The Better Part of Valor
7/9
Room 317
6:48 p.m.
The screams of a young girl tore through his soul. They were pained, frightened.
And bloody.
There was blood everywhere.
On the ground.
On her.
On him.
He stared at his blood-soaked hands, horrified. Then he looked down at the girl.
Suzie Parker.
Her features distorted and shifted.
Samantha.
Her eyes stared accusingly up at him.
Lifeless.
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
Mulder wrenched teary eyes open and found that he was in someone's arms. He couldn't
see who it was, but he recognized the scent. Scully. He'd recognize her scent anywhere.
Mulder broke down into sobs and hugged her tightly as he cried onto her shoulder.
Scully held Mulder and rocked him until he quieted down to tiny sniffles and soft
whimpers. She had been expecting the nightmare to happen and hadn't been too startled
when it finally came.
"Mulder," she called softly. "Mulder, it's okay. You're safe now."
Mulder took several deep breaths to steady himself before looking at Scully. He found
that he couldn't even smile reassuringly at her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Scully asked.
Mulder disentangled himself from her comforting arms and, sitting up, hugged his knees
to his chest. "I had a nightmare," he began slowly. Scully nodded encouragingly.
Mulder took another deep breath. "It was McKay- I was McKay," he corrected himself.
"And Suzie . . . she was screaming. The blood . . . I couldn't get it off . . ." He began to
tremble.
Scully squeezed his hand, and Mulder continued. "But then . . . it wasn't her . . . it was
Sam."
He spoke so softly that Scully was afraid she'd misunderstood. But the look of guilt and
fright on his face chased away all doubts in her mind.
"Oh, Mulder." Scully brushed away his tears and hugged him. Mulder burst into tears
again and leaned heavily into Scully's embrace.
"It's okay," Scully whispered. "It was just a dream. Nothing more. It's all right."
She repeated the mantra until he settled down. After several silent moments, Scully
realized that Mulder had cried himself into exhaustion.
Scully gently pried Mulder from her arms, tucked him into bed, and was about to head
back to her room when there came sharp, insistent pounds on the door.
Skinner stood on the other side, his skin pasty white and his gun drawn. "I heard
shouting. Are you okay?"
Despite the situation, Scully began to laugh. It began as soft giggles but soon escalated
into loud guffaws, startling Skinner and waking Mulder.
"Wha's so funny?" Mulder slurred sleepily.
Scully bit down on her lower lip to stifle her laughter. Once she managed to regain her
composure, she spoke.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. No, sir, everything's fine. We're both
fine. It's nothing."
Skinner studied her face, looking for some sign to indicate anything otherwise. Finding
nothing, he said, "Scully, maybe you should get some sleep."
At this, Mulder began to laugh. Scully's face became the shade of red as her hair.
Skinner walked back to his room, wondering if he would ever be able to figure out his
two agents.
Room 317
April 27th
6:29 a.m.
Mulder awoke feeling rested and refreshed. He decided to take the opportunity to go for
a quick run before breakfast.
The air was crisp and clean as Mulder paced himself around the city block. The fresh
scent of the early morning invigorated him, and he pushed himself to go a little faster.
He returned to the hotel without incident and jumped into a hot shower. He donned on
his jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers when he heard a knock at his door. He paused slightly
before opening it, uncertain as to who would be on the other side.
White stood nervously behind the door. Seeing his expression, Mulder knew that what he
had to say wasn't good news.
"Kev, what's wrong?" he asked.
White shifted uncomfortably. "Douglas wants to see you right away. They caught
McKay."
"That's great!" Mulder grinned. "I'll wake Scully and Skinner, and-."
"No," White interrupted. "Douglas' orders were that I bring you. We caught McKay and
he confessed to everything. Including to the fact that he still has Suzie holed up
somewhere near a bunch of dynamite and plastique."
The color drained from Mulder's face. "Oh God," he breathed. "How much time-?"
"We don't know," White said. "Come on. "There's no need to disturb Dana and the
A.D. with this, since there's nothing for them to do."
Mulder nodded and followed White, not bothering to grab a jacket or leave a note. All he
could think about was the scared little girl who was running out of time.
Interrogation room
8:14 a.m.
Joel McKay sat calmly in his chair, his hands on the table before him. Across the table
sat a tall, thin man, with brown hair, dark eyes, and dressed casually. He had introduced
himself as Agent Mulder, then had fallen silent as he stared at him. McKay grinned.
