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 4
Cincinnati Field Office
7:41 a.m.
As they watched Mulder stand beside the whiteboard and recite Edgar Allan Poe, looks of confusion graced all faces but one. Gopher knew what was happening, knew that Mulder was holding off a seizure, pushing himself to his limit in order to get the information to the group. He wrung his hands and cast a hopeful look at the doorway, wishing that Dana would walk through it at that moment. Then, as though in slow motion, he watched in horror as Mulder fell to his knees, his long arms encircling his body and his face a mask of pain.
Gopher lurched to his feet and ran to Mulder's side, pulling at the man's arms in order to get him to lie down. "Someone get Agent Scully! Now!" he shouted, not bothering to see if anyone responded to his order. He turned his attention to the man writhing on the ground. "It's all right, Dana's on her way, she'll make sure you'll be okay." He sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it, unsure as what more to say. He was saved from having to say anything else when Dana arrived and knelt beside him, nodding at him quickly in thanks.
"Mulder, I'm here, it's all right. Listen to my voice, focus on my words." Mulder continued to rock back and forth and she shook her head. "Damn it, he's not responding. Mulder. Mulder, can you hear me? Try to take deep breaths, you can do it."
Suddenly the profiler went limp, the tension in his body disappearing instantly. Scully leaned back on her haunches and looked up at the circle of FBI agents surrounding her. They were all staring down at the pair of Washington agents in shock. Keith reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. The concern in his eyes appeared to shake her out of her stupor and she sighed as though in resignation. "Would you help me carry him to the couch in the SAC's office?"
The young man nodded silently and bent over to secure his arms under Mulder's. With a deft heave, he had the older agent suspended in the air, long legs supported by Dana. Together they manhandled Mulder out into the hallway and several doors down, where Dana kicked open Bear's door and continued to carry her partner in. They deposited him on the couch and Keith took a step back, waiting to see if there was anything else he could do to help. He watched as Scully sat on the edge of the couch, her hand moving to caress the side of her partner's head. Feeling oddly voyeuristic, Gopher mumbled, "I'll be back to see if you need anything."
Dana glanced up and smiled softly. "Thank you, Keith." Then she turned her attention back to Mulder. Gopher spared them one last look and then left, closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the hard wood and closed his eyes. He felt an indescribable sadness as he thought about the pair of agents inside.
Keith Phillips was a green agent in all senses of the word; he had graduated from the academy just one week before being assigned to Cincinnati and he had barely learned the names of his fellow agents before this case had become their nightmare. It was from this case that he had his first real taste of violence and the blood and sweat that agents put into solving crimes. He had worked hard to keep up with the more seasoned agents, running errands that might appear insignificant but were important in the greater scheme of things, paying attention to their techniques and taking copious notes during the meetings. He had learned a lot in the past weeks, but it wasn't until Mulder and Scully had arrived that he truly learned what it was to be an FBI agent.
He had heard of Spooky Mulder in the academy, along with all of his classmates. It was odd; the name 'Spooky' was whispered in the halls with an curious mixture of reverence and scorn. Reverence for his profiling and analysis skills, scorn for his wasting them on chasing little green men. But Keith cared little for the rumors about the X-Files; he was more interested in the years Mulder spent in the VCS and ISU previous to the X-Files. Having an unparalleled success rate, Mulder's old cases were used as examples and exercises in class, his techniques in investigation were taught as part of the regular curriculum. Fox Mulder was a living legend that Keith had idolized. When he heard that Mulder would be joining them on this case, he had nearly hyperventilated in excitement and fear.
And when Mulder had arrived, he had not disappointed Keith in the least. He had been as focused, determined, and skilled as people claimed. But there was something else that no one had mentioned. There was a sadness that seemed to cling to the profiler, a weariness that spoke of despair at the inhumanity of the killer. And it went deeper than that, hinting at a past filled with pain and sorrow. Keith had watched as this case consumed Mulder, eating away at him as the man became more in touch with the UNSUB, his hold on reality a tenuous one at best during those times when submerged in the killer's psyche.
Keith had always considered Mulder as something of a knight in shining armor, an agent who could come in, solve a case in a few days, and leave again without any indication of having been inside a killer's mind. Spooky Mulder was a profiling machine who could do anything. After seeing Mulder deal with a seizure last night, Keith was even surer that this idea was true, that nothing could stop the man. But after witnessing what he just had, Keith realized that Mulder was just as human as everyone else.
He felt sadness, fear, and pain, just like the rest. He needed sleep and nourishment like a normal person, had a sense of humor and an intellect that went beyond solving crimes. But it was the fact that, despite his physical condition, Mulder continued to work that placed him above the rest. His empathy for the victims and their families as well as his dedication to bringing them peace were what made him an exceptional agent.
Keith opened his eyes and looked down the hallway at various agents rushing about, putting Mulder's theories to the test. Perhaps it took more than brains to solve a crime. It also took heart.
11:44 a.m.
Dana was sincerely starting to worry. Yes, the seriousness of the seizure was definitely a cause for concern, but she had accepted the reality weeks ago that this might happen. What she was worried about was the fact that Mulder had been unconscious for almost three hours now. That hadn't happened since he landed in the hospital when the black cancer symptoms began nearly two months ago. She had chosen not to call for paramedics because of the incapability of medicine to help his situation, but she was beginning to rethink her decision. She could only hope that his unconscious state was due more to exhaustion than the seizure.
Finally a low throaty groan signaled her partner's return to awareness. She lay her palm upon his cheek. "Mulder? How are you feeling?"
His eyelids squeezed tightly together and he turned his head into her hand. She saw his Adams apple bob twice and then his eyes slowly opened. "Scully?"
"Of course, who else would it be?" she answered softly, getting off the couch and moving to a chair.
He sat up cautiously, wincing at the movement. "Where are we?"
"Keith helped me bring you into Bear's office. Do you remember what happened?"
He frowned imperceptibly and sighed. "Yeah, I remember." He grinned sheepishly. "Well, did I give anyone a heart attack?"
She smiled back. "No, I think that the fact that none of them have reached their fifties was the only thing that saved them. Actually, several of them have stopped by to ask how you were doing. I think Keith set the record straight."
