um, okay, whatever." Gopher sent her a quizzical look.
Scully smiled and proceeded to tell the younger agent all about Chaco Chicken and cannibalism.
Mulder gazed impassively out the window, seeing nothing of the scenery passing by. He was thinking about Georgia Belshe. An active child, she was often out of the house, at one sports practice or another, be it ice-skating or gymnastics. Happy and well liked by her friends and classmates, she was far ahead of everyone else in her skating group and also a star gymnast. Her coach thought she might even be Olympic material. That meant the killer probably saw her practicing, decided that she was the one he needed to save next. What did he see when he looked at her?
Graceful, beauty in her movement, full of energy, a bright star among her peers. A girl who would grow into a woman that men would admire and desire. A heartbreaker. That was the crux of it all, the idea that Georgia would become a woman who would cause heartache for some man or another. But there was something more about her that drew the UNSUB to her, something that linked her to a character of Poe's writing.
He wracked his brain, flipping through his internal Rolodex to pull up every story and poem by Poe that he knew. One where there was an agile young beauty who died tragically before her time... Well, that didn't narrow it down much. Something else was needed to narrow it down - a comparison. A tale where the storyteller describes his contradictory nature to the girl's, a light contrasted to his darkness, her delight the antithesis of his misery. Misery. Misery is manifold. Yes, that was it! 'The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon-'
He jumped in his seat, his head jerking off his hand and his knuckles bouncing into the window. "Huh, what?"
"I said, we're here."
Mulder frowned at his partner. Here? Where was here? He looked around and discovered that they were in the parking garage of the Cincinnati office. Oh, here. He turned up a corner of his lips and raised his eyebrows in apology. "Sorry, must have drifted off."
Gopher snorted as he pushed open his own door. "Talk about an understatement," he muttered under his breath.
Mulder pushed himself out of the car and shot the younger agent a withering look. Gopher immediately looked reticent. "Sorry, Agent Mulder." He glanced down at his shoes and then back again as though trying to summon up the courage to say something.
"All right, out with it."
The young man's eyes widened a bit and he looked to Mulder like a deer caught in headlights. "Um, Agent Mulder, Sir-"
"Just Mulder is fine."
"Uh, yes, okay. Mulder, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you could use a break."
Mulder grinned widely across the roof of the vehicle. "Kid, we could all use a break." He sobered a bit. "But if you want to become a good FBI agent, you have to learn when to take them, because it could mean the difference between life and death for someone."
Gopher nodded rapidly. "Yes, Sir."
"And stop with the 'Sir' crap, it makes me feel old." He smiled to take away the sting of his words. "Come on, let's get inside. We have work to do."
"We eat first," Scully demanded from behind him.
Confusion flitted across Mulder's face for an instant. Food? Then he smelled a spicy aroma being emitted by a bag in Dana's hand. "That's the beauty of fast food, Scully. You can eat it and work at the same time."
Cincinnati Field Office
3:28 p.m.
Gopher knocked meekly on the large door, straining to hear an answer from within. When none was forthcoming, he pushed the door open a crack. Nudging it open a bit more, he peered into the dimly lit room, wondering if Mulder was even still in there. He recognized a box from the fast food restaurant of earlier perched on the main table and still containing two legs of chicken. Well, that was a sign.
He finally spotted the profiler in the darkest corner of the room. Mulder was sitting on a folding chair, his feet apart and his forearms resting on his thighs in a hunched over position. In his lap was an empty evidence bag and dangling from his hands was a small white tennis shoe with brown smudges on the toes. Mulder was rubbing his index finger along the sole of the shoe, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down.
Gopher slowly entered, making sure that he wouldn't startle the older man with any sudden noises or movements but still be in the line of sight. He stood motionless once he was fully inside the room, unable to move any farther. Instead, he watched Mulder, something inside telling him that he was witnessing a thing misunderstood by many and feared by most.
He held his position for almost ten minutes, hardly breathing, waiting for Mulder to do something. He almost gasped in surprise when the profiler's head turned to look at the wall he was sitting next to, the one covered with crime scene photos, maps, and other case paraphernalia. His brows furrowed and he drifted back to the shoe, his lower lip trembling. Gopher took this as a signal that he could approach and walked across the room, nervously fingering the packet of papers in his hands. He came to a stop directly in front of the older man, approximately two feet away. "Mulder?"
There was no change in the agent's demeanor. Gopher took a deep breath, looking from side to side. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Um, Mulder?" Still nothing. He lingered, hoping that he would only have to wait until Mulder finished thinking before acknowledging his presence. He held his breath in anticipation and that was when he heard it. A quiet murmuring, so low that it was almost impossible to hear over the sound of one's own body. And it was coming from Mulder.
Then Gopher did something he never imagined himself doing. He turned around and pulled a chair from the table over to a few feet in front of Mulder and sat down. He set the stack of papers in his lap and folded his hands on top of them, leaning forward to listen.
"There are some qualities - some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold Silence - sea and shore -
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!"
5:08 p.m.