"How may I help you?" he asked in mock politeness.
Mulder shrugged. "You could tell me where Suzie is."
McKay's grin grew wider. He knew this game. He had played it many times before,
back when he was still a cop himself. "That depends."
Mulder didn't bat an eye. He waited patiently for McKay to continue.
"What can you do for me?"
Mulder glanced down at the surface of the table, then back up at McKay. "I don't know,"
he replied honestly. "After all, you did murder sixteen children. And I don't have much
pull around here. But I could try and see what I could do."
McKay glanced over at the one-way mirror, then turned back to Mulder. "Are you
finished?"
"Finished?" Mulder repeated evenly.
"You know what I mean," McKay said. "This is getting to be monotonous. You ask
where the hostage is, I ask for a deal, yadda yadda yadda . . ."
"Where is Suzie?" Mulder asked again.
McKay remained silent.
Mulder's cool exterior was beginning to slip. "Look," he said. "Suzie is innocent. She
didn't do anything to deserve this. None of those kids did. They were happy until you
decided to take that from them. You put their families through hell. I've read about you.
I've heard about you. Your wife was right to take her children and leave."
Mulder knew that he'd crossed a line, but he didn't care. McKay's face became
overcame with rage. "Our children," he corrected, his voice dangerously low. "Brian
and Katie are our children."
Mulder shook his head sadly. "They were your children until you changed all that. You
threatened them. Don't you see? All this time you've been blaming the wrong people."
His voice lowered to a whisper. "But it was your fault."
McKay's expression turned murderous, and he lunged across the table at Mulder. The
two toppled to the ground, McKay on top and throwing swing after swing. Mulder
managed to block the blows, but a few slipped through and connected.
Finally McKay was pulled off of Mulder and cuffed. He twisted to see Mulder as he was
led away, shouting, "I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch! Just you wait! I'll kill you
myself!"
Mulder got unsteadily to his feet and righted his chair, which had fallen with him. A
hand gently touched his shoulder, and he jumped.
"Relax, man, it's me." White shook his head once he got a good look at Mulder. "That
asshole got you pretty good. Let's get you cleaned up and to the clinic."
"Kevin, I'm fine," Mulder protested firmly. "I don't need a clinic."
"Mulder, I really think you should listen." White's voice was almost fearful.
Mulder stared curiously at his friend. "Why?"
"Mulder!"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Mulder quickly began to wipe the blood from his face,
at the same time shooting an accusing look at White. White shrugged apologetically.
"She called me ten minutes ago asking where you were," he explained. "I had to tell her.
Sorry, man. Good luck."
White ducked out of sight just as Scully entered the room. Her eyes widened at the sight
of him.
"God, I can't leave you alone for a minute," she said. She pointed to his chair, which
Mulder obediently sat in. Scully picked McKay's chair from the floor and placed it under
the table before crossing her arms and standing over him.
Mulder saw the irritation, anger, and concern play across her features and knew that she
was annoyed that he had left without a clue as to where. Assuming the whipped puppy
'it's-all-my-fault' look that was second nature to him, he said, "It wasn't up to me to
leave you alone."
Scully's gaze didn't waver.
"You needed your rest."
She still didn't move.
"It was thoughtless of me not to leave you a note telling you what I was doing. I'm
sorry."
Scully's gaze softened, and she lifted Mulder's chin to get a better look at his face. "You
need to get cleaned up before an infection sets in," she stated.
Mulder looked over at the one-way mirror and was stunned at what he saw. He had a
bruise just beginning to form on his cheek, a split lip, and a good-sized gash over his
right eye from where his head had made contact with the edge of the metal table. He
lightly touched the cut, wincing when it sent pain shooting into his skull. "Uh, Scully?
Could we leave?"
Scully frowned, puzzled. She glanced at the mirror and nodded. "Come on. Skinner
wants to meet us for breakfast, and I don't think he'll be too pleased with you showing up
like that."
Mulder grinned lopsidedly and followed Scully from the view of the spectators behind
the mirror.
Eatin' Park
9:23 a.m.