"Kid's going to be a good agent," Mulder observed, swinging his legs off the couch and placing them firmly on the ground.
"Yes, he is. He said he'd be back around eleven-thirty to check on us but I doubt we'll see him anytime soon."
He paused in rubbing the back of his neck and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why not?"
She stepped over and shooed his hand away, replacing it with her own and gently massaging away the tension. "Because everyone is in a frenzy trying to get all the information we need. You really stirred up a hornet's nest, Mulder."
"Have they got anything yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of, but I haven't left this office, so who knows." She patted him apologetically on the back. "Don't feel guilty, Mulder, there's nothing you could have done about it. Besides, there's plenty of people working on it, I would just be in the way."
"You? Never. Most agents can't do half of what you do, give yourself some credit."
Scully smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "Kiss ass."
"Only yours," he shot back.
"Better be. Well, I think I'll head down to the cafeteria and grab something for us to eat. Don't give me that look, you haven't had breakfast and after what just happened I want to make sure you have your strength up. I want you to stay here until I get back and rest a little bit more."
"But-"
"Not buts about it. Don't make me pull rank on you." She put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest in exaggerated importance.
"Scully, I outrank you."
She grinned evilly. "Yes, but the doctor can pull rank even on the captain."
Mulder waited until he heard the click of the door as it shut before he let his guard down. He slumped back into the couch and closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. It didn't work. He tried kneading his temple but that only led to minor assuagement.
What was he going to do? His whole body was aching; pulsing with a pain that had no promise of relief. It was just like before, when he had first discovered that the black cancer was still within him. It had all started as a sort of encompassing ache that gradually became worse until it was debilitating and he was taken to the hospital. Luckily he hadn't reached that level yet, but he was still in constant pain and it was distracting.
And he couldn't tell Scully.
Because, if she knew, she would not let him finish this case. He couldn't let that happen, he had to see this through. It wasn't that he was possessive and considered this *his* case, or that he had something to prove. It was that, if he did not see this case come to an end, he would be forever haunted by it in his nightmares. Resolution was the only thing that could keep the demons of the night away. After more than twenty-five years of non-resolution in his sister's abduction, he knew that it was the only way for him to avoid the downward spiral into a living hell.
He was just going to have to grin and bear it, so to speak. There was no way that he was going to let some extraterrestrial slime worms beat him. Filled with renewed purpose, he jumped up from the couch, prepared to bring in the UNSUB himself if he could. But he had sadly misjudged how ready his body was and he stumbled into Bear's desk, locking his elbows when his hands hit the wooden surface in order to keep himself upright. He crushed his eyes shut and took in deep breaths, waiting for the sparks of pain to lessen to a more manageable level.
"Agent Mulder, are you all right?"
His head jerked to the side and he found Gopher looking at him with concern. "I'm fine, thanks." He pushed himself off the desk and stood up straight, wincing as he did so.
Gopher cocked his head sideways. "If you'll pardon me for saying so, you don't look fine. In fact, you look worse than before."
"Well, I won't pardon you then. Now, are you here just to make obvious diagnoses on my health or do you have something to report." Mulder instantly felt guilty when he saw the contrite look that graced the younger man's face. "Look, Gopher, I'm sorry. I know you're just worried, and I appreciate your concern, but I don't have time for that sort of thing. You remember when I told you that you need to learn when to take breaks?" He waited for the kid to nod. "This is one of those times when you put the good of the victims ahead of everything else."
"I understand. But Mulder, wouldn't Dana prefer-"
Mulder put up a hand to stop the younger agent's speech. "Gopher, listen to me. I want you to promise me that you are not going to tell Scully about any of this. No, hear me out. We both know that if she was aware of my current condition she would forcibly restrain me to keep me from seeing this case through to the end."
Gopher appeared to mull over the decision for a moment. "All right, you have my word. But Mulder?"
"What?"
"If I can tell that you're in pain, don't you think Dana will be able to as well?"
Mulder stared at the kid in astonishment. "Damn." They both startled at the sound of feet pounding past the room and a grin split his face. "But she's not going to."
"Why not?"
"Because we're all going to be so busy that she's not going to have the time to notice."
Gopher's brows scrunched together. "How do you know that?"
"Because Brenner just ran by with a huge smile on his face. Let's go."
12:37 p.m.
The briefing room was in chaos. People were shouting and clapping each other on the back, others hastily making notes on the maps and papers plastered on the wall, some with phone to their ears, free hands blocking out the noise. Mulder walked stiffly into the room, Gopher at his heels. The room got louder, if possible, as people congratulated him for his insight and jabbed him good-naturedly in the ribs as they winked conspiratorially.
"Quiet down!" roared Bear.
It took a moment longer than usual, but soon there was nothing but a twitter or two. "Thank you. Now, I want-" he paused as Dana rounded the corner, dumped a tray of food on the side table and scooted into the empty seat next to Mulder. "I want to thank everyone for pulling together so fast and getting this information in such an expedient manner, well done. So, let's get down to it.
"Our main suspect is James C. Talbain, age forty-seven. He is currently employed with the Portsmouth Gazette and was recently promoted to senior journalist. He lives with his sister Caroline whom he moved back in with after his wife of fifteen years, Melanie Talbain, died of lung cancer two months ago. His driver's license photo matches the description given to us by Kyle Bowen of a man who bought scopolamine and strychnine within the past week. We also had an anonymous phone call from a woman who claimed that her brother was acting strangely, drinking and lashing out angrily. She would not give us her name but we were able to trace it to an area of ten square miles. Caroline and James Talbain live within that region.
"Background on Talbain states that he was an orphan, adopted by Jonathan and Margaret Talbain in 1955. He had a good childhood and did well in school. In 1973 he applied to the Air Force Academy but was rejected for medical reasons. Apparently he is nearly blind in his right eye due to an accident as a child. He ended up going to Ohio State and graduated in 1979 with a degree in journalism. He worked at a few small papers for about five years and was then hired by the Portsmouth Gazette in 1984. We contacted his office and it seems that he called in sick today, the third day in a row, claiming to have the flu that's going around.