Scully looked at her watch for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. Where could they be? She had sent Keith to find Mulder and give him her notes from her meeting with Dr. Walden almost an hour and a half ago. They both knew that there was a briefing at five, so where could they possibly be?
The other agents seated around the table were casting supercilious looks her way, several of them glancing pointedly at their watches. Even Bear was beginning to appear impatient. She was about to get up and go in search of the two men when suddenly the double doors burst open to reveal the agents in question. Mulder looked slightly disheveled, his suit wrinkled and his hair evidencing too many fingers run through it. Keith was out of breath, his tie askew and his arms full of papers.
"Well, it's nice of you two to join us," Bear said, his tone disapproving.
"Sorry, Sir, really, but Agent Mulder and I were following up on a lead that may give us a description of the UNSUB, that is if we can get the drug dealers to tell the truth, though I don't see why they won't since I'm sure we can give them some sort of deal and-"
"Gopher. *Gopher*. Agent Phillips!"
Gopher stopped midsentence, his mouth still open.
Bear couldn't help but grin at the kid's enthusiasm. "Breathe, Gopher. Now, why don't you two sit down and then you can tell me what was so important that you made us all wait."
Mulder sat in one of the open chairs, nodding at his superior in apology. Gopher started passing out the papers that he had been holding. "I'm sorry, Sir. Um, maybe Agent Mulder should, uh, tell you."
"Fine, but somebody do it and do it now."
Mulder sat up straight in his chair and addressed the entire room. "After visiting Georgia Belshe's home and interviewing her family and friends, I may have been able to ascertain which of Poe's works the killer may be trying to emulate. I believe that the next excerpt will be from 'Berenice'.
"'Yet differently we grew - I ill of health and buried in gloom - she agile, graceful, overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side - mine the studies of the cloister - I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation - she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of raven-winged hours.'
"Georgia was agile, graceful, and full of energy; a star gymnast and effervescent personality. The woman Berenice becomes sick - 'the spirit of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person!' Now, what is the first thing you think of when you hear a description like that?"
"Drugs," Vangelis answered instantly.
"Right. How do drugs kill?"
"Overdose," Brenner stated.
"Okay, that means our UNSUB is gonna have to find a supplier," Vangelis reasoned.
"Bingo. But the added bonus is that these drugs must present symptoms similar to epilepsy, which means that they are prescription medication. So I called up the Cincinnati PD and had them give us a list of their known dealers who do business with medical drugs and their locations. Agent Phillips did the same with the Portsmouth PD and the compiled list is what he's passing out to you. Now, I spoke with the commissioner and he said that he didn't have the manpower nor the hours to send more than two patrolmen per precinct out into the neighborhood, so it is up to us to find these men and ask them the right questions."
"You want us all to go out and waste our time talking to drug dealers based on some crazy whim of yours that is not even a guarantee?" Tony sneered.
Mulder's eyes leveled with the other profiler's. "It's a theory, Agent Roberts, and that is what investigation is based on, not whims."
"I don't care what it's called as long as it is a lead. And right now, it's all we've got. So, Tony, since we seem to be working off Mulder's profile, why don't you head up the interview team." Bear gave him a hard stare that brooked no argument. "If it doesn't pan out, you can reevaluate your profile and bring it before us all again.
"Agent Riggs, have you had any luck with the phones?"
"Well, there were several possible matches and I sent some agents to investigate. Nothing turned up though." Riggs' voice reflected his disappointment.
"Keep on it. Brenner, any links between the latest victim and the previous ones?"
Scully tuned the other agent's speech out, focusing on the man to her right. He seemed completely engrossed in the meeting, not even aware of her scrutiny. Mulder actually appeared more animated than she had seen him in the past few days. Most likely it was because he was 'on the scent' as she liked to say. But the adrenaline wouldn't last long, not in the condition he was in. She knew that the dark circles under his eyes were growing darker, the evidence of his ribs against his skin more pronounced, the strain wrinkles at the corners of his mouth more prominent. He was exhausted and running on nothing more than a few cups of coffee and some chicken legs, if even that.
There was something different though. It took her a moment to pinpoint it but she finally figured out what it was. Mulder's eyes were redder and his complexion more pale. Not that this was necessarily out of the ordinary, considering the amount of sleep he had, but the fact that the redness and pale cast had not been so pronounced he last time she saw him bothered her. That meant something had happened while she was meeting with Doctor Walden. Either he had another seizure or his general state of exhaustion had worsened. Neither was an encouraging thought.
There was only one way to find out.
6:16 p.m.
"Keith!" Scully hissed.
The young man turned at the sound of his name. "Dana?" He jogged over to where she was, an unpopulated end of the hallway. "Did you need something?"
She flicked her eyes over his shoulder, noting that Mulder was still inside the briefing room talking with Brenner. "I wanted to know what happened while you were with Mulder."
He looked behind him at the open doorway and then back at her. "Why don't you ask him?"
Dana sighed. "Because I know he won't tell it to me straight. He won't lie," she amended when she saw his raised eyebrows, "but he won't tell me the whole truth. He has a tendency to misdirect in order to avoid telling me everything."