Mulder stared down curiously at his order, the 'Breakfast Smile'. It was a plate of two
eggs, sausages, and hash browns with toast on the side. He wondered why it was called a
'Breakfast Smile'. It wasn't smiling, and it certainly wasn't making him smile either. He
looked at Skinner's danish and coffee and Scully's toast and melon slice and began to
have second thoughts about his meal.
"Did McKay drop any kinds of clue as to where he's stashed the girl?" Skinner's voice
brought him back to the conversation.
Mulder pushed a piece of sausage into an egg before answering. "No. But I get the
feeling he may already have."
"How?" Scully spoke up. "And when? He hasn't been in contact with us long enough or
in any way for us to determine anything."
Mulder scowled down at his breakfast as he pushed the food around to create patterns.
He was deep in thought, unaware of the curious stares he was receiving. His fork moved
of its own volition, arranging the food around until . . .
"The letter!" he exclaimed.
Scully nearly fell out of her chair at the outburst, and Skinner forced his hand not to spill
steaming hot coffee all over his suit. All around them, patrons were glaring.
"What about the letter?" Skinner asked.
"McKay left a challenge in the letter," Mulder explained. "He also used figurative
language such as 'angel', 'pray', and even 'God'. That could mean that he was referring
to a church."
"But there must be hundreds of churches in Pittsburgh," Scully countered.
Mulder nodded. "McKay's letter also mentioned him killing two or three kids."
"That could mean anything," Scully stated.
"I think it's significant," Mulder replied. "The 'two' and 'three' could give us a more
exact location."
"Or it could all be a coincidence," Scully argued.
Mulder shrugged. "If you've got a better idea about how or where to find Suzie, go
ahead."
Scully pursed her lips and remained silent. Skinner cleared his throat.
"Ah, Agent Mulder," he said. "I don't mean to sound disbelieving, but you read the letter
two days ago. How can you be sure that that's what was on it?"
Mulder tapped his forehead. "Photographic memory. I can remember that letter word-
for-word, or even a birthday card when I turned three."
"Not two?" Scully teased.
Mulder returned her gaze with a smirk. "Kids that are two don't read birthday cards.
They set them on fire with the birthday candles."
"I'll remember that this year," Scully said.
"Getting back to the letter . . ." Skinner prodded.
"Yeah," Mulder said, flushing slightly. "Well, the 'two' or 'three' could be a street, an
address, the number of miles to our to or from a certain location . . .
"But how do we know what?" Skinner asked.
Mulder fell silent again, contemplating the question. The truth was, he had absolutely no
idea what the numbers stood for. Unconsciously he began to slide into McKay's mind,
seeing the murders, watching the abuses, hearing the screams . . .
Scully set her iced tea down and grasped Mulder's arm. She knew the faraway look all
too well, and seeing it now frightened her. Skinner glanced from Scully to Mulder, and
back to Scully. "What's wrong?" he asked. He'd been asking that question far too many
times the past four days.
"He's doing it again," Scully said angrily. "Dammit! Mulder, come back to me! Snap
out of it!"
Skinner was about to ask Scully exactly what Mulder was doing again, but he recognized
the pale, waxen face from the front of the daycare center. He also remembered the results
of that afternoon.
Mulder heard Scully's voice faintly, but he couldn't make out the words. They reached
his ears garbled. He was about to turn back when he was presented with a tall Catholic
church that appeared to be old and no longer in use. It was built with bricks, and the
broken stained-glass windows were boarded up. The cross that stood at the top of the
steeple had only three sides; the fourth having broken off long ago. There was another
cross above the doorway in the same condition.
Mulder entered the church and climbed up the stairs to the choir loft. Little Suzie Parker
lay bound and gagged in the center of the room, surrounded by enough dynamite to
destroy half of the city block.
Suddenly, as if sensing the intrusion, McKay abruptly shut his mind down to Mulder.
There was excruciating pain, then darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, Mulder's first thought was the sterile scent of the air.
Hadn't he been in a restaurant?"
More of his sight returned, and he found that he was lying. On a bed.
In a hospital.
A quick survey of his room showed that he was indeed in a hospital, and alone. His
clothes had been exchanged for a hospital gown. Mulder frowned. How long had he
been out?
He sat up quickly, regretting the action as it sent waves of dizziness rolling through him.
Carelessly he extracted the IV sticking in his arm and stood. He took several steps before
weakness overcame him, and he sank to his knees, holding his head.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Mulder heard Scully the same time he felt her hands on his arms, steadying him.
