Avenging Angel - The Collector's Edition by Junko Mitani (new addy!): mitani3@beige.ocn.ne.jp Rating: NC-17 (for extreme violence, sexual/adult content, and profanity). Classification: X-Files with a touch of Pre-XF. (If you read it, you'll know what I mean.) Date: May 18, 1998 - August 10, 1998 Warning: Extremely hazardous to children under 18. Lots and lots of angst. Doesn't have much to do with the mythology of the show. Those of you who are sentimentalists, you may like this one. Keyword: Statue, Italy, tabloids, sexuality, black magic, kidnapping, rape, therapy, family dispute, and murder. Spoilers: Pilot; Fallen Angel; Squeeze; Tooms; Beyond the Sea; Fire; Born Again and DPO (for stealing a phrase); Darkness Falls; Duane Barry; Red Museum; Anasazi; Paper Clip; Paper Hearts; Tunguska; Terma; The Field Where I Died; Memento Mori; Small Potatoes; Demons; Gethemane; Redux Iⅈ Detour; The Post-Modern Prometheus; Emily; Christmas Carol; Mind's Eye; and Several other fifth season episodes I don't know the names for. Summary: When a phone call breaks a typical X-File case briefing in AD Skinner's office, Mulder finds himself suddenly trapped and be forced to deal with events from one of his first year FBI Violent Crimes Unit cases in which he participated as a consultant and the killers' final victim. With two of the six serial killers escaped and on the run for months, Mulder has no clear understanding of what the case offered him in Santa Monica, except that he had to get Scully off of the case at the first opportunity. Disclaimers: AD Skinner; Tina and Fox Mulder; Dana, Charley, and Bill Scully; Byers, Langry, and Frohike of the Lone Gunmen all belong to the cast and crew of X-Files which is owned by 1013 Productions and Fox Studio/Network. The poetry excerpts are from "In Memorium" by Alfred Lord Tennyson. - Although I didn't quote any of the songs mentioned except for one written by St. John of the Cross and translated by Loreena McKennitt called "The Dark Night of the Soul", and similary the one William Butler Yeats and translated by Loreena McKennitt called "Ce He Mise Le Ulaict? (The Two Trees)" in "The Mask and Mirror" in Chapter 4 and 5, the rest of their titles are: 10,000 Miles (from "Fly Away Home"), Water Is Wide ("Lilith Fair", Disk 2), Stand By Me (Soundtrack "Stand By Me"), Iris by Goo Goo Dolls (Soundtrack "City of Angels"), Angel by Sarah MacLachlan ("Surfacing"), Men In Black by Will Smith (Soundtrack "Men In Black"), Just the Two Of Us also by Will Smith ("Big Willy Style"), and You're Still the One by Shania Twain. All the references I've made regarding the black magic and voudoun (aka voodoo) were taken out of Harper's Encyclopedia of Mystical & Paranormal Experience by Rosemary Ellen Guiley. - Everything and everyone I've mentioned here were used without permission of their creators. However, no copyright infringement was intended. Note: This story is purely an attempt to exorcise my personal demons. I was horrified to realize just how big the demon I was fighting to kick out of myself. I even thought I'd gone mad just reading some of the words that flew out of my mind. This is also the third XF fan-fiction I've worked on, written at the same time as "Red Paper". The story is set before the 5th season finale takes place. The name I use now and here, is a pen name. This is also (probably) the last story I work on while my stay in the US, just as the XF moves out of Canada. Archivists: Go ahead and exhibit this story anywhere you wish, but have my name and date attached. Dedications: A big thanks to every decent agent employed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation for keeping themselves out of the hands of corruption. Another big thanks (and apology) to the city of Santa Monica for my using your city for my selfish and probably grotesque purposes. I don't know if FBI does have a regional office in Santa Monica, but I don't believe so; which is the precise reason why I created such an assortment of love-to-hate characters in there. - A big thanks to David Duchovny for giving me the idea of this story. He talked about his being named after Michelangelo's "Statue of David", then I sort of stole a few bits of the plot out of "Kalifornia". He also said in an interview (I believe it to be an old US magazine cover issue) about a photographer he admires, that he never wants the photographer to take his picture, because he wouldn't be able to stand being captured as honestly as this photographer manages to do. In another US magazine cover issue (I believe it to be February this year), there was an excerpt from his Princeton senior thesis, "Schizophrenic Critique of Pure Reason in Samuel Bekket's Early Novels", where he was talking about how Bekket thought about God in a novel called "Murphy". I've taken some of what I wrote on the eulogy from that excerpt. Those who actually have read the thesis, I envy you. I couldn't even locate it through LION nor Princeton. How'd people get a copy? Guess I just have to become a journalist. - Although the descriptions for the statue I use in the story is in very lovely detail, I've constructed those bits and details from David Duchovny's earlier work (such as in New Year's Day, Julia Has Two Lovers, Rapture, and Kalifornia). Using New Year's Day and Kalifornia were great ideas, because the curves of his bones and muscles were more pronounced; especially considering that the details of the statues are that of Fox Mulder, eleven years ago. More Personal Thanks To: My best friend Lynne Yoshii and The Reverend Samuel B. Abbott of Grace Church (both live in New York City); Sarah Kelly, a Delta Airline employee in Helena, Montana; Dr. Martha Silverman of U of MT Health Services, Justin Ivary of MT Forest Services, Jeffrey Holliday (a Missoula EMT), Jeffrey Ingman of San Francisco (for teaching me never to trust people too easily), Beth Duda of Colorado State University for believing in my gift for writing, Jason Van Hyning for getting me interested in poetry and for 'widening my horizon'; Elizabeth Lipski for teaching me that there was more to life than I ever believed possible, and lastly Bill Miller of Libby, MT for showing me the courage to keep living. Office of the Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner J. Edger Hoover Building, FBI Headquarters Washington, DC Present Time... "There's a call for you, Agent Mulder. Should I patch it through?" Kimbery asked Mulder, who looked toward his department's direct superior for a consent. The older man waved lightly, indicating there was no need for Mulder to leave the room and call back whoever it was calling. "Mulder." He announced as he leaned forward on the AD's desk. His partner fidgeted nervously in her seat in front of the AD's mahogany desk. No one called Mulder in this office before, which meant it was a matter of extreme urgency. "I'm Dr. Summers at the County General in Santa Monica, California. Agent Mulder, do you know a Savannah Sarah Waters?" Mulder flinched upon hearing the name. "Yes. I ...what happened to her?" He knew something must have gone wrong for anyone to call him about her. The caller sighed. "You're listed as her emergency contact." Mulder's heart contracted painfully. "Okay, I'll be on the next available flight..." The sound of the doctor's deep breath stilled him. "Sir, she's deceased. Ten minutes ago." Mulder shivered as the news went down his throat like a dash of crushed ice. "She was brought in with a head trauma and spinal injuries after collapsing in a restaurant. We've done everything in our power to revive..." "Thank you for telling me. I'll ...try and get there." Mulder cut her off, not needing another word. Feeling the AD's eyes on him, Mulder couldn't hit the doctor with questions. "The coroner's going to take the body down to the county morgue..." Mulder changed his mind in that instant. "Can you hold the body until I ...we get there?" Mulder spared a quick glance to his partner and the AD, who looked ready to fume at him, but held his tongue until Mulder was done. "Surely. Considering your Oxford degree and FBI credentials, I believe I can let you in..." "My partner is a forensic pathologist and a medical doctor. I'd like to interview the medical examiner and..." "Agent Mulder, everything can be discussed once you get here. There has been many visiting art dealers and specialists sent from art galleries in her place, and in this hospital. She was supposed to be having a party or a press conference of some sort in her place, and I'd appreciate your doing whatever you can to ward them off with your badges." Mulder closed his eyes. He didn't know why in the hell Dr. Summers didn't contact him sooner. As for Savannah, he hadn't even known when she returned to US. Eleven years, when he thought about it, was enough time for anyone's life to be ruined. "Of course. Is her address still at the...?" "Agent Mulder, I'm not sure. But I know she kept her studio in Marvel Avenue..." "I know where that is. Thank you." Mulder hanged up the phone without waiting for the woman's reply, and turned back to face the AD. Scully was already on her feet. "What's this about?" Skinner asked the inevitable and Mulder took a deep breath. "I need to get to Santa Monica, California as soon as possible with Agent Scully. This is a matter of urgency, and although this has a lot to do with an old FBI case, it is also a strictly personal matter." "Go on." Surprised that Skinner was willing to let him finish, Mulder nodded appreciatively. "Savannah Sarah Waters is the name of the deceased. Pronounced ten minutes ago. She was a part of an investigation that the Violent Crimes Unit handled eleven years ago ...as a victim of the serial killers who were hiding up in a Cascade mountain cabin." Wanting to stay no longer than he had to, Mulder looked toward the AD, silently asking for the man's permission to let him go. However, Skinner kept looking at him expectantly. Mulder sighed. "I was there as a consultant, and I tried to convince the agent in charge ...I believe it was Agent Lewis, to let me send myself to take a closer look. I told them I'd be careful, but if I got caught, I'll at least free the hostage. They knew about my degree in psychology and that being my first year, I was more used to being a psychologist than an investigator." Mulder paused again, this time looking at both the AD and his partner. Neither came to his rescue. "Agent Mulder, I recognize this is a matter of importance, but the deceased woman won't go anywhere any time soon. I at least expect you to give me a full explanation before letting you go with such short notice." Mulder again sought Scully's help with his 'jump in anytime' pleading look, but she only moved to cross her arms in front of her chest. Mulder sighed. "...They thought about giving me a crash course in hostage negotiation techniques before I came to join this investigation, which as you know I didn't take. My intentions weren't to negotiate with them, but to let Savannah know we were there, and possibly retrieve her. Convenient for me, the assailants didn't know that they'd been surrounded by FBI rescue team with us VCU in command. The agent in charge barked at me, rightly, to stay where I was. That he'd have my neck if anything went wrong and I got myself into trouble. I lied and agreed to stay behind. The truth was, I knew the assailants would have Savannah killed within two hours at best, and in exactly the same manner as they've done with the others. The agent in charge refused to accept my profile for each of the assailants, and I knew if my profiles were correct, I'd have to go in." "That definitely sounds like someone I know." Scully jumped in, and turned to face the AD. "Sir, Agent Mulder's encounters and testimony are matter of public records, and evidences are stored in our vaults. If her death has anything to do with this old case, I believe we are right in going there as soon as possible." Scully's intention was to rescue Mulder out of his apparent misery, and Mulder gave her an appreciative look. "Two of the assailants managed to escape from jail, and are yet to be caught. I haven't received any conclusive reports from their capture nor internal investigations at the correctional facility. The hospital employee I just spoke with didn't tell me the cause of Savannah's death. It could be anything and nothing. But considering her previous FBI involvements, I'd like for the ME and Agent Scully to make sure she hadn't died of any unnatural causes." Still thinking of Harbor and Pickett on the run, Mulder couldn't afford to miss anything. The AD finally sighed. "All right. Agent Scully, go arrange your flight. Agent Mulder, I can only give you up to a week for this to be over, and I expect your complete report on my desk exactly seven days from today. If you aren't able to clear this matter within the time allotted, I have no choice but to pull you out of California. There are three case files waiting on your desk in your office. Don't forget that." "Thank you very much, sir." Mulder nodded an appreciation and left the room with Scully. Skinner picked up his phone the moment his agents were out of sight, and phoned the VCU to get the said case files delivered to him. En Route Santa Monica... Two Hours Later "Mulder, why don't you tell me about her?" Scully asked as she sipped her soda. Mulder broke his gaze away from the window and turned to look at her. He pursed his lips, looked away again, and said nothing. Scully sighed her frustration and returned to the studying of the old case files. Mulder was still furious that Skinner had those files delivered to himself, then the copies for Scully to pick up at the bureau's travel office. That, the AD had gone behind Mulder's back. 'At least she didn't have time to watch the tapes.' Mulder thought grumbly. If she had, Mulder wouldn't be able to face her. "Mulder?" Her voice again broke through his reverie. "What?" He replied a bit too jumpy, and Scully narrowed her eyes. "You kept calling her Savannah. You very rarely do that. In fact, I've never seen you do that in front of Skinner. What's bothering you so much? These case files don't have anything but hard evidences and what was said about them by witnesses in courts. This was one of your very first cases, and you weren't even the primary. I need to know more, so I know what to look for." Not dare telling him how much the case files appalled her, she asked him anyway. Mulder bowed his head and swallowed hard. "How much do you need to know?" This was another thing she never heard from Mulder. And his defensive attitude didn't help her any. "Everything you can tell me." She had to believe he would be honest with her. "I don't want any audience. Wait until we get a car." He said, indicating the sparsely occupied seats around them. She sighed. If he wanted to wait, she'd spare him as much time as she could. "Yeah, and I hear them snoring. ...Fine." The case in itself was appalling not only because of the violence inflicted on the victims, but because of the cruelty behind them. Each six victims were beaten, raped, and strangled before their deaths. But exactly an hour after each rape, the victims had been taken away what they most treasured about themselves. The first victim was a high school music teacher and the man got his hands cut off by the assailants. The second victim was a fashion model turned fashion designer, and she had her face burned. The third victim was a chess master, and he'd had his brains extracted from a hole opened at the top of his skull. The forth victim was an opera singer, and she'd had her vocal cord severed. The file had a note attached, informing the victim hadn't lasted long enough for the assailants to strangle her. The fifth victim was a lawyer, and she'd had her tongue cut off of her. The tongue was later found in her stomach, undigested. That got Scully's stomach flipping. The sixth would-be victim, Savannah Waters. She was an artist, a sculptor, who'd exhibited her sort of a self-portrait called "Avenging Angel" in a state museum of modern arts. The assailants apparently debated amongst themselves whether to take her hands or her eyes. They decided they'd already taken hands before, and took her eyes instead, before the FBI team called in for a tactic move three hours after the deadline Mulder figured to be. Scully didn't know how Mulder got the sixth victim and himself out of the case alive. But the only surviving witness was clammed up and refusing to talk. "Mulder? You didn't take her eyes, and you're not the agent in charge of catching those two serial killers on the run. Their case is so famous, they could be recognized immediately if they decide to do anything." Seeing Mulder was closing his eyes, she tried not to imagine just what were in the videotapes recovered from the assailants' cabin. She shuddered. En Route Santa Monica County Morgue... Seven Hours Later The sound of a folder hitting over the dashboard startled Scully out of her half-dozing state. She cleared the cobwebs from her eyes and sat up straight in her seat. Mulder was driving as before, but he wasn't wearing sunglasses when she last saw him. She then turned her attention to the file suddenly shoved in front of her. Seeing it was another VCU file but considerably thinner, she opened the folder. She gasped upon seeing the attached photos of the crime scene and another victim. Scully was engrossed in the file and Mulder stayed silent the entire time. "Mul..." She never got the first word out as Mulder cut her off. "I was the seventh. This file isn't in the VCU file cabinet, because I kept it in our office. ...The assailants didn't get to finish either of us, but my unexpected arrival delayed the bastards for at least three hours. I didn't receive any reprimand for going against my supervisors' advises, because no one had the guts to face me straight. I proved them wrong, and I got Savannah and myself out alive. We spent the next nine weeks recovering. A paid vacation. They thought about locking both of us up in some mental institution. But once they viewed the bastards' tapes and reported events at the hospital where we were treated for our ...injuries, it was clear that they didn't need to. Not as long as they let us spend the down time in each other's company." Scully focused on the blue sky lay just out of the windshield. It didn't take a medical doctor to guess what happened within the nine- week period. "Why did they let you two be in the same room? I mean, you had to watch each other in pain and everything..." "What pain could be greater than what we'd gone through? None. When they discovered us, I had us wrapped in a blood stained sheet. She was clutching at me with every ounce of strength left in her, and I was doing the same to her. It took four paramedics to get us separated. The clinical psychologist at the hospital saw us calling out each other's names, especially at nights and whenever the knock-out drugs wore off. Not to mention both our repeated requests to get rid of the walls that separated us. So she allowed us together for about two days, saw improvements, and kept us together." "...What did they try to take from you?" Scully knew Mulder expected her to ask him this. "My heart." "Your...? Why?" His answer startled her, considering the assailants knew nothing about him. But then, they could've beaten a lot of words out of him in the three hours. "Because they thought that was my gift. I was forced to talk ...about what my life was like. I couldn't dare tell them that I was an FBI agent. So, inevitably, I had to talk about my personal life. I told them about Samantha's abduction, about Phoebe's betrayal, about my parents' marriage collapsing... All before telling them I had a Ph.D in psychology. That got them asking me all kinds of questions about the field of study, and my photographic memory helped. I talked, then talked, and talked. For as long as they listened. I figured if I kept them entertained, Savannah wouldn't have to die. I could hear her in the next room, sobbing or screaming. I wish they hadn't kept us so close to each other right then, but I didn't dare tell them that. If I had, then they would know how much it would've bothered me to watch them torture her. But it was only a matter of time before they'd purposely put us in the same room. Even when we were in separate rooms, I couldn't bite back a lot of my physical responses. She'd have heard me screaming through the walls. Hell, the agents outside eventually heard us when they noticed I was missing and got closer." Mulder kept driving, but Scully wanted him to pull over and let her drive. "Mulder, why don't you pull up to the shoulder? I'd like to drive us." She fidgeted again in her seat, watching as Mulder swallowed hard but didn't move. She didn't want him to think she worried he'd go into the fantasy island, but it was a possibility. Apparently, Mulder sensed her distress and grinned knowingly. He wordlessly pulled over to the shoulder and climbed out of the car, followed by Scully on the other side. "Are you sorry now that you asked me?" Mulder said as they passed each other in front of the car. Scully placed her hand on her hip, and gazed at him. "No, I'm not sorry I asked. I'm sorry this happened to both of you. And I'm sorry you lost such a good friend. But I must admit as a medical doctor, that you shouldn't be driving right now. Not in your condition. And I appreciate your going with my request." Scully reached up and touched a side of his cheek. Mulder nodded slightly, and climbed into the car from the passenger side. The moment the car started again, Mulder went on with the rest of the story, this time without being asked nor asking for her consent. "The last thing I wanted to do was to frighten her further and send her permanently away into la-la land. I'd have rather be the one to get hurt further than hearing her screams. I did my best to spare her the pain. ...Eventually, they concluded that my 'overly sensitive nature and a broad capacity to feel pain for those who do feel pain', or in short, my sensitivity made me who I am. That, my insights into the mechanism of the human mind got me where I was. "They already suspected they were being sought out by the Police. But they didn't know about the FBI surrounding the cabin. I tried to convince them to keep us as hostages to buy their way out of trouble. I knew it was a futile effort, but trying wouldn't have hurt at that point. Most of serial killers aren't interested in living long. They get kick out of hurting their prey. But Pickett and Harbor were interested. They wanted to get more victims. More fresh blood. So I used that as an advantage, to make them convince the others to surrender. I even told them if I used my psychology degree, I could let them escape death sentences. Which actually turned out to be the case. As I said before, it was my first year. I practically ended up giving them therapies. I got some of them talking about their personal lives. I knew they never stopped taping us, and figured if I couldn't make it out of there alive, at least the others would know what kind of serial killers these men were." "Where was the last known eye-witness account?" Scully asked, sensing Mulder was returning to his 'investigator' mode. "Two months ago, Arizona. An old woman living alone came home and was met with two strangers asking her if they could spend the night in her house. They said they were lost, and they were trying to go home to their mother. The old woman was kind enough to take them in, and actually let them stay for two nights. The day after Pickett and Harbor left, she went into town to buy groceries and spotted the WANTED ads placed everywhere in the nation's newspapers. She almost had a heart-attack when she read what the 'sweet boys' did in their spare time." Scully inwardly winced. "Where do you think they target next time?" Reading his detailed profile, she knew he must've had some ideas but wasn't allowed to get involved in the case itself. "Nuh. They're going for the cross-country killing spree. They wouldn't be able to get much done, though. They always research their victims' backgrounds. The other three boys are still in jail. They can't move quickly as they used to before. If the VCU let me get involved in the investigations, they'd have been caught a long time ago. It's only a matter of time before they quit laying low and start up the business again." "Did these young men have an assigned pattern?" Scully didn't know how to phrase the question. Mulder snickered and dared to guess. "Like who did what to whom and when?" "Uhh ...yeah." He could see the wince on her lips, and sighed. "Scully, I suggest you stay away from the gory details. Personally speaking, what these men do are much worse than Boggs or Eugene Victor Tooms, Loche, or any of the other serial killers you've encountered in your life. I wasn't even contacted when they escaped. Not just because I wasn't the primary investigator or because I was in the X- Files. But because of what they did to me and Savannah. They thought I'd go on my own revenge spree before losing my mind for good. After we were taken to the hospital, the bureau recovered everything. They watched absolutely everything that was on the tapes recovered from the cabin. Each trophy recovered was stored in a glass jar." "You said 'me and Savannah'. What was so different about your situation than any of the other victims'?" Mulder had to be careful with this one. 'Leave it to Scully to read me so well', Mulder inwardly grumbled. "First, we were alive. Secondly, they never took more than one victim at a time until I happened." "And the third?" She just had to know. Mulder shook his head no. "I don't want to tell you. And if I ever catch you watching those damn tapes the entire VCU got kick out of, I'll force you out of my life." This, he regretted saying. Scully took a deep breath in her seat, but she shifted and kept her eyes on the road. "Fine. But that gives me the right to hear the third. If there's a third clue, I'll need to know. If Savannah was killed by those two, then they could be after you. I'd rather hear you say it than hearing it for the first time out of their filthy mouths." "Scully, you're off this case as soon as Savannah's autopsy's completed. Skinner would never contest it. My guess is, he's already viewing the tapes out of suspicion and probably emptying his guts in his trash basket." "How dare you decide when I get on an off of a case!" Scully fumed, but this he had to push through. "Because I care about you!! What do you think they'll do to you, once they figure out how much you matter to me?! Savannah was a stranger. Just because I didn't want to see her suffer, they put us in the same room and tortured us. What the hell do you think they'll have planned for you, and me?!" Scully remained silent, but she grew paler than any snowman. Mulder hated to see the horror in her eyes, but he had to scare her off of this ride at their first stop. "...That still doesn't keep me away from hearing the third." She practically choked the words out of her guts. Mulder decided it was time to spill the bean for her own benefit. "...Third off, until these 'boys' took us, they didn't have the pleasure of forcing their victims to fuck each other at gun point. After all the beatings and torture." Scully nearly lost the control of the steering wheel, and pulled over to the shoulder. "What?! They did what?!" Her face flashed with pure rage, that even Mulder was frightened. "I told you once, and I won't say it again." His voice rose a few notches in response. "You don't have to, Mulder." She added quickly. "I couldn't fake it. They were watching and taping absolutely everything we did closely. If that was a typical bad quality porno; the kind even I stay away from, then I could have faked it. If we both had enough senses left to fake it, maybe we could. But Savannah was half way 'out there' and didn't respond to anyone's verbal command. As much as I'd loved to have my brains blown at that point, I didn't think Savannah could bare experiencing that. As I said before, each victim was subjected to the 'trophy taking' phase exactly an hour after their rapes ended. So, she still had her eyes. I tried the best I could to let her know that I didn't want to hurt her. They'd already hurt her badly, enough that she had several deep gashes left by long knives inside her ovary. I didn't want to be a part of it. But if I hadn't agreed, the last thing Savannah saw would have been my head being blown off. And, as long as I went with the bastards' requests, she'd have a greater chance of getting out of the hell hole alive. I personally expected a punctured lung from my cracked ribs by the time I got done. "She was in no condition to register what I was saying to her, but she later told me in our joint therapy sessions, that she saw the gun pressed against my head, then my expression, and knew whatever I was doing wasn't intentional." "Joint session? Are you saying you two even did therapies together? That's unheard of." Scully was still trying to cope with the shock that just sprang on her. Mulder nodded and proceeded to smooth out her feathers a bit. "Sure. We did everything together to recover. We felt no shame in looking at one another after the incident, and the pains we felt during treatments were mutual. We both went through the works, and I had a two-inch long incision scar on my chest for you know what. She had to deal with the fact that she'd lost her sight, and no one objected when she insisted I accompany her to stay with her at her house. We had a therapist living with us for the entire nine weeks, but she gave us privacy for most of the day. She made us take medications and do the session exercises, but the rest of the time we were together. "The bureau investigated me thoroughly on the fact that I had sexual intercourse with an unwilling adult, but came up with nothing they could blame on me. Besides, Savannah defended me as soon as she heard about my being subjected to professional conduct hearings. I couldn't hide my shock when she showed up, unannounced. She just came into the meeting room and took her seat next to me. We shook hands because we were in front of the FBI panel, but she didn't take the hand away, and instead threaded her fingers with mine. She then placed both our joined hands on the table. We were still on the said vacation, and she must've heard the message left for me in her answering machine. No one said a word after the hearing broke up. We raced to the elevator and we began French kissing inside. No one who was with us said anything, so we just didn't care. After we got out of the building, we raced to her car hand-in-hand and laughed ourselves silly." Mulder smiled innocently. "I think I heard enough. ...For now." Scully got some of her colors back and returned to driving. Seeing that the residual horror on her face had taken its residence for a long haul, Mulder slid his sunglasses off and handed them to her. "I'll sleep a bit. Wake me up when we get there. Once her death was confirmed to be of unrelated cause to the serial murders, we're both safe. You can go home, and I'll ...take care of a few things." Mulder said as he reclined the seat all the way and moved to the backseat to stretch out. This was another act he'd never done before in her presence, that Scully broke out of her reverie and helped him put the seat back up. "Sure, Mulder. Use my coat for a pillow." She said, watching him do as suggested. "It won't be long, though." She added and turned on the radio. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica, CA One Hour Later Scully had taken charge of things to be handled at the hospital and half forced Mulder out of her territory to get to Savannah's studio/house. The minute he identified himself to the group of people milling around in the area, they swarmed around him and began attacking him with questions he had no idea how to answer. He had no idea how art dealing worked, and he didn't know who her probate lawyers were, nor how to answer about how he came to know Savannah Waters in the first place. He couldn't dispense any details of the FBI investigations into the serial murders, because they're still on the loose. "Excuse me! Excuse me, people! Let me through!" A high female voice hushed everyone at once, and Mulder was met with a middle-aged, well-dressed woman. "Are you Special Agent Fox William Mulder?" The woman asked, reading from the thick folder in her hands. Mulder nodded a greeting, holding his badge and eyeing the folder suspiciously. "Then, you need to come with me. I'm her probate lawyer." Mulder quickly moved through the crowd, wondering what the woman wanted to know. For a probate lawyer to get to the scene within ten hours of a client's death, there had to have been some kind of previous notice, or an indication predicting this event. "I'm an investigator. I don't know what you need to know from me, but..." Mulder shook his head slightly in wonder, and the woman gave him a look combined with amusement and impatience. "You are listed in her will, sir." "Oh?" This surprised him, thinking of how they hadn't gotten in touch with each other since she decided to go to Italy for a position in teaching. The woman had him seated in a black wooden chair across the round table from her. "As you know, she has no family and her late husband, a Emilio Niccolo in Italy has long been deceased. She..." The woman paused and began looking through the pages and pages of material in the folder. Mulder failed to disguise his uneasiness. 