"Oh. Well, I went to the room you said he'd be in and at first I wasn't sure if he was there or not because the lights were off. I went in to see if he had left and I saw him sitting in the corner, holding Harper Bingham's shoe. I waited, hoping he'd notice me but he just sat there. So, I called his name. He didn't answer me but he was saying something. I decided to sit with him and listen; he was reciting Poe. We sat there for a good half-hour and suddenly he jumps up, stumbles to the other side of the room and loses his lunch in the trashcan. I didn't know what to do so I didn't do anything. He whirled around and started chanting a line over and over - 'Misery is manifold' or something like that. He walked right up to me and then, as though it was the most natural thing for me to be there, he told me to follow him. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he knew I was there the whole time and was just ignoring me.
"Anyway, we went and made the phone calls to the police departments and you know the rest. I'll tell you, it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. He just *knew* which quote the UNSUB would use next and now we have something to work with. What I wouldn't give to be able to do that. I-"
"Don't ever say that." Scully's voice was deadly quiet. "Don't ever wish for what Mulder has, trust me. Because it is more than just knowing what the killer wants. It's feeling and understanding the sickness of what the killer wants. It's nightmares and headaches, loss of appetite and sense of reality. It is a plague on Mulder's soul that he never wanted but has dealt with the best he can. So I warn you, don't ever wish for what he has."
9:42 p.m.
"Scully, have I done something to piss you off?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"Well, for starters, you keep looking at me as though I've done something wrong. Plus, you've barely spoken to me for the past three hours, which is a long time considering we're the only two people in this room."
Scully drew in a deep breath. "All right, something *is* bothering me."
"What is it and I'm sorry?"
"Don't apologize before you even know what it is."
"Sorry."
She couldn't help a quick grin. It disappeared when she started speaking. "I know that you didn't keep much of your lunch down and it worries me."
"Kid can't keep his mouth shut, can he?" Mulder griped.
"I specifically asked him. You don't actually think he'd be able to resist my charms, do you?"
"Why Agent Scully, did you use your feminine wiles to gain information from an unsuspecting youth? I'm ashamed of you."
Dana batted her eyes innocently. "Little ole me? I would never. And don't try to change the subject."
Mulder sighed. "Okay, okay. My stomach was a bit upset so I didn't eat much of my lunch. Not that it mattered because it came right up a few hours later anyway. I'm fine, don't worry, I'm not sick. I was imagining what Georgia would be going through as she was submitted to overdose amounts of drugs. It wasn't a pretty sight and my already sensitive stomach rebelled. That's all."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Only fools are positive."
"Yeah and only fools fall in love, so I must be pretty damn stupid." Mulder reached over and pulled Scully's chair closer. Then he placed his hand behind her neck and brought her lips to meet his, kissing her with an intensity that signaled his need to feel her close. Finally he released her and she sat back, breathless. "Scully?"
"Yeah?"
"You didn't really seduce him, did you?"
An eyebrow quirked. "Why? Jealous?"
"No." He went back to the files he had been reading and she did the same. Several minutes passed in companionable silence until Mulder broke it. "Well, did you?"
She simply smiled down at the papers in front of her and chuckled softly.
10:07 p.m.
"Okay, we've got manicotti for Dana, ravioli for Mulder, and some fettucini for myself. Also, here's a bag of garlic breadsticks," Gopher said as he passed out platters covered in foil. "I managed to get them to sprinkle everything liberally with parmesan cheese before I left."
"Mmmm," Scully intoned, breathing in the mouth-watering aroma. "You are a lifesaver, thanks."
"Yesh, thanks, it's vera goo-" Mulder managed to say around a mouthful of tomato sauce and pasta.
Gopher grinned at the other man's enthusiastic consumption of food. "Feast or famine, huh?"
"How do you think I keep my figure?" Mulder quipped before he took a bite from a piece of garlic bread.
The young agent shook his head and took a seat across from the other two. "So, where'd we leave off?"
Mulder took a sip of ice water from the glass before him. "Well, I've been thinking that the names of the women our UNSUB is referring to has some significance as words themselves. So I've been trying to see if they have some sort of code hidden in them, numerical or otherwise."
Gopher nodded in understanding and motioned to Scully with his fork. "You?"
"Going over all the autopsy reports, looking for any discrepancies, similarities, pretty much anything that catches my eye."
"Anything I can help with?"
"I'm sure Scully's got it covered. Why don't you give me a hand," Mulder suggested firmly.
Dana almost choked on her manicotti as she tried to stifle a laugh. There was no doubt about it, Mulder was jealous.
Both men looked at her quizzically. "Okay, what can I do?" Gopher asked.
"I want you to see if you can find any links between the girls' real names and the names from Poe. We already know that the dump sites were chosen according to Poe's descriptions, I want to see if more than the girls' physical attributes played a role in his choosing them." Mulder handed Gopher ten three by five cards, each with a name written on it.
"All righty then." Gopher took the proffered cards and sat down in the nearest chair, which happened to be next to Dana. He didn't notice Mulder's disapproving look.