Someone else entered the room, and Mulder was hauled to his feet and helped back into
bed. He looked up and saw Skinner's concerned expression and immediately began to
blush. Had he passed out in front of his boss again?
"What am I doing here?" he asked, working furiously to keep his emotions in check.
"You collapsed at the restaurant," Scully answered. "You were brought here when we
couldn't wake you up. Aside from the slight concussion you got from hitting your head
against the floor, the doctors also found you to be devoid of fluids in your system."
She didn't need to continue. Her look said it all. Mulder had been caught. He hadn't
been able to keep anything down when he had been writing the profile. He had been too
tired to do anything but sleep the day before. Hell, he was having trouble keeping a glass
of water down.
"How long have I been here?" Mulder asked, ignoring Scully's stern glare.
"Almost five hours," Skinner offered.
Mulder stared at him in disbelief. "What!"
"And you might as well get comfortable," Scully added. "You're going to stay here until
you are able to keep food in your stomach. We'll handle the case from here."
Mulder remembered why he had ended up in the hospital in the first place, and he
became excited.
"Scully, I know where Suzie is! I saw her! She was in a church, and she is around some
dynamite. A lot of it! It's an old church, abandoned, broken down, in a desolate
neighborhood, and two crosses have only three sides, and-."
"Whoa! Slow down," Scully laughed. "Take it easy. Now, do you know where this
church is?"
Mulder became crestfallen, his eyes cast downward. He had been so thrilled at
discovering where Suzie was that he had forgotten to see where the church was.
Scully saw the depression and guilt play across his features, and she patted his hand.
"It's okay," she assured him. "You gave us more to go on than those assholes at the field
office. With Kevin's help and your information, Suzie should be safely back with her
family tonight."
"Good job, Mulder," Skinner praised. "Now get some rest. Consider yourself under
orders."
Scully took out a tissue and held it against the blood seeping out of Mulder's arm. "I'll
call the nurse and have someone restart the IV."
Mulder took the tissue from her. "Scully, come on! I do not need a needle sticking out
of me. Lord knows that Satan's staff will be poking me with enough of them!"
"Consider it penance for not taking better care of yourself," Scully replied. "Now behave
yourself or else."
"Or else what?" Mulder challenged.
"Or else I'll have them insert a catheter," Scully shot back.
Mulder gulped and crossed his legs. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" Smiling sweetly, Scully patted his knee and strode from the room. Once
she was gone, Skinner turned to Mulder with an amused look on his face.
"I don't see what's so funny," Mulder said sullenly.
Skinner let out a tiny laugh. "You should've seen the look on your face when she
suggested the catheter. She doesn't exactly play by the rules, doe she?"
"No sir," Mulder replied. "She does. We both know that different situations call for a
whole new set of rules. At times it can be a real pain in the ass. Other times it's saved
our lives."
Scully returned with a middle-aged woman wearing pink and carrying the equipment
needed for an IV. She was full of news as she cleansed a new area for a needle on
Mulder's arm.
"Did you know that they caught that awful man who was killing all those children?" she
asked. "Joel McKay. He came in here a few times when he or his partner Danny Travis
got sick or hurt. I was there when Danny died. Joel just cried and screamed . . ." The
nurse trailed off and sighed. "What a shame. They were such good men. Anyway, they
finally got him. Took forever, too. I heard some agents even came in from D.C., but
they weren't much help."
"Where did you hear that?" Scully demanded.
"Why, it's all over the news." The nurse, finished with the IV, turned on the TV and
flipped through the channels before finally coming to a news report. "I'd stay and watch
with you, but duty calls." She left the room in a flurry.
The three agents never noticed her departure. They were too busy listening as Douglas
credited the entire team, naming them last and dismissively. Watching the team receive
showers of praise and gratitude from the victims' families, then from the mayor. Praise
for doing a job they never finished. Gratitude they didn't need or deserve.
Skinner angrily turned off the TV and stormed from the room. Scully looked back at
Mulder to find his eyes closed, and his breathing steady. Leaning close, she took his
hand and brushed his hair from his forehead.
"For what it's worth," she whispered, "I think that you're a much better person than any
of those idiots. You should be proud of the work you did. Skinner is, and so am I."
She softly kissed his forehead, then stole silently from the room. Only when Mulder was
all alone did he allow a single tear to fall.
end 7/9
7/9
Room 317
6:48 p.m.