'What did Savannah want me to do?' Mulder reminded himself of the seven-day curfew Skinner put on them. When the woman raised her head, Mulder was ready to pick up his cellular and shoving it in the woman's face in order to spare himself the stress of explaining whatever will be in the way of their investigation to an enraged Skinner. And Mulder had no intention of leaving this place without helping Savannah with whatever he could. "She what?" He asked impatiently. The woman smiled without opening her mouth. "She left you everything. Absolutely everything." Mulder dropped his jaw. The woman nodded understandably, and handed the folder to him. Mulder gasped as he read through every page. "Oh, my God. ...Savannah, why?" He slumped in his seat and muttered to himself. He wiped his face with one had, then closed the folder and his eyes. "I know, I know. This is a big step for you, not to mention responsibility. ...But she thought your being so noble an FBI agent, everything she had would have their suitable resting place." "But, what about the Niccolos? Or her cousins? Why me?" In the end, the question was 'why me?', from beginning to the end. The woman smiled, this time genuinely. "That probably has to do with her work. Especially the final piece." She pointed to the assembly of her artwork, all presumably done after she lost her sight. Most of them were covered with sheets, and Mulder hadn't had a chance to see any of them. The woman, however, had obviously seen them before. Mulder quickly returned his gaze back to the lawyer, now that the mob who'd attacked him before was collectively staring at him. A pounding headache began knocking on his head to announce its pending arrival. Mulder groaned. "She left me the specific instructions to allow you absolute privacy when you view that final piece. She'd taken a few photos for several art specialists who came to interview her, but no one else had seen it. She'd of course told me what it looked like, because I needed the assessment. But she told me that one was eleven years in the making, and that she'd had to change the position and style a few time before deciding." "Eleven years ...you don't mean ...I mean, if you'd seen it, I..." Mulder's question was instantly reduced to stuttering. He knew what the woman was talking about. And everyone else who'd ever seen it already knew who Mulder was to Savannah Waters. That explained the curious stares from a few sets of eyes watching him from across the room. "As I said, she had to try a few before deciding on one. The practice pieces were moved out of her hands by her colleagues before she could destroy them. Her friends thought they were too good to be destroyed, but you know how artists get sometimes..." "Sure, sure." Mulder resisted adding, 'whatever'. "And she's asking you in her will to destroy them for her." "What?" This was probably the hardest task he had to accomplish out of everything else she's asking him to do. He could never destroy what she created. Reading his mind, the woman continued. "She thinks their existence only taints her psyche. She wants you to find them, and relieve her from misery." "Oh..." Mulder was at a loss. "She said her photographic memory had everything committed in her mind." "Huh?" This was new to him. "Excuse me? Savannah had eidetic memory?" "Yes, and according to her, so do you." Her words now made sense to him. "Yeah, I do. ...No wonder she learned to read braille so quickly. She knew how to write simple sentences by the time she left for Italy at the end of the year. I still remember I said good-bye at the airport. ...Ahh, are you sure no one's contesting her will? At all?" In a corner of his mind, he wished someone did. This was a big bomb to handle. "Nope. Her late husband was good to her, but he also had no family and they had no children..." "I know." Not wanting to remember why she couldn't have children, Mulder intercepted the woman's words. She nodded understandably. "So. Congratulations, Agent Mulder. From what I heard, you deserve everything you got." Mulder released a nervous laughter, and thought about what he was supposed to do with everything. "Did Savannah have any idea on what she wants me to do with her ...things?" Mulder tried to think up a few ideas, but he was in too much a shock. "Well, she always wanted to open up her own gallery, but I think the house in Italy is practically her gallery, considering most of her work, including the said practice pieces of the statue are stored there. Before losing sight, she did quite a lot of drawing. They're also stored in that house." "Oh. Okay, then." Mulder mumbled dumbly. The furniture had changed somewhat from his recollection, but the general feel of the place was the same. Marbles for floor tiles, bluish white on the walls, and incredibly high ceilings were just as he remembered. The stairs to the upstairs bedrooms were marble and starling silver. The security railings were made of polished wood. Perfect for an artist who needed space to think and work. The entire first floor, as he remembered, was used for her work and exhibition. "I guess you have some phone calls to make now. I expect you to meet me at my office tomorrow morning at nine. And if you can't make it then, come by around three in the afternoon." The woman handed him her business card, a complete copy of the probate folder. Mulder was exhausted by the time she handed him the keys along with a business card for the security consultant of the house and exited the building. Mulder mutely nodded a good-bye, and didn't move. Until his cellular rang, and at least half the mob searched for their own to see if it was theirs. "Mulder." He mumbled. "Mulder? It's me, Scully." 'Of course, it has to be you.' Mulder thought and waited for her to continue. "I just got done with the county medical examiner, and I need you here immediately." His heart skipped a beat at the tone of her voice. Something was troubling her. "Scully? I'll make it there as soon as I can, but you have to expect some other troubles to be thrown over us." "What kind of troubles?" She lowered her voice. Mulder surprised himself when he tried to speak and something resembling a sob escaped his mouth. 'Oh no, you don't lose it now!' Mulder ordered himself and took a deep breath. "Mulder? Are you all right?" Scully was asking, and Mulder needed to answer sooner or later. Nodding into the phone wouldn't serve its purpose. "Yeah, yeah. ...I'm fine, physically fine. I ...have some people here who need to be chased out, so wait for me there." Mulder didn't wait for an answer before hanging up. He then stood up a bit unsteadily, and walked toward the mob. "I'm sorry about the wait. I wasn't informed of any of ...this, until now. I assume you are here to make assessments of her art work?" Several people nodded, and Mulder nodded back. "And how many of you are with the press?" A few nods. "Okay, I'm in the middle of an investigation, and I need to leave. I can't have you staying here, although I appreciate you all for coming. I have a few ideas about sending her artwork to her estate in Italy in order to renovate the place as her own art museum. You can elaborate on that, if you want. "Some of you questioned me earlier about my personal life, and all of you are probably wondering what's in this folder." Mulder raised the said mystery folder and saw everyone's eyes followed the damn thing. Mulder sighed. "For the record, my name is Fox William Mulder, and I have no intention of leaving my job nor the place of my residence just because this happened. I'll need to get in touch with her colleagues or close friends. I don't mean to be rude, but I'll have to contact those people myself. No one can just come up and tell me they were her colleagues or friends until this investigation closes. I'm sorry, but I need you all to leave right now." Mulder said as he walked up to the door, and no one dare protested. Mulder looked at the manuals and the pages of keyword for every room, storage, and the front gate. And sighed. 'Wait 'till Skinner hears this one', he thought as he climbed into the rental car and left for the county morgue. County Morgue Santa Monica, CA Ninety Minutes Later "Mulder? What happened to you?" Scully asked as she watched Mulder slump into the nearby chair. And stared at her through the dark lens of his new sunglasses. He remained silent, but he dropped the folder on the chair and walked up to her. Then stopped at about ten feet away from the autopsy table. Scully by now had finished cleaning up what she could of the body, but she needed to keep it open until she finished explaining her partner. She hated to be the messenger, but she also knew he'd rather heard it from her than anyone else. "Lots." Mulder said as he watched the still form on the table. Scully had considerately covered the body with the blue sheet, then wrapped the body's head with a white sheet. "What did you find?" "She was murdered." Simple and to the point. Mulder nodded. "Same killer?" "I don't know. I've contacted the VCU agents who'd worked on this case, but..." "They couldn't find the damn kids for months, Scully. Don't expect any progress from them." "I know how you feel. But I contacted Skinner, and he thinks we're both on the target list. He wants both of us under protection." "Then it's time for you to leave, Scully." Mulder took off his sunglasses, so she could see his seriousness in his eyes. "No. I've got us included in the official investigation team, Mulder. Skinner isn't crazy about it, though." "Of course he isn't. The man probably spent half the day in the Men's Room." "He did say he was concerned about both our lives. He didn't say anything that suggested..." "He has the entire fucking VCU to get statements from, Scully! He won't need those damn tapes to know everything noteworthy. He probably heard about every single detail of our hospital reports and psych analysis! He's crazy if he won't let you off. Or maybe he already has, but you're not telling me." "Can't you trust me?!" Now she was furious. "Mulder, damnit! I'm an FBI agent! I'm not a lawyer or an artist or music teacher or a chess master or an opera singer! I'm trained with these situations, and I'm very capable of doing my job!!" "But if you are right and we are targets, they're planning their moves for who knows how many steps ahead of us! You don't want to be on this case. Please don't come with me on this." Mulder inched close enough to touch her shoulder with his fingertips. But she brushed the hand off, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Mulder sighed his frustration and yanked her toward the wall. She gave a startled cry, but he was pinning her against the metal storage unit, his eyes flooding with the trace of the horrors and pains he experienced beyond words. "If they manage to get to us, I can't stand hearing the screams. I can't face the horror of smelling the blood, vile, urine, sweat, and semen I was forced to learn, to come from you! Not to mention watching them raping you, or your being forced to watch me going through the works! You have no fucking clue how much it hurts for a guy to be fucked in the ass and get his dick sucked when he has broken ribs!!" Mulder slashed his arms wildly, then kicked the metal drawers as hard as he could. His shouting voice was only inches away from her face, and Scully felt her knees buckle. His eyes began welling, but they dared keep her in target. "Savannah kept dreaming about how the knives felt in her ovary, and the description of her sufferings during therapy sessions made me vomit each time. Just as she got sick from hearing about how those men's urine and semen tasted in my mouth. Or ...or, about how both of us had to fight to draw our breaths, because their dicks blocked our airways and damn nearly choked us. If they hadn't wedged that piece of wood they had in our mouths, we'd have surely bit their dicks off! Do you understand the danger in this?! This endangers both our lives, careers, not to mention our partnership! I know how strong you are, and where you are vulnerable. But I can't take the chance to lose you. Not to them. Get the hell away from me for awhile, Dana. Go home." "My shoulders hurt." She said quietly, barely above a whisper. He deflated at the statement and gathered her in his arms. She returned the gesture, briefly closing her eyes as he nuzzled the side of her face and eventually planted a light kiss on her temple. "I'm sorry. But I want to stop your pains right here. I don't want you going further." "Savannah Waters died of a massive hemorrhage in her brain. An artery was severed by what seems to be a very slim, sharp object. Most likely made of metal. It was inserted through her left eye socket and stopped just above the hypothalamus. She collapsed in a restaurant, and the EMT didn't catch the cause of death immediately. They only knew that she had a brain injury, and a possible spinal cord injury from her fall down the stairs." Scully kept speaking in the same whispering tone, still cradled in his arms. "Anyone could have walked up to her and did this to her, Mulder. Little risk of eyewitness, and she's a blind woman. Anyone would rule it out as an accident. The small puncture wound inside the eye socket was hidden under the eyelid, and almost invisible. Mulder, if that's the case, it may not have been our boys." Scully said, feeling him loosening his hold on her. "But it's been so long since they'd had the last victims, and maybe those two boys may have had a few unique ideas of their own in how to kill people." Mulder closed his eyes with frustration, but quickly regretted it as a few flashbacks hit him from behind the rids. "She also had evidence of breast cancer developing in her right breast. Which is ...why I believe she wrote out her will in the first place." Mulder flinched. "You know about her will?" He asked, damning those big mouths that leaked whatever information they thought were newsworthy. Scully nodded. "It's been the talk of the place. Although they didn't tell me much, they knew she'd spoken about you at a great length. No one knew it was you, as in Fox Mulder. But they knew it concerned an FBI agent who'd risked his life to rescue her. Apparently, she was working on a sculpture that was based on the event." "I know." Mulder answered, his eyes quickly losing their tension. "I have it." He added. She rounded her eyes. Mulder sighed and retrieved the probate documents. He handed them to her and led her to a chair. "You'll need to sit down, believe me." He spoke as he walked up, again, to the autopsy table where he was sure Scully wanted to explain point by point where the cancer was to be found and the evidence of murder behind the left glass eye. If he'd known she had such little time after her success, he'd have visited her before seeing her dead body. He took a deep breath, and lifted a corner of the blue sheet. And opened it. "She's grown quite thinner than I remember." He spoke, startling Scully out of her reading. "Yeah. Well, it's normal. Considering her state of health." She replied without looking up. "She had photographic memory, Scully. And she didn't tell me. Which makes me wonder if the assailants purposely picked gifted minds and talents as victims." "Possible, but only the three of the seven victims had photographic memory. The third being the chess master." "Yeah, I remember." Mulder said as he kept studying the body. "How progressive was her cancer?" "She probably had less than six months. Like I was." Scully regretted saying the words, but it was easier than explaining what that woman must've felt like each morning. She still kept her eyes on the folder. "Okay." Mulder said as he picked up the sheets to cover her back up. He'd known every inch of the body that lay opened in front of him. But he didn't know her as a wife or a painter nor a teacher. He tucked in the corners of the sheets with care, and finally went on to remove the white sheet covering her head. He knew that for Scully to examine brain injuries, the head would have to have been open. He was right. But he stood his ground and focused on her face and the curve of her jaw. Her hair had been shaven for the examination, and he tried to picture it as he'd remembered. "Did she have long hair or short?" He had to ask. "Uhh ...shoulder length." To this, Mulder raised his eyebrows. She'd had her hair shorter than his when he was with her. "She's still adorable." Mulder mumbled, gently tracing the shape of her jaw, then tracing her eyebrows. "Yeah, she was quite an eye-catcher." Scully instantly regretted her words, and visibly winced when she finally looked up to see Mulder's tense form. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't mean it that way. I..." "Scully, stop. I know." Mulder said as he bent down and kissed on Savannah's forehead, then wrapped her head back carefully. Scully watched the scene with amazement. She'd never seen him do this. But again, she'd never known them when they were together. Mulder released a long, exhausted breath and slumped into the chair next to her. "Congratulations, Mulder. You can retire and go on a world tour with the rich and famous." Scully grinned as she handed the folder back to her partner. Mulder swallowed hard. "I don't know about this, Scully. I need your help, but I don't want to risk you. If what you thought was correct, there must be a few loads of enemies Savannah had in her life. Maybe someone was jealous of her talents, and maybe the money she had was an obstacle. She didn't come from a happy family, and she wasn't exactly the pedigree that some wealthy people would want to have in their family. I need to know why Emilio Niccolo died, and whether his loving Savannah had created some controversy in the man's family." "And it still could be the serial killers that committed the murder. ...Looks like we've got some work cut out for us." Scully muttered, starting on sewing up the opened body before calling in the interns to do the clean-ups. "Can you come with me to the probate lawyer's office tomorrow at nine? I don't want to face them and the mob alone." At this moment, Mulder looked more like a lost boy asking if his mother could come into the school building with him on his first day. Scully nodded a yes. "Sure, I will. I know the weight of this responsibility you are facing, and the pressure that come with investigating the death of someone who was close to you. Skinner may have some problems, though. Not just time wise, but that you maybe too close to her to investigate this without bias." Mulder nodded his understanding, and picked up his cellular to contact the AD personally. "In the mean time, I guess we can forget about the motel rooms. I have more bedrooms than I ever dreamed of having. You can come with me and stay at the house. But remembering these security details is a bitch." Scully gave a chuckle in response, and patted him on his back before heading for the locker room. When Scully returned, the assistant was done cleaning up and readying the body for the funeral house where Savannah desired to be sent to. It was good that Savannah had left exact instructions for Mulder on how to take care of her funeral details. The body was to be released to him immediately after the autopsy, and Mulder was glad the task was done. The toxicological data was to be analyzed by tomorrow morning, and she repeatedly reassured Mulder that everything was done, and there won't be any need for exhuming her grave once she was buried. He called the priest whom Savannah had designated, and informed the man of the situation. They agreed to meet each other in two days, when the funeral was to be held at the grave yard close to his church, where eulogies were to be delivered and the sermon preached. Mulder was also instructed to go to Italy to participate in the memorial service to be held by her colleagues, who were already supposed to be notified by her lawyers upon her death. Mulder's headache increased at the news. He couldn't speak Italian, nor knew anyone who could translate his speech for him. But then, he figured there must be at least one of her friends who could help him. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA Evening - Same Day "Oh, Mulder! This place must've cost millions to build! Not to mention the furniture." Scully exclaimed, coming to a much clearer understanding of what kind of responsibilities were suddenly placed over her partner's shoulders. "Take any room. They all have a fantastic view of the city and the distant hills." Mulder said, dropping their luggage at one of the living room couches. Scully took slow steps, drinking in the sight of the interior. "My Mom would really love to visit you here, Mulder. If you don't mind..." "Scully, I'm staying where I live. I won't leave the job, and I won't move down here." "Then you can come back here on the time offs and the holidays. Maybe invite your mother..." "I'd rather invite your mother down here than my own mother." Scully sighed. It seems that he wasn't interested in being cheered up. "Well, it certainly is closer to San Diego. I can maybe drop by after seeing Bill Jr., and Matthew." Mulder didn't know why so suddenly Scully was engaging herself into family talks. "Sure, I won't be in here much, anyway. I ...everything needs to stay as it is. I don't know what the hell to do with this house. Savannah didn't leave any instructions on interior stuff." "What about the house in Italy? You should visit. Florence is such a beautiful city, you know?" "Did you want to go there, Scully?" He just had to ask, thinking how it nice it would be if she could accompany him to the memorial service and eventual opening ceremony of the museum. She walked down the stairs, back into the living room. "I don't know if it's the same for the boys, Mulder. But every girl in the world would at least dream about visiting romantic places once in their life. Paris, Venice, Florence, Tahiti... You know the deal." Mulder followed her closely and nodded. "Sure. I loved London, and the England's country side. But personally, I loved Scotland." "Oh, you lucky dog. I'd love to visit there. And Ireland, of course." To this, Mulder had to laugh. "Of course. You and your mother would be their idols. Not to mention your brothers..." "They can drink all they can handle." They laughed together, and high-fived. "Sigh no more, lady. Sigh no more." Mulder quoted Shakespeare, and watched her freeze on spot. "I'm instructed to direct her funeral service in two days, as well as the memorial service to be held in Florence. You're coming with me." "But..." "No buts. Neither one of us can be alone in here or in DC, Scully. You know that as well as I do. You can invite your mother if you want, and she can see the city with you while I get to chat with her friends there. Maybe I'll do some of the interviews." Mulder wanted at least Dana Scully to be with him in Italy. "That's a great idea, but not my mother. Not when serial killers are on the loose, and not when there's the potential of family war breaking out." Scully's concern was genuine, and Mulder nodded. "But you're still coming with me, aren't you, Scully? I'll get you the airline ticket." "Ohhh... All right, all right. But I don't speak Italian, and neither do you. We might be ridiculed and made fun of. I can't look forward to that." Scully was wincing at the image, and Mulder joined her in heart. The exploration of the kitchen which eventually followed, revealed the fridge to be filled with food that would at least last them a week. Not to mention the rows of ice cream cartons, all fresh and very high in quality, that Scully found. "The hell with diet restrictions. We need some treat in our lives." Mulder said as he filled a large soup bowl with at least four scoops of ice cream, each scoop from a different container, and shoved it in front of Scully. "Mulder..." She began shaking her head no, but he kept shaking his in return. "I'll get my own favorite flavors, and I'll race you to the bottom of the damn bowl." Mulder smiled triumphantly and began taking out four more containers in addition to the ones already on the counter. Scully watched in disbelief as he began stuffing himself with the frozen treat. She stared at her own pile, and got to work. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Later at Night It didn't take more than a few hours for Skinner to return Mulder's call. Mulder had left the man a message since Skinner was tied up with a meeting. Both Scully and Mulder were reviewing the autopsy report again when Mulder's cellular rang. "Agent Mulder, what is this I hear about an investigation?" The man jumped right in. Mulder grinned, thinking about how to break the news. "Sir, the details of Savannah's autopsy revealed she had been murdered. I'll put Scully on the phone to explain her findings, but before that, there's something I need to tell you. There maybe a few people who'll be bothering you with questions about me. ...Savannah was a cancer patient before being murdered, and she'd left her will with a probate lawyer. Scully reports that Savannah had no more than six months to live, and she was trying to get everything set up." "Was the murder committed by the two escaped convicts in question?" "We don't know, sir. She was killed with what Agent Scully believes to be a slim metal object, inserted through her eye socket. The only object those convicts had in possession while we were held were some blades they used to cut up Savannah's ovary. I didn't see much of them, but they may have had weapons resembling the murder weapon used in this murder. We just know too little to jump into any conclusion." "What was that about some 'questions' you told me to be aware of?" This was the fun part. "Well, sir ...I was completely unaware of her feelings for me, but ...she left me everything. And I mean, everything she owned. They're all listed in her will, and I'll need to take care of a few things in regard to this ...development. No one's contesting her will, but I'm going to investigate her family connections to see if Savannah had enemies. She could have had many of them, considering how famous she was in her field." "Agent Mulder, this is a hell of a de-tour." "Yeah, ...I mean, yes, sir. But if she wished me to take care of everything ...after everything we've been through, I'd like to do whatever I can for her." The line stayed silent, and Mulder chose to continue. "In the mean time, I've inherited this huge mansion I've stayed with her in Marvel Avenue, and there's about half a dozen bedrooms in the second floor. The first floor is entirely for her work and exhibition. The outside has a pool we used as a part of our physical therapy programs. I felt kind of foolish booking us motel rooms, so I'm letting us camping out in here. Tax payers will be mailing us cherry bombs if they learned we've wasted their money." Mulder carefully under-played the fact that Scully was staying in the same house as himself. When no reply came, Mulder sighed and decided to humor the man a little more. "Sir, I'd like to stay with my job, at the same address, and I don't want a transfer anywhere. However, I'd be happy to have you and your wife here any time..." "Agent Mulder, that's enough." The man's frustrated sigh could be heard over the line to Scully, who sat next to him and grinned. Mulder grinned back and handed her the phone. While Scully explained the details of Savannah's autopsy, Mulder mouthed a 'I'll talk to you later', and left the large living room to enter the exhibition room. The probate lawyer told him to have absolute privacy when he first sees the 'final piece'. He remembered the titles of each piece Savannah has done in her life, but the final piece didn't list any title. Not even 'untitled' was written on the list, which meant she asked the woman to deliberately leave it blank, though the piece did have a name. Mulder just hoped it wasn't his real name. No beautiful artwork would go with a name like Fox William Mulder. But then, she didn't name her self portraying piece after herself. She'd named it the Avenging Angel. Mulder wondered why, but knowing her rough childhood, maybe pursuing the meaning of beauty in humanity was her act of rebellion, or a vengeance. And she certainly was like an angel to Mulder. He came to a stop at the group of statues standing against one wall, all wrapped in sheets. Mulder didn't know which one was which, so he decided to start uncovering the one from the very right. He cut the ropes and pulled the sheets off one by one. And was met with the statue of a masculine man, who was clearly not him. Although he was fascinated by its beauty, Mulder moved onto the next piece, not wanting Scully to sneak a peek before he found the said 'final piece'. He uncovered the second one, and was met with a woman's statue. Seeing it wasn't and couldn't have been the 'Avenging Angel', he studied it for only a few seconds and moved on, promising himself to take all the time he wanted later. The third piece was of a child, holding a bird in his hand that was cradled against his chest. Mulder studied the piece for a minute or two, recognizing the purity and innocence, not to mention affection that was close to compassion, in the boy's face. 'Imagine doing all this just from touch.' Mulder thought. There were only two pieces left, and Mulder hesitated. From reading the folder of inventories, he knew she'd donated the 'Avenging Angel' to the state museum of modern arts, thus it wouldn't be here. He felt almost afraid to uncover what was supposed to be the statue of himself. It meant Savannah had spent the last eleven years remembering and reconstructing him; not just the physical aspects of him, but also what made him who he was. He didn't know if he could face himself through Savannah's eyes. He took a few deep breaths, studying once again the other pieces she'd done and the meticulous detail in which she reconstructed the subjects. When he felt strong enough, he took the covers off the second last piece. It was of an old man, holding what looked to be a damaged armor in his hands. A broken sword was laying at his feet. Mulder released a breath of relief and anxiety. It meant only one thing. The last piece was the 'final piece'. Mulder was about to pull the ropes off of it when he heard a knock at the door, and Scully came inside. "Scully, I need to be alone for a while." Mulder said before Scully realized what he was doing. "Oh, I'm sorry, I hope I wasn't too late." She apologized once she realized what the room was used for. Then gasped upon seeing the other sculptures. Mulder sighed and waved her inside. "I need to be absolutely alone when I see this last piece, but the others we can see. Come on, they're all beautiful. You like art museums, so Savannah would be happy to let you see them." Mulder said, motioning her to advance further into the room. She complied in an instant. "My God, they're amazing!" Scully was breathless in the face of such strong expression of beauty. While Mulder slipped into a reverie, Scully took her time studying meticulous detail of each piece. She could only guess what the 'final piece' might look like. She was particularly intrigued by the statue of the child with a bird, and spent nearly twenty minutes just thinking what the piece represented in Savannah Waters's short life. "Done?" Mulder's voice from behind her sounded so close, so loud, Scully jumped. "Huh? ...Yeah, I, uh ...I might take another look later, but I know you need to see the last one. I'll get ready for bed, and I'll see you in the morning. Just tell me if you need anything." Scully said as she walked to the door. Mulder nodded with a small smile of gratitude. "Good night, Scully." Mulder appreciated her closing the door after her. The smile evaporated from his face once he turned back to face the statues once again. He swallowed hard, and again readied himself. Cutting the rope seemed to take forever, and the hands that pulled the sheets trembled slightly. He rarely felt so vulnerable in his life. But after taking a quick deep breath, he yanked them all off in one motion. And forgot how to breathe. It couldn't have been him. It only looked like him. This man could never be him. And yet, he knew it was him. The sudden waves of dizziness threatening to take over him made Mulder take a shuddering breath. He numbly sat down on the floor, and stared up at the silent statue. A smile broke over his face after the initial shock settled over him. Surely, he'd never looked more beautiful in his life. If anyone looked at the statue and never known Fox William Mulder, they'd think he was some sort of a mythical figure from a Greek legend. He felt like dragging everyone at the headquarters into this very room, and show them the statue. He'd then thought about taking the picture of this statue and use it for his I.Ds, then mail one to Phoebe just to spite her. When he rested his head on his palm, he came eye to eye with the title curved at the bottom of the stone, in its designated space. And felt his face flare up with embarrassment. Surely, it couldn't be him. Could it?? Messiah, the name plate claimed. An anticipated savor and/or a liberator. The one who is 'expected' to be a savior in Judaism belief system. The statue was standing with his back slightly bent forward. Its left foot was a step in front of the right, and its right hand extended forward as if reaching out for someone he'd sworn to save next. "Oh, Savannah." Mulder mumbled to himself his face still burning from embarrassment. Scully couldn't see this one. There was no way he was going to show this one to Dana Katherine Scully. For one, the figure was nude. However, Mulder had to admit Savannah did remember absolutely everything about his body. She'd curved in a few veins she'd felt on his arms and legs. She'd even known how long his hair was, and how they were styled. He just had to laugh upon spotting the mole on the statue's lower right cheek. Everything from the curve of its nose to the point of the chin, the collar bones and the contour of the rib cage were a meticulous and perfect match. The curves of his abdominal muscles and the round dent of his navel in the center were unnervingly innocent. For such a meticulous work of art, everything about the statue pronounced its right to exist. Hell, she'd even gotten every detail of his testis and scrotum right, not to mention the vein that showed on the bottom of its penis. If Tina Mulder was to face the statue, she would have another stroke, and probably beg him to put a pair of boxers on it in her will. The statue's feet were another area to applaud for. The toes were digging into the ground with no energy to spare. The detail of each joint of each toe were meticulous, including the toe nails. The curves of each ankle showed the exact detail of the bones and veins pulsing under the skin, looking ready to take any necessary action but never ready to