"All right, here's the game plan. I want a small task force to go to his house and arrest him. Try and get him to tell us where the girl is, since he won't be holding her at the same residence, and ask the sister for any information that might be helpful. Brenner, you head up the team, choose five agents to accompany you. Mulder, Roberts, I want you two to go along for on-site consulting. Okay people, let's do it."
The response was instantaneous. Agents were moving at a run, getting everything together as fast as possible. Brenner was calling out the names of his task force. Mulder could see the dismay on Dana's face when she wasn't one of the five chosen. "Don't worry, Scully, I'll be fine. I can't go with them into the house, I can only advise over the radio. No field agent status, remember?"
She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I know, you're right. Well, I doubt Brenner is leaving within the next five minutes, so I want you to eat something before you have to go."
"You trying to fatten me up, woman?"
"Oh yeah, you know how the sight of collagen turns me on." She couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Promise to call me after you pick him up?"
"The chances that Talbain is there are practically nil, but I promise to call you anyway."
"Thank you. Now eat."
He assumed a soldier's stance. "Yes, Sir!"
11175 West Bernardo Drive
Portsmouth, Ohio
2:18 p.m.
Mulder stepped through the doorway, his senses alert, taking in his surroundings and scrutinizing them to the last detail. It was a small house, aging but well taken care of. Decorated with an eclectic yet aesthetic taste, it was a cozy little environment that spoke of a woman's touch. The woman in question was sitting on a black leather couch in the living room, two agents standing above her. She had her face in her hands and was crying softly, her shoulders hitching as she wept. One of the agents turned to him. "She's incoherent, we can't get anything out of her."
Mulder pierced the man with a disgusted glare. The woman was not deaf and she certainly wasn't a suspect, someone who was to be interrogated. He waved the other two away and knelt down in front of her, placing his hand on her knee. "Caroline?"
She lifted tear stained eyes to meet his.
"Caroline, my name is Fox Mulder, I was wondering if I could talk to you. I know that this is all overwhelming and you feel hurt and confused. But we need your help."
"My brother is not an evil man," she said firmly.
"No, no he's not. He is a man whose mind has been clouded by grief. He doesn't know that what he is doing is wrong, he only wants to save others from the heartache he has suffered. Quite a noble goal if you ask me. But he is going about it the wrong way. He is not keeping sorrow from others, he is causing it. The families of those little girls will never be the same, they will have a void that cannot be filled and will have to live the rest of their lives wondering why. Please. Please help us fill one family's void."
During Mulder's speech Caroline had stopped crying and listened intently. She sat up straighter and strength seemed to flow back into her. "You sound like you are speaking from experience."
He looked her straight in the eyes. "I am."
She gave him a kind-hearted smile. "Jim told me that he was going to be home late today after work because he had some errands to run. He didn't say what but he told me not to wait up. He did mention something about the stars but I can't remember exactly what and it didn't make much sense to me. He had been drinking, even that early in the morning, so I dismissed it."
Mulder squeezed her knee. "Thank you." He stood and walked over to Brenner. "Which one is his room?"
The older man glanced up from his notebook where he had been writing down Caroline's statement. "Two doors down, on the left."
Mulder went down the hallway and into the room Brenner had directed. Roberts was there along with two other agents and it was quickly becoming crowded. Roberts had refused to acknowledge the other profiler ever since the meeting earlier, so it was no surprise that the man continued to ignore him. Agent Gordon and Agent Hartburg nodded and proceeded with what they were doing. He went through the same procedure he had in the victims' rooms - try to imagine what kind of person Talbain was, how he lived, what he thought.
He had to figure out where the man had taken Katie, what his next move would be. If they could cut him off at the pass, they might be able to stop him before he harmed the child. But he couldn't think, his mind was muddled with pain, he was unable to focus on any specific thought. He could almost grasp one when it fluttered away, leaving him as clueless as before. He dug his fingernails into his palms and took slow cleansing breaths. For a split second the pain seemed to disappear and he was grateful for the respite. Then it came crashing down on him full force, causing him to stumble into the bed and he grasped blindly for the bedpost. He felt the smooth wood under his hands and he held onto it like a man on a sinking ship clings to a lifesaver.
Anthony Roberts was an insightful man; he had to be in his profession. He considered himself to be excellent at his job, exceeding all those who came before him. Except one. He didn't hate Mulder, he hated what the other profiler stood for - the fact that he, Tony, was not the absolute best. Yes, he knew that he could be considered egotistical, but if that's what someone who knows that they are right because more often than not they are proved correct was called, then he was proud to bear the title.
He had despised the reality that Mulder had been right all this time. Tony had tried his damnedest to get the other agents in the VCS and also the Cincinnati office to see Mulder as he did - an alien-hunting outcast who lost the profiling skills he had so many years ago and those were just gained from thinking too much like a psychopath. In Tony's mind Mulder was nothing more than an insane showoff with good credentials and a knack for not getting caught. He had no idea how Mulder had managed to stay in the Bureau so long without ever being thrown out on grounds of mental instability.
As Tony watched the other profiler move around the room, a haunted look on his face, he realized that the reason he had such a problem with the man was because Mulder had shown that he wasn't insane. It was hard for Tony to come to grips with the fact that Mulder actually was as good as they said and not because he was crazy, but because he was insightful. Just like himself.
So absorbed in his own musings, he was caught by surprise when Mulder gasped and lurched into the end of the bed. The man grabbed onto the bedpost and stayed there as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. Tony could see Mulder's muscles shudder and clench as waves of inconceivable pain rolled through him, his breath harsh and ragged. His head dropped to his chest and it seemed as though he might collapse but then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over, leaving the other agents in the room at a loss.
Tony stared as Mulder took several large gulps of air before pushing himself away from the bed to walk stiffly, and what was obviously painfully, out of the room. Gordon turned to Hartburg and said in a stage whisper, "He looks really bad, I wonder if he's gonna make it through this case."
The other agent shrugged noncommittally and they both went about their business, following Mulder out into the hallway. Tony stayed where he was, reflecting on the past few minutes. Gordon's comment had struck a chord inside of him. Was Mulder going to make it through this case? It was evident that the man was in constant discomfort and it was only getting worse. Why was he even working if he was in such bad condition?