The screams of a young girl tore through his soul. They were pained, frightened.
And bloody.
There was blood everywhere.
On the ground.
On her.
On him.
He stared at his blood-soaked hands, horrified. Then he looked down at the girl.
Suzie Parker.
Her features distorted and shifted.
Samantha.
Her eyes stared accusingly up at him.
Lifeless.
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
Mulder wrenched teary eyes open and found that he was in someone's arms. He couldn't
see who it was, but he recognized the scent. Scully. He'd recognize her scent anywhere.
Mulder broke down into sobs and hugged her tightly as he cried onto her shoulder.
Scully held Mulder and rocked him until he quieted down to tiny sniffles and soft
whimpers. She had been expecting the nightmare to happen and hadn't been too startled
when it finally came.
"Mulder," she called softly. "Mulder, it's okay. You're safe now."
Mulder took several deep breaths to steady himself before looking at Scully. He found
that he couldn't even smile reassuringly at her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Scully asked.
Mulder disentangled himself from her comforting arms and, sitting up, hugged his knees
to his chest. "I had a nightmare," he began slowly. Scully nodded encouragingly.
Mulder took another deep breath. "It was McKay- I was McKay," he corrected himself.
"And Suzie . . . she was screaming. The blood . . . I couldn't get it off . . ." He began to
tremble.
Scully squeezed his hand, and Mulder continued. "But then . . . it wasn't her . . . it was
Sam."
He spoke so softly that Scully was afraid she'd misunderstood. But the look of guilt and
fright on his face chased away all doubts in her mind.
"Oh, Mulder." Scully brushed away his tears and hugged him. Mulder burst into tears
again and leaned heavily into Scully's embrace.
"It's okay," Scully whispered. "It was just a dream. Nothing more. It's all right."
She repeated the mantra until he settled down. After several silent moments, Scully
realized that Mulder had cried himself into exhaustion.
Scully gently pried Mulder from her arms, tucked him into bed, and was about to head
back to her room when there came sharp, insistent pounds on the door.
Skinner stood on the other side, his skin pasty white and his gun drawn. "I heard
shouting. Are you okay?"
Despite the situation, Scully began to laugh. It began as soft giggles but soon escalated
into loud guffaws, startling Skinner and waking Mulder.
"Wha's so funny?" Mulder slurred sleepily.
Scully bit down on her lower lip to stifle her laughter. Once she managed to regain her
composure, she spoke.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. No, sir, everything's fine. We're both
fine. It's nothing."
Skinner studied her face, looking for some sign to indicate anything otherwise. Finding
nothing, he said, "Scully, maybe you should get some sleep."
At this, Mulder began to laugh. Scully's face became the shade of red as her hair.
Skinner walked back to his room, wondering if he would ever be able to figure out his
two agents.
Room 317
April 27th
6:29 a.m.
Mulder awoke feeling rested and refreshed. He decided to take the opportunity to go for
a quick run before breakfast.
The air was crisp and clean as Mulder paced himself around the city block. The fresh
scent of the early morning invigorated him, and he pushed himself to go a little faster.
He returned to the hotel without incident and jumped into a hot shower. He donned on
his jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers when he heard a knock at his door. He paused slightly
before opening it, uncertain as to who would be on the other side.
White stood nervously behind the door. Seeing his expression, Mulder knew that what he
had to say wasn't good news.
"Kev, what's wrong?" he asked.
White shifted uncomfortably. "Douglas wants to see you right away. They caught
McKay."
"That's great!" Mulder grinned. "I'll wake Scully and Skinner, and-."
"No," White interrupted. "Douglas' orders were that I bring you. We caught McKay and
he confessed to everything. Including to the fact that he still has Suzie holed up
somewhere near a bunch of dynamite and plastique."
The color drained from Mulder's face. "Oh God," he breathed. "How much time-?"
"We don't know," White said. "Come on. "There's no need to disturb Dana and the
A.D. with this, since there's nothing for them to do."
Mulder nodded and followed White, not bothering to grab a jacket or leave a note. All he
could think about was the scared little girl who was running out of time.
Interrogation room
8:14 a.m.
Joel McKay sat calmly in his chair, his hands on the table before him. Across the table
sat a tall, thin man, with brown hair, dark eyes, and dressed casually. He had introduced
himself as Agent Mulder, then had fallen silent as he stared at him. McKay grinned.