surrender. Clearly, they were the feet of a warrior. Numbly getting back onto his feet, he walked around to the statue's back, and was faced with an equally mesmerizing portrait of a man he was eleven years ago. The shoulder-blades and the trace of ribs lined evenly, and each vague contour of its vertebrae underneath the layer of skin were curved in without any room for speculation nor cheating. The way the statue's back was bending enhanced the detail of those backbones, making each rise and fall all the more intriguing. The strength shown in the detail of its lower back muscles were obvious though without exaggeration. On the back of its thighs, the curves flowed smoothly as on his body, leading to the joint of the knees. The bit more complicated features of his calves were a bit smoother, again, on their back side. Savannah clearly did not wish to elaborate nor fake a single detail about Mulder. He genuinely appreciated the fact. The back of the left ankle where a numerous band of nerves and tendinous gathered, she curved the detail of how they were positioned while its heel was slightly tilted upward, in response to the bent back and the reaching right hand. Mulder felt almost seasick at this point, thinking how exactly she knew his body so well, and just how much it took to reconstruct such seemingly- insignificant details. The other reason Mulder knew this statue had to be portraying him, was the neatly curved incision scar on the center of his chest, where he'd been cut. How Savannah knew its exact spot was a mystery to Mulder. He recalled the sharp pain of the blade as it cut through his skin and a bit of flesh. And Savannah even had the insight to curve a drop of blood seeping out of the wound. She knew he'd bled quite a bit out of the wound, so Mulder figured that to be one of the reasons. But he knew she'd added that detail for the reason why the wound was created in the first place. The assailants thought his gift was his heart. But what was the most intriguing about the statue was the detail of its eyes. Not many, not even Michelangelo's Statue of David had its iris curved out. But this one did. The eyes were so expressive, not even Mulder himself couldn't help but be drawn into them. The eyebrows enhanced the strength in which those eyes held, but the slightly lowered eyelids brought out the gentle nature more than the aggression in those eyes. The statue's eyes clearly belonged to a man who you don't want to be caught red-handed. And yet they loudly demanded your reasons and strived to achieve understanding. To keep peace without betraying justice. Mulder certainly didn't feel like deserving the title of a messiah. He was expected to be a savior every day because of his profession. That much he could feel he belonged to the statue's purpose. However, there were so many failures he'd caused in his life. Mulder silently wondered if that was the reason she'd added the scar over his heart. Although he knew the statue will be standing in plain view of the world sooner or later, his lingering feeling that he hadn't lived up to the honor this statue held prompted him to cover up the statue with the sheets again. Office of the Probate Lawyer Santa Monica, CA Next Morning "Just sign these papers, please. Everything will be official, and your plans for remodelling the estate in Italy as Ms. Waters's private gallery will be your personal responsibility. Just don't forget to mail me the invitation." The woman smiled as a tease, and handed Mulder the pen. Next to him, Scully was smiling her reassurance. The sound of the pen running over the papers felt unnecessarily loud in his ears. "There you go." He slid the pen with the papers across the table to rest at the woman's hands. "Thank you, Agent Mulder. ...Have you taken a look at the statues, yet?" The woman asked, obviously wanting to hear its model's response. Mulder closed his eyes and smiled shyly. And nodded. "Yeah, yeah. ...I have to say, I never looked more beautiful in my life." The woman blushed momentarily, but she quickly hid it when she faced Dana Scully's 'I'm missing something important' look. "I don't understand, though. I don't deserve the honor that statue claims that I have." Mulder added, then ran his hand through his hair. The woman shook her head with defiance. "I believe you do." She said as she stood up and began clearing the desk. The agents also stood up, and shook hands with the lawyer before leaving. Last night, Mulder was thoroughly thankful that Scully was with him. Otherwise, he'd be overwhelmed by old memories and wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to finish his job. After the shock of seeing the statue faded, he was attacked with an assortment of flashbacks from the tortures he'd undergone with Savannah. The sound of screams, the blood and their kidnappers yelling at him to 'fuck' Savannah senseless. The feel of cold metal on his temple, the searing pain upon each penetration, the feel of his broken ribs brushing against each other... Everything came back as he recalled the opened body of Savannah on that autopsy table. Thankfully, after the assault of all that terror, the good memories came flooding in almost as if Savannah was trying to protect him from the breaths of evil brushing up against his psyche. When he took a shower in the shower room, he remembered how her hands felt on his wet skin, under the rushing hot water. And how her soaped skin felt in his hands. Not to mention the way her lips grazed his, and the way she pressed against him. Mulder smiled as he dried off, and wrapped himself in his bathrobe. As he got himself a glass of juice from the refrigerator, he recalled the way she cooked her omelette and a broiled snapper just two days after their discharge from the hospital. He'd gone to sleep in the same bed he'd slept with Savannah, under the same bedcovers and recalling the way her heart beat under his ears. Contrary to his fear, he didn't suffer any nightmare. "Mulder, can I see the statue now?" Scully demanded like an impatient child who's wanting to drag her father into a roller-coaster ride at an amusement park. And, like the reluctant father, he bit his lower lip and said nothing. She sighed her frustration, and climbed into the driver's seat. She was carrying the picnic-basket sized metal jewel box full of Savannah's personal collection, and Mulder was going to store it all into Savannah's bank safety deposit box, which had its reluctant new owner. "I'll give you a clue why I don't feel up to showing it to you. The statue was named 'Messiah'. An expected savior. I don't deserve the title. At least not until I get my sister back." Mulder said as he parked the car into the parking lot of the bank. Scully stayed silent, but patted him on his shoulder as they walked through the front door of the bank. When he opened the jewelry box to move its contents into the deposit box, Mulder remembered several of the vast collection he'd seen Savannah wear. Even after losing her sight, she'd kept the ones which were most important to her within her reach. He picked those which he remembered, separated them from the rest, and asked Scully to pick one for him to bring back with him to DC. Scully studied each one carefully while Mulder laid the rest into their new home. Mulder was closing the original carrying box and setting it on the floor by the time Scully came up with her choice. "Will you put it on me? I feel like I'm getting a medal of honor from someone more deserving." Mulder said as he bent down slightly for her to reach the back of his neck. Scully slightly chuckled, and reached up to put the necklace around his neck. "This sword suits you. Why diamond, though?" "She was a Taurus." The answer came, and Scully nodded an understanding. "This should serve well. For a defender of truths, and a messenger of justice." "Hey, you had that gold cross for sixteen years. It's about time I should get a diamond sword." Mulder chuckled, and buttoned his shirt back. He left the tie hanging loosely at where he lowered it, but Scully impulsively reached for it and tightened it back. "Thanks, Mom." Mulder joked, remembering the last time she'd tried to do it in Skinner's outer office. Scully glared at him, but he knew it was only for a show. "You said the statue was named Messiah. But you also said it was beautiful. Why can't I see it?" Scully wasn't smiling, and Mulder had to think his answer carefully. "Because I'm not ready to show it to you." In the end, that was the truth. Scully sighed. "Fine, fine. ...I'll see it when it's out for the world to see." "When I'm ready, I'll drag you into the room and tie you to the damn thing. Then you can cuddle with it as much as you want." He didn't mean to say the last sentence. It was too damn suggestive. But Scully chuckled, and slipped her sunglasses back on. They were going to have to get to the FBI field office, and begin digging into Savannah's family background checks. The next day was reserved for researching Savannah's friends/colleagues connections. All the while, they had the VCU to contact in regard of the serial murder connection. If Skinner wanted them under protection, there wasn't a safer place than the little Fort Knox of the Waters residence. And they were both armed, each with a back-up piece and an extra clip for their Sig Sauer. FBI Regional Office Santa Monica 1 PM Same Day Mulder was twice thankful for Scully's presence by the time he got to meet with the special agent in charge of the office. They were given the copy of the complete VCU reports on Harbor and Pickett then were invited to use every available resource the office had to offer. They both thanked the man, and went on to doing their own research of Savannah's family backgrounds. But everything went down hill from there. First, Scully caught a few rumors about 'old Spooky getting lucky' in the lounge before entering the room and everyone present collectively shut up. Then, like the plot of a cheap B-movie, Mulder was treated to the same assortment of 'Spookster' jokes in the Men's Room before he exited the stool. Then, Mulder made a mistake of going to the lounge by himself to get a bag of sunflower seeds. He was treated to the rumor that Fox Mulder was a bisexual, because Mulder was giving blow jobs to at least four of the assailants, then getting the blow jobs from five of them at least once each in their videotapes. Mulder announced his presence this time by unsnapping the top cover of his Sig hip holster and releasing the safety of his weapon before walking up to them with a sunny smile. Then he sat down at the same table as the increasingly uncomfortable agents were seated, and yelled at them to remain on the spot when they motioned to leave the room. Knowing what Mulder and Savannah went thorough that day, they obeyed and nervously started up a conversation again while Mulder proceeded to clean his gun with excruciating care. Mulder then counted and even cleaned every bullet that was in the clip. As soon as Scully heard about the event from one of the six agents who'd been 'held hostage by Spooky', she yelled at the female agent to gather whoever else was in the lounge. Mulder was ordered by an enraged Scully to stay seated in the main lobby couch while she proceeded to confine herself in the lounge and fire away her frustration upon the six red-faced agents. Scully then gathered whatever she and Mulder uncovered of the background check files. As the stunned agents observed them, Scully stormed out of the building, dragging Mulder behind her. "Agent Mulder! Agent Scully! Stop, please!!" A woman they both recognized as the agents who informed Scully of the incident ran out of the building after them. Scully forcefully pushed Mulder into the passenger seat before turning back to face the flustered woman. "What do you want?!" Scully barked, and the woman dropped her shoulders. "I'm not one of them." Were her first words, and Mulder climbed out of the passenger seat. This time, Scully didn't push him. "How did they get the tapes from the VCU?" Scully asked, her hands over her hips. The woman sighed. "When they heard Harbor and Pickett escaped, the VCU contacted Ms. Waters. She consented to help in anyway she could, and to have a guard around the house. Until then, everyone in the office thought tapes wouldn't be necessary. But the VCU people sent them down for reference, anyway. I ...everyone who was involved in their search watched them all together, but very few of us watched the sixth tape, with Ms. Waters and Agent Mulder in it." Mulder wiped his face with his right hand, and nodded an understanding. "The sixth tape was regarded important not because it was their final crime, but also because it was the first time they took more than one victim at once. They also wanted to know what Agent Mulder's intentions were, and how the two convicts behaved after they figured out they were surrounded by us. It could provide important facts before we make the move to capture them. To see what we should expect about their behaviors in case they returned to Santa Monica to act on Ms. Waters as a revenge." "We're pursuing the suspects with full anticipation of that situation." Mulder said as he leaned back into the passenger door. Scully released a breath, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The agent smiled her relief for their understanding. "I thought so. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. Look, whatever you need, just give me a list. You don't have to come down here any more. I know how you feel, the awkwardness. ...You wouldn't have much to do here in their office, anyway. If some situation develops, like if we get a lead of some sort, they'll contact you. But for simple errands ...I don't think you should be here." "You speak like you've had some bad memories here, yourself. What happened to you?" Scully caught on quickly. Mulder leaned forward a bit, all ears. The woman fidgeted a bit, and focused on her shoes for a moment before looking up again. "They make everything noteworthy a gossip here. There have been many agents who got transferred because of their misconduct. Law enforcement, tabloids, and criminals dance a beautiful waltz in this state. FBI usually has higher profile cases than local police departments do, so gossips regarding FBI matters are priced pretty high ...as yours were. Although you weren't here for the circus, Ms. Waters's got a whiff of it. She was glad to stay the hell away from this town and stay in Italy with her fiance. Her fiance wanted to see her estate in Marvel Avenue, but she didn't return until a few years ago." Mulder closed his eyes and bowed his head. 'No wonder she didn't contact me.' He thought as he opened his eyes again to see the woman's concerned gaze. "I was a topic of a gossip myself, so I know how you two must feel. I got harassed and turned in an agent. Don't worry about me, though. I'm requesting a transfer myself to the headquarters. I might see you again there." She smiled, and turned to look at the building before turning back again to shake the two agents' hands. "Please, let me help you. Believe me, some of the tabloid reporters even tried to steal those tapes from the office. You don't want to be here any more than necessary, or they'll hound you." "I think it's too late." Mulder said as he jerked his chin to the spot across the street. Scully hissed at the man with the camera, shooting the scene. The photographer scurried away upon seeing Scully and her holstered gun. The female agent shook her head with disbelief. "Savannah Waters was a quite a popular artist, and a very wealthy one. It'll be a matter of evening news by the time you get to leave here. I hope you didn't let them know that you're staying in the mansion." "No, I didn't. Although I believe they already suspect it." "Pickett and Harbor ...they know where the house is located. You'll be sitting ducks if you don't be careful." "The house's got a tight security system, and we might have some guards in at the first sign that they are on to us." Mulder let on, almost hopefully. "I suggest you do that. In the mean time, let me run your errands here. As I said before, contact me on my cellular, or give me a list of things you need and I'll get them. We can meet somewhere quiet and I'll hand whatever you need over to you. I shouldn't visit the house." "Agent Sullivan, do we really need to be that paranoid around here?" Scully's skepticism kicked in, and the woman almost laughed. "I'd say you can't be too careful. Not unless you want your video to end up in some talk shows or in the local porno video stores. Some of the underground night clubs around here have employees who have live sex on stage. You know ...with chains, electric shocks, leather gear and bull-whips. From the looks of your tape, some of the gay porno collectors might drool over it." "Okay, this is my cell number, and the one above is Agent Scully's. We appreciate your concern." Mulder declared finality, shuddering at the images of some psychos getting writhe out of his sufferings. Mulder handed the business card to the agent, and shook hand with her. Scully followed, and they both returned to their car. "This is getting better and better." Scully mumbled as she turned on the ignition. Mulder grunted and slipped his sunglasses on. Any hopes of enjoying the California beach and sun during this stay had just vanished with her appetite. She stopped the car in front of a sport good store, and told Mulder to stay in the car. Still shocked from the revelations he'd just been subjected to, Mulder never complained. Scully returned twenty minutes later with a shopping bag, and stated the car again. "What did you need in there? You won't need sunscreen indoors just yet." Mulder joked, pointing to the sky and the thinning ozone layer. Scully chuckled, and shook her head no. "It's not a hard guess. You can't go on a jog, I don't feel like going to a local health club after what I heard, and neither of us should be at the beach." Scully heard Mulder's chuckle. "I hope you bought bikinis." His chuckle turned to a small laugh as Scully swatted his arm, preventing him from reaching the shopping bag and peeking inside. "Tease me further, and you'll regret it." Her murderous look shut him right up. "Okay, sorry." He raised his hands in a mock surrender. "To make it up, I'll cook us dinner." "What?! You can cook?" Scully laughed, knowing that when he does have the time and ingredients, he could cook a fine meal. This time, Mulder reached over and messed her hair up. "We don't have the chef like Savannah did. Besides, her personal home care nurse did all the cooking. Did you notice all the vegetables in the fridge? That woman knew exactly how to feed people health menu. I spotted a bag of black tiger shrimp, so I had it defrosted yesterday. ...You know, when we had the ice cream eating contest." Scully genuinely laughed this time, remembering how the contest ended in ice cream fight. Mulder chuckled at the memory and continued on. "There was also a bottle of white wine, presumably for cooking purposes. I have all I need, Scully. I grew up in Vineyard. I'm used to sea food, and I have some of Mom's cook book pages memorized. When I was in London, Phoebe couldn't boil water right, so I cooked for her sometimes. Ask her if she visits here in the colonies again." Mulder said as he popped in a sunflower seed he'd bought at the vending machine, in the lounge of the evil FBI office. Scully made a face at the sight of the seed shell. However, as anyone who'd gotten used to this habit, she handed him the ashtray. "Need any help in the kitchen, then?" She smiled upon seeing him nod. "I know you cook well, Scully. But only if you want to. I'll appreciate your audience more than anything." Scully's eyebrows jumped an inch, and Mulder smiled wider. "Mulder, are you sure about what you said back there? About the guards?" She asked as she stopped at a street light. Mulder pursed his lips, but nodded a yes. "Skinner can put some heavy duty gag order on those bastards at the office. I don't want the tapes ending up in anyone's hands other than the FBI evidence vaults, and I don't want any obstacle in the way of our investigation. Not to mention destroying Savannah's reputation in Italy. ...She was an artist and she lost her eyes. She was strong and didn't show much of her sufferings, but that lawyer told me she used to paint. If I make mistakes and her reputation goes down not only in here, but in Italy... I can't bare that." Mulder shook his head, and looked at Scully in the eyes. She swallowed and started the car again as the light turned green. "I'll contact some of my friends in the headquarters personnel office and the communications. I don't want that woman getting any more back glances and finger pointing." Scully saw Mulder nodding in agreement next to her. "Of course she'll be treated to a whole new load of gossips about us, but at least there's Skinner, and no one knows her there. She could start over." "We could chat once in a while. You could call up some people and validate her claim about the sexual harassment thing. Just in case." Mulder stopped trusting anyone long ago, not without validation. Scully agreed, not wanting her to be another Krychek. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA. 5 PM Same Day The utility companies began calling in to ask Mulder about bill arrangements, making him a prisoner on the phone for hours. Scully already began reviewing the documents they uncovered, starting with the said VCU updated files. Although what Mulder said about the assailants using various types of blades and knives as tools for torturing women victims tugged on the back of her mind, she didn't think such needle-thin tool would be in their possession. The object must be longer than any conventional length of blade, and must be as sharp as an ice pick or a barbecue stick, which makes it inconvenient to carry around. However, the scene of the murder was a restaurant, and restaurants do have lots of barbecue sticks and other culinary tools available. Scully made a mental note to check the backgrounds of the restaurant employees. As for the VCU files, there were transcripts of numerous interviews of the convicts, all of which either angered or turned her a little green on the gills. The younger one of the two liked fantasizing about raping whoever he met in the prison and outside world. Even to his own lawyer who defended him in the court. This younger man particularly got kick out of urinating in his victims' mouths, especially when the victim was a male. The first victim, the music teacher, almost bit his penis off, so he came up with the biting wood idea. He remembered, or more like cherished, the memories of what he did to each of his victims. The first victim had left him with some thrill, but of course, his favorite one was none other than Fox Mulder, because Mulder was the most beautiful male victim they'd caught, and because he was the easiest to have. Mulder went with their requests as long as they kept the woman alive. The interview read: 'Real sensitive guy, that Foxy fellow. Tasted good, too.' Mulder wasn't sexually abused before like the opera singer, nor a homosexual like the third victim, so he got kick out of taking Mulder's anal virginity. Mulder 'screamed real loud, too. Maybe the others broke too many of Mulder's ribs' during the previous tortures. The older of the two also loved raping the victims as other four accomplices, but he restricted himself to the females. This man loved the art of torturing his victims, and that was his specialty. He didn't like getting blow jobs from any of the victims. He loved yanking finger nails off of the music teacher before sewing them off; loved inserting blades into the opera singer's throat to sever her vocal cord; loved punching the big hole on the top of the chess master's head; loved scratching Savannah's eyes out; loved cutting the lawyer's tongue; and loved burning the model's face. A large hand suddenly appeared in her view and placed a glass of fresh lemonade in front of her. Scully jumped with a gasp, but soon thanked Mulder and took a large sip. Mulder settled down next to her on the couch, and took a big gulp out of his glass. "You looked like you needed a break. Or those creases between your eyebrows are going to leave permanent marks." Mulder said as he studied some of what she was reading from his position. Scully sighed and closed all the folders, not wanting him to read any of them. She raised her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin on them. Mulder rocked her sideways like an egg until she fell into his arms, and cracked up. Scully released a small chuckle herself, and uncoiled as his arms wrapped around her belly. "That lemonade tastes good, but different. Did you mix something in it?" "Just a bit of ginger ale. Nothing alcoholic, I swear." Scully smiled, staring up at his smiling eyes. "I know you never drink alcohol, Mulder. Especially on duty. You did offer at one time, when you first met Deep Throat. But you never actually ordered anything in there except for soft drinks. I had a small glass of beer in there recently, but that's all." "Sure. And I know you like red wine." He grinned as she shot him a warning look. "I know special doctor things, Mulder." Scully regretted the instant the words were out. "Sorry, I didn't mean that." She quickly apologized, but felt his arms shifted her to let her lay on her belly. She didn't protest him, and rested her head on his shoulder. He released a long breath, and repositioned his legs to allow her more comfort. "It's all right, Scully. I dealt with those issues eleven years ago. Sure, Savannah's death and those convicts still on the loose get my nerves jumpy. But I have you with me. There's no one better to be here with right now. You do make me feel safe and you've known that for a long time." "I can say the same things about you." Scully said as she closed her eyes and rubbed his belly with her free hand. It was good to listen to his heartbeat. "That's good to know." Mulder laughed softly, and rubbed her upper arm. "I'm sorry I lost it there today. ...In the lounge. I don't know how much of it you heard, but..." "They said you ordered them to sit down while you cleaned your gun and bullets with a cloth." Scully mumbled, sighing her anger toward the six guilty agents out of her system. Mulder stopped rubbing her arm, and shifted her up a bit. "Yeah. I gave them a real sunny smile, and snapped the top cover off the holster and released the safety of the Sig. I never took it out until I got to the table, but I shouldn't have done it. The way they spoke about me really got to me. I know it shouldn't have, but..." "Mulder, they're assholes. They are sorry excuses for federal agents. I let them know we had the Assistant Director for a supervisor." "Go, Scully, go." Mulder spoke as if she was a cheerleader. But she knew he meant it as a gratitude. "It was just me today, Scully. But I can't be sure if I can stop myself from firing on them if they ever speak about Savannah the way did with me. Especially if it happens in front of me." He drew a thinner breath, and toyed with Scully's hand on his shoulder. "Well, then I'll shoot them first with my gun and you can sand-bag them." Scully's voice was devoid of humor, and Mulder seriously considered the possibility for a long moment. "Like we were told, we don't have to go there unless it's an absolute necessity. We'll go to the murder scene tomorrow ourselves. I know the forensics are doing some head-start today, and there should be a preliminary report from the agents who first arrived at the scene, but we should go there ourselves anyway, and I need to get the backgrounds of the restaurant employees. Maybe I'll swing by the forensics department later on, and fetch the results myself." "There's no way we can return to DC in time, Scully. Skinner must be sensing that already." "Yeah, but who can blame us? We're not the ones responsible for their escape. He can yap at the prison guards for as loud as he wants to, but we're out of the target range." "And I still think you should get off of the case while you can. I know it's impossible and I don't want to, but..." "Mulder, we've had this conversation already. I'm not going anywhere until I have answers." "I knew you'd say that, Scully. Just as you knew I had to say what I said." Mulder gave her a small smile, and stared up at the high ceiling. And thanked Savannah for being there for him as he was for her. Scully returned a soft laugh, and patted him on his shoulder before sitting up again to drink the rest of the lemonade. Mulder remained in the laying position, but he took one of Scully's hands again to toy with it. She giggled as he began spreading her fingers and ran his index finger on the sensitive skin in between each finger. Scully brought her knees up to her chest again, so she could sit up on the couch and still face Mulder. "Wanna let me in on what's on your mind?" Scully asked after a few minutes of silence. Mulder pouted and pondered his answer. "Just ...you have such unique hands. I've always loved your hands. They're real miracle." Mulder's tone lowered a bit, and she knew it was a sign that he needed to zone out for a bit. "Thanks. I have my mother's hands, and so does Charley." She watched as Mulder nodded. "Well, I meant more in line of what they can do. ...I mean, you cut up corpses and use chain saws with these hands. I know these bumps at the base of the middle and index fingers are from lifting those stuff and grabbing tools to crack open rib cages. But you use these same hands and fingers to heal your patients, mostly me. You stitched me up, cleaned and dressed my wounds. And you gave me injections when I needed them. You hold your cell phone whenever I call you for with or without reasons. You hold food and knives with these hands when you cook. Then once in a while, you grab cliff surfaces and tree branches with these same hands." "And sometimes I hold down suspects on pavements, punch those who deserve it, and point finger in direction needs to be pointed." Scully concluded and finished her glass of lemonade. She had to break Mulder out of the reverie, or else she'd have blushed enough for him to notice. She'd never met anyone who actually considered what and how much she did everyday. Mulder chuckled at her statement, and let go of her hand. "Sometimes you shoot those who deserve the bullets with those hands, too." Mulder added, grinning to let her know he was joking. That he held no grudge about her shooting him, because it actually saved his life in the end. She smiled, and handed him his still half-full glass. He took it and sat up, reaching for the folders she closed. "Mulder..." Scully shook her head no, but he wasn't listening. "I need to read them, Scully. I've got to rewrite those bastards' profile, and those interview notes you've been reviewing would help me. Besides, as I said before, you're here with me. Although I'm concerned for your safety, you make me stronger." Mulder smiled and bumped her shoulder with his. Seeing him innocently drinking down the lemonade, Scully sighed and looked at her watch. "All right. But only for an hour and a half. You need to start cooking dinner, then." She said as she took out the files on Savannah's family background. Mulder nodded an agreement and picked up the first interview note. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA Dinner Time Scully watched with fascination as her partner expertly chopped the vegetables and peeled the shells off of the plump shrimps. "I use these shells for broth. They're better than clam juice. ...At least that's what I heard on the TV Food Network. They actually cook, so I got to see their performance first hand. ...Don't ask. I couldn't sleep that night." Seeing Scully's 'hmm, what else aren't you telling me?' look, Mulder quickly added the last statement. "Savannah used to cook omelette with her special non-stick egg frying pan. ...Don't ask this one, either. It's her hobby. Cooking, I mean. ...She loved putting black olives in her omelette. Along with zucchini, wild mushrooms, green or red bell peppers and fresh tomato slices. She put ham slices in mine along with everything else she put into hers. We did cajun style, too, sometimes. With chili powder, avocado slices, some salsa and all the regular veggies. For brunch omelette, she once put in Spanish pilaf. That was great, too." "How did she do all those? I mean, she didn't have her eye sight." "I chopped the veggies, she fried them up in another pan, then I got that special pan out, and she handed me the bowl of stirred eggs. I poured the eggs onto the pan, she talked me through the instructions, and I put the cooked insides into the special pan to be wrapped up by the cooked egg. She used to do all that by herself, of course. Before we were taken. But in the end, it was a beautiful team work." "Was she a vegetarian?" "Not so much before, but after we were released from the hospital, neither of us felt much like buying dead animal flesh. That happened to me every time I came off of tough VCU cases. Cases like this one we're handling. But she thought the transformation must be made gradually, and put ham into mine. In return, she ate pastrami slices with her sandwiches for lunch. But mostly, we ate lots of seafood. As we are now." "It's okay, Mulder. You know I don't eat much red meat. Not since the Clay's BBQ incident." Scully chuckled upon seeing Mulder's expression. "I don't blame you. We've fed on BBQ ribs loaded with alien growth hormones." "Thinking of food, what are you going to do tomorrow? Do you have to invite people down here after the funeral service, or are we going somewhere else? Like renting a restaurant or something?" This was something Mulder wasn't thinking of. "I don't know. ...I don't think we should invite anyone here, as long as this investigation continues. We can't risk too much public exposure. I don't like the idea of the bastards on the loose while we are in the open." "Is the priest notified of this?" "I think he figured as much. I mean, what kind of bozo would think an FBI agent/a potential next serial murder victim would host such a party during the investigation concerning the deceased?" "True." Scully replied. After adding a dash of spice mixture he'd made earlier in a small bowl, Mulder expertly began frying up the hard vegetables such as shredded carrots and parsnips. "These spices smell better when they are left in the skillet for about half a minute." Mulder gave her the tip, liking the look he received from her. Soft veggies such as minced garlic, sliced onion, fresh diced tomato, and black olive halves followed next. She then watched as Mulder poured the white wine and squeezed the lemon juice into the large frying pan. Shrimp were to be placed at the last, since they wouldn't take long to cook. "If I thought enough to marinade the shrimp, it would have tasted better." Mulder said, putting the rid on the top. Scully shrugged, saying it would still taste heavenly, if what her nose and grumbling stomach are telling her was true. "Do you like fresh parsley? I use them as garnish and sometimes inside the skillet. I always see you picking these out of sandwiches and soups." Mulder asked, holding up the bunch of green leaves. She shook her head no. "You go ahead and sprinkle them on top of your share. I'll pass on it." Surprised that he'd actually noticed such small details, Scully had to smile. Mulder got a fresh pair of glasses out of the hooks they lined on, and poured another serving of the lemonade he'd made earlier. "You didn't know I made a whole pitcher of it, did you?" Mulder asked, grinning. She shook her head no again and took her glass. "You amaze me, Mulder." Mulder smiled appreciatively. "Thanks. Six weeks of living together, plus whenever else we could sneak in during the trial with a woman who loves her kitchen would change a thing or two about a person, you know." Mulder said, taking a large sip from his glass. She figured Savannah must have taught Mulder to cook the way she liked since losing eye sight. But she'd never seen him do any of what he was doing right now. She secretly wondered if this place brought out the parts of Fox Mulder that had been deeply buried inside his psyche, especially considering the way in which he threw himself into work and other short, disastrous relationships in his life. Within two hours, Scully threw in her white towel of surrender."I don't think I can eat any more, Mulder. I haven't eaten this good since Thanksgiving." Mulder chuckled and passed her a small dish of mango sorbet. "Ice cream wouldn't go with what you just ate. Trust me, that stuff's a major mistake dinner dessert with this menu." "Mulderrr..." Scully was reduced to whining, and Mulder enjoyed the sight. "Okay, we'll share this one. Come on, Dana." Mulder gave her the first bite, and watched as she widened her eyes and took the second bite as well. Mulder chuckled and gave her the third, taking the exact half the share at her insistence. "You should do this more often, Mulder. It's a delicious recipe." Seeing Mulder shrug, Scully stopped the line of the questioning and got to sticking the rather small pile of big dishes into the dishwasher along with their glasses and utensils. "I have a favor to ask you, Scully." Mulder said as he filled the machine with detergent and pressed the appropriate buttons. "What is it Mulder?" Scully asked in return, closing the dishwasher door and pressing the start button. "I need you to pick something up that Savannah can wear in the coffin. It's not open casket for the reasons we know, but..." "Sure, Mulder. I'll be honored to." Scully knew the uneasiness in which Mulder spoke. Savannah Sarah Waters' Funeral Service Graveyard- Name Unknown Santa Monica, CA 9 AM Next Day The weather was too sunny for such a dark occasion. The priest welcomed everyone, and addressed Fox Mulder with special fondness. While he was delivering his sermon, Mulder got to take a look at the large number of turnouts to commit them into his memory. He needed to do so in case some of them followed Mulder and Scully to Florence for the memorial service. When the priest gave Mulder the chance to speak, Mulder was desperately trying to hold back his tears, because he personally didn't see a dry eye in his sight. Although he'd had a poem memorized for the ceremony in Florence, he'd decided to speak entirely with his words for this occasion. Scully stood next to him, silently gazing down at the coffin and giving Mulder her assurances by her presence. She'd heard him rehearse it the previous night, before they retreated into their bedrooms. He'd asked her to time it and to tell him if it got too long or too wordy. Though Scully knew his tendencies to be wordy, she knew full well Mulder needed all the time he could spare to say his good- bye. Not only because of the tragic circumstances of Savannah's death, but because of its tragic timing. Mulder never had a chance to say good-bye while this woman was still alive. If it was a death by an accident, or in a case of a completely healthy woman being murdered, it was understandable that no one had time to prepare for her departure. However, in this case it was twice as hard on Mulder, because he had learned so recently that she'd known exactly how long she had. Still, she refused to contact him and instead chose to put all the burden of the 'aftermath' of her death over him. So when he'd finished and asked for Scully's opinion, she told him to go on with it. Even in that practice, they both ended up in tears and she'd spent a whole hour holding him. After she came out of shower, she spent another hour at the pool side, just watching him swim his grief out of his system. She only interrupted him twice. Once to throw him a pair of swimming trunks after noticing that he'd been swimming in his birthday suit. At his 'where'd these come from?' look, she explained she'd bought them at the sport goods store along with her swimsuit, because she knew he hadn't expected to get a chance to swim as much as herself. The second time was to say her good-night. She was now thankful that they'd had the speech practice, or otherwise neither of them would have been able to get through the entire thing without falling over one another. "The first time we've met was in the cabin where she was being held. I wished for better ways for us to meet. But as fate would have it, we came to meet each other in such intense circumstances. Like in any such relationship, we didn't last long as lovers. Although I can easily list out the simpler reasons for which why we decided not to continue together as lovers in our roles of life, I know now why we haven't taken that path we once so strongly considered. We were still too young to know where our places were in the world, and I believe one can never be old enough to know the world, because the world was made not to be understood entirely by a single individual. We live the lives that we created for ourselves out of what we were given. And we do our best to make the best and/or the most out of our lives. To make sense of how the world really works. "Savannah pursued art, even after losing her eye sight, to achieve the greater understanding of what made her who she was. To understand where she belonged the most. I believe she found that place not in any geographical means, but within the landscapes of life itself. ...In all the mountains she climbed, in the storms she stood against, in the waves she dove into, and the endless scorching desert she refused to fall over, in life. In the end, it is a world she created, and it possesses a breathtaking beauty in itself. And she's ruled that world very well. I know, because she always knew how to find peace and balance in the life filled with chaos. She knew how everything, including the elements of chaos, needed to fit into the puzzle. "Earlier in her career as a sculptor, she's done what she called Avenging Angel. She used herself as the model, and although the piece was exhibited before we were taken by our assailants, I saw the elements of herself deeply lodged in every part of it. The strengths of will she's shown during our toughest moments in the battle for our survival; the courage in which she's reached out to me when I fell; the compassion and love she's so generously protected me with; the wisdom and capacity she possessed in not only to fight and comfort those who needed those parts of her, but also to be the receiving end of what she's given to the others when she needed to be. ...I've recognized it all within that single piece of curved stone, and I certainly hope that every individual who comes across it will share my vision of her. It is indeed a symbol of humanity, not only of Savannah, but for all individual. In the end, Avenging Angel is who she was, and still is. "I regret the fact that I'd never had the chance to know her as a teacher, a painter, and a happily wedded wife. She'd have made a wonderful mother if she'd had more time. But again, as I said before, those parts of her life were probably the parts she needed to live without my presence, but with my influence. And I needed to establish my mark as an FBI agent that I've become, in presence of my allies and enemies. But always with the influence of my past. "The final piece of artwork she's done as a sculptor, as some of you might already know, is called Messiah. And the statue clearly is based on the kind of influence I've had in her life, as well as what is expected of me. I personally feel reluctant to see myself the way she captured me in that piece of stone. I seriously doubt I ever deserve the title as a messiah. Maybe when I can find my younger sister who was taken away from me decades ago, and whom I've sworn to retrieve and to always protect, I would at least feel as though I am a part of it. But I am very unsure that I would ever be able to achieve the height of her expectations. I can only wish that my doing the absolute best within however much time and resources I am allowed to explore the parts of the world revealed to me, would be enough for her seal of approval." Everybody watched the coffin as it was lowered, and Mulder dutifully took the shovel as it was handed to him. Scully caught the tiniest tremble in his breath as he pushed the shovel into the mound of soil and dumped it over the polished surface of the coffin. Everyone threw flowers in as their means of closure, then the grave-diggers took care of the rest as they began flooding the soil into the six-foot harrow. Mulder silently watched the process until it was done, then poured water over the flowers covering the fresh earth. All the while, Scully watched over Mulder, pondering the meaning and weight of the words this man just spoke. The previous night, this subject left her in her reverie until she eventually fell asleep. This time, until Mulder's arms snaked around her waist and the small of her back. She returned the embrace a moment later, and waited for a few moments before leading him back to their car. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica, CA One Hour Later... When they arrived back at the house, however, there was another car parked in the driveway. Which could only mean one thing. Mulder drew his weapon ready as he punched in the security code for the front gate, and watched Scully draw her own weapon. "Go park the car. I'll go take a look." With that, Mulder jumped out of the door and was gone in a matter of seconds. Scully took control of the steering wheel, and watched everything around her like a hawk. Mulder returned a few moments later with a man about Mulder's age. The young man seemed to be trying to explain something, and although Mulder was listening to the man, he never lowered the gun. "This is Mr. Carpenter. He's the security consultant of this house, but he could be somebody else until I ran this man's ID through the bureau data base. Give a call to Agent Sullivan, Scully. We need her help." Mulder said as he led the man through the front yard and to the main door. Scully was already on the phone by the time they got to the door. "So, Mr. Carpenter. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you people. I suppose you are here to give me all the security details not give by Savannah's lawyers?" "Yes. I installed the security monitors and the alarms..." "Yeah, well... I've learned never to trust a stranger until they prove themselves trustworthy. I'm sure we understand each other on that respect, don't we?" Mulder still kept his gun aimed to the man's abdomen. The uninvited guest grew a bit green on the gills upon seeing the gun still fixed on him. "I was just here to reinstall everything ...for your use. I heard there are two serial killers she encountered, and if they're still on the loose, there's no better way to guard the house than reinstallation..." "You know, Mr. Carpenter? You kinda look like one of them. There were six guys, and two escaped. Younger one had hair just like yours..." Mulder even narrowed his eyes for the show. "Please!! I'm not him! I assure you!" The truth was, Mulder knew the younger man wasn't the psychopath he was after. Hell, the man didn't look like any of them. However, knowing what Mulder heard from Agent Sullivan, this man could be an accomplice, the said porno collector, Savannah's obsessed fan, or someone sent by the tabloid publication. All in all, he couldn't be careful. "Your assurance won't mean a squat to me. Don't worry, Mr. Carpenter. I'm sure we can come to an understanding. But first you've got to tell me why you didn't contact me on my cellular, nor during the first two days of our arrival. And you tell me why..." "Our bosses didn't want anyone else other than myself to do the installation. I was booked to the roof, and I couldn't get here. I ...my boss personally hates the FBI, and they didn't bother giving my boss your cell numbers. We got in touch with your headquarters supervisor ...Walter Skinner, I believe, and he told us he'd get everything straightened out. But then, today was the funeral and I didn't want to..." "So, you are a security consultant with a conscience. Why didn't you push this through? You know the FBI can't just refuse to give you information if they're for justifiable reasons." "Well, Assistant Director Skinner didn't know anything about what's been going on here with you and Ms. Waters's will. That got everything delayed." Mulder closed his eyes. He'd neglected discussing the issue with the man. "Well ...it wasn't as important as the details of our investigation, and I didn't want them thinking I'm here on a vacation." Mulder still couldn't believe that the man was who he says he is without actually confirming it. So he never lowered the gun. "I'm a bit curious, Mr. Carpenter. Have you heard anything about Ms. Waters around the shady parts of this town? Somewhere under the covers?" "If you are talking about the psychos who tried to steal some kind of security tapes from the bureau office, Ms. Waters was contacted by the agents here. She was jumpy, and wanted to hire a security guard through us. We said yes, and she spent the next couple of months practically being a prisoner of the palace." This was a bit too much detail to get around without a proper channel. Mulder put the safety of the weapon back on, but still didn't get around to holster it back. "What do you know about it?" "Well, Ms. Waters did get harassed a lot whenever she was out, and even inside the house, there was a couple of crank calls. She restricted herself to the fax and e-mail for a while." "Why couldn't she just get an unlisted number?" "Security breach. It's like a curse. You know what happens to the movie stars and other celebrities. Someone, somewhere knows how to access their lives. Sure, people like me are few of those, but with the modern technology ...anything's possible." Mulder couldn't deny that. Lone Gunmen are the experts. "Scully? How's it coming?" Mulder only spared a glance to her partner, who was still on hold. "They're saying they can fax us the info, but I insisted we get it all on the phone. I wouldn't want us going inside until we're sure." Scully seemed to have grown paranoid over the years, too. "For your peace of mind, I believe there'll be a few financial people coming here shortly. To discuss what is where and who takes care of them." "Uh-huh. Bet that detail sells very high." "If you don't want any bugs around in this place, you better let me get to work, now. I know you already are informed about the ...inheritance. But there's a lot more to..." "I know, Mr. Carpenter. I've lost my father three years ago. Shot dead in his bathroom. Everything was left to me." Next to Mulder, Scully dropped her shoulders and ran a hand through her hair. "Oh. I'm sorry about that." Carpenter lowered his eyes for a moment. "Yes, I'm still holding." Scully's voice broke through the two men's tension, and they both turned to see Scully concentrating hard on the ground. Something she did often when she was on the phone and needed to think. Both men gazed at her, straining to catch whatever was going on. "...Yes. Yes, that should be enough. Thank you." She hanged up the phone, and released a breath of relief. Mulder followed, and finally holstered the gun back. Carpenter looked ready to recite a few prayers. "All checked out?" Mulder asked, seeing her nod. Mulder nodded back, then offered a handshake to Carpenter. "I'm very sorry about that. Let's start this over, shall we? I'm Fox Mulder, and this is my partner, Dana Scully. She's my next of kin, and you need to see that she'll get access to everything in this house, and whatever else I have access to. Including the bank's safety deposit box. Both of us can handle the security details once you explain it to us, but during our absence which would be ...most of the time, I need you people to keep an eye on everything." Mulder's eager attitude toward Scully left Carpenter feel a bit uneasy. He'd never seen anyone give such level of trust to anyone unrelated. He silently wondered if these agents were more than partners, but he didn't detect any sign of direct physical involvement between these two. Those looks that lovers usually try to hide but cannot cover completely, were absent from this match. "Are you sure, Agent Mulder? I mean, it's a whole lot to handle..." The moment he began, Mulder began nodding. "Let me tell you something." Mulder said, his hands on his waist. 'Stand attention', those hazel green eyes screamed. "If you get a call from anyone asking for entry other than Dana Katherine Scully, they need to be checked out. Not even my own mother gets in here without one of us authorizing it. If someone ever comes here, looking for Dana and they claim to be related to her, both of us need to be notified. Once they're proven to be who they claim to be, they're welcome to stay in the house, but nothing further without Dana or myself present." "Sure. That's ...specific enough." Mr. Carpenter raised his hands in mock surrender, and exchanged look of astonishment with Scully. From the looks of it, she never expected Mulder's previous statements, either. "Mulder ...I appreciate it all, but Mr. Carpenter's got a point. It's a lot to handle for one person. I need some time to digest it." Scully's pleading look was understood by both men. "I'm sorry, Scully. I don't have anyone else to trust than you and maybe your mother." Mulder shook his head distastefully. "I know this may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Carpenter. But I've gone through so much with Scully, sometimes we don't need words to communicate. We're partners for five years, and we trust each other with our lives. And as for my family ...I'd rather trust the Assistant Director than my own mother." With that, Mulder motioned the security consultant to the door, and watched as the man expertly disengaged the alarm system and let the agents inside. Carpenter didn't need to have years of experience with watching family disputes and tragedies unfold to see just how strongly Fox Mulder trusted his partner. Two hours spent touring in the house revealed a lot more of the estate than either Mulder or Scully were aware of. Mostly because Mulder was weary of the entire issue, and didn't want to deal with the prospect of suddenly becoming a millionaire. But also for the said security reasons and for the work. First surprise came from the fact that ever since Savannah lost her eye sight, Mulder never even suggested they go for a drive. So, the sight of the back building filled with two cars - one BMW convertible and a black jeep, was a surprise. The swimming pool, as it turned out, had a sauna room in the back that Savannah never used and Mulder never cared for. But it was obvious to the men that Scully got kick out of it. In the basement was the security control room, where Carpenter looked mostly at ease. The agents spent the next three hours learning how everything worked, and how to handle the actual operation. Mulder personally went to watch the neat beams of light stretch out its web, and got giddy thinking how 'out there' it all seemed. Then he came up with an idea. "Scully, what would you say if I bring in a few of my own security consultants? But only in case of emergencies?" Mulder whispered to Scully, out of the earshot of Carpenter. "Mulder, you're not saying..." Scully was already caught up. "Just for emergencies, Scully. Besides, they could use this place as a get-away spot. They could bring in whatever the equipment they want stored in here." "Yeah, but that could expose them. They'll never agree to it." "Not if the Mr. I-Know-Everything is kept in the dark about it. Besides, the security firm could have an info leak. In case Mr. Carpenter knows anyone, or is being used by anyone for foul play, I need to know. The Gunmen are the only ones who can check into this stuff. Besides, we're never really gonna be here that often, anyway." "Oh, well. ...All right, let's have them check everything. It won't take them a day to break into this place, anyway." Scully unfolded her arms and watched as Carpenter turned the laser on and off. "Everything looks fine to me." Mulder spoke louder for Carpenter to hear, and the man smiled triumphantly. "Oh, it's good to have a law enforcement official as a customer. I don't have to deal with the jitters and annoyingly basic questions the owners ask me." The young man's eyes were asking for their understanding. Scully nodded sympathetically, thinking how someone like her own mother would respond to these security details. The three returned to the monitor room, and watched as everything was turned off by Carpenter, ready for reinstallation. "As I explained before, you need about three password access codes. One for the front gate, one for the front door and the main premises of the house, then the last for this basement security office. Only you can know them. With Ms. Waters's codes, we got access to them only because of the latest developments. And I won't need them unless there's some dire emergency, and you contact our firm. As you know, this security system contacts directly to the local PD, and in your case, maybe the FBI." "That's good to know." Mulder said, seeing the end of their conversation nearing. Mulder spared Scully a glance to make sure Mr. Carpenter won't take a peek, and entered the first code. Mr. Carpenter then pulled up another screen and pointed to the space for the next password. They exited the security room soon after they entered the third code, and the agents saw Mr. Carpenter off. "When's the financial people coming?" Scully asked as they closed the front door and went into the kitchen. "Supposed to be within today." Mulder answered grimly, deflating into a chair. Scully understood how much he'd gone through in the day, especially considering that he was never allowed enough time to settle down after the funeral. Then they were subjected to this three-hour crash course in how to handle security details. The world was cruel. "You need to take a nap, maybe. I know you haven't slept well, and I'm exhausted. I can only guess about you." Scully remembered the time when her father suddenly passed away. She'd returned to work the next day, but she didn't handle it very well. She'd returned to work by her own choice, but in Mulder's case, he just had no choice. His father's death was planned and executed to make Mulder look like the murderer. They had no luxury of time or place to comfort each other that much, as in Savannah's death. Although she could say the same things about herself by raising the issues around Melissa's death, at least they'd caught the shooter. "No, I think I'll ...swim, again. In that swimsuit, I swear." Mulder added the last part quickly, remembering his earlier shock at being spotted swimming naked. He'd never expected her to be watching him, until the pair of black trunks were thrown into the water directly in his path. "Oh, you better, Mulder. Otherwise, I can't join you." Scully turned back to head for her bedroom before giving him a chance to reply. Mulder headed for his bedroom to change, smiling at the prospect of finally being able to see her swim. Scully was already in the water by the time he returned. And rounded his eyes at the sight of her black athletic binikis made for serious swimmers. Still, they revealed enough of her. Mulder announced his presence by climbing over the jump board and diving in. Underwater, he saw her legs kicking and heading for the other side. Mulder quickly caught up, lowering his position further until he came directly beneath Scully's petite form. She didn't seem to notice, so he kept on going until she was about six feet from the touch down and surfaced just as she was reaching for the wall. She gave a squealing sound Mulder never heard from a human being. Then she threw a right hook to his face. It was far stronger than she'd intended, and Mulder's temple was slammed against the wall. "Uhhhnnn..." Mulder moaned, never hearing Scully's reaction as dizziness took over him for a moment. She was now trying to steady Mulder's body, so his head would stay above water. When Mulder recovered enough to hold onto the wall and the rope floating just a few feet away, he refused Scully's repeated requests to get out of the pool and go lie down. "I want to stay in water for a bit. It feels nice, and ...comfy." Mulder insisted, and draped his arms over the rope to support his weight. "Gee, Scully. I never knew you had such a strong punch. Good thing. Keep it up." Mulder said as he inspected what turned out to be a hell of a bump on the side of his head. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't see you. I heard you diving in, but I didn't know you were so close..." Scully was shaking her head, wincing at the almost-visible bump developing under her gentle caress. Mulder nodded, signaling it was mostly his fault. And decided to make it up by giving her a few tips. "Of course, you didn't know. I was at the floor, approaching you from below. You have an excellent form, Scully. But your legs aren't flexible enough, and that's slowing you down. Your arms tend to waver a bit too much, too. You're wasting energy." Mulder said as he took a hold of Scully's arm, and stretched it out next to his for a demonstration. "Try doing this." Mulder said as he stretched out both of his arms, turned them palm-up, and touched both elbows together. Scully tried and found it impossible to do with hers. Mulder nodded. "Not many people can do this. But for those who can, their arms work like a set of oar. Or wings underwater, like penguins. I have that unique quality, and it does come in handy. For those with straight arms, they tend to put extra strain on the elbows and shoulders from trying to catch the water if they're not well coordinated. As for the legs..." Mulder grabbed onto the rope, and stretched out his long legs on the surface. "Use your spine and the hips more. Your thighs work perfectly, but your back muscles aren't working right. You'll get back problems soon." Mulder spoke as he pointed to his back muscles and traced the curve of his spine with his hands. "Your feet are also a bit too tense. Don't try to curl them up so much. Or you'll get them cramped up under strong currents." Scully didn't know if he was genuinely concerned with her swimming form, or if he was flirting with her by bringing her attention deliberately to his back and rear end. "What do you think about when you swim, Scully?" Mulder asked her casually. Detecting no evidence of ill intentions, Scully raised her eyebrows and thought about it. "I don't know. Lots of things. Sometimes nothing." Mulder nodded deeply to the answer. "Yeah. ...You looked a bit tense overall. Your abdominal muscles clench a bit too tightly when you draw your breath. I wouldn't have seen that if you weren't wearing what you're wearing. It's better to relax in water. Blank out your thoughts and try to visualize your body working with the water. We're not made for water, but don't think about that. You're not challenging the water. You're trying to become a part of it. When I dive in like I just did, I usually visualize my back muscles and bones working like a whip. My front thighs hit the water with strength, then my spine whips it. My arms, as I said, work like a set of wings. It's the best feeling. And if someone gives crap about your petite form, they deserve your right hook. Hey, I'm not exactly an iron man." "Were you ...I mean, this is... Ahh, I've never seen you talk like this before, Mulder. Did you hit your head that hard?" Scully gazed at him thoughtfully. Mulder blushed. "I'm ...sorry, I didn't mean to give you pointers. I mean, I'm not your coach, for crying out loud. I..." Instantly reduced to a stuttering fool, Mulder gingerly rubbed at the large bump on his head and hissed with pain. "You coached her, didn't you?" Scully finally made sense of it all. Mulder blushed further, and nodded. "It's ...uh, I hope this won't make you feel uncomfortable, but you've guessed right. After our discharge from the hospital and the nurse came with us, she phoned a physical therapist to come stay with us at Savannah's insistence. It was for convenience. It spared us the time and pains to get to the gym at the hospital. The physical therapist took care of both of us, but he only knew about the therapeutic stuff, and none of the power swimming stuff that I was used to. He taught us how to move around the water with minimum strain put on our bodies. After some time, we both had those instructions memorized as well as other regular floor exercises on the matt. So, the nurse took charge and made sure we did what we were supposed to do all day. "After the nurse left with her own set of instructions for us, that left the psychiatrist and the two of us. So I began the routine of being Savannah's eyes. I was in recovery myself, and I couldn't exactly workout. She had two lesser fractured ribs than I did, and her body recovered faster than mine. She soon began swimming for real. I lingered at the bottom of the pool, just cruising around and watching her swim. She wasn't too crazy about doing it after realizing how hard it was to maintain her direction. I used to swim beside her until her body got the idea of how to keep itself straight. The rope was for that specific purpose. As long as she felt the slight difference in water movement alongside her body, she didn't need to see the rope to know where it was and where she's headed. "I began coaching her around the third week, and she didn't mind my doing it for her, because she felt herself improving. I learned how her body worked in water, and learned how to minimize stress on her body. I told her to relax, and to use visualization, because she was good at it. Even without eyesight, she had her mind's eye. Like Marty, really. I told her to feel the water not trying to drown her or to overpower her if she's not strong enough; but instead feel it like a part of her body. Her artistic nature really helped us both in doing this. "...After my body recovered enough for more intensive swimming, I sort of took the idea of working with the water from the physical therapy, then incorporated it into my power swim routine. I never actually had a coach in swimming before this whole physical therapy began, and no one taught me what I learned then. It's not like I just woke up one day with head full of sentimental nonsense. I just leaned it, experienced it, and accepted it all as facts. Believe me, if I hadn't gone through those intensive physical therapy and heard someone talking like I just did, I'd crack up and tell the guy to get a fucking life." Scully listened silently the whole time, imagining the events that took place in the very place they were in. When Mulder stopped speaking, she waited for a few seconds before sensing it okay to speak. However, he beat her to it as if he'd read her need for change of air. "Do you ever jump?" He asked, taking his feet off of the rope. "What do you mean?" Seeing the boyish smirk on his face, Scully saw that Mulder saw right through her. He grinned wide as he began pulling them toward the jumping board. "Do you know how to do turns, Scully? Or a back flip?" "Mulderrr..." She was shooting warning looks, and he grinned even wider. "Scullyyy..." He returned her the favor, and reached out to the steps to get out of the pool. "Mulder, no. The board is only wide enough for one person." Scully the skeptic returned, and so did the go-for-it Mulder. When she half-heatedly took herself out of the water after him, he climbed up ahead of her, then told her to 'hop on' his back. Seeing no ill-attempt signs coming from Mulder, she complied and wrapped her legs around his stomach. The board swayed under their combined weight as he walked toward the water. He had their bodies steadied well once he used his arms to secure her legs. "Trust me, Scully. It's not the first time I do this, and I will never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Don't close your eyes." Mulder barely said before counting to three, then dove off. The moment they hit the water, Mulder released his hold on her, quickly cradling her in his arms to prevent her from hitting the floor, and turned them both to horizontal position. Her position and petite height aided her in landing safely, and he smiled in water upon seeing her astonishment. "Wanna encore?" Mulder asked once they surfaced for air. She shook her head