Suddenly Tony Roberts had an epiphany. He blinked rapidly and searched for somewhere to sit down. He found a chair in the corner of the room and dropped into it, his thoughts whirling. Mulder wasn't here to prove that he was better, to gloat about being the premier profiler. He wasn't even here because it was his job. Fox Mulder was here because he wanted to save that little girl. He didn't care about how much effort it took, how hard and frustrating it was, or if he got the credit. All Mulder cared about was whether or not one victim came back alive.
He hunched over and stared at his hands limply dangling in-between his knees. For the first time in a long time, Anthony Roberts was ashamed.
"Hartburg, I want you to stay here with Ms. Talbain. He might see her as the enemy now that she's spoken with us and I don't want to take any chances. I doubt he'll want to hurt her, but who knows. Gordon, Basque, set up surveillance outside, I want to know the second the bastard comes back." Brenner finished giving assignments and turned to the rest of his team. "All right, let's get back to the command center and figure out our next move."
Caroline opened the door for the agents, her eyes downcast in sorrow. "Agent Mulder," she called as the men moved out the door, catching his hand as he passed. He turned and raised his brows questioningly. "I hope your void is filled someday."
He smiled sadly down at her and nodded his thanks.
Cincinnati Office
4:37 p.m.
"Moon and stars. Moon and stars, moon and stars, moon n' stars, moon'nstars, moonstars, monstars, monsters..." The words were repeated so fast that they became a garbled one line sentence. Mulder knew it was important, Talbain had mentioned the stars to his sister before he left that morning. He was going to look at the stars. Where did someone go to look at stars? An observatory? No, that didn't feel right. A solarium? Yes, that would be just the place. They weren't often frequented and some closed early in the afternoon. Or he could pose as an employee of wherever the solarium was located, close the place down without raising suspicion and then take his time to do whatever he wanted to the girl. Could it really be that simple?
He had to find out.
Heads turned as Mulder practically ran through the hallways, his suit coat flapping behind him. He rounded a corner and found himself right where he wanted to be - the computer lab. He picked the nearest agent and told the woman that he needed her to do a search right away.
"Well, SAC Hallowell is having us do a search for Agent Mulder, Sir. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait," the female agent replied.
"I *am* Agent Mulder and I want you to do a new search." He didn't have time to be nice; the need to know was overpowering. He saw her hesitate a moment but she must have decided it wasn't worth a fight because she stopped what she was doing and pulled up a new search page on her screen. "Thank you. All right, I need to know if there are any solariums in Portsmouth. Public parks, hotels, zoos, anyplace that has one is suspect. If one's closed temporarily put it at the top of the list." She was typing as fast as he was speaking and he was glad that he didn't need to repeat anything. She got the results quickly, as there weren't that many solariums in the Portsmouth area. She printed it out and handed it to him, a wispy smile on her face. He gave her one of his best grins and thanked her again, making sure he noted her name. Then he was whirling around and bounding off the way he came. He never heard the lovelorn sigh behind him.
He almost knocked down another agent in his haste to reach Bear's office. He skidded to a halt in front of it and shoved open the door without even a warning knock. Apologizing brusquely to the SAC, he launched into an explanation of where their killer would take the girl.
"Sir, he's going to take her to a solarium, where he can kill her under the stars, which is prominently mentioned in the poem relating to this child and also has connections to Caroline Talbain's statement. I had Agent Brisby print up a list of solariums in Portsmouth and we have a choice of five." Mulder slammed the piece of paper on the desk and grabbed a red pen from the cup next to it. He circled the second set of words decisively, pointing at it with emphasis. "He's there."
Bear leaned over and scrutinized the document before him then looked up at Mulder. "How do you know it's this one?"
"Look at the name," Mulder stated as though it would explain everything.
Bear read it again. Virginia Park Solarium. The SAC shook his head and raised it to meet Mulder's impatient gaze. "It's not saying anything to me, Mulder. What's so important about the name?"
Mulder smiled ferally, like a wolf who had scented his prey. Or a fox. "Virginia, Sir. Virginia was the name of Edgar Allan Poe's wife."
Virginia Park
Portsmouth, Ohio
5:23 p.m.
The night was already encroaching on the park, gray shadows growing longer as the setting sun turned the greens of the grass and trees a muted orange. There were a few joggers making their rounds through the grounds, another man bicycling down a well-worn path. A man sitting on a bench reading the paper ducked his head and whispered into his coat, "No sign of the suspect."
In a van stationed at the far end of the park filled with video cameras trained on each of the persons within the park area, the message was received with some disappointment. Scully noticed the tense set of Bear's shoulders and turned to her partner. "Are you sure this is the right one?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." He frowned and leaned closer to one of the monitors. He grabbed a headset and switched a button on the console. "Hicks, are you certain that no one has entered the building?"
The man reading his paper bent his head again. "Negative, no one has gone in."
Mulder chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Weissburger, make another pass around the building, double check that there's nobody inside."
A jogger who had been stretching next to a tree finished her routine and began to stride towards the solarium at an easy pace. She made a large circle around the building, glancing at it occasionally. "No movement inside," she huffed quietly.
"Janet, wait!" Mulder ordered as he listened to her radio communication. To the woman's credit, she did not jerk to a stop, she slowed down to a halt and bent over, placing her hands on her knees as if to take a breather.
"What?" she hissed into her hidden microphone.
"What's that noise in the background?"
Janet stood straight and looked to her right. "Looks like a press conference at the opening of a new store or something."
Mulder adjusted the camera so that they could see a little past the corner of the solarium. Outside of the park there were reporters gathered around the steps of a large building, all of them focused on the man cutting an enormous ribbon with a pair of scissors. "Okay. Now, do you see a van or car from the Portsmouth Gazette?"
It took a moment for Weissburger to respond. "Yeah, parked next to a bunch of other news vans."
"Damn it!" Mulder exploded. "He's already inside!"
"What?" Bear's expression was one of bottled fury. "How the hell did he get inside?"