"How may I help you?" he asked in mock politeness.
Mulder shrugged. "You could tell me where Suzie is."
McKay's grin grew wider. He knew this game. He had played it many times before,
back when he was still a cop himself. "That depends."
Mulder didn't bat an eye. He waited patiently for McKay to continue.
"What can you do for me?"
Mulder glanced down at the surface of the table, then back up at McKay. "I don't know,"
he replied honestly. "After all, you did murder sixteen children. And I don't have much
pull around here. But I could try and see what I could do."
McKay glanced over at the one-way mirror, then turned back to Mulder. "Are you
finished?"
"Finished?" Mulder repeated evenly.
"You know what I mean," McKay said. "This is getting to be monotonous. You ask
where the hostage is, I ask for a deal, yadda yadda yadda . . ."
"Where is Suzie?" Mulder asked again.
McKay remained silent.
Mulder's cool exterior was beginning to slip. "Look," he said. "Suzie is innocent. She
didn't do anything to deserve this. None of those kids did. They were happy until you
decided to take that from them. You put their families through hell. I've read about you.
I've heard about you. Your wife was right to take her children and leave."
Mulder knew that he'd crossed a line, but he didn't care. McKay's face became
overcame with rage. "Our children," he corrected, his voice dangerously low. "Brian
and Katie are our children."
Mulder shook his head sadly. "They were your children until you changed all that. You
threatened them. Don't you see? All this time you've been blaming the wrong people."
His voice lowered to a whisper. "But it was your fault."
McKay's expression turned murderous, and he lunged across the table at Mulder. The
two toppled to the ground, McKay on top and throwing swing after swing. Mulder
managed to block the blows, but a few slipped through and connected.
Finally McKay was pulled off of Mulder and cuffed. He twisted to see Mulder as he was
led away, shouting, "I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch! Just you wait! I'll kill you
myself!"
Mulder got unsteadily to his feet and righted his chair, which had fallen with him. A
hand gently touched his shoulder, and he jumped.
"Relax, man, it's me." White shook his head once he got a good look at Mulder. "That
asshole got you pretty good. Let's get you cleaned up and to the clinic."
"Kevin, I'm fine," Mulder protested firmly. "I don't need a clinic."
"Mulder, I really think you should listen." White's voice was almost fearful.
Mulder stared curiously at his friend. "Why?"
"Mulder!"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Mulder quickly began to wipe the blood from his face,
at the same time shooting an accusing look at White. White shrugged apologetically.
"She called me ten minutes ago asking where you were," he explained. "I had to tell her.
Sorry, man. Good luck."
White ducked out of sight just as Scully entered the room. Her eyes widened at the sight
of him.
"God, I can't leave you alone for a minute," she said. She pointed to his chair, which
Mulder obediently sat in. Scully picked McKay's chair from the floor and placed it under
the table before crossing her arms and standing over him.
Mulder saw the irritation, anger, and concern play across her features and knew that she
was annoyed that he had left without a clue as to where. Assuming the whipped puppy
'it's-all-my-fault' look that was second nature to him, he said, "It wasn't up to me to
leave you alone."
Scully's gaze didn't waver.
"You needed your rest."
She still didn't move.
"It was thoughtless of me not to leave you a note telling you what I was doing. I'm
sorry."
Scully's gaze softened, and she lifted Mulder's chin to get a better look at his face. "You
need to get cleaned up before an infection sets in," she stated.
Mulder looked over at the one-way mirror and was stunned at what he saw. He had a
bruise just beginning to form on his cheek, a split lip, and a good-sized gash over his
right eye from where his head had made contact with the edge of the metal table. He
lightly touched the cut, wincing when it sent pain shooting into his skull. "Uh, Scully?
Could we leave?"
Scully frowned, puzzled. She glanced at the mirror and nodded. "Come on. Skinner
wants to meet us for breakfast, and I don't think he'll be too pleased with you showing up
like that."
Mulder grinned lopsidedly and followed Scully from the view of the spectators behind
the mirror.
Eatin' Park
9:23 a.m.
Mulder stared down curiously at his order, the 'Breakfast Smile'. It was a plate of two
eggs, sausages, and hash browns with toast on the side. He wondered why it was called a
'Breakfast Smile'. It wasn't smiling, and it certainly wasn't making him smile either. He
looked at Skinner's danish and coffee and Scully's toast and melon slice and began to
have second thoughts about his meal.