no. "Maybe later. That was fun, and incredibly dangerous." She managed to utter the words while trying to bring her breath under control. Mulder snickered and worked on steadying his own breath. "You did great. Savannah used to scream her head off, but she loved the thrill." "There's more to this, isn't there?" She asked once she felt okay enough to carry a conversation. She knew there had to be more for him to try something this drastic just to keep the air from getting stale. All the trace of amusement vanished from his face in that instant, but he refused to play hide and seek. Not when Scully supported him this much. So, Mulder nodded. "This is the place where we made love for the first time." Now, Scully felt the blush creeping up her face. She was glad she'd fired the question while being in water. She could cool down. "We had sex before. But as you know, it wasn't consensual. It was merely an excruciatingly painful fuck. That's nowhere close to making love. And yet, the differences in our situation didn't get rid of all the problems. We suffered flashbacks when we tried doing it on bed or the couch. We both needed to be in the right mood, needed to make moves at the right timing. It's not at all like an impatient boyfriend asking a previously-victimized girlfriend to let him make love to her. Because we really did want to get to that point, and there was nobody stopping us from getting there except for our nightmares and damn eidetic memories. We did make out a lot. Kissed a lot. We rolled around in the bed during nights. Hell, I even made love in her hands while she kept me standing up on the studio floor. But we never actually got to the end." "Studio floor?" Scully's voice was barely above whisper, and Mulder saw her wide- eye reaction before catching the slip. "Yeah, floor." Mulder refused to go further. Scully nodded, deciding he'd clammed up on the subject. "One night, I came back from the library room. ...You know where it is. I had a few books I wanted to read to Savannah before going to sleep. She loved my voice, and she was still having tough time with braille. Personally, I didn't mind reading stories to her, because I did the same with Samantha. Anyway, I didn't find her in bedroom nor the living room when I returned. I checked each bedroom, then the kitchen, the shower room, all the while without spotting her. So I got sort of scared, and I went around looking for her." A flashback hit Scully right then. His standing in the hallway of the hospital where she was being treated for cancer. Penny Northern had just passed away, and she was surprised to find Mulder still waiting outside the woman's room, well after five in the morning. She still remembered Mulder telling her he'd gotten scared when he didn't find her in her room. And she remembered the expression on his face when he first burst into Penny's hospital room, looking for her. Although he'd said nothing before leaving the room then, Scully could see that Mulder was relieved to have found her. "I eventually found her in the pool. She had her bikinis on. ...Not the kind you're wearing, but the ones created for fashion purposes. She didn't recognize me when I entered, and I wanted to yell at her with relief. I wanted to tell her how scared I was to not know where she was. But I stayed quiet and watched her move around in the water. When I calmed down, I knocked on the double glass door to let her know that I was there. She smiled and apologized to me for scaring me, so I told her she'd already had my forgiveness. She got out of the water then, and walked up to me." "Wait. How did she get to the pool in the first place?" This was a rational question. "She memorized the number of steps needed to get almost everywhere in the house." Scully was thoroughly amazed, and not for the first time, she wished she'd had eidetic memory herself. Mulder read her thoughts and reached up to her face. "Don't think of yourself as any less, Scully. Your intelligence is ...is beyond anyone's guess. Being eidetic has a lot of drawbacks as you've noticed. You can't forget a thing. You can only scrutinize your memories and events in your life to death. That is, until they come back to haunt you. You can remember every precise detail about everything that catches your eye, then think until you're blue in the face and ready to feint." "I know, Mulder." Scully felt warm again, both with embarrassment of getting her thoughts caught, but also for realizing their proximity both in heart and mind. He grinned a bit between his smiles and positioned his body in a horizontal position, with the rope under his ankles. He steadied his upper body by opening his arms to either side like a pair of wings. Knowing he would have to move his arms around, Scully snaked her arms under his, then rested his head on her shoulder. He released a soft laughter and thanked her. "Yeah, well. This gives me the right to hear the rest of the story, and also makes up for my punching you." Mulder laughed harder, and abruptly flipped himself on his belly, drawing her close. "...In water, we'd spent so much time together and had so much fun together. There wasn't anything even remotely suggestive, like the bed in the bedroom and the couch in the living room. All we felt was the movement of the water ...its calm and our body heat conducted through it. We just didn't know that its surroundings made us feel so relaxed. We also felt less physical strain in water than anywhere outside. Savannah felt the same way." With that, he let go of his hold on her, sensing Scully's discomfort. He resumed the vertical position as Scully draped her arms over the rope this time, and rested. "I could sense that she wanted to stay a little longer in the water, and I didn't want to be like those guys who told their women how to behave. I did feel like swimming at that point, so I told her if she wanted to stay, I'll join her. "We kept dancing in the water for who knows how long. It's not that hard when I thought about it. We just moved in circles. Then we went down to the bottom of the pool and used the floor. It was great. Just great. I even closed my eyes, so that I could experience it through her eyes. I did that sometimes, you know. I used to count steps between our bedroom and the stairs. Or inside the kitchen, like between the fridge and the oven. This time, I just brought the habit inside water. She asked me what I was doing when we came up for breath and noticed I was a bit wobbly. So I told her I'd closed my eyes. I couldn't do it too often in fear of suffering flashbacks, but this time there was nothing. Just the darkness, and her presence in the water. "When she drew me in close, her movement was quick, but didn't get me tense. We were kissing before either of us knew it. I didn't see her coming up to make the move, and I didn't touch her lip with my finger like I always did before initiating any move. Yet, neither of us panicked. It was quite the opposite, really. Our bodies relaxed in that instant. It was like a chain that confined us had broken apart. Because for the first time, neither of us had to 'try' and think about making out, or how to set our pace, or where to touch and how. We just knew. We just felt it with gut instincts that it was right. Everything went smoothly from then on. Of course, I had to grab onto the stepping ladder to keep our faces above water, and she had to support me on our way back to the living room to lay down. "Our psychiatrist was rather happy that we reached to this new level of our relationship, as well as in healing. But he warned me not to try that again for a while, or it might cause serious damage to my healing shoulders. ...Uhh, if you hadn't read the medical report, they cracked one of my collar bones, then broke the other arm. We both fell asleep on the living room couch that night. I followed the psychiatrist's advise, and got busted later by our doctor when we went for follow-ups. But..." Mulder's faraway look filled with longing in an instant, and Scully decided to bring him out of his reverie. "But, you did conquer your problem." Scully suggested his sentence's ending, and was relieved to see him nod. She then took a position at an end of the pool, and tried to swim according to his earlier advise. This time, she recognized Mulder as he dove deeply underwater after her, turning to watch her swim from several feet ahead. Her petite form was no comparison to that of Mulder's long arms and legs as he kept swimming like a dolphin beneath her. When they both came up for air, Mulder smiled and looked at his water-proof watch. "You've upped your record by a good second and a half, Scully. I knew you'd be good at it." He patted her on her back, and watched as Scully cleared her chest. "Mulder, can you do that again?" Scully asked, genuinely amazed. Mulder smiled wider, and dove again. He knew why she asked him, and true to his guess, when he turned a bit, she was just beneath the surface, merely floating and watching how he moved. The expression on her face was priceless, and he snickered. The third time, Mulder decided to take her along after resting a bit in the water. She was stretching her arms and flexing her feet when he reached for her hand. "This time, you're coming with me." He said as he took a few seconds to get ready. She smiled in return, and took a deep breath. Diving at the same depth, they swam using only their legs and an arm. Their parallel movements allowed them to watch each other closely, capturing the other's form and speed through the movement of water around them. It was almost surreal. But they were forced to suspend the fun, as the front gate signaled the arrival of their expected-but-unwelcome visitor. Mulder went out of the front door, still dressed in the swimming trunks and a hastily put wind-breaker. He took his weapon inside the wind- breaker's front pocket. Behind him, Scully was putting on a sweat shirt and Mulder's running pants that were just within reach. She tied the string tight enough, and picked up her weapon. Mulder came back with an impeccably dressed elderly woman with a black briefcase. "I'm sorry about our indecent appearance. We were just swimming, and ..." Mulder began apologizing as he signaled a 'okay' to Scully. "It's no trouble, Agent Mulder. I'm just here, because the probate lawyer contacted me, and told me you've signed the documents." "That's all right. We've just had the security consultant here, reviewing and getting everything restarted." Mulder kept talking as they came up to the door and Mulder introduced the woman to Scully. Mulder led them into the living room, where the antique dark table and matching chairs were located. Scully stood to excuse herself, but Mulder took her wrist and insisted she stays. She asked him to give her a moment to get changed, and Mulder suggested they take turns. Seeing Mulder's intention was to not leaving the financial consultant alone for a moment, Scully agreed. Although they were both aware of the security systems running in full operation, Mulder didn't want to take any chance. Mulder spent the time answering some questions and asking his own questions on how the woman came to know Savannah and her family. "She was such a daring. My favorite client, by far. She always had an assistant accompanying her for paperwork, but she always told me about what she was working on. She told me she was doing a piece on a little boy with a bird. Said she met him in a park, feeding pigeons. His mother knew some of her work, and readily consented to let her make the boy a model. But pigeons weren't the boy's favorite bird, so she changed it to a robin. She said she spent an entire day memorizing the bird's features." "She had an eidetic memory, and I didn't even know that. I do have the same abilities, but I failed to realize that's how she learned to read braille so fast." Mulder smiled at the fond memories. The woman reached for his hand, and covered it lightly with hers. "Now, you've got to take care of what she loved. This isn't just about the money and the assets you inherited. She knew that if they were given to you, you'd treat them as parts of her life and of herself. Not as objects or means for profit." Mulder nodded thoughtfully, then shifted in his seat as he spotted Scully return in her business suit with her wet hair in a bun. Scully then gave Mulder a 'just minute' look, and walked into the kitchen to get them each a glass of the fresh lemonade Mulder made the night before. Mulder then took his turn, and returned with a dark suit but without the tie. The review of assets alone took an entire hour, as the woman explained what Savannah owned where, and who managed them how. Both Mulder and Scully were exhausted by the time the woman got to the part of how to read the expense reports, contracts, and leases. They finally took a much-needed half-hour break which the agents used to take turns in drying their hair and get freshen up a bit more. The majority of headaches lay what was in Florence, where Emilio Niccolo owned some business, including the dealing with the stock-market and running the art school he built with Savannah. The estate which Mulder was planning to turn it into Savannah's private gallery was an old house renovated by the Emilio Niccolo's hand-picked architect. By the time the woman finished explaining how the stock market worked and how he needed to keep an eye on his shares to when the reports would be sent to him, the agents were ready to turn into zombies. "Scully, help." Was all Mulder said as the woman finally began closing the numerous folders that littered over the table. Scully only grunted, and joined Mulder in burying her head in her arms. The older woman laughed sympathetically, and patted Mulder on his head. "You'll get used to it, Agent Mulder. Of course, it'll be tough for a while with the commute between here and DC, not to mention Florence. But her assets in Florence, as I said, are pretty well-managed by the specialists in large corporations. And I know that they can be trusted. Don't get worked up. You have a murder to solve, after all. Savannah needs you both." At those words, the agents raised their heads to see the woman still smiling. But the tension behind those hazel grey were unmistakable. The woman wanted whoever murdered Savannah to be justly punished. Mulder tightened his lips and nodded. "If you have any questions regarding the issues we've just discussed or if you want to just chat about Savannah and about anything else, give me a call." The woman said as she gave them each a business card with her home and cellular phone numbers on the back. The agents nodded collectively, and saw the woman out. "I'm ready for that nap now." Mulder grumbled the moment the woman's car was out of sight. Scully mumble something in agreement. Mulder looked at the financial folders as if they were dangerous animals with sharp teeth, getting ready to attack him. Scully gave him a resigned smile, then took his free hand in hers and led them both upstairs. "I'll get our flights delayed. We won't have much time to sleep before the memorial service opens, but I'm also thinking about booking us for concord seats. We don't have time to waste, and I've already got us far behind than I intended." Mulder spoke with obvious exhaustion as he followed Scully up the stairs and into the hallway. Scully didn't stop until they were in front of the door leading into the master bedroom Mulder used. "Sure, Mulder. I'll sleep for a few hours, then maybe review those family background files for the rest of the day, and during the flight. I know you didn't sleep much last night, so you really do need to go to sleep right now. Not a nap, Mulder. Sleep. This is Dr. Scully talking, so don't argue with me. All right? When you come down maybe around six or so, I'll have dinner ready for us. It's my turn to cook, anyway." "Okay, Scully. Thanks." Mulder smiled fondly at the petite woman who had recently become his work partner, gym partner, business consultant, security consultant, personal physician, a care-taker, confider, and best friend. "And don't think you can fake sleep, either. I know you do that sometimes, but not today. I'll even check on you later." Scully said as she pulled the financial folders out of his hands, then the family background document files after a quick glance around the simple but elegantly decorated bedroom. Mulder dropped his shoulders, surrendering. Scully released a soft laughter in response, and shoved him lightly into the room. Mulder thanked her again, then planted a kiss on her cheek and forehead before closing the door. Scully smiled again and headed for her own bedroom. Florence - Savannah's Memorial Service 11 AM Florence Time; 4 AM US Eastern Time Next Day Mulder knew after practicing the exact same speech he delivered at the funeral service, that some of his audience wouldn't understand much of what he would be saying. After he rehearsed the excerpts of Alfred Lord Tennyson's 'In Memoriam', he knew he had to do better for Savannah's sake. He finally contacted one of Savannah's closest friends to find him the best translator the poor man can find within the time allowed. The man demanded a printed copy of his exact words, and Mulder obliged by faxing the document to the younger man. The call was returned an hour later with a good news. Mulder thanked the young man, and promised him and the translator a week's stay in Marvel Avenue estate plus a round-trip airplane ticket to be used after everything calmed down. The church was obviously centuries old, and Mulder felt strangely comfortable. Scully looked around the building fondly, talking during their sparse conversations about how her mother would've loved to see it. Mulder suggested her of letting him send all the Scully clan to stay at the Waters estate once the crime was solved and the serial killers were caught. "It's the least I can do, Scully. Considering all the trouble I caused for you and your family, this is no trouble. Besides, Matthew might get big kick out of seeing all these buildings." Mulder said as he looked for the translator for a last-minute conference. Scully thanked Mulder and went to take her seat. When the memorial service began for real, both Mulder and Scully were confronted by a church full of crowd, very few of whom they've met. The growing lump in Mulder's throat almost vanished with shock. He dare couldn't screw this one up. As he began to recite the first line, Mulder spared a glance to the translator who spoke after every sentence in beautiful Italian. Mulder needed the destruction, or else he'd have laughed aloud upon seeing the crowd turn their focus back and forth between him and the translator. Seeing Mulder deliver every word without a written note didn't surprise any of the audience and Mulder was dearly thankful that most of the people who attended were aware of his eidetic memory. As the second half began, Mulder and the translator planned to pause between each verse in order to let the audience appreciate the poetry more. "Those of you who listened to Savannah describe our relationship and how she felt about me may or may not identify yourselves with the words I've chosen, but if not, I can only ask for your forgiveness. 'By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove; 'Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine. 'They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken light of thee, 'We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow. 'Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before. 'Forgive what seem'd my sin in me; What seem'd my worth since I began; 'Forgive my grief for one removed, Thy creature, whom I found so fair. 'Forgive these wild and wandering cries, Confusions of a wasted youth; Forgive them where they fail in truth, And in thy wisdom make me wise. 'I sometimes hold it half a sin To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the Soul within. 'But, for the unquiet heart and brain, A use in measured language lies; The sad mechanic exercise, Like dull narcotics, numbing pain. 'In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more. 'One writes, that 'Other friends remain,' That 'Loss is common to the race - And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain. 'That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break. 'Dark house, by which once more I stand Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting for a hand, 'A hand that can be clasp'd no more - Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door. 'The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day. 'An awful thought, a life removed, A spirit, not a breathing voice. 'Now, sometimes in my sorrow shut Or breaking into song by fits, Alone, alone, to where he sits, The shadow cloak'd from head to foot, 'Who keeps the keys of all the creeds, I wander, often falling lame, And looking back to where I came, Or on to where the pathway leads; 'If all was good and fair we met, This earth had been the Paradise It never look'd to human eyes Since our first Sun arose and set. 'Or that the past will always win A glory from its being far; And orb into the perfect star We saw not, when we moved therein? 'I saw that this was life, - the track Whereon with equal feet we fared; And then as now, the day prepared The daily burden for the back. 'I loved the weight I had to bear, Because it needed help of Love: 'Dear as the mother to the son, More than my brothers are to me. 'Calm is the morn without a sound, Calm as to suit a calmer grief, And only thro' the faded leaf The chestnut pattering to the ground: 'Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze, And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold: 'Calm and still light on your great plain That sweeps with all its autumn bowers, And crowded farms and lessening towers, To mingle with the bounding main: 'Calm and deep peace in this wide air, These leaves that redden to the fall; And in my heart, if calm at all, If any calm, a calm despair: 'Calm on the seas, and silver sleep, And waves that sway themselves in rest, And dead calm in that noble breast Which heaves but with the heaving deep. 'Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; 'That nothing walks with nimless feet; That not one life shall be destry'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, 'That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain. 'Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At least - far of - at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.' 'O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock, Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure, 'That we may lift from out of dust A voice as unto him that hers, A cry above the conquer'd years To one that with us works, and trust, 'With faith that come of self-control, The truth that never can be proved Until we close with all we loved, And all we flow from, soul to soul.' "Thank you for giving me this opportunity to introduce myself and Dana Scully to everyone here today. I cannot be more grateful that Savannah had you to turn to. Although I was surprised by the faith and trust she's place over me, I will make every effort in preserving our fond memories of her. I know I am yet to win your trust, and I would be incredibly arrogant if I said I deserve it." Pausing again with every sentence, Mulder eyed the younger man with a mix of trust and pleading. The translator didn't show any reservation about the sudden addition of this 'epilogue' in the speech, and Mulder genuinely appreciated it. "Today is not just about remembrance of a life taken, but also about what we make of this painful experience. Please do not spare a word needs be spoken here. I am happy just to be allowed to listen to them." The moment they were finished, Mulder felt like collapsing on the stage with relief but held his ground. The translator placed a hand on his shoulder for reassurance that everything did indeed went fine. Mulder smiled briefly, and they climbed off the stage side by side. During the rest of the service that lasted nearly two hours, both Mulder and Scully listened to the younger man translate their speakers' words while seated next to them. Neither agents were used to the situation, and they squirmed under a few stern gazes that were returned from some of the audience. Savannah Waters Estate Florence, Italy 2 PM Florence Time Same Day The tour of this estate took twice as long as they spent in the Santa Monica estate. First, the house was a five-story estate. Secondly, there wasn't much open space in comparison to that of the Santa Monica mansion. Nearly every room was furnished with antique. Almost every ceiling was painted with Greek mythical characters and Salvador Dali paintings. Walls were covered with Savannah's framed paintings and portrayals. The third floor walls were lined with sculptures Savannah had done before and after her loss of sight. The actual living quarters were located in the top two floors, filled with bedrooms and bathrooms equipped with both shower rooms and jacuzzi in each bedroom. There was also an exercise room located at the end of each two floors. In the basement was Savannah's private studio, lined with another assortment of statues and other curving. There was quite a lot of contemporary pieces that weren't based on any object, but only the artist's imaginations or thoughts formed into physical context. If viewed by one who never knew the artist's life, they'd wonder why she created them. The said 'practice pieces' of Messiah were spotted lining against the wall in one corner, each covered by sheets as the others were. And the instant he spotted them, Mulder quickly guided Scully away from them, then out of the room. He returned after leaving Scully to chat with the other guests consisted of a few female colleagues and a group of single men who'd developed instant crash on Scully. Mulder knew she'd probably try to kill him for leaving her to fend for herself, but she also understood his need to be by himself for a little while. Mulder felt the familiar tremble in his hands as he removed the sheets, but this time, he didn't need to wait to steady his breath. The first piece portrayed him in a lay-down position, obviously sleeping. It lay on a glass table, because there was nothing that supported the figure. This detail puzzled Mulder until he read the title: Rest in Blue. This was Mulder, drifting in water. The statue's eyes were closed ever so slightly, keeps viewers wondering whether they should wake the sleeping man. The figure's mouth seemed relaxed, but the pouty lips were slightly parted, as if he was about to mutter something in his sleep or smile in his dreams. Good dreams. The figure's entire body looked feather-weight, flexible curves of muscles allowing the body to trace the movement of the water surrounding him. The figure was nude except for the long piece of cloth that lingered around the figure's hips and the left leg. Probably the only clue to the unseen presence of water around the figure besides the slightly flowing hair. Mulder felt a huge lump instantly form in the back of his throat. Especially after spending such a short period of time after taking such a long swim in that pool. Startled by his own sniffling, he quickly moved to the next one and removed the sheets. And felt as though he'd taken a bullet in his gut. In Mulder's eyes, Savannah's reasons in which she refused to designate this one as her final piece was clear and obscure at the same time. It was a brutally honest picture of a man in agony. Everything from its kneeling position to the bowed head to the lowered shoulders to the clenched jaw to the gleaming and intense eyes, told the anguish the man was in. But the most shocking details of all were shown in the large gaping hole in the figure's chest, and its heart that was held in its hands. The streams of liquid that was curved to run freely over the figure below the chest was unmistakably blood. At the bent knee, they were buried by what appeared to be soft soil that the figure knelt on. Frightened more than shocked, Mulder took a few steps back and powerlessly dropped on his rear. The contrast between the first two pieces and this third practice piece was beyond words. When Mulder raised his head out of his hands, he came face to face with the title: Penance Undeserved. "Oh. Sav., please." Mulder thought aloud. "What the hell...?" How she was able to read into the weight of guilt he wore like his second skin was anyone's guess. Then, as his luck would have it, came a knock and the sound of the door opening behind him. "Mr. Mulder?" It was that translator's voice. Relieved beyond words that it wasn't his partner, Mulder waved the man inside and motioned for the man to close the door. He knew the younger man, as well as the rest of her trusted colleagues had already seen them. As the measured foot steps came closer, Mulder released a long breath. The polished leather-clad feet stopped right next to him. "Ms. Waters anticipated this reaction from you. She said she'll scare the heavens out of you, if you were to ever see this one. But I told her to keep her hands off it. That it was perfect as it was, and I wouldn't allow her to destroy it." Seeing that no reply was forth coming, the younger man continued as he stepped around the two statues. "Ms. Waters told me that you had a lot of darkness inside you, existing in its own universe. She then told me that your strength of will was born by your finding the way for the two universes, which was of the dark and light inside you, to coexist. That the friction between the two conflicting characteristics you had gave birth to the delicately balanced gentle and intense nature." "I'm just a man." Mulder's voice sounded as if they were choked out of his throat, and the younger man winced. "She was just a woman." He returned the equally leveled understatement. Mulder released what may pass as a chuckle. When the younger man stuck his right hand out to pull him up, Mulder realized that with a little more assurance, he'd found the right person for the museum manager. "What do you do for a living?" Mulder asked as he dusted off his trousers. The younger man shot his eyebrows about half an inch, and scratched his cheek. "I'm an artist. Well, what can pass as an artist. I'm not as good as Savannah. ...Hell, none of us ever became as good as she was. ...I have a painting piece that is exhibited in our collage museum, and I teach there part-time. The rest of the time I just work on my paintings, and sometimes wood curving. My folks own and run a bookstore just a few blocks away from where I live. My older brother is an accountant, and hates my guts for choosing such an unstable profession for a living. My parents love me more than they do my brother, ever since my bother began telling my parents what to do in business and how they should let him run it. He's been teaching me all the technical stuff ever since he got into collage, and I was in high school. The man's obsessed with numbers. It got to the point where my parents made me watch the store during the summer while they went out with friends. ...Did I talk too much? I do that sometimes, and Savannah had to stop me whenever I did that." 