11:50 p.m.
It had been almost two hours since they had eaten and still the agents did not feel as though they had made any progress. Gopher was going blind staring at the note cards, Scully was getting a headache from reading the cramped writing of Dr. Walden's reports, and Mulder had begun pacing in front of the wall that held the photos and maps.
Mulder would make a prescribed circuit; scrutinize the first set of photos, walk across the room to look at the last set, turn and go back to the second set, and finish with the third. Then he would start all over again. Occasionally he would stand in front of one set longer than usual, mutter incoherently and move on. Dana knew that he was getting frustrated, that he needed to expend his pent up frustration by pacing, so she paid no heed to his wanderings. Gopher was too absorbed with his own task to be distracted by the fact that it had been almost five minutes since the older man had moved from his spot in front of victim number four's photos, his back to the wall perpendicular to the one decorated with pictures.
All of a sudden Mulder let out a strangled gasp and he fell back against the wall with a loud thud. He tucked one arm around himself, hand in a fist, the other braced on his knee. His eyes were tightly shut, his breaths coming in harsh gulps as he sought to make it through the next few moments.
Gopher was frozen in his chair, his eyes wide as he beheld the profiler deal with the seizure. Scully startled the younger man as she pushed herself out of her chair and went to her partner's side. She crouched down in front of him, placing her right hand over the one on his knee, and looked up into his face. She felt a lump lodge in her throat as she watched her lover experience indescribable pain. It had become a familiar sight to her but the sorrow and helplessness she felt when he had a seizure hadn't lessened as time wore on.
Finally his body relaxed and his eyes slowly opened as he took deep cleansing breaths. He laughed under his breath. "I'd almost forgotten."
"Forgotten what?" she murmured.
"I didn't have a seizure all day and I was so focused on the case that I had almost forgotten that this wasn't just another assignment and I wasn't just a profiler."
"You're right, this isn't just another assignment, it's an important case where little girls are being killed and we have the power to stop the man responsible. And you're not just a profiler; you're a brilliant profiler, excellent investigator, and caring man. Nothing changes that."
They stared into each other's eyes for several moments until a cleared throat brought them back to reality.
"Um, I hate to interrupt, but..." Gopher held up his hands in an impotent gesture.
"But what the hell was that?" Mulder finished for him.
"Yeah."
The older agent gave Scully's hand a final squeeze and pushed himself off the wall to walk over to Keith. "It's a long story, but to sum it up, I suffer from a non-communicable condition in which I experience 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."
Scully's mouth dropped open, recognizing her exact words to Rick Davis just over two weeks before. He cast her a half-smirk over his shoulder and turned back to Gopher. "Don't tell me no one in this office knows."
"Well, Agents Roberts had mentioned something, but it didn't sound like what I just saw." Gopher gazed at the floor as though he was ashamed. "He described it a bit more... crudely."
"I'll bet," Mulder growled angrily.
"Mulder," Scully warned, coming up beside him. "You know Roberts feels threatened by your presence, you really didn't expect him *not* to spread rumors, did you?"
"No, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. The man has no right to distribute information that he does not fully understand and has no wish to comprehend. Just because I happen to solve a few more cases than he does should have no bearing on his treatment of me. We are fellow FBI agents and he should simply be grateful that there are fewer evildoers on the street than there were before. We're all fighting for truth, justice, and the American way; can't we all just get along?"
"Uh-oh, he's getting punchy. I think that's a sign for us to call it a night." Dana began to gather her files, placing them neatly in her open briefcase.
Gopher lifted his arms over his head and stretched until he heard a satisfying pop. "Yeah, I could use a bit of shut eye."
Scully noticed Mulder eyeing the wall again. "Don't even think about it, partner. We've done all we can tonight and I'm sure things will be fresher in the morning after a good night's sleep."
Mulder's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay, but let me remind you that you have a tendency to snore when you're really tired, so I can't be held responsible if I don't get a good night's sleep."
Dana's mouth once again dropped open and her eyes flicked over to meet Keith's, her face turning red. "Mulderrr," she grumbled.
"It's all right, Dana. I figured out a while ago that you two were more than just partners," Gopher said happily as he collected his own belongings.
"And how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?" Scully asked imperiously, embarrassment turning to anger.
"Elementary, my dear Dr. Scully," Gopher drawled in a bad English accent.
Dana tried to stay upset, but she couldn't do it. She began to chuckle and they all left with the sounds of laughter echoing down the halls after them.
Brentanos Plaza Hotel
Wednesday
3:25 a.m.
Almost three hours of uninterrupted sleep. Dana was kidding herself if she thought more than that was possible. Of course, she always had the option of using the other room. They always reserved two rooms, although they slept in one, for more than just appearance. It was easier to get ready in the morning with separate bathrooms, it gave them space in case they needed time alone, and it also provided an extra bed in the event that one of them needed silence to sleep. They rarely used both rooms except in the morning, but Dana had often been tempted to spend an occasional night in a separate bed in order to get some sleep. But then she would think of Mulder waking up from a nightmare to discover that he was alone and she dismissed the thought of leaving him for a night.