"Did McKay drop any kinds of clue as to where he's stashed the girl?" Skinner's voice
brought him back to the conversation.
Mulder pushed a piece of sausage into an egg before answering. "No. But I get the
feeling he may already have."
"How?" Scully spoke up. "And when? He hasn't been in contact with us long enough or
in any way for us to determine anything."
Mulder scowled down at his breakfast as he pushed the food around to create patterns.
He was deep in thought, unaware of the curious stares he was receiving. His fork moved
of its own volition, arranging the food around until . . .
"The letter!" he exclaimed.
Scully nearly fell out of her chair at the outburst, and Skinner forced his hand not to spill
steaming hot coffee all over his suit. All around them, patrons were glaring.
"What about the letter?" Skinner asked.
"McKay left a challenge in the letter," Mulder explained. "He also used figurative
language such as 'angel', 'pray', and even 'God'. That could mean that he was referring
to a church."
"But there must be hundreds of churches in Pittsburgh," Scully countered.
Mulder nodded. "McKay's letter also mentioned him killing two or three kids."
"That could mean anything," Scully stated.
"I think it's significant," Mulder replied. "The 'two' and 'three' could give us a more
exact location."
"Or it could all be a coincidence," Scully argued.
Mulder shrugged. "If you've got a better idea about how or where to find Suzie, go
ahead."
Scully pursed her lips and remained silent. Skinner cleared his throat.
"Ah, Agent Mulder," he said. "I don't mean to sound disbelieving, but you read the letter
two days ago. How can you be sure that that's what was on it?"
Mulder tapped his forehead. "Photographic memory. I can remember that letter word-
for-word, or even a birthday card when I turned three."
"Not two?" Scully teased.
Mulder returned her gaze with a smirk. "Kids that are two don't read birthday cards.
They set them on fire with the birthday candles."
"I'll remember that this year," Scully said.
"Getting back to the letter . . ." Skinner prodded.
"Yeah," Mulder said, flushing slightly. "Well, the 'two' or 'three' could be a street, an
address, the number of miles to our to or from a certain location . . .
"But how do we know what?" Skinner asked.
Mulder fell silent again, contemplating the question. The truth was, he had absolutely no
idea what the numbers stood for. Unconsciously he began to slide into McKay's mind,
seeing the murders, watching the abuses, hearing the screams . . .
Scully set her iced tea down and grasped Mulder's arm. She knew the faraway look all
too well, and seeing it now frightened her. Skinner glanced from Scully to Mulder, and
back to Scully. "What's wrong?" he asked. He'd been asking that question far too many
times the past four days.
"He's doing it again," Scully said angrily. "Dammit! Mulder, come back to me! Snap
out of it!"
Skinner was about to ask Scully exactly what Mulder was doing again, but he recognized
the pale, waxen face from the front of the daycare center. He also remembered the results
of that afternoon.
Mulder heard Scully's voice faintly, but he couldn't make out the words. They reached
his ears garbled. He was about to turn back when he was presented with a tall Catholic
church that appeared to be old and no longer in use. It was built with bricks, and the
broken stained-glass windows were boarded up. The cross that stood at the top of the
steeple had only three sides; the fourth having broken off long ago. There was another
cross above the doorway in the same condition.
Mulder entered the church and climbed up the stairs to the choir loft. Little Suzie Parker
lay bound and gagged in the center of the room, surrounded by enough dynamite to
destroy half of the city block.
Suddenly, as if sensing the intrusion, McKay abruptly shut his mind down to Mulder.
There was excruciating pain, then darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, Mulder's first thought was the sterile scent of the air.
Hadn't he been in a restaurant?"
More of his sight returned, and he found that he was lying. On a bed.
In a hospital.
A quick survey of his room showed that he was indeed in a hospital, and alone. His
clothes had been exchanged for a hospital gown. Mulder frowned. How long had he
been out?
He sat up quickly, regretting the action as it sent waves of dizziness rolling through him.
Carelessly he extracted the IV sticking in his arm and stood. He took several steps before
weakness overcame him, and he sank to his knees, holding his head.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Mulder heard Scully the same time he felt her hands on his arms, steadying him.