'Unbelievable.' Mulder thought and snickered. As soon as Scully was done with the background check files on Savannah's colleagues, Mulder could ask her about this man. "No, not too much. Not yet. ...I can see why people say that about you, though." Mulder said as he straightened his tie, and walked toward the door. Waters Residence Florence, Italy Later That Night The elegant dinner was served in the third floor dining room located next to the mansion's gourmet kitchen. Although he repeatedly complimented and thanked those who made the arrangements for the dinner, Mulder was understandably quiet and had zero appetite. Scully however kept up pace with the rest of the guests, chatting about her life in the US. She decidedly kept her conversations out of the matters related to work, and no one objected. Mulder knew that Scully knew he was far from being 'fine' as he claimed to be. But she also knew how much he'd appreciated her up-beat mood for the evening, and to keep the air fresh. They both asked a lot of questions about Savannah to the rest of the crowd gathered at the large dining table, occasionally responding with a laugh smile, or gratitude. It was to the guests' delight that Mulder chose to leave Scully here for two days longer than himself. Scully protested, but being at the dinner table, she couldn't speak too harshly at him. Not especially with all those people making instant plans on where they should take Scully first. Scully's 'we'll talk later, you bastard' look was evident in her eyes, but Mulder only smiled and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Enjoy Italy, Scully. I need some time by myself to think and do some digging back in Santa Monica." Mulder spoke once they both made sure the guests were comfortable and settled down for the night. Scully crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him. Mulder had made sure that other guests had already planned out Scully's two-day off, while Mulder conferred with Skinner to get the man's okay for her 'investigating' around Savannah's colleagues and the family issues clouding around . Skinner readily bought the idea of their separating around to conserve time, and even asked whether Scully only needed two days. Mulder grinned into the receiver and got Scully a total of four-day period. The man didn't know that Mulder bought their tickets for concord, therefore not needing the hours Skinner figured they needed for travel. To Mulder's delight, Skinner didn't even bother to order Scully to be put on the line. "I also need to ask you a favor and keep an eye on the translator guy. See how he would act without my being around. I'm thinking he's the right guy for museum keeping. There's a whole bunch of Savannah's work in the basement that haven't yet seen the light of day, and I need have these guys to help me move them upstairs. I don't know what to do with all these bedrooms, but I'm thinking about turning the fourth floor into an exhibition floor. It's quite a renovation work, but it's for the best. Not too many people will be here, anyway. Besides, the fifth floor alone has enough space to fit an entire Scully family." Mulder said as he continued packing. Scully was fuming beside him, but Mulder was paying no heed to her distress. "The third floor dining room and kitchen's gotta move up to the fifth floor exercise room. Those exercise rooms have got to move together into the basement. Once those artwork in the studio are brought out, nothing much will be there except for a few desks and a tri-pod canvas holder." Mulder stopped when Scully grabbed his upper arm, and pushed him hard to the bed. Losing balance, Mulder staggered back and fell backwards on the bed. Any jokes that may have formed in his mouth halted behind his lips upon seeing the fury in Scully's eyes. "Mulder! What the hell do you think you're doing by ditching me here?! I don't give a shit what Skinner thinks. I'm coming back with you!" "No!" Mulder exclaimed just as loudly, his eyes pleading with her to let him be. "Scully, please. They don't yet accept me, but they readily accepted you. My guess is, you'll have much easier time getting around with these people, and to research around the family connections that they have with Savannah. If there's anyone unwilling to cooperate, or gives you hard time, then leave those questions for me. I'll go back to Santa Monica, and do that restaurant employee check. We don't have the luxury of time, and that's the only reason Skinner granted us this drastic move. I hate pulling ranks on you, Scully. But I need you here. Skinner wants you here. You're going to stay here. Just for four days or less." Mulder sat up on the bed, never keeping his eyes off hers. Scully ran her hand through her hair, making an unhappy noise that could have been a string of curses that she inherited from his Navy father and brothers. Mulder deflated in his seat, and almost forcibly drew Scully in his arms. "I can't give you a full explanation, Scully. But something that I've seen in the basement today really shook me up. We are also really out of time. I understand you're angry with me, but if I promised to you to keep myself out of trouble and be a good boy, will you forgive me for running?" This shocked Scully. Mulder was actually 'running', and he was admitting it. What scared Mulder to this extent was beyond Scully's guess, but like Mulder said, the 'basement' was filled with the curved statues and paintings that were yet to be exhibited. Scully's memory took her to the two covered statues that were placed against the wall. The ones which Mulder very cleverly guided her away from. She sighed. "I know what you are talking about, although I don't know why. But you and Skinner do have a point. We need to get through the investigation as quickly as possible, while you'll have a bit of a privacy. I'll agree with your request, only if you'll let me see the statues." This was a reaction he'd anticipated, and he nodded a yes. "Sure. But only after you see the final piece." At Scully's 'I've had enough of this' look, Mulder drew her even closer. "Please, Scully. When you return to US, I'll show you the statue, so you can decide what the hell about the thing got me so worked up. Then, when we really start up the process of museum construction back here, I'll show them both to you. You can draw your own opinions." "I already have my opinions. Whatever they are, they exposed the sides of you that you were terrified to have others witness. That left you so vulnerable, you were reduced to a scared little boy that you once was. Now that you have me here with you, you're afraid how I'd change my opinions about you once I see those two pieces of curved stone." "But they're much more than..." "Shut up, and let me finish." Mulder dropped his arms to his sides, and clasped his hands over his lap. "They're stones, Mulder. Life's much more than what stones can define. However beautiful or revealing they can be. You've been stressed out, and the pressure's mounting. Artwork are made to provoke memories and emotions of those involved in their production. These sensory over-load can really get to people, Mulder. I'm surprised you functioned this well between everything that's been happening." "Compared to you, I'm a fucking coward. When Emily died, it was in the middle of an investigation. You made it through much of it without my help. You didn't lose your rationality nor your skills as an investigator. Yet, you managed to handle the pressure of suddenly becoming a mother, despite your family's skepticism and their suspicion that you'd gone off to fantasy island by dreaming of having a child of your own. Emily was your flesh and blood, who you weren't allowed to meet until the very end of her miserable life. Created out of your ova stolen without your knowledge during your abduction, in which time you were given a cancer you had no choice but to fight against. You managed to do everything a mother should do for her child." Mulder hated poking sore bruise in her past, but he didn't see any other way out. "I'll be honest with you, Scully. After seeing what Savannah had seen in me, then showed them for the world to see... I don't think I can function as an investigator here. Detective work needs to be done without bias. I can't be a part of that this time. I can't remain rational and subjective to matters that are this personal. I can't stand being looked at by those people as the one who gave Savannah the images that I'm a savior, a lover, and a tortured soul. Each one of those people already formed their own opinions about me by looking at those statues, and from listening to whatever the stories Savannah told them about me. I'm the least appropriate investigating agent there is for this case." "I wouldn't say you are a coward, Mulder. Vulnerable, maybe. But never a coward." Scully's voice was barely above whisper. "Let me go, Scully. I'm pretty sure checking into restaurant employees doesn't involve much of personal stuff. And, if those psychos on the run are looking for revenge by hunting out for me, then you'd be safe here. I always write better profiles being alone, and I don't have to be surrounded by people who make me think of Savannah so much." "Then why am I seeing the button on your head, with a label reading, 'self-destruct in five seconds'?" "Probably because you know me too well." "Okay. I'll agree to this, but I'm seeing the statue." "No." "What makes you think I'll listen to you any more than I already have?" "I don't know. But it's still no." "Then, to hell with you. I'm going back to Santa Monica with or without you. Or better yet, I'll go back to DC, and you can mingle with Agent Sullivan. I hear there are three cases waiting for us in our office, so I'll get started on them. Keep all this mess to yourself, Mulder. I don't want any of it." With that, Scully turned heels and headed out. She bumped into one of the guests in the hallway, and exchanged a few words before shutting the door behind her. Defeated and already feeling fatigue eating him alive, Mulder released a long breath of frustration, and finished the rest of his packing. Savannah Waters Estate Florence, Italy 2:30 AM Florence Time Mulder resumed his pacing after a quick trip to the restroom. The fact is, he hadn't stopped pacing ever since he was done packing and had to restrain himself from going to the exercise room in fear of waking the guests, much less to be a subject of their questions. He knew he was being an asshole, and that he was being ridiculous to get so scared of statues. But being eidetic really sucked, and all he could think about were the painful memories of his past that kept flooding into him ever since making an acquaintance with that 'Penance' statue. Why did it look so like Fox Mulder? Why not someone else? "Because it's about you." He thought he'd heard Savannah say, and snickered. "What? You're a ghost now?" He thought aloud, thinking how fitting it is to an x- file. "Come on, Fox." This time, it was unmistakable. Mulder stopped pacing and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary. "Go where?" Mulder asked, ignoring how strange the situation was. "To the basement." "No. You'll have to tell me who killed you. We can get everything over with then." He never interrogated a ghost before, but the surreality of this situation was lost on him. "I can't do that, Fox. I'm not supposed to tell you even if I knew." "Then, what are you doing here? Why didn't you come to me sooner?" This was a question he was dying to ask. Pardon the pan. "My home's here, with my friends and artwork. My husband's passed over, but it seems I have some time here to watch over you." "What? Are you saying that you're back here to protect me?" This was incredible. Where was Scully when he needed her? "You have a lot to do, and I'm sorry I've left so much for you to take care of. I just didn't know of anyone else who I could count on." Savannah was still invisible, which unnerved Mulder even more. So instead he stood by the window, keeping an eye on the reflections of the room's interior. "Who were your enemies, Savannah? I need to know who to keep an eye on." He was back in his field agent mode. The slightest changes in the air was detectable, and Mulder tensed slightly upon sensing 'something' approach closer. "I don't ...well, I had many. Nothing personal, but professional. I was already wealthy, for one. Then, to compete with so many other good but starving artists... You'll feel like a vampire after a while. And yet, art was my saving grace, so I kept going and going. ...If you're gonna make a joke about the silly toy bunny, you've got another thing coming. ...Danny's okay, though. Danny is fine." Danny was the name of the trusted translator, and Mulder breathed easier. "Then you know about my trying to turn this place into your own gallery." Mulder was already too far gone to have even considered how strange it was to be conversing with a ghost. "Yes, and I appreciate it. Everything I had is in your hands, Fox. Do what you want. They're not mine any more." "Why did you name that statue 'Penance'? I mean, I might be a bit hard on myself, but I need to be that way." "That is precisely why, Fox. It's a part of you many of us know, but you refuse to recognize. A lot of what you believe to be your fault aren't. Dana sees that, and her mother sees that. So why not you?" "I don't care. Why 'Messiah'? I'm not ...I mean, I'm a federal investigator, but nothing so dramatic as an expected savior. I mean, look at the lives I've harmed in return? I've gotta make up to them somehow." Mulder felt his temper erupting inside him. The intense energy surge fueled by grief and pain. He thought she was sighing behind him, and unconsciously stretched his hand out to caress her shoulder. But when the hand really did stop at where he intended it to be, he jumped a bit. "I'm sorry, Fox. Like Danny said, I'm just a woman, and I saw you as my savior." "Maybe, maybe not. You saved me, Savannah." Mulder looked into the ghost's eyes, thinking how beautiful they are. Or, were. "We saved each other. There, score's even." Savannah's signature smile was dancing around her soft lips, and the sight ached Mulder's heart. "I'm glad you're looking at me." His voice dropped a few notches, its softness reminding them both of how they used to speak to each other. Savannah smiled again, and reached up to touch his cheek. "So am I. You've grown, Fox." Mulder chuckled in response. "Yeah, well..." Mulder shrugged, feeling like a sixteen-year old all over again. "You're more beautiful now than I'd expected you to be." Her fingers gently traced the curves of his cheek, and contrary to his beliefs, her fingers didn't feel cold nor warm. He only felt the pressure applied to his flesh. "Come on, Sav. I don't have as much energy as I used to have. I don't ...I mean, I can't even sleep through the night without having to get up to pee." They both laughed at his admission. "You have many demons to fight against, Fox. And I'm sorry that I can't batt all of them away. I wanted to at least protect you from our bad memories, but..." "It's not your job to fight my demons for me. But I want you to tell me the truth about something. Are you in good hands? Right now?" Savannah released another chuckle before nodding. "If you are worried about my being taken away by the servants of the Satan, don't. Everyone has a different vision of what their after-life is to be. But I can assure you, I'm in a good place." "You deserve to be." Mulder ran his hand through her hair, and drew her closer. "My God, I've missed you. Why didn't you come to me sooner? Why didn't you tell me anything?" He managed to ask without breaking into sobs. She returned the embrace, and pressed her cheek against his. "I'm sorry, Fox. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't contact you until I got done with the final piece. I was going to call you. I was going to even visit you at the bureau. I ran out of time." A violent shudder ripped through him, making his body jerk. She tightened her hold on him. To Mulder, her statements sounded like the repeat performance of his sister, real or clone, he'd met with in that cafe. "Life's too short, Savannah." "I know. But our work will be alive forever. Your work is on record for the others to see, and so as mine. I had to choose work." Her voice was muffled, and Mulder wondered if anyone ever had such realistic encounter with a ghost. "I know. I don't hold any ill-will toward you, Sav." This was something he was afraid of, and needed the point to be made clear. "But you did have a difficult time looking at the statues." Mulder jerked a bit again, and turned around to face the window. Finding Savannah's reflection wasn't there, Mulder turned again to make sure she was within sight. Savannah smiled a little upon seeing his reaction. "I know, I know. Don't worry, Fox. You won't be seeing me for a while." Mulder's eyes registered fear, and Savannah sighed. "Fox, I'm dead." "I know. I was paying attention." Mulder shrugged. "Those statues... Scully was right. They made me feel naked. Truly naked. Inside and out. ...They scared me shitless, no question about that." There was no use lying to a ghost. He felt her arms wrap around his waist, and reached out to caress her hands. "They were impeccable, Savannah. Wonderful pieces. Definitely museum quality. ...But I guess you didn't know how hard I worked to hide those qualities about me. We were like two soldiers who survived the holocaust. I had to do absolutely everything, and use absolutely every skill that I've had in me in order to save us. To save you, was to save me. If I was the solo survivor, I wouldn't have put in so much work into recovering. I'd be begging them for a bullet in my head. But I didn't want you to know that I let them or myself blow my head off." "I know. We've gone through therapies talking about everything that related to the event. And I'm sorry if my house in California brings back too much memories." 'Oh, great.' Mulder thought. 'Now, I've made a ghost feel guilty for me.' Mulder shook his head no. "It's a wonderful house, with lots of good memories. Of course, the details of our therapies, both the psychological and physical, were rather painful ones. But they are a part of you and me. Frankly, I cherish them all. ...I don't know why I decided to just jump into the pool and swim naked. Maybe I thought I'd feel close to you again." Mulder smiled shyly, remembering Scully's expression when she tossed the swim suit into the water. Savannah chuckled, and patted him on his back. "Who can blame me?" Mulder shrugged, then without thinking, drew her close for a kiss. She released him after a few seconds, and Mulder made an unhappy noise. "Fox, I'm dead. As much as I'd love to dive into your arms again, I can't do this." The full impact of what he'd just done hit him like a running train. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned. 'What the hell am I thinking?' He scowled at himself. "Sorry, Sav. It's ...I guess it's not exactly legal in your world to kiss a living being." Reading the familiar expression, Savannah touched Mulder's cheek. "It's okay, really. We ...never had the chance to really sit down to talk, let alone say good-bye. That's one of the reasons why I'm here in the first place." "Thanks." Mulder nodded sincerely, and the message was well-received. She reached for him again, and led him to the door. Mulder stopped in the middle of the room. "Now, you go wake up Dana and go down to the basement. You've seen me. You've talked to me. You know I don't think of you any less now than then. There's no reason to play hide and seek, Fox. She trusts you, she has faith in you more than in anyone. Not even her mother comes as your equal." "I'm still a bit nervous. I know Scully said they're only pieces of stone, but..." "She's gotten you through probably more than I've ever done. You owe her this much, Fox." She saw him nod, and smiled again. "Besides, maybe you'll get to recite the parts of that wonderful poem that you skipped." Mulder frowned, visibly shocked. "How did you...?" "I was there, Fox. I thank you for your words, really. You've managed to touch them all. I was a bit worried about how they'd treat you, so I was there to make sure no one was rude to you." To this, Mulder had to laugh. "Danny didn't recognize it at all, because he's never read the original. But I have, when I was studying in collage. I haven't told you that, but I did. And I know why you skipped the parts." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be... I mean, it's not like I haven't declared my love for you before..." "Fox, I told you. I'm dead. It doesn't do for a lover to claim undying love to a dead lover. Besides, we were apart for more than ten years. Just because I made you an instant millionaire, that doesn't mean you have to love me forever." "Sav? I do love you forever. Just not in the way your husband did." His serious gaze got him a solemn smile. "Thank you. I , uh ...had one more thing to tell you. Your sister ...you've been wondering about her ever since you've met my final piece. She's not where I am. Considering how much everyone seems to love her, she's still alive." Mulder released a sigh of relief at the news, nodding. "That's good to know. I've seen her recently, but I didn't make sure she was really human or one of the hybrids. If I hadn't yet seen the real one, then at least I know she's alive." "It looks like you'll have quite a tough journey ahead of you. But as long as you two stay together, you'll be fine." Mulder nodded again, then spilled another question he wanted to ask her. "Why 'Avenging Angel'?" He leaned back into one of the bed poles, watching her every move. "That's what my Emilio told me about myself. I was in the collage's art studio, just working on the piece with one of my students. I did that sometimes, you know. Help with students' work. It's not like I was doing their homework for them. Don't get me wrong." "No, don't worry." Mulder quickly reassured her, his hand waving in the air for effect. "We were both frustrated, and then the department head came into the studio. We got busted for staying there past regular hours, and me for inappropriately involving myself with a student. ...I know, it's a stupid accusation. We were both covered with water, and the figurine the student and I made with clay was a mess. The man told us to get the hell out, or he'll call everyone in for a meeting and have me fired. But we were so close to hitting that 'break-through' mark, that I didn't dare want to leave. The man kept going on and on about rules, so I finally threw the bucket at the guy. That's when Emilio came to pick me up. I was shouting at the chief, saying that he could give me every rule in the book, and the hell won't get in my way from finishing it up. ...You know how I used to be so stubborn about finishing things." Mulder nodded deeply, picturing the scenes she's describing. It must have been some fight. "My student looked ready to throw in the towel, but I wasn't done. I don't know why, really. Even I would see how irrational I was at that point, but ...maybe it was the PMS. Who knows?" Seeing Mulder chuckle, Savannah continued. "Emilio went to the chief, and asked him what the hell's going on. I explained, and the look on his face was priceless. In the end, we stayed for another hour to clean up, then went back in the morning." "So, you did follow the book?" Mulder snickered. "Yes, we did. On the way home that night, Emilio told me I looked ready to hack out a fire ball or two at the man. I told him if I could, I would have. Then he told me that I was right. That, not even hell could get in my way after seeing the look of avenging angel on my face." "You are one." Mulder emphasized the 'are' in the sentence. She smiled shyly, and elbowed him on the side. "Just as much as you are a messiah, Fox. Leave it at that, or it'll be a circular argument." "Oh, all right." Mulder threw his hands in the air for a mock surrender. "So, are you ready to go wake up Dana? It doesn't matter which piece she sees first, you know. The reaction would probably be the same as yours were." She was reaching out to him with that beautiful, strong sculptor's hand. Mulder took her hand, but swallowed hard and shook his head no. "Just one more request." He added after seeing the 'why not?' look on her face. When she cocked her head a bit, he took it as his cue. "May I have the last dance?" This was something he'd wanted to do. Dancing cheek to cheek with Savannah, with their eyes open. Savannah released a soft, rather reserved laughter, and took his other hand for a dance. "All right. But you promise to give Dana a break?" Her stern gaze left no room for a lie. "I promise, Savannah. I proud myself in the fact that I never broke a promise I've made to you." Mulder replied with an equal seriousness, and Savannah quietly nodded an approval. "What about music?" Her bright eyes dared him to come up with the 'perfect' song. Mulder decided to return the challenge instead. "You always sang well. Why won't you pick one for me?" "Fox, you've gotta give some clue here." Mulder thought for a moment as he stared up to the ceiling. "Something about someone far away." She cocked her head again and took a moment to decide, then began singing "10,000 Miles". Fifth Floor Bedroom Savannah Waters Estate 4: 30 AM Florence Time Same Day A strange feel of de javu stirred in him some of the less pleasant memories of his recent life. It was no secret that the owner of the house had a spare key to all the rooms, but with this one, he took a painstaking care. The last thing he needed was a bullet in his gut. And after the way they parted earlier in the night, he couldn't blame her if she permanently disfigured him. He took a deep breath as he closed the door behind him, and approached the bed. It was a miracle she hadn't woken up, yet. She was always such a shallow sleeper, she woke up at the slightest sign of troubles. But after working with him for five years, who could blame her? He took off his shoes for extra caution, then approached closer to the bed and the sleeping figure. He didn't stop until he took a seat in the large chair set right next to the bed, where her clothes were folded neatly, ready for the morning. He gently picked them up, and placed them on the pillow next to the one she was using. He resisted the urge to reach over and tuck the lock of hair that was draping across her face. Talking to Savannah had helped, but it got his eye lids swollen from all the tears he shed. Not to mention how his voice grew hoarse from the sobs he allowed himself to release for the past hour. The dam of tears broke in the middle of the second song, and she rather encouraged him to let it all out, or he'd drag the weight forever. In the end, his need won over his pride and the psychologist in him gave it a last push. Now, he hoped his voice had at least some semblance of normalcy. When he took and released another deep breath, it didn't waver. Encouraged that he'd finally got his composure back, he began in a near whisper. "'Regret is dead, but love is more Than in the summers that are flown, For I myself with these have grown To something greater than before; 'On me she bends her blissful eyes And then on thee; they meet thy look And brighten like the start that shook Betwixt the palms of paradise. 'And thou art worthy; full of power; As gentle; liberal-minded, great Consistent; wearing all that weight Of learning lightly like a flower. 'Thy voice is on the rolling air; I hear thee where the waters run; Thou staidest in the rising sun, And in the setting thou art fair. 'What art thou then? I cannot guess; But thou' I seem in start and flower To feel thee some diffusive power, I do not therefore love thee less: 'My love involves the love before; My love is vaster passion now; I seem to love thee more and more. 'I have thee still, and I rejoice; I prosper, circled with thy voice; I shall not lose thee tho' I die. 'Known and unknown; human, divine; Sweet human hand and lips and eye; Mine, mine, for ever, ever mine; 'Strange friend, past, present, and to be; Loved deeplier, darklier understood; Behold, I dream a dream of good, And mingle all the world with thee.'" "Mulder?" A slightly shaky voice questioned, and he finally reached over and took her hand in his. "Hey, Scully." He raised his voice a bit, speaking now for real. "Before you ask me what I'm doing in your bed room in the dark again, let me apologize to you for my attitude. I'm sorry I was an ass, and I'd like to make it up to you before I further regret my actions." Scully released a long breath, and moved to sit up in her bed. "I had a long talk and a good cry with Savannah, the ghost." "Mul...?" "Let me finish." He raised his hand to cut her off. She sighed, and leaned back into the headboard. "She just came to me. I was pacing in my bedroom, and she came to talk to me. She had eyes and everything. She ...I could touch her, Scully. Just like the real person, only I didn't hear her heart beating, and she didn't have body heat. She had to keep reminding me that she was indeed dead. ...Okay, it's a bit creepy, but we're the X-Files Dynamic Duo. She told me about the statues and why she made them. She reassured me that nothing bad's gonna happen if I showed you the statues, because you're a strong person, and you won't change your opinions about me even after you saw them." "Mulder, I thought speaking wouldn't be required for you to see that much about me." Her tone had the 'why even bother bringing it up?' message, and Mulder winced. "I'm sorry. I was flipped out, and blind as a bat. So I want you to come with me. Right now." "Mulder, I don't want you to do this just because a ghost told you to." "No, Scully. I'm saying I'm ready. I just had too many doubts to be ready. I got everything straightened out in my head." "Mulder... After all that we've seen and experienced, nothing shocks me. Well, except for maybe seeing an entire Consortium in jail and to have a game of poker with the aliens." Mulder chuckled at the statement, and grabbed her nightgown hooked up from the end of the headboard. "Good. Now, will you come with me?" He spread open the nightgown, and smiled when she slid off of the bed. "I don't want to wake anybody up." He watched as she slid her arms into the sleeves of the nightgown. "I just hoped my weeping like a baby didn't get anyone out of sleep, either." He took one of her hands and led them out of the door. The hallway was deathly quiet. The moon seemed busy creating its own assortment of artwork with its bluish light and shadow. They kept up their pace, not hurrying nor strolling. Neither didn't want to use the elevator that would elicit too much noise with the 'ding' and the door closing. They were both bare feet, and the feel of smooth stone steps were justly cool under their skin. "Mulder, what were you saying before I asked if it was you?" Mulder snickered. There was no way he was going to answer this one. "What did you think I was saying?" "Something about voice, friends, love, and paradise." "It's a poetry, Scully. Some of many parts that I scrapped in the speech. It's a piece of literary art. Take it any way you want." Mulder was proud of his swift escape with this one. The basement door felt and sounded twice as heavy as the first time it was opened. When they stepped inside, their feet felt cold enough to lose their sensitivity. Mulder took a look around the room, hesitating to turn the lights on. He decided after a short while to turn the hallway lump on, and not the overhead lights of the room. "They look better that way." Mulder said as a cover, and walked directly to the wall where the two statues rested. Scully took her gaze away from other curving and paintings upon hearing Mulder's voice. She approached from behind him, watching him work on untying the knot on the ropes. He took the sheets off of the horizontal one first, then led Scully into view. "Oh, my God! This is ...fantastic!" Scully exclaimed, examining every inch of the stone with the intensity of the FBI pathologist. "The hair's weird ...is this supposed to be you and ...wind?" "No, close." "Wait. Don't give me the answer." Scully said as she took a step back, then examined the figure's legs closely. Mulder watched as her eyes trailed up and down with the shape of the cloth. "It's obviously made to look like a floating figure. Not air, though. I don't think. ...Is it?" "No, but close." "Hmm ...the only alternative I can think of is water. It says 'Rest In Blue'. If the sky isn't the answer, then it's water." "Correct answer, Dr. Scully. Wanna challenge for the Daily Double?" Mulder said, smiling and trying to control his increasing nervousness at the same time. Scully read his uneasiness, and gave him time to settle down while she took more time to examine the statue. It was a beautiful work of art, one which needs to be done by the person who knew the model very well. Especially the precise curve of the mouth and eyes were intriguing. Then, it hit Scully that this was probably how Savannah felt while being in the pool, dancing and moving around in the water with Mulder. 'You're trying to become a part of water', was Mulder's earlier expression. The figure had very precise curves of each body part, obviously well-memorized and studied. 'By her hands', Scully thought, and felt the familiar warmth creeping up to her cheeks. To the best of her knowledge, nothing in the statue seemed to have been modified from the actual model. Nothing exaggerating, nothing to stand out too much. So very true. "Ready, Scully?" His voice sounded so close, it made her jump. Scully turned and nodded a yes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Mulder looked sheepish as he worked to uncover the next one. Then he stopped his hands. "Scully, I won't interrupt you this time until you're done. You can ask me whatever the question you may have. Okay?" Scully was more than ready, but obviously Mulder was a bit worried. She tried not to sigh. "Go on, Mulder." She saw him nod, then he disrobed the figure in one swift motion. Her jaws dropped open at the sight. Standing beside her, the sight of the statue still made Mulder's stomach flip. 'Had I been wounded so badly?' Mulder asked the statue. The sound of Scully's shaky breaths didn't help his mood. If this statue was to be placed at anyone's front door on Halloween, that house will instantly become the number-one stop of the evening. He pictured himself holding his own, pulsing or dead, bleeding heart. With the gaping hole in the chest cavity. It wasn't too hard to imagine, when such a detailed replica of himself was in front of him. And soon, for the world to see. It could have been a span of a minute, or an eternity. For that long a time, Scully didn't move. When she took a step closer to examine the statue's back, Mulder saw her eyes reflect the light of the lamp. She wasn't crying, but she was very close. Mulder closed his eyes. He wished that at least Savannah forgot to put the damn mole on its lower right cheek. But of course, she didn't. "It's ...a wonderful work." Her somewhat normal tone of voice brought Mulder back to reality, and he opened his eyes. Scully was touching the statue's cheek, tracing it up and down gently along its length. "Beyond words, Mulder. Really. How did she do so much just with the touch of a hand? How did she know how your body would be positioned? Much less the flow of each muscle in the back and the line of the neck ...let alone the flow of the blood." "We spent some significant amount of time ...touching each other." "I'd say." Scully nodded, but her voice was devoid of humor. "The last time she saw me ...with naked eye, I mean ...and while she was still alive. ...The last look on my face that she saw was of absolute agony and the most extreme level of pain. I had the broken ribs. My genitals were bruised and partially bleeding from being bit on. I was hurting inside, because of the shame of being filmed like that. On top of the fact that Savannah was in just as much pain and shame as I was in, and I was hurting her because the bastards kept that gun pressed against my temple. They'd already broken my collarbone, and I couldn't support my weight with that arm. So, she had that much of my body pressing her broken body down. I wouldn't be surprised if she used that look on my face for the statue. "Sav passed out while I was still inside her. It was probably due to the blood loss ...from her uterus, in combination to the pain. I wanted to keep them thinking that she was still conscious, because I was afraid they might hurt her even more just to wake her up. But by then, I was too far gone to care. She came around the moment I climbed off of her. I remember holding her with my good arm and apologizing to her. I passed out then, and when I came to at the sound of her gut-wrenching screams, one of the killers who's on the loose was scratching her eyes out with a pocket knife. I dry heaved at the sight. By that time, they had me tied up again and I couldn't make a move. ...I should've been awake to stop them. I shouldn't have passed out like that." "Penance, Mulder. One undeserved. Just like the statue." Scully's tone was now surprisingly calm and strong. When he looked down, Scully had her arm around his waist. He hadn't noticed when she did that. He took a slow breath, and allowed himself to lean against Scully's strong, petite form. "I danced with her, Scully. Just a few hours ago. She had the sky blue silk dress you picked out for her. She had eyes, and she looked happy. I'd always wanted to dance with her, staring into each other's eyes. I even kissed her, twice. Once out of impulse, and the second time as a 'good-bye' kiss. "I didn't want to turn the music on and wake everyone up, so I asked her to sing something that was about someone far away. ...She came up with '10,000 Miles' and 'Water Is Wide'. I ...she had such sweet voice. First time I heard her sing was in the hospital. We were getting checked on, and we were both in pain. I was groaning, whimpering upon every contact. But she started singing instead. Thready voice, but unmistakable. She started with lullabies and then 'Stand By Me'. I felt like one of those wounded soldiers in the medic tents, listening to a nurse sing. "...I remembered every detail of this statue, so when I fell apart in front of her tonight, she told me to get everything out. So, I did. We had sort of a silent understanding for the reasons behind this piece. But she only came to reassure and comfort me. She didn't know who killed her, nor for what purpose. But she did recognize that she'd had many rivals, and that many artists in her field resented her because of her wealth. Basically nothing new to us." "But it makes me focus on the people here. Whoever surrounding her. ...I need to tag on whoever should be the suspect. Are you still returning to California this morning?" Sensing Mulder's need to get back to the business at hand, Scully asked. Mulder nodded, grateful for the change of topic. "Yeah. In about ...three hours, I'll be off. Then, they'll have fun showing you the city. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, people here are courteous, or courteous enough in front of us, and everyone knows who you are and who you are with. Oh, and Savannah gave Danny the translator her okay. He's not the suspect." "Oh, how convenient. You said you considered him for the manager of this gallery when it opens, right?" "Yeah. He teaches collage part-time, then he does his own work the rest of the day. In his spare time, his brother who's an accountant taught Danny how to assist their parents' bookstore business. He's the perfect guy, Scully. Be around him. If he has Sav's assurances, then it shouldn't be that hard." "And I'm still armed." Scully added it as a breather. Mulder smiled and took her into an embrace. Scully gave him a kiss on the side of his face, making him chuckle. "Thanks, Scully. ...Wanna go back to bed for a bit? Or, would you like me to cook you breakfast?" Mulder offered, extending his arm toward the door. Scully turned to lead them out. "Breakfast, definitely. Just a cup or two of coffee, and warm up a croissant in the pastry case." "Cream, no sugar. Sounds good. I saw a few apples in there, next to the bag of golden grapes." "Grapes, it is." "That's the only thing besides coffee that I'll be having. I don't feel much like pastry." They kept up the conversation all the way to the kitchen, getting ready for another round of their lonely war. Federal Psychiatric Correctional Facility Colorado Springs, Colorado 4 PM US Central Time Next Day "Check your weapons here, please." The dutiful guard asked as he slid the emergency calling button across the counter to the visitor. He deposited his two weapons and a well- equipped Swiss Army knife into the metal case sitting on the counter next to the buzzer. "All right, Agent Mulder. Sign here, please. Don't hesitate to use the calling button for any trouble you might find yourself in. It's been noisy around here, these days." Mulder signed his name on the register form, and heard the door loudly slide open. As he clipped the call button on, he could barely contain the tremble that ran through him, and he took a deep breath as he stepped inside. Screams and endless chanting of some sort filled the air like a typical jail of this sort. Nothing much changed in jails, and they all looked the same no matter where he visited. Not that anyone cared about interiors of jails except for security purposes. Never in the million years did Fox Mulder think to return to this place. Especially for the reasons he came for. Four of the six brothers were collectively granted life sentences for the reasons of insanity, recommended by Mulder himself at the trial. Everyone asked why he bothered letting the bastards live on federal expenses. Mulder only shrugged and told them it was because they were simply insane, and as a psychologist, he had to do what was right. He was regretting that now. No one knew about his visiting here, not even Scully. He's wanted to talk to her, but she was already gone from the house. Their usual cellular phone was useless unless they had satellite connection, which wasn't in their case. As Mulder kept walking through the aisle, checking the cell numbers, he thought back to his last meeting with the prisoner, and the way the man scrutinized him with his gaze from the witness stand. "Well, well, well. ...Isn't this our little Foxy? Man, you've grown." The voice was unmistakable, and Mulder nearly jumped as he turned around to face the man. Mulder peeked in through the small glass window, then waited as the outer door of the cell was opened as he requested. There was another set of barred door, much like the regular jail cells. The old man looked puzzled for a moment, then looked back at Mulder appreciatively. "Where are they, Sam?" Mulder asked the aging man, still in his early forties. Mulder tried not to shudder as his perfect memory assaulted him. Sam is the second oldest of the six, and he used the wood he wedged into Mulder's mouth to crack his collarbone. Not to mention being the third one to rape him mercilessly. Sam had also laughed at Mulder when Mulder moaned in his mouth while the others molested him. All beautifully captured in the videos, with full-color. Mulder wished some military troop would barge in to take him away to perform the damn memory eradication procedure on him again. Only if it was for that specific series of events. Now Sam was laughing that same evil laugh. "What the hell are you asking me for? You really thought I'd tell you? Oh, maybe if you give me a blow..." "Where are they?!" Mulder fought with the demons coiling inside him, and silently wished Scully was with him. From the looks of it, the old man knew exactly why Mulder was worked up. And smiled. The smile vanished a moment later. "I don't know, Foxy. Do you think I'd protect those damn traitors? The bastards saved their own little asses and left me here!" Now the familiar intense look was taking over the man. Mulder didn't flinch, drawing strength from thinking about Scully and what they'd been through. "Yeah, they left you here, didn't they? They're out there, running free and having a good time. Well, I want to catch them, so they get to come back and you can fuck them any way you want with the rest of your four buddies." Mulder decided to give the beast a little mind candy and knelt down in front of the prisoner's cage, absent-mindedly untying, then re-tying his shoelaces. Sam always found something in their victims to obsess over, but never did anything about them except to stare at it or toy with it. Thank goodness, or Mulder wouldn't have his hands right now. "Yeah, those thankless sons of bitches." Sam growled, but his eyes were kept on the movements of Mulder's fingers. "I want to catch them, Sam. You've gotta tell me something ...somewhere that they mentioned, maybe. Some place where good memories are calling them to come back." "Hey, we had a blast in that cabin." "I just checked. It's not there, any more. It's been destroyed, and there's nothing there but the forest." Mulder gathered the guts to look up into Sam's eyes from the kneeling position, before standing up again. As he rested his hands on his waist, Sam's eyes followed them. "Where else? Your folks' house is still standing, but the people in it seemed to have changed recently." "My Ma and Da wouldn't stay here, Foxy. They moved a couple of years after I came here." Mulder nodded, checking for the corroboration of facts and Sam's statements. "What about the others? Did they tell you anything about maybe ...going home?" "Just the little one. And he's still here." Mulder's face fell. Sam really didn't know a thing, which meant he'd have to meet with the other three who'd mercilessly tortured him and Savannah. "Hey, little Foxy. Why are you here? I mean, I asked 'bout you, and they said you're in D.C., and won't be back here no more." The sincere look of longing was on Sam's face, and Mulder tried not to shudder. "Yeah, right. ...Savannah Waters was murdered just about a week ago." Sam broke into a fit of giggles, and Mulder wished he'd had his Sig Sauer. The sudden change of expression on Mulder's face was noticeable to even Sam, and the man grinned menacingly. "That little bitch? Oh, baby, she tasted sweet. Loved her voice, too." "Do you know if those two boys spoke about her?" Mulder's voice sounded hoarse. Sam shook his head no. "Not just her, man. They planned revenge on ever' single one of ya." "Do you mean the investigators? State psychiatrists? Police officers? Who?" "All of them. And especially you." Sam pointed his index finger at Mulder. "Did you notice anything strange about their behavior prior to their escape?" "Man, what are you asking me for? We talk to each other only through notes that our guards pass around us with our meals. If you suck up to them long enough, the stupid boys'll take pity on you, you know." Sam added quickly to Mulder's incredulous look. Mulder nodded, sighing. He'd finally found Sam's weakness. If Mulder threatened him to terminate their little mailing system, Sam might just agree to cooperate. "Because I like you, Sam. You're the best one to talk to among your buddies." Mulder's stomach did a somersault at his own words, but he wasn't about to back away. Sam laughed hoarsely, and motioned for Mulder to approach closer with his index finger. Mulder shook his head no, but Sam only grinned wider. "Oh, come on, Foxy." "No can do, Sam. Gotta follow the rules, you know." Mulder leaned back into the outer door of the cell across from Sam's. Sam snickered further, then made a pitiful face. "Come here, boy. And I'll let you in on a little secret." Mulder swallowed hard. The man could very likely be lying. Seeing him hesitating, Sam let out a sound equalled his pitiful face. "Oh, come on, Foxy." "What kind of secret? I need to know you're telling me the truth before I do anything." "Got a letter two weeks ago. Supposed to be from Ma, but she hasn't written to me in nine years." Mulder shifted in his position, eyes urging for more. "And she didn't write the way this letter was written. Ma's hand writing has narrow, crisp letters. Not round, big ones like this one had." Sam said as he reached down and pulled out a small stack of mail, mostly from crazy fans or lawyers offering to take his case. Mulder still hesitated, trying not to show too much interest as Sam opened up one of them. "This is from Ma." Sam held up a the birthday card, and Mulder recognized the top word, 'Son', then the said crisp and narrow writing. Mulder nodded. Sam then took out a simple white standard envelope, with Sam's mother's name on return address, but clearly written in the said rounded, wider writing. Mulder swallowed hard. "What's it say?" "Do you believe me now, Foxy?" The man's face was no longer pitiful, and his voice was stern. Mulder closed his eyes and nodded a yes. "What's it say?" Mulder repeated the question. Sam snickered with the trade-mark sick tone, and shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Foxy, I ain't givin' that away." "Then I'll order the guards to get your little mailing system out of business." Mulder's glimmering eyes bore into that of the older man. Sam spat, and still shook his head no. "Then you can wait 'till your pretty little partner gets what she deserves." "What?!" This shocked Mulder. "How the hell did you know I had a partner? Let alone that it's a she?" "Oh, we know more 'bout you than that." Now Mulder was feeling light-headed. "She's far out of reach, Sam. She's not even in the same continent." "Florence. Such a romantic city." Sam held his tongue as Mulder pounded on the nearby wall. Mulder was in the middle of a brain-storm. Everything he'd heard in the past week played in his head like a bunch of Tasmanian Devils trying to be heard by Mulder. 'Savannah had lots of rivals, lots of envious and starving artists who were holding grudge. What if some of them got a hold of Savannah's personal history records? The Santa Monica FBI field office got sick people sneaking in to steal tapes. What if whoever's got to find out Savannah's past had connections in Florence? One of her own, trusted colleagues who may have sold Savannah's personal information for money and for revenge? Probably didn't think they'd actually act on it. No. More than that, what if one of her colleagues got in touch with the two escapee, and hired one of them to assassinate Savannah? What if...' "Hey, Foxy! Come 'round here." Sam's voice broke through Mulder's fading consciousness, and he turned, breath quickening. "These two incidents ...your escaped buddies and Savannah's murder ...they're related, aren't they? All these days, I've been investigating them as two separate matters, or coincidental at best. They're related, and you know who contacted them?" Sam watched Mulder's glassy eyes, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. But said nothing. Mulder kicked the same wall he pounded on earlier, and crossed the small distance of the hall in two steps. Sam grinned as Mulder grabbed onto the steel bars. "I don't know much more, Foxy. But you know now of what I know." "Give me the letters, Sam. I can analyze the handwritings, get it to Scully first thing in the morning..." His frantic words were cut off by Sam's waving hand. "You've gotta keep this a secret, man. Remember, they can contact any four of us, and know everything that you do. I can keep my mouth shut, but you've gotta keep yours shut, too." "Danny. ...Is it Danny?" Mulder hoped it not. Sam snickered, and shook his head no. "No, man. Please. Danny boy's a fag. We won't get no fag." Mulder released a breath of relief. "Mr. Carpenter? Is he the one?" "The security guy? No, man." "Who is it, Sam? Who's sold out? Come on, those two guys could be hiding out with them." "I gave you too much already." Sam waved his hand again, and Mulder let go of the bars and reached out to grab onto the man's collar. Their faces were now inches apart as Sam's face was slammed onto the metal bars and Mulder pulled at the man's shirt collar even further. "I'll kill you out right, Sam. If anything, and I mean anything, happens to my partner." "Oh, good. Then we'll get to share the same prison." Sam still retained the nerve to snicker. Mulder finally let go of the man's shirt and paced around. "Okay. Then give me the letters." "What makes you think I'll give'em to you?" "I need them, Sam." Mulder panted, hating himself for breaking down. "Gee, how's that feel, Foxy? Isn't it ironic, that you are reduced to begging?" Mulder clenched his jaw, knowing the man was right. He couldn't negotiate with the state to lighten the man's sentence, nor to grant him any privilege. Not with this detail. And Scully was out there, in the open by herself, surrounded by whoever conspired to murder Savannah. "Sam, I can't get you out, nor get a deal with the state to make your prison life easier. Not when I don't have a concrete evidence. Getting those so-called traitors of yours back into this prison for you buddies to sand-bag, is all that I can do." "Tsk, tsk. ...Fox, who'd you think you're talkin' to?" "Oh, come on! If not for me, you'd be getting electric chair!" Mulder was panicking, and knew he'd needed to calm down. But it was hard. "Yeah, and I'm thinkin' that may have been much better." 'Wrong move', Mulder scolded himself. "All right, Sam. You know what I just said. ...What do you want that I can get for you?" Mulder knew how wrong a question it was to ask, but he was desperate. And Sam knew it. The man scratched his jaw thoughtfully. Mulder trembled just imagining what sick thoughts maybe running through the psycho's mind. Mulder knew there wasn't a security camera on this particular ward to be monitoring the cells, relying instead on the calling button and the secure inner door that prevented any chance of escape. Mulder knew how Pickett and Harbor escaped. They'd taken a guard a hostage during the prison's renovation, when they were all drugged out of their minds and were confined in a different wing of the building. Mulder kept his feet planted on the concrete floor and leaned back into the wall, thinking only of getting the letter and reaching to Scully. Besides, if there was indeed security camera system monitoring them, the guards would have already burst in to get Mulder away from Sam after Mulder reached for the prisoner. "Sam, you know that I can go to the guards at any time, and order them to get those letters handed over to me. I'd be in Florence before you can contact anyone about the letter." Mulder said after a few moments of silence. Sam glared at Mulder, who had the intense look that rivaled that of the older man. "Oh, and screw up the rest of your plans? Little Foxy. ...Money talks these days, you know. As it has always been. " "Money? Is that what you want?" "No, man. What the hell am I gonna do with somethin' I can't use?" "Then what?" "How 'bout some crack?" 'Oh, God.' Mulder thought. "That's against the rules. You know I can't break it. I'm the only one who's visited you in a long time. They'll know it was me." "'Kay. How 'bout those big cartons of ice cream? Get them delivered here, every week." "That's manageable." Mulder dropped his shoulders with relief. "You already know what my favorite..." "French Vanilla. I know." Mulder knew it, because the bastard asked for it during one of the breaks in the trial. "Go put the order in. Now. I'll be waitin'." Sam waved toward the long hallway leading to the door. Mulder nodded, and swiftly left the room. Sam moved his tongue around his mouth, already imagining the sweet coolness of the ice cream. Former Savannah Waters Estate Florence, Italy 3 AM Florence Time/6 PM US Central Time The phone was ringing. At three in the morning. Scully crept out of bed, half running to get to the ringing phone. It was a good thing that most of the guests had either gone home or gone out to all-night partying in the down town. Some of then had gone back to Rome to their jobs and families. "Scully." She answered, not thinking about where she was. But when she tried to correct herself, the familiar voice of the AD jumped through the cobwebs of her sleep. "Agent Scully, have you heard from Agent Mulder?" This was something she herself was worried over until a few hours ago. "No, sir. And it's three in the morning here. I don't think he'll call until a bit later..." "Oh, I'm sorry about that. It's been crazy around here." Skinner knew Scully just had to put a kick in where she could. "No, sir. What is the matter?" "Like I said, we've lost track of him, and since he's traveling with his own expense..." "Sir, he hasn't called at all. I've tried his cellular ever since the estimated time of his arrival in US, but I've had no luck. He may have kept it turned off, but that doesn't make sense ...Do you think something happened to Agent Mulder?" Scully failed to disguise her fear. "I've been hoping you could answer. I'm gonna put a few agents on to check into every available flight record from Florence to Los Angels. You go back to sleep, Agent Scully. You'll be useless in the morning otherwise." "Yes, sir. Thank you." 'Then why the hell did you bother waking me up?' Scully wanted to scream. But it was true that Mulder hadn't contacted her all day and night. Scully on the other hand, had nothing but fun for the entire day. She'd stayed close to Danny as was suggested by Mulder, but she'd had fun dining out and shopping around in the downtown with the girls. Later this morning, she was to go to the collage campus to check out the art department, followed by the background checks of Savannah's colleagues. So far, the list of those considered to have been Savannah's long-time rivals or those who considered Savannah to be their target of jealous rage was short. One of Savannah's former professors had a serious crash on the brightest student, and tried coaxing her into sleeping with him. The aftermath of the incident wasn't cut-and-dry, leaving bitter aftertaste in both of their mouths. However, the professor hadn't left the country in more than five years, and couldn't have been at the restaurant where Savannah was murdered. Scully was keeping an eye on anyone who may have left the country within the last two or three weeks to even two months considering how long a tourist visa would last. Four out of the ten names on the list were crossed out immediately. Out of those six, only two of them entered US from Los Angels, and one of them happened to be Savannah's brother, making a round trip from L.A., to Florence and back to L.A. This caught her eye, but she found nothing incriminating on the man until she could check the FBI data base. Agent Sullivan was yet to return her call, and she couldn't blame the woman. The research into Waters family couldn't be done much in detail until she returned to US, but she did find Savannah's younger brother to have been in Italy fairly often. 'Funny', she thought. 'No one's mentioned her at any time'. She didn't see the man at the funeral, nor at the memorial service. Yet, the man taught Italian in high school, was in charge of exchange student program at a small collage that had connection through Savannah's university's linguistics department. Surely, someone had to know about the man. Making a mental note to interview the university officials who'd had contact with the young man first thing in the morning, Scully returned to bed. Federal Psychiatric Correctional Facility Colorado Springs, Colorado 7: 30 PM Central Time Same Day Mulder returned, holding the paperwork he's completed at the jail's director's office while ignoring the strange stares from those who heard Mulder's unusual requests. Anyone who complained to Mulder got the agent's glare and the hastily spoken promise of covering the cost on his own. Mulder breathed heavily, the result of nerves and running. When he slid in the signed papers, Sam handed Mulder the greeting card written by his mother. Mulder got a sick feeling when the other letter stayed in Sam's hand. "Come on, Sam. I got you the damn ice cream!" Mulder didn't have time for this sparring match, nor the staring contest. "If you don't give me that letter, I'll get that request denied." "What makes you think that's gonna make any difference? You know that it's illegal to take a prisoner's personal properties without legitimate reason. Your reasons are weak at best. Besides, who's gonna believe you? Your reputation isn't that good around here, if you know what I mean. They think you're half-way gone, chasing damn aliens." "I don't do that any more. And I don't care who believes me. Fact remains that you are a convicted serial killer, and I'm a federal officer." "Think about what you already know. If I hadn't cooperated, you'd still be chasing after worthless leads and your pretty red-head partner would be killed. You need hard evidence, and I'm the only one who can give it to them in time. You can go over to the big bosses and yap at me, but you don't know how many steps they are ahead of you." "Sam! God damnit! Give me the fucking letter!!" Mulder screamed, his hands firmly gripping onto the steel bars. Sam snickered again, and looked up at Mulder. Hungrily. Mulder knew that unmistakable look. And tried not to puke. "All right, Foxy. I'll give it to you. Even better than that, I'll give you another clue." Sam's large hands suddenly reached out of the bars and grabbed hold of Mulder's belt. The force in which the man used to slam Mulder against the bars was enormous. Much more than Mulder ever thought the man had. And realized his mistake. "What's the clue?" Mulder managed to ask between the shudders. Sam chuckled. "You should be checking into the Waters family background." "We are." "You won't find enough in time." "Tell me." Mulder tried to free himself, but Sam already had his hands curled around the belt. "Foxy, you've lost some weight again. I can get my hands through them." "I said tell me, Sam. What about the Waters?" Mulder tried this time to reach his hands down to yank himself free, but the man bit his hand. Mulder pulled the finger free with a cry, checking for damages. Finding no bleeding, Mulder glared back down to Sam. "Stop struggling, Foxy. You know I'm telling you what you want to know. Just try not to move much, and I won't hurt you." Mulder nearly feinted upon registering the very familiar words. "Get your hands off of me, you sick son of a bitch!" Mulder desperately tried to use his knees as leverage to free himself, but Sam quickly caught on the idea, and swiftly grabbed hold of Mulder's knees. Mulder fell to the floor, hitting his shoulders and the back of his head as he went. "Oh. Sick, all right. In fact I'm so sick, the fucking state can't get rid of me." Seeing Mulder struggling to get up, Sam held onto the agent even tighter. "You leave any mark on me, and they'll get you for it." Mulder warned, already imagining the bruises forming at the back of his knees. Mulder grabbed onto the bars again to climb back up to standing position, and groaned with frustration as Sam's hand again caught Mulder's belt. "Oh, I don't intend to." Sam smiled, and Mulder realized he'd made another mistake. "Foxy, you know what I want, and that no sane guard's gonna let you back in for any questioning without drugging the hell out of me once they learn of this. Not to mention asking for your badge." Mulder gasped and closed his eyes as one of Sam's hands snaked inside his trousers, reaching further down. "Don't. Please, Sam. Don't." Mulder's memories assaulted him again, making him tremble further. Sam caught on quickly, and laughed the hoarse, low-tone laugh Mulder was so familiar with. "Be still, Foxy. Why do you think the Waters family didn't contest the little bitch's will?" Sam was coaxing Mulder to get what he wanted. Mulder gritted his teeth and glared down at the prisoner. "Of course you don't know. She re-wrote that will a week before her death." "Who ...did she know someone was after her? Someone in the family?" Mulder tried to ignore the large hand that toyed with his pubic hair. Then he hissed as Sam's fingers slipped through the opening of his boxers, and Mulder felt the cold fingers touch his skin. Sam giggled at the feel of Mulder's skin, and pulled the hand out of Mulder's trousers in one swift motion. Mulder didn't have time to take a relieved breath as Sam used both hands again to slam Mulder back against the bars. "I told you, Foxy. Don't move too much, or it's gonna take even longer. The little bitch's..." "I don't give a shit what you call me! But never, ever call Savannah like that!" Mulder barely finished before the large hand opened the jipper on his trousers, the sound making his body wound up tighter than his Swiss Army knife. "Okay, Foxy. Little Savannah's got a younger bro." 'The high school teacher' Mulder thought. "You know what he teaches in high school?" "Italian." Mulder answered, gasping as the man's hand fondled him through the fabric of his boxers. He was trembling with fear, struggling to keep his mind focused. "Right. He visited Italy with some of his best students. Sort of a field trip, because those kids were going to study Italian in college, some planning to go to Italy as an exchange student." Sam felt Mulder buckle as he invaded inside the younger man's boxers and stroked him. "Wha ...what did ...he do?" Mulder's question was barely audible. Sam stayed quiet for a long moment, just marveling at the texture of the warm flesh he was fondling. Mulder whimpered as his hips gave an involuntary thrust against the man's hand. "Nothing much." Sam set a rhythm of his stroking motions, watching Mulder's response carefully in order not to let go of the younger man. Mulder was fighting, but was being a good boy in order to hear Sam's next word. "Just spiked the rich man's liquor stash when he visited his little sister in their house." The husband died of a heart-attack, and the autopsy results did show a significant amount of alcohol in the man's blood. Sam's words did go along with the facts. Mulder slit his eyes shut and hoped that would help to deafen his ears against the sound of Sam's breathing. But of course, he couldn't. Not if he wanted to hear the rest of the story. So, Mulder gritted his teeth and did something that was completely unthinkable to him all this time. He stopped struggling. Fear still made him and his voice tremble, but the older man would have to put up with them. It wasn't Mulder's problem. "What else, Sam? ...How did you know of this?" Noticing Mulder was giving in, Sam laughed hoarsely between his own climbing arousal. "'Cause he visited me here." "For what?" Mulder asked between the involuntary thrusts, driving all his senses away long enough to bear this torture. He could plant a bullet in his head once he made sure the bastards were caught and the elaborate plot of this murder case was revealed. Savannah would forgive him. "The man's as sick as I am, Foxy. The little bro's got a side business." "What business?" Mulder managed to ask, knowing the older man was also losing his composure. "He didn't want to watch the tapes, but he wanted all the details. We even laughed together." "Oh, God!" Mulder exclaimed, trying not to go into dry heave. "He wouldn't involve himself into production, but he's pretty big among the underground porn world. He supplies the girls, and does some business deals selling those leather goodies." Mulder's ears were ringing. The feelings in his hands and arms were fading. "Where ...where is the brother now?" Mulder was panting, gripping tighter onto the bars. "Spread your feet a bit wider. Last I heard, he's still teaching at the school, but their annual school trip to Italy's coming up soon." Seeing Mulder comply with his request, Sam knelt deeper to reach Mulder with his mouth. Mulder jumped, and breathed even heavier. "How ...do the others know?" Mulder asked, wanting to get the man's filthy mouth off of him. "No. Tommy didn't like the others. They're too crazy, even for him. I used to..." Sam's mouth returned to Mulder, and he gasped. "You used to what?" Mulder could feel himself getting close to the climax, and he couldn't get there fast enough at this point. But Sam saw right through it. "Don't hurry up and spoil the fun, Foxy. You think for a minute, but don't come until I tell you to." "Give me the next clue, and I'll think." "Santa Monica bureau office." "What?!" Faces came to Mulder's mind like a slide show. 'Agent Sullivan?' The nice female agent deliberately guided Mulder and Scully away from the office. 'Damnit!' Mulder wanted to tear the sweet woman's throat out. But the thought vanished as another involuntary thrust of his hips began settling into its own patterns. He moaned, no longer caring that his trousers had now slipped down to puddle around his feet, or that the man's mouth was firmly closed over the evidence of his forced arousal. "Sam?" Mulder's voice was barely above whisper between his labored breaths. "Did Agent Sullivan ...help your two accomplices escape? To get to their ...hideout?" No reply came except for the sound of the man's tongue loudly smacking over Mulder's arousal. "Sam, please. Tell me before I lose it." Sam's mouth left Mulder for a bit, replaced by his fingers as Sam eyed his victim with satisfaction. "Yes and no. The bitch already knew about the agent responsible for covering up the toxicological evidence and buying a couple of guards to get them out during the riot. But she got caught doing the coke by the guy, and they made a little deal." Sam's mouth returned again, eliciting another choked whimper from Mulder. "Blackmail?" Another whimper led to a quiver of his hips, and Mulder knew he was at the limit. Sam let go of Mulder for a moment to make sure Mulder wasn't faking it. Seeing the pure desperation on the younger man's face, Sam nodded. "Yeah. Whatever you wanna call it. All right, Foxy. You can come." With that, Sam drew Mulder's hips even closer against the bars, and took him deeply inside his mouth. Mulder twitched once, then screamed as he released himself. Sam carefully supported the younger man's balance, and swallowed all of Mulder's release through the series of convulsions. Sam even took care to clean the younger man off, so there would be no question asked. As Mulder slid down to the floor, Sam released his own arousal over the toilet and flushed the evidence down. When Mulder recovered enough to begin to carefully straighten out his rumpled appearance, Sam slid the second letter toward Mulder. "Rinse your mouth off, Sam. I don't want no evidence left in here." Mulder commanded hoarsely, his face still flashed and his chest still panting to catch his breath. Sam nodded and watched as Mulder numbly picked up the second letter. Mulder then watched as Sam rinsed his mouth, and slid down again to the floor to recover. "You still taste the same, Foxy. Bitter sweet." The low voice was only inches away from Mulder's ear. "I don't care if I had cherry flavor. If I find that you lied to me, I swear I'll burst in here before those stupid guards catch up with me, and choke your life out of you." Mulder tried to get his flaring temper, and embarrassment in control. He couldn't believe what just happened, that he would actually sell himself for information. Even if he was in dire need of the information given to him. But then again, he could put an end to his misery once everything was done. "Sure thing, Foxy." Sam said, and even handed Mulder a clean but damp towel to cool his face down. Mulder snatched it away. "You ain't a fag, Foxy. Just 'cause you went with this." "I wasn't thinking about that." Mulder answered irritatingly, and fixed his tie. "You look like you're ready to blow your brains out." Mulder laughed hoarsely, and put the towel to his head to moisten his hair. After combing it thoroughly with the soft plastic comb Sam forced into Mulder's hand, he numbly stood up and retrieved the paperwork for the ice cream deal to be turned back in to the Director's office. "We'll see, Sam. We'll see. But I assure you, our earlier deal stands, and you'll get your ice cream." Mulder's overly soft tone wasn't lost on Sam. He couldn't wait until Dana Scully come bursting into the building, demanding to know what the hell Sam did to her partner. "Are you all right, Agent Mulder?" The guard asked the moment he saw the agent walking up to the sliding door. "Yeah. Sam's cooperated. But you know, the bad memories..." Mulder shook his head to clear it, knowing everyone who'd ever talked to Sam probably knew about the case. The guard nodded sympathetically, and lined up the three weapons belonging to Mulder. He barely spared them a glance before placing them into their designated spots and running out to the elevator. En Route Florence, Italy Midnight US Central Time Mulder didn't know where to go first. He had too many choices, even more possibilities. But in the end, he chose to secure his partner's life first. The numerous phone calls to the Waters residence remained unanswered, giving Mulder an inflaming headache. He couldn't make too big a move in front of anyone, or else whoever else is involved would sense what Mulder was after. But what he wanted more than anything was a long, hot shower followed by at least a day-long soak in the big hot jacuzzi tub. Then, and maybe then, he could feel at least a bit cleaner. Scully would leave him and their X-Files department if the truth about what he'd done with Sam was to see the light of day. Skinner would demand his badge, then threaten to lock him up in an institution somewhere. But if that was to be the case, he swore he was going to, as Sam predicted, blow his brains out first. Mulder was lucky to avoid any car accident on the way to the airport. He wanted desperately to break down again and cry, but time didn't allow him the luxury. Even now, he was seated in another concord plane, a journey as comfortable as a Russian commercial flight. Mulder tried once again to reach Scully at the house, knowing midnight in Salt Lake which was twenty minutes away, meant it was about three to four in the afternoon for her. But when someone answered in Italian, he quickly hanged up the phone. 