She dodged a flailing hand and ducked under the arm it was connected to, resting both her hands against the bare chest of the arm's owner. "Mulder, wake up."
He tossed his head from side to side, his arms pushing at anything that offered resistance. "No, no, not the... the raven... don't... No!" Mulder shot straight up, causing Scully to jump backwards and almost fall off the bed. His eyes were wide open and his breath was coming in great gulps.
Dana cautiously moved closer, waiting for any sign that her partner was fully aware of his surroundings. "Mulder?"
"She's dead, Scully. He killed her." His voice was low and monotone as he delivered his pronouncement, his face still blank. He began to shiver, goosebumps covering his flesh in a reaction to a combination of shock and drying sweat.
Pulling at the covers with one hand, Scully wrapped the blankets around his trembling form, tucking the edges in so that no heat would escape. "It's all right, Mulder, it was just a dream." But she knew that it was more than just a dream. If Mulder had seen the girl die in his nightmare, it was more than likely that she was dead. It was one of Mulder's abilities that forced Dana to occasionally review her belief in psychic power. She reasoned it away as deductive thinking while asleep. Hell, he'd solved a case in his sleep before.
Mulder continued to stare into space, his knees pulled up to his chin underneath the covers. Scully tugged gently on his shoulders to bring him closer. He abruptly went boneless and she was able to cradle him in her lap, slowly rocking back and forth and humming tunelessly. He eventually drifted back into slumber and she soon followed.
Portsmouth County Hospital
10:19 a.m.
Mulder lifted up the yellow crime scene tape for his partner and then ducked under it himself. Vangelis saw them and moved to meet the pair, dodging an overturned trashcan in the middle of the alley. "Our guy has decided to get creative on us, left two notes this time."
Scully paused to talk to the other agent while Mulder went in search of the body. He found her tiny form lying in the corner of the damp alleyway, her clothes gray and muddy. He blond hair was draped across her face, obscuring her vacant eyes. His lips thinned to a tight line and he crouched down to inspect the corpse, his eyes flicking over her as he committed every detail to memory. A survey of the surroundings and he was satisfied that he had everything securely locked in his mind. He drew a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and pulled them on with resounding snaps. Then he carefully removed the two notes pinned to the child's shirt, mindful not to disturb anything more than necessary.
'All is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told' was written on the first scrap, a direct quote from the story titled 'Berenice'. Mulder didn't give it a second thought and went to the next quote.
'Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Mulder chewed on his lip as he reread the excerpt. Well, it was the most obvious of the citations so far, being from Poe's most famous poem, 'The Raven'. "Leave my loneliness unbroken..." he muttered. He extracted an evidence bag from the same pocket he had retrieved the gloves and dropped the notes into the clear pouch. Giving Georgia Belshe one last look, he stood and searched out his partner, who was still talking with Vangelis. He joined them, handing the bag over to the other man. "He's already picked the next girl, he'll take her tonight."
Uly didn't argue, he simply nodded and moved off to oversee his team. Scully laid her hand on Mulder's forearm. "You okay?"
"Fine," he mumbled distractedly. "He left a quote from 'The Raven', a demand to be left alone. He sees the FBI as the Raven, come to stop him from remembering his own personal Lenore. He's going to continue to escalate until we catch him."
"That means we don't have much time until the body count rises," Dana predicted, her tone grim. "Unless we get a lead from the dealers or get a call that pans out, there's no way we can stop him from seizing the next girl."
Mulder raised a hand to his face and scrubbed at his tired eyes. "I know, I'm working on it."
Cincinnati Field Office
6:14 p.m.
"You were right, Mulder. She was given overdose amounts of scopolamine then strychnine, destroying her mind first and then causing seizures that killed her in minutes. A bit more intense than epileptic convulsions - she almost snapped her spinal column." Dana flopped down into a chair next to her partner and kicked her high heels off under the table, flexing her toes. "Anything from the drug patrol?"
"Yeah, actually. One of the lesser-known dealers by the name of Kyle Bowen was approached by a man who he had never done business with before and matched the behavior put forth in the profile. We also have three other possibles but now that we have the exact drugs used, we should be able to narrow it down to one. I doubt he used his real name, but it's a good start and we'll have a description of the UNSUB. One thing about drug dealers, they always remember their customers." Mulder yawned mightily and ground the heels of his hands in his eyes.
Dana was about to suggest that he get some sleep when the trilling of a cellular startled them both. Mulder rolled his eyes and reached over the back of his chair, pulling his phone from the coat draped across it. "Mulder."
Scully watched her partner's face intently, trying to discern the other end of the conversation by deciphering Mulder's expressions. His eyes slowly closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of exasperation. Damn, she thought, it certainly wasn't good news.
"Fine, we'll be there in twenty minutes." Mulder pushed the off button and replaced the phone in his coat. He then stood and gathered his files, placing them haphazardly in his briefcase. "That was Vangelis."
Dana understood immediately. "Who?"
"Katherine Bittner, age eleven, was walking home from her friend's house and never made it."