"I don't know," Mulder muttered, moving over next to Scully to search through schematics of the building they were surveilling. "What's this?" He stabbed the paper with his index finger.
Bear peered over the edge of the plans. "It's an old access tunnel to the sewer. But it was supposed to have been sealed when the sewer tunnels were refurbished back in 1994."
"Well, apparently they left a hole big enough for our rat to get through."
"Shit, shit, shit," Bear ranted and he paced in the confines of the van. He picked up his headset. "All teams, hold your positions. Suspect is likely inside." He flipped off a switch and turned to Mulder. "Okay, what do we do? Do we assume the girl's dead and go in there, guns blazing? Or do we negotiate? Is this guy going to talk and what are the chances that the girl's alive? I want to know what Talbain's next move is going to be and you're the man who knows the most about him."
"She's alive, don't send the assault team. He's been here since that press conference started and is waiting underground until the solarium closes at five-thirty. Then he'll bring her up and kill her in there. It has to be under the stars. Our best bet is to announce our presence to him as quietly as possible, keep it low key. He'll be threatened by us, he thinks we're here to take away his 'Lenore', which we are, so he's going to react defensively, not offensively. I suggest you send in a negotiator. Wait until we see movement inside and then send Roberts in."
Tony Roberts had been sitting in the corner of the van, quiet until then. "Me? Why me? You know more about him than I do."
Everyone was too focused on the situation to realize how much that statement cost the older profiler, but Mulder filed it away in his memory for later consideration. "I don't have field agent status, I can't go in there. But I can advise you over the radio."
Roberts nodded as he accepted that there really was no other way. Bear turned away from the two profilers and held the radio closer to his ear. "We've got a visual," he announced. "All teams, the suspect is now inside the building and an agent is being sent in to negotiate. Keep alert and do not, I repeat, do not antagonize the suspect in any way. We want to keep him as calm as possible." Finished with his orders, the SAC reached over and picked up a Kevlar vest, tossing it over to Roberts. "It's time. Suit up."
Everyone watched with their breaths held as Roberts approached the glass doors of the solarium. The dusk was quickly turning into night and the park lights were coming on one by one, reflecting off the glass walls of the building.
Then he was inside and they couldn't see anything, just hear the harsh breathing of the negotiator. "James Talbain?" Roberts said loudly.
Everyone strained their ears at the silence. Then there was a high pitched sound like the whimper of a child and a deep male voice shouted, "Stay away from us!"
"Mr. Talbain, my name is Tony Roberts, I'm with the FBI."
"You can't have her! I've lost her once, I refuse to lose her again!"
Mulder flinched at the hysterical note in Talbain's voice. "If he's sitting, you should sit down as well or kneel, make sure you're not standing over him. And get him to work on a first name basis, bring it to a personal level," he instructed.
They heard a scuffling as Roberts sat down on the concrete floor. "Mr. Talbain, may I call you Jim?" The man must have nodded because Roberts spoke again. "Then why don't you call me Tony. Now, I was hoping that you could show me Katie. We need to know that she's okay."
"You don't care whether or not she's okay, you just want to take her away from me and make me forget about her!"
Mulder sighed and closed his eyes. Talbain actually saw the children as embodiments of his wife Melanie. This was going to take some finagling. He wracked his brain for the right quote that would reach Talbain. He found it momentarily and murmured into the radio, "Tell him there's balm in Gilead."
"What?" was Tony's whispered reply.
"Gilead. Tell him there's balm in Gilead." Mulder stressed each word carefully.
"Jim, there is balm in Gilead," Roberts repeated.
Silence filled the air for a few tense moments. Then Talbain spoke. "There is?"
"Yes, Jim, there is."
"Then tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore."
Roberts didn't answer, obviously waiting for Mulder's cue. Mulder's mind was racing. "Okay, repeat after me. By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - thou shalt clasp a rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore."
They heard Roberts repeating Mulder's lines word for word, his speech slightly halting in his effort to get it all correct. This must have given them away, because Talbain's next words were completely unexpected. "Who are you talking to?"
Tony obviously decided to tell the truth. "To another FBI agent. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that-"
"I want to talk to him."
"I, uh, I'm afraid that..." Roberts paused as he listened to Mulder instruct him to hand the radio over to Talbain. "Well, certainly, Jim. Here, take my radio and you can talk to him yourself."
"No. I want him here, I want to talk to him in person."
"That's not possible, he's..." No one in the van heard the rest of Roberts' explanation, they were occupied with the hopeless task of persuading Mulder not to meet Talbain.
"Mulder, you are not cleared to go into the field, I can't allow it," Bear said, not much authority lacing his voice.
"You and I both know that this may be our only chance of getting the girl out alive. You've got the park crawling with agents and a SWAT team ready to go in on your signal. Give me a chance."
Bear closed his eyes, knowing he only had one choice. "All right."
Mulder was in motion instantly, pulling on a vest and grabbing a radio headset. He turned around, ready to head out the door, when he saw Scully staring at him sadly. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his. "Dana, I'm sorry, I have to do this."
"I know." She tried to smile. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and pushed open the van's back doors. "Mulder," Scully called as he was about to exit into the open air. He looked back at her. "Please come back to me."
He smiled, love and trust shining in his eyes, then whirled around and jogged off into the night. He hesitated at the doors of the solarium, stealing himself for the ordeal he knew was about to take place. He took a long deep breath, tamping down on the persistent ache of his body and pushed the doors open.
The solarium was a large glass building in the shape of a half-globe. Flowering plants and trees rimmed the windows and decorative concrete paths lined with more greenery led to the center, where a large circular space was graced with a few benches. It was in this center space that he found the other two men. Roberts had his back to Mulder, sitting on the ground so as to be eye-level with the suspect. Talbain was kneeling approximately fifteen feet away, Katie Bittner sitting next to him, her tiny wrists bound securely behind her. Talbain held a gun point blank at the child, his eyes wide and the hand that held the weapon trembling.
"You Mulder?" the man asked.
Mulder nodded, making brief eye contact with Roberts who had turned around at Talbain's question. "Jim, I'm here now, do you think Tony should go?" He was leaving the ball in Talbain's court, letting him think he had control.