Someone else entered the room, and Mulder was hauled to his feet and helped back into
bed. He looked up and saw Skinner's concerned expression and immediately began to
blush. Had he passed out in front of his boss again?
"What am I doing here?" he asked, working furiously to keep his emotions in check.
"You collapsed at the restaurant," Scully answered. "You were brought here when we
couldn't wake you up. Aside from the slight concussion you got from hitting your head
against the floor, the doctors also found you to be devoid of fluids in your system."
She didn't need to continue. Her look said it all. Mulder had been caught. He hadn't
been able to keep anything down when he had been writing the profile. He had been too
tired to do anything but sleep the day before. Hell, he was having trouble keeping a glass
of water down.
"How long have I been here?" Mulder asked, ignoring Scully's stern glare.
"Almost five hours," Skinner offered.
Mulder stared at him in disbelief. "What!"
"And you might as well get comfortable," Scully added. "You're going to stay here until
you are able to keep food in your stomach. We'll handle the case from here."
Mulder remembered why he had ended up in the hospital in the first place, and he
became excited.
"Scully, I know where Suzie is! I saw her! She was in a church, and she is around some
dynamite. A lot of it! It's an old church, abandoned, broken down, in a desolate
neighborhood, and two crosses have only three sides, and-."
"Whoa! Slow down," Scully laughed. "Take it easy. Now, do you know where this
church is?"
Mulder became crestfallen, his eyes cast downward. He had been so thrilled at
discovering where Suzie was that he had forgotten to see where the church was.
Scully saw the depression and guilt play across his features, and she patted his hand.
"It's okay," she assured him. "You gave us more to go on than those assholes at the field
office. With Kevin's help and your information, Suzie should be safely back with her
family tonight."
"Good job, Mulder," Skinner praised. "Now get some rest. Consider yourself under
orders."
Scully took out a tissue and held it against the blood seeping out of Mulder's arm. "I'll
call the nurse and have someone restart the IV."
Mulder took the tissue from her. "Scully, come on! I do not need a needle sticking out
of me. Lord knows that Satan's staff will be poking me with enough of them!"
"Consider it penance for not taking better care of yourself," Scully replied. "Now behave
yourself or else."
"Or else what?" Mulder challenged.
"Or else I'll have them insert a catheter," Scully shot back.
Mulder gulped and crossed his legs. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" Smiling sweetly, Scully patted his knee and strode from the room. Once
she was gone, Skinner turned to Mulder with an amused look on his face.
"I don't see what's so funny," Mulder said sullenly.
Skinner let out a tiny laugh. "You should've seen the look on your face when she
suggested the catheter. She doesn't exactly play by the rules, doe she?"
"No sir," Mulder replied. "She does. We both know that different situations call for a
whole new set of rules. At times it can be a real pain in the ass. Other times it's saved
our lives."
Scully returned with a middle-aged woman wearing pink and carrying the equipment
needed for an IV. She was full of news as she cleansed a new area for a needle on
Mulder's arm.
"Did you know that they caught that awful man who was killing all those children?" she
asked. "Joel McKay. He came in here a few times when he or his partner Danny Travis
got sick or hurt. I was there when Danny died. Joel just cried and screamed . . ." The
nurse trailed off and sighed. "What a shame. They were such good men. Anyway, they
finally got him. Took forever, too. I heard some agents even came in from D.C., but
they weren't much help."
"Where did you hear that?" Scully demanded.
"Why, it's all over the news." The nurse, finished with the IV, turned on the TV and
flipped through the channels before finally coming to a news report. "I'd stay and watch
with you, but duty calls." She left the room in a flurry.
The three agents never noticed her departure. They were too busy listening as Douglas
credited the entire team, naming them last and dismissively. Watching the team receive
showers of praise and gratitude from the victims' families, then from the mayor. Praise
for doing a job they never finished. Gratitude they didn't need or deserve.
Skinner angrily turned off the TV and stormed from the room. Scully looked back at
Mulder to find his eyes closed, and his breathing steady. Leaning close, she took his
hand and brushed his hair from his forehead.
"For what it's worth," she whispered, "I think that you're a much better person than any
of those idiots. You should be proud of the work you did. Skinner is, and so am I."
She softly kissed his forehead, then stole silently from the room. Only when Mulder was
all alone did he allow a single tear to fall.
end 7/9