Scully ducked under the table to retrieve her shoes. "You'd think parents would be paranoid about letting their kids out alone when there's a serial killer on the loose."
"Katherine's friend lives four houses down."
Brentanos Plaza Hotel
Thursday
1:17 a.m.
Dana collapsed onto the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."
Mulder grunted noncommittally and drifted over to the table, setting his briefcase down with a thud. He opened it and began to rifle through its contents. Scully rolled over to look at him, her head propped up on her arm. "Did you manage to get something to eat while I was doing the autopsy? Because I could order some room service." She must have decided that his lack of a response was better than a negative one because she picked up the bedside phone and began to order some food. After finishing, she thanked the clerk politely and hung up, announcing that their extremely late dinner would be there in about fifteen minutes. She then forced herself off the bed and wandered over to the closet, divesting herself of her jacket and blouse as she went. "We should order room service more often. After all, the Bureau picks up the tab and I think we're due for a bit of pampering. I really don't believe they'd question a steak dinner or two and-"
"Scully," Mulder said softly. She continued to ramble on and so he repeated himself more forcefully. "Scully!"
"So I- what?" She paused in the buttoning of her pajamas.
"You don't have to take my mind off of it, I'm okay."
He could see her fingers twitch slightly and then continue to work on the buttons of her top. "I don't know what you mean."
"Scully, don't you think it has been in the back of my mind all this time? Today just brought it to the forefront." He refused to look at her as he spoke. "I'll be fine; tomorrow it will be back in its locked box within my psyche."
Dana gave up on her denial approach and came up behind her partner, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. "Mulder, I'm so sorry. I was so worried about you dealing with the profiling aspects of this case that it never occurred to me to worry about how cases involving children would affect you."
He was stiff in her arms. "It doesn't matter, my own personal traumas have no place in this investigation."
With a quick shove, Scully had Mulder's chair turned and was facing him, her features tight with anger. "Bull shit, they belong in this investigation! What happened to you as a child is what makes you the empathetic man you are today and helps you solve these cases."
"Dana, it's not important. I'm-" he tried.
"Mulder, you just came from the scene of a crime where you hared out and were unresponsive for over ten minutes, so don't you dare tell me that you're fine. It was all I could do to keep the parents from panicking." She leaned over and placed her hands on his knees, her nose two inches from his own. "I know you, Mulder. You would never give a victimized family anything less than your utmost concern unless something was really wrong."
He stared into her blue depths. "I saw that picture and I just couldn't move. All I could think of was that I couldn't save her."
"Mulder, that girl isn't Samantha. She may look like her, but she isn't your sister. And you are not a powerless little boy anymore, you *can* save her."
"I'm so tired, Scully, I don't know if I can." His voice broke on the last word.
"Oh Mulder," Scully whispered, drawing him into her arms. "I know you're tired, Sweetheart, I know." She ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "Why don't you get some sleep, I'll cancel room service."
Mulder suddenly felt completely exhausted, barely able to perform the simplest task. Dana seemed to understand immediately and moved to his aid. She hauled him out of the chair and led him over to the bed, nudging him gently to get him to fall back on it. She pulled off his shoes one by one and then removed his slacks, leaving his socks on for warmth. Next came his tie and shirt, tossed into the open suitcase that served as Mulder's laundry hamper. Drawing the covers over him, she bent and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Goodnight, Mulder. I love you."
A smile played at his lips. "Mmm, love you too, Sc'lly." Then he was asleep, snoring quietly.
4:43 a.m.
He could see the girl now, her long brown hair bouncing across her back as she skipped down the street. No one else was around but he knew that someone might pass by at any second. That knowledge gave him the rush of adrenaline he needed to perform his deed. He stepped out from behind the tree and smiled at the child. The girl smiled back and skipped on her way, finally disappearing into a small white house with roses in the front yard. He followed her, walking into the room as though it was perfectly natural to enter a stranger's house unchallenged. The child was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing a board game with red and blue pieces, the television chattering away to her right.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a length of electrical cord, wrapping each end around his palms for stability. He crept up behind the girl, his heart pounding in his ears and sweat dripping into his eyes. In a flash of movement he had the child pressed up against him, her fingers clawing at the wire cutting into the tender flesh of her neck. He shoved her to the ground, casting the cord aside, replacing it with one of his hands. The other removed a knife from his coat and proceeded to cut a heart into the flowered pajamas of the whimpering girl. Lights began to flash wildly outside, illuminating the entire room with their flickering glow. Furniture began to shake, the sound of glass breaking behind him causing him to drop the knife.
He had to stop this, he had to end it now, before the girl disappeared and caused her family grief. He encircled her thin neck with his large hands and began to squeeze.
"Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitude
Nearest resembles worship, - oh remember
The truest, the most fervently devoted,
And think that these weak lines are written by him-
By him, who, as he pens them, thrills to think
His spirit is communing with an angel's."
The child pushed weakly at his arms, gasping ineffectually, her eyes wild with fear. The lights continued to flash and the house shook with a loud humming. And above the humming there was a noise that pulled at his attention. It was a screaming. Someone was calling his name.