"Yeah, we don't need him." Talbain shrugged as though it was an unimportant issue.
Roberts slowly got to his feet and moved towards the exit. He shot Mulder a look that said 'good luck' and headed on his way. Mulder stayed where he was, not making any unnecessary movements. "Jim, why don't we sit on the benches, make everyone a little more comfortable?"
Mulder was almost certain that Talbain would object but he suddenly stood, pulling the girl up with him and keeping the gun trained on her. He backed up a few feet and sat down on the nearest bench. He used his armed hand to wave Mulder to the bench on his right.
The profiler gratefully sank down onto the hard wood, hoping that Talbain didn't notice the tremors running through his body. He smiled down at Katie, his eyes flicking over her to make sure that she was unharmed. For a brief second his heart fluttered at the sight of the girl. She looked so much like Samantha. But that wasn't important right now, so he shoved the grief away and embraced the impassivity of his job. He wasn't able to discern any visible damage to the child, so he moved on to his next priority. His eyes, glowing green in the light of the solarium, met Talbain's and he knew that his next words would be extremely important.
"Thy God hath lent me - by these angels he hath sent me, to ask that ye repent thee and release this lost Lenore."
Scully was fidgeting in her seat, her heart screaming to her as she listened to Mulder and Talbain converse. They were tossing quotes by Poe back and forth as though it were some sort of foreign language or code understood by only them. And in essence, it was. The only thing that could distract her from the dialogue between the two men was the noisy and abrupt entry of Keith into the van.
The youth was panting, apparently having run all the way from across the park. "Sir, I've got some bad news. The press has somehow found out what's going on and they're on their way."
The string of curses that tumbled from Bear's mouth was enough to make a sailor blush. "How the hell did they get wind of it? Never mind, it's not important. Right now we have to figure out how to keep them as uninvolved as possible. Mulder said to keep this low key and we're going to do our damn best to do just that." He picked up his radio and started issuing new orders to team members, relocating some of them to intercept the press.
Gopher turned to Dana. "Speaking of which, where's Mulder?"
Scully was confused for a moment but then realized that the young man wasn't wearing a headset and was therefore not privy to the information on her partner's whereabouts. "He's inside talking to Talbain."
"In the condition he's in?" Gopher blurted.
Dana's head snapped around and she pierced him with her gaze. "What do you mean, 'the condition he's in'?"
"Um... well," Gopher ducked his head, his face turning crimson. "Mulder hasn't exactly been one hundred percent since his seizure this morning."
Puzzlement formed on Scully's face. She thought back to all the times she had seen her partner since his attack earlier that morning. He seemed focused and determined, his mind completely set on catching Talbain. She thought harder, visualizing every detail. His movements had been stiff and there were lines at the corners of his mouth that usually meant he was in pain but not letting it show. Then, like lightning, it came to her. "Oh God, he's getting worse."
"I'm sorry, Dana, he told me not to tell you because you'd make him get off this case and he couldn't let that happen." Gopher was talking fast in his haste to apologize.
"Not your fault," she said absently. "I should have known that something was wrong."
"I'm sure he'll be fine," Gopher tried to console her.
Scully's eyes were filled with sorrow. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"Lift your soul from out that shadow," Mulder implored.
"I can't!" Talbain shouted. "Don't you understand? I can't just quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore."
"Yes, I do understand, more than you realize. My sister was taken from my family when she was eight. I was twelve and I never forgave myself for letting it happen. It tore my family apart, my mother passing her days in a numbing cloud of Valium and my father drowning his grief in alcohol. I have spent more than twenty-five years trying to find my sister, to make the pain disappear, to fill the hole that was left inside me the night she disappeared. So I have tried to keep others from feeling the same suffering my family and I had to endure, just like you.
"But you're going about it the wrong way. You can't save anyone from heartache by causing heartache for others. Think about the families of those little girls. Their lives are changed forever, a missing piece in their hearts that can never be filled because the piece that filled it is gone forever. Think, Jim. Think of all the people who now feel as you do because their loved ones are dead."
Talbain seemed to be wavering, his expression becoming less angry and his grip on the gun loosening. "But it hurts so much."
Mulder couldn't help but feel sorry for the man beside him. "Yes, it does. It hurts so much that some days you feel like you don't have the strength to get out of bed. You hardly eat or sleep, figuring that if you should die, then all the better because you have no real reason to live. Then you fight the guilt. You fight so hard to prove that there was nothing you could do to prevent it. And Jim, there was no way you could have kept Melanie from dying. She had lung cancer, nothing could have saved her. It is *not* your fault."
"But..." Talbain trailed off, his response lacking surety.
"Did you and Melanie want to have children?"
Talbain looked as though he was surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Yes. We tried for seven years, until she got sick, but it never took." A soft smile lit up his features. "Mellie loved kids."
"And what would she have thought about what you're doing to these girls?"
Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Then Talbain seemed to cave in on himself. His chin dropped to his chest and sobs wracked his thin form. He released his hold on Katie and used his free hand to wipe his face. Mulder shifted in his seat, a mixture of pain and impatience forcing him to move. Talbain's head snapped up and for a second Mulder thought he was going to shoot. But instead the man pushed the girl away from him.
"Go, go back to your family," he said to the frightened child. The girl looked from her captor to Mulder, her eyes wide with fear. Then, before anyone could change their minds, she bolted for the door, leaving ferns bouncing in her wake.
Scully was right outside, waiting for the girl. Katie burst through the doors and tumbled straight into Dana's arms. "Shhh, it's okay, I'm with the FBI." She picked up the crying child and carried her over to the surveillance van. There she set the girl down, removed the bindings from the small hands, and did a quick examination as she murmured soothing words. "No damage," she reported to Bear.
"I want the paramedics to check her out anyhow and then we can release her into her parents' custody." The SAC waved the waiting EMTs over and then addressed his agent again. "SWAT informs me that they don't have any clears shots because of all the foliage, so their going to have to go through the ceiling if anything goes wrong."
Despite a sense of foreboding that resided in the pit of her stomach, Dana tried to be positive. "We've got the girl out safe and Mulder should have no problems talking Talbain into surrendering. What could go wrong?"