He shook his head to rid himself of the uneasiness the voice produced and he looked down at the girl beneath him. Her features began to undulate and shift, her face widening and her eyes turning a crystal blue. Her hair shortened and became a coppery red, her pink floral pajamas transforming into a silken navy blue material. Her small hands metamorphosed into adult hands, tipped with long fingernails. They were pulling at his arms.
"Mulder!"
This time the strangled cry registered completely and he found himself back in the hotel room, his body covering that of his partner, his hands wrapped around her throat. He released her instantly and threw himself backwards, stumbling into the far wall in his haste. He was shaking with adrenaline and fear, cold tendrils enveloping his heart, his breath coming in hard bursts.
"Nonononononoooo," he ranted, his vision blurring and the world spinning sickeningly. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and covering his head with his arms, still chanting. He didn't know what was happening, everything seemed distorted, swirling around him in an overload of his senses. He was so cold, his chest tight and his teeth chattering as he spoke.
But then there was warmth. A tiny spot of warmth on his shoulder that spread heat down his arm. He turned into it, needing it as though he could not live without it. Suddenly the warmth disappeared and he almost cried out at its loss, his fear threatening to overwhelm him. Then it was back, extending into his arms and legs, soothing away his tremors and bringing the pain in his chest to a manageable level. He slowly lifted his head from under the protection of his arms and saw a pair of clear blue eyes staring back at him. With an anguished groan he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as he repeated "I'm sorry" again and again.
Some minutes later, he had calmed enough that he was able to recognize what had just happened. He gazed down at the oval shaped face cradled in the crook of his neck and brought his hand up to caress the ivory cheek. His fingers traced across her skin, traveling down to the darkening bruises on her neck, hovering over them as waves of guilt swept through him. Her small hand came up and she laid her palm against the back of his fingers, communicating her understanding with that simple touch.
He swallowed thickly. "I almost killed you."
"No, Mulder, you didn't. You would never hurt me."
"Take a look at yourself in the mirror and you'll see just how capable I am of hurting you."
Dana pushed at his chest so that she could get a better look at him. "Mulder, listen to me. *You* could never hurt me. That wasn't you, it was the man that you are profiling, he's the one responsible."
"It wasn't just him. It was Roche and the aliens and the UNSUB all in one, killing Samantha before she could be abducted and put our family through hell. It was me, identifying with the killer and knowing that if Sam had simply been murdered that night, it would have saved us all a lot of pain and sorrow. He is just trying to save others from the grief he felt when his wife died."
Dana got to her feet and held out her hand to help Mulder up. "His wife?"
"Yes, she died of lung cancer after a long and painful battle. He was devastated; she was the only one he loved. He had to..." he trailed off. Without warning he rushed over to his suitcase, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of jogging pants.
"What are you doing?" Scully asked in alarm.
"I have to go," he said as he donned the clothing.
"Where?"
Mulder stopped his frenetic movements at the fear he heard in her voice. He stepped over to her and encircled her in his arms. "Oh Dana, I love you so much." He buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply of her scent and reveling in the fact that she was alive and relatively unharmed. "I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to have to go through that. I can't let it happen again, because next time you might not be able to get through to me. I'll do whatever it takes - therapy, drugs, whatever."
Scully held him tightly. "I forgive you, Mulder, though there isn't much to forgive. We'll deal with this together, you aren't alone."
He smiled down at her. "As long as you're in my heart, I'll never be alone." He bent his neck and kissed her deeply, their lips meeting in an intense embrace. He finally freed her and took a step back, his hands still on her shoulders. "Now, I have to go."
"Where?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'm onto something. I don't know what it is, but it's right there on the tip of my brain. I need to run, I need to-"
"Go." She grinned as she moved to open the door for him. "But take it easy and remember to be back by six, the morning briefing is at seven-thirty. I won't be there because the Forensic team is having a separate meeting to go over Georgia's autopsy."
"I'll be careful." A quick peck on the cheek and Mulder was out the door. Dana shut it behind him, the ghost of a smile on her lips. What was she going to do with that man?
5:51 a.m.
Dana leaned forward and lifted her chin, examining her neck. Luckily the bruises Mulder had left were not very dark and the coverup concealed them completely. She hated to think what the other agents would say if they saw black and blue fingerprints circling her throat.
The door burst open, startling Scully as she applied her lipstick, a red line smearing down her chin. Mulder slammed it behind him and rushed to the table, frantically searching through the papers scattered on its surface. "Ah-hah!" he shouted triumphantly when he found what he was looking for. He abandoned the table and sat on the floor, placing five note cards vertically in front of him. He then took a red marking pen and circled something on each card. Sitting back slowly he stared at the cards for a minute. Then a huge grin split his face.
"What is it?" Dana questioned.
He looked up at her, still beaming from ear to ear. "We've got the bastard."
Cincinnati Field Office
7:29 a.m.
"Okay everybody, settle down," Bear ordered. "We have a long day ahead of us and I don't want to make it any longer than needs be. Agent Mulder has informed me that he has made progress in discerning the meaning behind the notes, so we'll begin with him this morning. Agent Mulder."
The profiler nodded his thanks and stood, walking energetically over to the whiteboard in the front of the room. He picked up a pen and turned to address the team members. "I was convinced that the answer was in the names of the women in the poems, an anagram or some such thing. The only problem was that with so many letters, the number of combinations is almost impossible to exhaust. But then I remembered another poem by Poe, titled 'A Valentine', which was a riddle that contained the answer in itself. The first letter of the first line in connection with the second letter of the second line, the third letter of the third line, and so on to the end translated the answer." As he was talking, Mulder scribbled on the board, illustrating his words. He began to write the names of the women in a column.
Morella
Lenore
Helen
Annabel Lee
Berenice
"Now, apply the same theory to these names and you get M-E-L-A-N. This might not appear to mean anything at first, but suppose we add an I and an E. MELANIE. The name of our UNSUB's dead wife."
The room erupted into noise as the team members assimilated this information.
"I'll be damned."
"What if he's right"
"Could it be that simple?"
"You call that simple?"
"Spooky did it again."
One voice shouted in order to be heard above the tumult. "You're wrong!"
Everyone quieted as they turned one by one to stare at the speaker.
"You're theory is only applicable if you follow *your* profile, but your profile isn't correct." Roberts was turning red as he stood and berated Mulder. "You think you can just come in here and feed us this bullshit and expect us to believe you? Come on, it is a huge leap to think that this is a name, pure chance that adding two letters spells out a name."
"Tony, maybe you should give the guy a chance, I mean it *does* make sense," Uly intoned. "I mean, it seems pretty obvious that the UNSUB is obsessed with Poe."
Roberts whirled around and pierced Vangelis with his eyes. "Yeah? Well, obsessed or not, it has nothing to do with little green men, and that's Spooky's area of expertise, isn't it? What the hell does a UFO hunter know about profiling? What, just because he used to do it almost ten years ago means that he still has what it takes? His brain's been so screwed up by aliens that I doubt he could profile his own mother!"
Everyone sat in shocked silence. It was one thing to joke behind someone's back, but to openly degrade a fellow agent in front of said agent and the entire team - that was unthinkable. Bear was either too stunned to reprimand Tony or was content to let everything play out, choosing not to intervene. Someone shifted uncomfortably and Roberts' heaving chest slowed. As if finally realizing what he had done, he clamped his mouth shut and sat down, glaring around the room, challenging anyone to contradict him.
Mulder was still standing by the whiteboard, pen in hand. He blinked slowly, drawing on his inner strength to face these men. "Agent Roberts, my theory is perfectly applicable to your profile as well. You postulate that he was abused by his mother and from this stems his hatred toward women. The subsequent death of his mother triggered his killing spree. Melanie would then be the name of his mother and we would still go about searching death records for that particular name. Find her and we find him.
"And Agent Roberts, I may have been working on the X-Files for the past six years, but I am still qualified to do profiles. I have a ninety-percent solve rate when it comes to profile accuracy, do you? Bill Patterson himself recruited me directly from the Academy, without the normal three years in the field, were you? I graduated cuma sum laude with a Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology from Oxford, did you? So, you claim that I know nothing about profiling because I used to work in the paranormal? Well, I do know that profiling takes empathy, insight and intellect. What a self-absorbed, arrogant, pig-headed prima donna such as yourself could possibly know about profiling is beyond me. In fact, I think that it could be classified as an X-File."
Silence reigned for a moment, but suddenly the room blossomed with applause and whistles. Roberts was white with rage, but he remained taciturn, his arms folded across his chest.
Once things had quieted down, Mulder continued. "Now, if we could perhaps focus on the *case*, I believe that one other piece of information should be brought to light. I searched through the entire literary works of Edgar Allan Poe and found only one name that would fit into the equation, providing an I as the sixth letter. In a poem titled 'Eulalie'," Mulder paused, a look of concentration on his face, "there is a mention of the moon and..." he trailed off. His brows furrowed and his Adams apple bobbed. "Moon and stars.
"I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride -
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride."
He stopped, taking several deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
"Ah, less - less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!"
He clenched and unclenched his hands, pushing the words out through gritted teeth. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his swayed slightly as he stood. Some of the team members cast nervous glances about, wondering what was happening.
"And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the... moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most... unregarded curl-
Can compare with... the bright-eyed Eulalie's... most humble and... careless... curl."
Having succeeded in finishing the poem, Mulder no longer tried to fight the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. With a guttural groan, he wrapped his arms around his mid-section and dropped to his knees. He was dimly aware of shouting and someone's hands pulling at him. He doubled over as pain spasmed through him, forcing him to collapse onto his side. He rocked slightly, wishing for the agony to stop, kneading his chest and stomach as though it might help. He tried to concentrate on breathing, but the simple effort of filling his lungs was excruciating. All of his nerves were on fire, screaming at his brain for some release.
It was too much.
As the world faded away into darkness, the last thing he remembered was his partner's voice offering words of comfort.