"Agent Mulder, have you ever loved someone so much that you're incomplete without them?"
"Yes, Jim, I have. In fact, I almost lost her to cancer." Mulder kept his answers short, focusing half his mind on the conversation and the other half on holding the pain at bay.
"Almost?"
"Yeah. We were lucky; it went into remission." He paused and took a long breath. "But I remember how much it hurt to watch her wasting away until she was only a shadow... of the woman I knew. And I am grateful every time that I look at her that she is... alive and with me today." He was gritting his teeth now. "Together we've beaten impossible odds and come out of it with hope." He locked gazes with Talbain. "Jim, there *is* balm in Gilead."
Talbain slowly nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. He set his weapon down on the bench next to him. "Then show me."
Mulder was trying his utmost to stay with the conversation, but the pain had grown to such an intense level that he missed Talbain's last words. He shook his head to clear it, his eyes clenched tight and his fists pressed against his thighs. "I..." It was all he got out. The seizure hit with a force that he had never experienced before, his body jerking into a hunched position, his arms encircling his torso automatically.
The movement so surprised Talbain that the man jumped up, knocking the gun onto the floor. The weapon fired, the noise rattling the glass of the solarium and it skidded to a halt next to Mulder, who had collapsed over onto the concrete.
Everyone outside jumped at the sound of gunfire. Bear pressed his radio to his ear, listening to the SWAT team. "Shots fired! Agent down! Move in!"
They all watched in horror as a helicopter appeared from nowhere and a SWAT member dressed entirely in black jumped out of the chopper. The man was attached to the helicopter by a cable and he swung down to the ceiling of the solarium, shattering the glass as he broke through the top.
Mulder was writhing on the ground, waves of pain coursing through his tortured body. He heard the breaking of glass and managed to force his eyes open. He watched as the world moved in slow motion around him. A black shape had torn through the ceiling and was hurtling towards them.
Talbain, who had been kneeling over Mulder, attempting to help but confused as what to do, saw the black form and panicked. He scrambled forward and grabbed the dropped gun, twisting around to point it at the approaching shape. "No!" he screamed. "Not you! You can't make me forget! Not Nevermore!"
And then the silhouette coalesced into the figure of a man, an automatic weapon dangling from his shoulder. Mulder tried to shout at him to stop, but he couldn't force the words up through his throat. Then the man was firing and Talbain's body was jerking as bullets ripped through him. He fell back next to Mulder, his head flopping loosely to the side, his face directly opposite Mulder's.
Another surge of pain hit and suddenly Mulder couldn't see through the black film that was floating across his eyes. But he could hear Talbain's voice, wet with blood.
"In me didst thou exist-."
Then everything - sight, sound, and pain, disappeared.
Vandevere Hospital
Portsmouth, Ohio
Friday
7:14 a.m.
"No... no, not me, s'not me..."
Dana leaned closer to the sleeping form of her partner. He had moved from unconsciousness to sleep a little after midnight and she had been hoping that it would be restful. Apparently her hopes were in vain. Mulder was tossing his head back and forth, muttering incoherently.
"Shh, it's okay," she cooed as she rubbed her fingers up and down his forearm in a soothing motion. "It's all right, you're safe."
"No!" he cried, his body jerking awake. His eyes flitted about the room until they came to rest on her and her heart constricted at the sight of tears cascading from the corners of his eyes. "Dana?"
"I'm here, Sweetheart." She placed a warm hand on his pale cheek.
He gasped and reached out with both arms, pulling her into an awkward embrace. "I was lost and you were gone, you were gone because I was a murderer and you didn't love me, so you left." He sniffled a bit and ran the back of his hand under his nose in a boyish gesture.
Scully couldn't help the tiny smile that crossed her face. Then she grew serious. "Mulder, I'm not gone, I'm here and I still love you with all my heart." She kissed him gently and pushed back on his chest so that he was lying back down. "How do you feel?"
"Fine. Nothing hurts really, though my right shoulder is a bit sore. I think I bruised it when I hit the ground.
"Talbain?"
"Dead."
Mulder let out a sigh of sadness mixed with relief. "It wasn't supposed to end that way. He was going to give himself up; no one should have gotten hurt. But I am sort of relieved, because that means that he can't get to me anymore."
"Get to you?" Dana was confused.
"Yeah. In my dreams." His eyes glazed over slightly and his breathing became hitched as he remembered his nightmare.
"Mulder, I'm here," she reassured him. "I want you to take a few deep breaths and tell me what you dreamt."
He did as was told, inhaling long and slow several times. "I killed little girls, just like Talbain, and I couldn't stop myself. Everything else was gone, it was like I was drowning in darkness with voices screaming in my ears."
"Mulder, the case is over; you saved Katie Bittner, Talbain is dead, and Bear even put you in for a commendation."
"I know, but even though he's dead, he's still there, in my mind." He looked at her with a pained expression. "It's what he said to me before he died." Scully raised an eyebrow and Mulder continued, "He said, 'In me didst thou exist.'"
"What does that mean?"
"It's from one of Poe's stories. 'In me didst thou exist and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou has murdered thyself.'"
Understanding dawned on her. "Mulder, you are nothing like that man, or any of the other monsters that you have profiled. Do you hear me? You are *not* like them. You are the most caring, compassionate, brilliant, moral, honest, and trustworthy man I have ever known. You could never be even remotely compared to the killers you profile. Understanding is not the same as being."
Mulder eyes turned from black to a golden green and he smiled lightly. He repeated her words to himself, "Understanding is not being."
11:33 a.m.
"I see here that his previous doctor diagnosed paroxysmal tachycardia. Well, it appears to have progressed at an alarming rate. Agent Mulder now suffers from cardiomyopathy. Dilated cardiomyopathy to be exact."
Dana nodded, not really surprised at the news. She knew that Mulder had strained his heart, that nothing could be found as the cause. She thanked the doctor and returned to the small room she had spent the last fifteen or so hours in. Mulder was sitting up in bed talking to Assistant Director Skinner.
"So you see, Talbain thought that the SWAT guy was the raven, swooping down from above to steal away the last remnants of the memory of his wife," Mulder explained.
Skinner was listening intently to his agent's narrative. He noticed Scully standing in the doorway and acknowledged her with an inclination of his head. "What news?" he asked.
Dana heaved a sigh and moved in to drop in the chair by Mulder's bedside. "Doctor Davidovich diagnoses dilated cardiomyopathy."
"Dilated what?" Mulder interrupted.
"Cardiomyopathy. It's when there is a dilation and impaired contraction of the ventricles. The cavity of the heart is enlarged and stretched. This means that the heart is weaker and does not pump blood as efficiently, leading to decreased heart function that affects the lungs, liver, and other body systems." She related it in a clinical voice, trying to distance herself from the hopelessness of the situation.
"I take it the doctors found no sign of the black cancer?" Skinner raised his eyebrows in askance.
"Nothing in the x-rays, ultrasound, blood tests, and every other examination they performed. Just like before. But cardiomyopathy usually has no known cause and is common enough in middle aged men, so the doctors are working off of that diagnosis." Scully's tone related the fact that she felt the doctors in this hospital had been less than agreeable when it came to her explanation of her partner's condition.
Skinner's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Well, Mulder, looks like you're on medical leave again."
"Sir, no!" Mulder replied emphatically.
Skinner actually seemed surprised at his agent's tone. "Mulder, you have to realize how serious your condition is."
"It's not so serious that I can't work."
Dana placed a hand on his arm, forestalling his argument. "Mulder, Skinner's right. As the heart begins to fail, blood pressure changes lead to an accumulation of fluid in the chest, making it increasingly difficult to breathe, and thus reducing stamina. Other blood pressure changes may lead to enlargement of the liver and spleen, and the accumulation of fluid in the abdomen. Add to that your having to constantly deal with the seizures and they aren't exactly the best conditions to be working under."
"But I'm not displaying any of those symptoms now, so there's no reason to think that I'm going to drop dead at any second." Dana flinched at his words and he squeezed her hand. "I am not going to spend the rest of my life afraid of what may happen. This thing, whatever it is I have, is not caused by any earthly element and I see no point in assuming that it will act like one. Okay, my heart is a bit weaker than before, we knew that was an eventuality." Mulder turned to the AD. "Sir, didn't you say that you would allow me to work until my condition dictated otherwise?"
Skinner gave a hesitant nod, unsure as to where this line of questioning was going.
"And Scully, did the doctor say that my chances of surviving more than a few months were slim?"
"No, but-"
"Then I see no logic in not allowing me to return to work, sans field agent status of course. I feel perfectly fine." He sat back in the bed, folding his arms and looking like he had just stated the most obvious answer in the world.
Skinner looked at Dana, sure that she would be able to pull something out of her hat to convince her partner that he needed to put his health before his work. But she amazed him by doing just the opposite. "I suppose the ISU is as safe a place as any for you to work, as long as you don't have any more excursions into the field like last night."
Mulder held up his right hand, index and middle finger extended toward the sky. "Scout's honor."
"Then it's settled. Sir?" Scully turned to Skinner for approval.
He was too shocked to do anything but agree. "Scully, can I talk to you outside for a moment?"
She stood and leaned over to place a kiss on Mulder's cheek before following the AD out of the room. "Yes?"
He placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the diminutive woman. "What are you doing? Don't you think it would be better for Mulder to take the medical leave?"
Scully bristled at his words. "Of course I think he should take it!"
"Then why-"
"Because Mulder would rather die this very instant than spend however long he has stuck at home writing articles for magazines. Forcing him to take medical leave would be a death sentence. And while having him go back to work at the ISU is not an encouraging idea, it is better than watching him waste away at home or in a hospital. You know as well as I do that Mulder never gives up without a fight and this is one fight that we are going to lose."
Investigative Support Unit
Quantico, Virginia
Two Weeks Later
Tuesday
3:10 p.m.
"Mulder, we got another e-mail from Keith. It says that he was given recognition for his part in solving another case. He wanted to thank us for teaching him how to be a real agent."
"We didn't do much, he just needed a little coaxing to fully develop his skills," Mulder observed, glancing up from the papers in front of him.
"He works with a good group of agents, I'm sure he has learned something from all of them."
"Well, he certainly didn't get much from Roberts."
"Mulder!" Scully admonished. "Tony Roberts has been nothing but nice to you since we got back, I think you should give him a break."
Mulder pursed his lips in distaste. "I don't know, he's got to be up to something."
"Mmm," Dana answered, busy reading the next message in her in-box. Her face paled and her lip trembled slightly.
"Scully? What's wrong?" Mulder was up and moving to her side.
She simply pointed at the screen:
Agents Mulder and Scully,
We have just been made aware of a procedure that may reverse the effects of the what you refer to as black cancer.
As Agent Mulder is instrumental to the success of The Project, we are willing to make a deal.
If you choose to bargain with us, simply reply to this message and further instructions will be
sent. If not, then there is nothing on this planet that can save Agent Mulder. Think carefully.
She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. "What if they're telling the truth?"
Mulder pulled at his lower lip in thought. "There's only one way to find out."
Dana blanched at the thought. "I don't know. It's not like they're trustworthy and we haven't exactly had much luck when it comes to making deals with them. We have no guarantee that they'll keep they're word."
"No, but if they wanted me dead, they certainly wouldn't volunteer a cure, so there's no need to worry on that point. I suppose they could always rewire my brain or something, but it's not like they've never had the opportunity. I don't really see how they could renege on their offer."
"I guess it all depends on what they want in return," Scully reasoned.
"We have a bargaining chip at least. If I'm really as important as they say, then they stand to lose if they don't make the deal. Whatever it is they want in return, we'll find a way to turn it to our advantage." Mulder took her hands in his. "As long as we're together, we can find a way."
Dana smiled and squeezed his hands back. "Then let's do it."
Just then there was a knock at the door and the partners jumped at the sound. They turned to find Rick Davis standing in the doorway. "I just stopped by to see how everything was going." The head of the ISU paused and took in the expressions on the two agents' faces. "Are you two all right?"
They grinned at each other and looked at their boss, saying simultaneously, "We're fine."
End