'Don't know who could be in there.' Mulder thought bitterly, thinking of who at the memorial service day's dinner table are the traitor he was now hunting for. He took the phone again and called Skinner, getting the man's demanding questions instead of 'hello's. "Sir? I'm getting back to Florence as I speak. I'll be there about eleven, Florence time. I'm on a concord." "Why the hell didn't you get in touch with me or Scully sooner?" "Sir, time difference is enormous. Besides, our cellular don't work, and she's out there doing investigations." Mulder tried not to puke at the prospect of seeing either his superior or Scully. Not if they demanded explanations on how he exactly got the information. "All right, Agent Mulder. What did you find out?" 'Here we go', Mulder thought. "Sir, I need a friend right now. Could you keep everything discreet?" Mulder said, looking at the very sparsely occupied aircraft. Skinner sighed on the end of the line. "This better be important, Agent Mulder. Go on." "Sir, this case is much larger in its scale than we ever thought possible." Mulder began explaining the Waters family connection to the murder, plus the side business the little brother ran. Then he went on to explain the incident in Santa Monica involving Agent Sullivan and the unnamed agent who caught her doing coke. He carefully explained how Agent Sullivan guided him and Scully away from the office, using the tabloids and the rumors of underground porno industry as excuses. He then went on to explain how Emilio Niccolo died, and how the man's liquor collection was poisoned. "For all things considered, the bottles have long been switched with the clean ones." Mulder could hear the AD's growing frustration, and wondered if the man would have any hair left by the time they got back to DC. "Agent Mulder, you know you have to have proof..." "I know. I have two evidences that I need to turn in to fingerprint experts and to the handwriting analysts. They are letters sent to one of the captured serial killers currently serving time at the Colorado Springs jail. Samuel Ceilon cooperated, and gave me these letters as evidence. One of the letters was written by his mother for his birthday. The second letter has the same return address and name, but it was written by a different person. I've read the letter, sir, and it clearly states whoever wrote the text's motives for assassinating Savannah. It could have been one of her family members. However, this letter does not contain any detail of how exactly the assassination attempt was to be carried out, nor the names of the chosen assassin, or assassins. "Ceilon told me that Mr. Waters wanted to know every detail of ...the incident at the cabin, involving his older sister and myself." "Oh, hell." Skinner's voice sounded a bit north of a whisper. Knowing the man had seen every thing on full-color screen, Mulder couldn't help sympathizing with the older man. "Sir? All this could be tied to the reason why Savannah's will was never contested by anyone in the family, let alone the Niccolo family. I don't know about that area, because Scully's taking care of it." "Agent Mulder, are you all right?" Mulder licked his lips, knowing why the AD was concerned. Mulder chose instead to continue, or else he'd lose it all and fall to pieces on the phone. "Ceilon's also the one who informed me about Savannah's husband's death, and the information he's given me there matches closely with the actual case file. Sir, these prisoners don't even get an exercise hour, let alone an access to library. He would have had to known about all this from somewhere. I believe Santa Monica bureau office is the key. It's the only thing that's tying the connection between underground porn industry, Agent Sullivan and the unidentified senior agent, to Savannah Waters's death and the six serial killers. We need to..." "All right. All right, Agent Mulder. Give me a breather here. What you're giving me is a hell of a bomb on my desk. What about Agent Scully?" "That's the problem, sir. I wasn't supposed to return for another few days, but I believe if Sam Ceilon knew that much of case details, she's the one who is most at risk. She doesn't know a thing about any of this, and as I said, I hadn't been able to get in touch with her. I don't know who are at the house, and I don't know who is responsible for possibly ordering the assassination of Savannah. The moment any of them learns about my landing in Salt Lake and going to Colorado Springs, Scully's history. Not to mention our only witness, Ceilon. We need to be very quiet." Mulder shrugged when Skinner groaned. "Agent Mulder, exactly how long have you known about all this?" "Only about six hours, sir." Mulder said as he looked at his Swiss watch. "Agent Mulder, you don't have any idea who in the Santa Monica office is involved in this conspiracy?" "Sir, they could have gotten in touch with Harbor and Pickett specifically to order the assassination. Savannah could have been murdered for her artistic skills, but it could have been that she's learned something about her little brother and his side business with the underground porn industry. Ceilon said that Savannah rewrote her will just a week or two before her murder. How could he have known that isn't clear, except that her little brother had really been trying to locate Harbor and Pickett by coming to visit Ceilon to trade information." "Agent Mulder, why would the man need those convicts to do the job?" "It could have been a deal between the two parties. Do the assassination, and the thugs would get a cover from the Santa Monica office. ...Sir, I'm not sure. But that is my update. I have the letters with me, but ...I'm open to suggestions." "Why don't you mail it to me? On my desk, by Fed Ex." "I appreciate that, sir. I can't use any law enforcement office there in Florence. ...Can I keep the copies, though?" "For Agent Scully?" "Yes." "Fine. ...Do you suppose that I could pick a couple of agents to send undercover to Santa Monica office, and start putting the whole damn building on wire-taps, around the clock?" "Sounds risky, Sir. But I wouldn't contest it. It has to start from somewhere, and in my opinion, Agent Sullivan could be easily deterred to cooperate with us." "That's one of the areas I was thinking about. ...All right, Agent Mulder. Keep me updated." "Sir, you're the only one besides Scully that I can talk about this." "Understood. Good work, Agent Mulder." Skinner was gone before Mulder could thank the man. As he put back the phone, he felt as if he was seventy-years old. His muscles ached everywhere from holding onto the unnatural position for far too long, not to mention the strains that were put over them. Mulder asked a flight attendant to get him some aspirin or tylenol, and was offered advil, which Mulder accepted. It was a miracle that he'd maintained his composure throughout the phone conversation, let alone to keep his rationality. The dinner was served two hours into the flight. The flight attendant asked whether Mulder wanted beef or broiled fish. Mulder chose fish just for the sake of the pain killers he took earlier, and pretended the whole world didn't exist under his feet. Former Savannah Waters mansion Florence, Italy 9 AM Florence Time Mulder entered the house with the key card, not bothering to press the door bell. It was his mistake to not yet learn the entire security system of this mansion, because any one of the people coming in and out could have bugged the house. He made sure the index card he'd written his messages for Scully was still inside his jacket pocket. He knew he needed to put on a show for whoever was listening in, or watching. If they were watching, however, cards were out. Which meant Mulder needed to take her out of the house to do any talking. He went up stairs to the fourth floor, where the bedrooms were lined up. He saw that most of them had their doors open and vacant. He breathed easier, knowing there were less people he had to speak to. After the latest events, he didn't know if he wanted to open his mouth at all. The exercise room of the fourth floor had its door closed, but a machine was turned on. He knocked on it, hoping whoever answered the phone earlier wasn't there. "Mulder?" The sweetest voice that he'd know anywhere asked, and Mulder almost opened the door to approach and hug her. Then reality invited itself inside his mind, and he restrained himself. "Yeah. Sorry, I couldn't get in touch with you earlier. Stay there, Scully. I wanna take a long bath. I haven't slept since I left here." Mulder didn't wait for her reply as he went into the master bedroom and started the water. He then practically ripped his clothes off, and wrapped himself in a large towel. Then he threw himself on the King-size bed and waited for the tub to fill up. Scully must have taken his message seriously, and didn't disturb him. Mulder was thankful, but he also missed her. Making sure that she was safe did indeed relax him a little, enough to let him enjoy the jacuzzi tub. He turned on the small stereo set on the little cabinet next to the tub, and set the "Water Is Wide" song Savannah sang to on repeat. The CD was something he remembered to pick up at Savannah's house in Santa Monica just before Mulder came up with the idea of returning to Colorado to see Ceilon. Four female singers sang the song in a chorus, giving it more depth and beauty than any single voice could produce. He could have done without the audience's applause, though. The guitar on the background served to relax him further, and he was asleep before the song played for the third time. Mulder's Bedroom - Former Savannah Waters Mansion Fifth Floor 11 AM Same Day Scully knocked on Mulder's bedroom door for the third time and got no answer. Worried now, she turned the knob of the door, finding it unlocked. She called his name, but saw only his clothes in the main room. Then she spotted the light spilling out of the bottom of the bathroom door. She furrowed her eyebrows. Mulder never took two hour-baths. 'Except', she thought with sick horror, 'for the time he went into shock after Goldstein's crazy memory-recovery procedure'. Really worried now, Scully knocked on the bathroom door and heard the music. She went back to the bedroom door to close it, even taking care to lock it after her in case something serious was happening. She then turned the knob on the bathroom door, and opened the door. The sight of Mulder sleeping in the citrus-scented water would have been sweet only if not for the circumstances. The water had long cooled down, and the jet bubbles were the only things preventing her from seeing her partner in his birthday suit. Although she'd seen Mulder without a thread of clothes on before, she still hesitated. She turned the music off, and called his name. No reply came back. She shook his shoulder lightly, but only got a grunt. She touched the water, and judged he was going to get pneumonia or hypothermia if he wasn't taken out soon. She got the largest towel she could find, and reached down to place it over her partner's hips, hoping he would wake up and wrap it around himself. She pushed the drain button, and turned the jacuzzi off. She then got his bathrobe and laid it on the cabinet next to the portable stereo. While waiting for the water to drain, she began picking up his clothes off of the floor. The index card was longer in length than the jacket pocket, and it peeked out the moment she lifted it off. She took it out and read it quickly, widening her eyes at the large but thin trace a ball-point pen left. D: Need to talk outside. Someone maybe listening / watching. Don't know the security system of this house too well. Be careful. The killer(s) maybe / may have been inside the house. F Scully quickly put the card back inside the jacket pocket, and returned to the bathroom. Mulder was still asleep, turning restlessly. She shook him harder, but still he only gave her a few grunts. This wasn't like him at all. He never slept this deeply. She finally wrapped the towel around his hip and made him lean against the wall of the bathroom while she tied the tie on his bathrobe. The towel dropped just as she was taking him out of the bathtub. Mulder's body got the idea, and half followed Scully's lead on its own to the bed. Then she spotted the black-and-blue bruises on the backs of his knees. A careful examination of Mulder's backside revealed another bruise on the back of his right shoulder, and on the shoulder blade, where the arm joined. His hips had a red mark over his pubic bone, but it wasn't as serious compared to the bruises on his shoulders. When she reluctantly examined his front side, she narrowed her eyes upon spotting two narrow vertical bruise clearly showing on each hipbone. The bruises themselves weren't too serious, but they were in obvious pattern, applied at the same pressure, probably at the same time. 'Jesus', Scully thought. 'What the hell happened to you?' The seriousness of his silent message alone scared her, thinking of all the chatty cheerful 'friends' she'd made. There was no guest in the house for the night, although Danny was staying until after dinner. She vaguely remembered his telling her about someone hanging up on him. She guessed it was Mulder trying to check on her. Scully the forensic pathologist made her look through Mulder's clothes again. This time, with a painstaking care. She examined the patterns of wrinkles left on Mulder's shirt and the jacket. Most of the mess gathered around the elbows, and on the rear. She detected no trace of dirt nor sand, which meant wherever he was, the fight occurred somewhere inside a clean building. Returning to his bedside, Scully wrapped his head in a towel to dry, and tucked him under the covers after removing the damp bathrobe. He could complain all he wanted about her sneaking into his bedroom and stripping him nude later. She hanged up his clothes, then brought the shirt and underwear down the basement to join the rest of the laundry pile. She wanted to check with Skinner to report on Mulder's condition, but remembered she shouldn't. Not inside the house, and if she went outside alone at a time like this, whoever's observing through cameras would get suspicious. Scully damned this entire case as she settled into the comfortable-but-small chair next to the bed. Two hours after tucking him in, she removed the towel wrapping around his head. When she shook him this time, he groggily opened his eyes and stared at her. "Mulder? It's Dana Scully. Can you understand me?" She spoke deliberately slowly, seeing Mulder close his eyes in either recognition or a sign for her to leave him alone. She sighed when he turned away from her. "Mulder, you were asleep. Almost unconscious, in the tub for at least two hours. I got you out, but you awe me some explanations." When Mulder shrugged slightly, she knew he was at least coherent enough to listen to her. "Mulder, I got your message, and I understood it. But where were you all this time? I couldn't get hold of you." "US." The voice was hoarse, making Scully lean even closer to hear him. "Where?" Scully also lowered her voice. Mulder grumbled as he tried to shift in his bed. "Can't tell you. Not yet." Mulder whispered, and Scully nodded. 'Damnit.' She silently cursed whoever was responsible for their situation. "Okay, Mulder. Can you explain to me what happened to you, and who did this to you?" Scully said as she pointed to his shoulders and the knees covered by the comforter. Mulder shrugged again, then grimaced slightly. "Mulder, who attacked you?" Scully asked, knowing very well whatever happened to him wasn't self-inflicted, nor an accident. "Mulder, what's on the back of your knees are clearly fingerprints. You shouldn't have bathed before getting trace evidence taken. With those marks, it must be hell to walk. Those vertical marks on your front hips also weren't left by an accident. So as the red mark on your pubic bone." That was when she realized she'd gone too far too fast, as all color drained from his face and he turned green. Scully got the trash basket in time for him to lose what looked to be fish fillets into it. Scully held his head until he was done, massaging his back as he tried to sit up on the bed. "It's okay, Mulder. I'm sorry, I pushed you." Scully kept her tone calm as she wiped Mulder's face with the conveniently damp towel that she used on his head. Mulder nodded an affirmation, and patted Scully on her shoulder for thanks. Scully averted her eyes as he climbed off of the bed to get to the bathroom and wash his mouth. He had a fresh towel wrapped around his hips when he came out. Scully immediately noticed the effort he was putting into to avert his gaze from her face. She sighed and threw him a pair of clean boxers she retrieved out of his garment bag lying carelessly on the floor since before his departure. Mulder ignored them. "All right, Mulder. Whatever happened to you, you don't want to talk about it. That's fine for now." Mulder visibly winced as he climbed back into the bed and threw the towel across the room. She then watched as Mulder practically hid under the covers, a pillow clutched under an arm. Getting the message, Scully stood up to exit the room. "Scully?" The voice was muffled by the covers. "Yes?" She turned back and faced the mound under the comforter. She couldn't tell whether he was looking at her or not. She leaned toward the latter. "You might want to sleep on forth floor tonight." This puzzled her a bit. "Why?" She asked without moving from her position beside the door. "Floor board's pretty thick. So are the walls." She narrowed her eyes. But when she got the message, she decided she'd had enough. "Fox Mulder, you've been having nightmares all your life. It wouldn't be the first time if that woke me up." Scully moved closer to the bed again, then changed her mind and went inside the bathroom to get the portable CD player. A few second's examination of song titles was enough for Scully to see which song he was listening to and why. She put the track on "Water Is Wide", and put it on repeat as it was before. The mound under the covers moved a bit, then went still again. Scully turned the volume down a few knotches and exited the room without another word. Former Savannah Waters Mansion - Kitchen Florence Italy 9 AM Florence Time Next Day Scully watched the morning news that she didn't understand on a television. Mulder had impressively slept through the day and night without waking her up. Of course, it had a lot to do with the Valium she secretly injected in Mulder's arm after he passed out. If he had objections or threatened to report her to the medical licensee committees, she could persuade him by lecturing about his staying up for over forty-eight hours straight. She was tearing a hunk off a jumbo croissant when she heard foot steps approaching. "Hi." Scully greeted her partner, now dressed in a grey suit. Scully arched her eyebrows upon seeing Mulder's increasingly conservative selection of ties. He said nothing as he got his coffee, and grabbed a bunch of grapes from the fruit basket. Scully sighed. "Slept well?" She asked for starters. Mulder nodded a yes, and took his seat two chairs away, across the table from her. She sighed again. "You know, if you want to ignore me for the entire day, that's fine. But you don't have to put that much physical distance between us for me to get the message." "Morning, Scully. What's the plan?" He asked with a flat tone, clearly stamped 'business, business, and then business'. Scully threw one of the croissants at him, and left the room to get changed into her business suit. Mulder watched her walk away, and buried his head in his hands. He couldn't face her after what happened. It wasn't the little round bruise he'd found on his arm this morning as he was getting dressed that upset him. He knew her reasons for sedating him, and he was forced to admit to feel a bit grateful. No, the true reason for his attitude change was based on the fact that she'd gotten him out of the damn tub and saw all the marks on his body. But Sam was right about not leaving any mark where it counted. Otherwise, an experienced MD/Pathologist such as Scully would have seen through his lies and detect the signs of sexual molestation. He stared at the still-warm croissant, and gave it a quick death by consuming it in three bites. Since losing the last night's dinner, his body was demanding food, though his mind told him to avoid it. Mulder grabbed his briefcase the moment Scully appeared into the living room, looking impatient. Seeing Mulder's jaw tilt toward the front door, Scully grabbed her coat and followed suit. "Mulder..." "First, what did you find about Savannah's brother?" Mulder's stern gaze got an equally intense gaze from Scully. "I need to know, Scully. That's our starting point." His insistence got the better of her, and Scully tore her gaze away from her partner. "That he's visited Florence every so often, presumably to visit his sister. His passport was stamped at L.A. International Airport. Her parents had long moved to their Florida condo, and didn't care much about their daughter ever since the department of social services intervened in their abusive attitudes toward their children. They hadn't contacted Tommy Waters, either." Mulder nodded, confirming the facts with the not-so- trustworthy words of Sam Ceilon. "Did you know that Savannah rewrote the will a week prior to her death?" "No." Scully's clear look of shock registered in Mulder's peripheral vision, and he nodded. "Yeah. I don't know the original version, but it could have something to do with her brother." "Are you saying he's a suspect?" "Everybody's a suspect, Scully." Mulder didn't want to get into the issue without finding out for himself first. "What else did you find?" She obviously sensed he had many secrets up his sleeves. "We'll learn more as we go along, Scully. You know the routine." His bluntness made her frown. "At least tell me whatever that you know, so I know where you're going." To her frustration, Mulder again shook his head no. "Sorry, Scully. Nothing I've learned is confirmed. Besides right now, I can't face the array of your questions I know to be coming. Much less the typical line of your protest I'm sure to be getting." This froze Scully in her tracks. Mulder noticed she wasn't following him only after he turned a corner that led to the major street directly connected to the collage campus they were going to. When Mulder turned back, Scully was nowhere in sight. "Shit!" Mulder exclaimed as he ran back the way he came, hoping Scully wasn't snatched away from him by the psycho paths. He found Scully in the exact spot where he'd last spoke with her, and almost deflated next to her in the bench. "Is this seat taken?" Mulder asked, still panting from the run. Scully shook her head no. "No. But I must warn you, I'm experiencing an incredible urge to pull every teeth out of your big mouth with lusty tweezers." Mulder grinned sheepishly. "That is, if I don't get to wipe that grin off of your face by peeling your lips away and mail them to Phoebe Green." Now, Mulder grimaced. He rested his elbows on his lap, then clasped his hands in front of him. "How're your legs?" She asked, knowing he'd ran back. Mulder took a deep breath, and shook his head. He knew she knew he was in pain. "Don't worry about them. I'll live." 'For as long as absolutely necessary.' Mulder added silently. "I got scared when I noticed you weren't following me. I thought ...that someone took you away from me. Again." He brought the clasped hands to his mouth, and pressed them against his lower lip. Scully sighed. "Who attacked you, and who's trying to kill us?" Scully voiced the questions that got her worked up the night before. Mulder didn't move. But when he spoke, his head slightly bobbed up and down with each movement of his mouth. "I forced him into talking. He's the informant who told me about Sam's will. I also want you to check with Agent Sullivan, and get the autopsy report on Emilio Niccolo. Santa Monica office is not the one performed the autopsy, but they should have their own copy. Then I want you to compare them with the original here in Florence. Interview the pathologist here. He probably knows English." "Wow, wow, wow. ...Mulder, what are you saying?" Immediately alarmed, she wanted to know just how many moves her partner was planning ahead of her. "That, someone covered up the toxicological report on the man's death. There should be some toxin in the man's blood. Maybe not toxin, but some abnormality in blood chemicals. That's your department." "Mulder, how'd you know...? I mean, this informant of yours..." "Scully." Mulder's tone clearly indicated a warning. Remembering her partner's previous remarks, Scully sighed. "All right. Where's your pet squirrel's next seed?" Mulder didn't even flinch at the remark. "The house's liquor collection must all been switched with clean ones by now. Get Tommy Waters's entry record to this country for the previous five years. He should have had a schedule. A pattern of entry and leaving. He works with his high school's foreign student exchange program and their field trip programs. He may not have visited his sister every time, but the art department of the university is where she worked, so they couldn't have been too far away from each other." "Okay. What about you?" "I've mailed some evidences to Skinner for fingerprint analysis and handwriting analysis. I'll wait for the results while I check deeper into the activities of Tommy Waters' activities during his stay here. Mainly because he's supposed to be scheduled for another visit here pretty soon, and I'd like to know if I should stop him in the U.S, or while his stay here. In the mean time, I'll wait for your report on the bad boy's customs/immigrations records. I might even call up the university here and ask the records office for a complete record on every student Tommy Waters ever brought in." "What is his students' part in all this?" "I'll have to let you know that after I get back to California again, and check something out." "As vague as your answer is, I guess I'll take that for now." Scully needed to focus on the matters at hand, and getting Mulder even more withdrawn wouldn't do anyone any good. While she kept her eyes on the beautiful scenery in front of her, he unclasped his hands to hold hers in his. "Thanks, Scully." Feeling his hands giving a gentle squeeze on hers, she returned the gesture before he threaded his fingers with hers. "I don't want you to be afraid of me, Mulder." Her voice was gentle, making his heart ache. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm a mess right now, and I need to focus on our investigation. Sometimes I hate myself for not being able to prove with absolute certainty and proof that I'm right. Sometimes your questions are painful to me because of their accuracy, especially if I'm feeling particularly weak or hurt." Mulder sighed, staring at their joined hands. Beside him, Scully bowed her head, pouting her lips. She hadn't heard him admit any of these weaknesses he had. Not in any direct manner, until now. "It's okay, Mulder. I'll get what you asked me to get, then you tell me whatever you found. One thing at a time, and one day at a time. But whenever you have your break- through, don't you dare leave me in the bench seat. Or I'll..." Mulder chuckled, slightly startling Scully. "I get the picture, Scully. Don't worry, I won't be stupid." His sheepish grin returned, then changed immediately to his signature close-mouthed smile. Scully smirked, knowing why he avoided his grin. "Oh, you better. ...So, I guess I'll change my destination to the police department, then check with the customs. Where do you want to meet me? We're staying clear of the house for any business stuff, I suppose." Scully let go of his hands, and stood up. "There's a nice cafe just a couple of blocks away from the house. I'll meet you there. Or, we can just use benches along this street as the substitute for the potomac pool." Scully chuckled at that, but settled for the cafe as their meeting spot. Mulder looked up to his partner, nodding and thanking her at the same time. The Florence University Student Records Office Florence, Italy 2 PM Florence Time Same Day Mulder slammed the stack of folders down onto the table, then kicked one of its legs in frustration. Nothing much came out of the records of Waters's students. There had been many over the past eight years of the young man's participation in the program. Mulder was hoping some sort of grades or behavioral problems to be listed on the records. If any of the students were taking part in the porn industry business, they may have had criminal records. Maybe even a few local connections. Nothing remarkable about any of the students were found, except for a few who reportedly had boyfriends here in Florence. Mulder was going to check them all, but for now, he was out of luck without going to the local police station, which he wanted to put off without having a translator. And out here, in their situations, finding someone who could be trusted was impossible. Not even Danny could be exposed to this level of information. When he did visit the police station, swallowing his ego and asking for any officer with an adequate English skills to translate for him, he compared every student's file with that of the police and came up with absolutely nothing that was even remotely suspicious. When he asked for the records of the students' boyfriends, the worse he could come up with was a couple of parking violations and speeding tickets. The idea that these students' criminal records may also have been cleaned up by the Santa Monica FBI field offices and suitcases loaded with money hit Mulder as he was leaving the campus. By the time he got to the said cafe, Mulder was ready to throw every sheet of paper he carried into the river and then throw himself in. "You look like hell, Mulder." Scully greeted him with a tired smile, which Mulder returned. "I really hope you had the better luck than I did, because I have nothing, yet." Mulder confessed outright, getting the unpleasant businesses out of the way. "As you suspected, Tommy Waters does enter this country exactly this time of each year. He's been keeping the habit for the past nine years. He's been taking care of the high school field trip stuff for the past eight years, but on the first year, he simply visited as his personal pleasure." "He could already have established his side business network by then. At least the basis of it." "Mulder, you never really explained to me what that is. Can you be clear about that?" Mulder felt his fingers tingle, but forced his mind to focus on the matters at hand. "He's supposed to be a pretty big dealer in the underground porno industry. He's the one who sell what my informant called the 'leather goodies', which Agent Sullivan effectively described as the 'leathers and chains'. Sex toys, Scully. The most sick kinds." He saw Scully's blood headed due south. "I know that if he's coming this year with another batch of seemingly innocent high school kids. We can request a twenty-four hour surveillance on him from the headquarters. That is, without informing any of the Santa Monica agents nor the university officials. Not even to the local police. We'll be quiet as a mouse. How's that sound?" Scully's eyebrows arched, then curved again to join the rest of her smiley face. Their orders arrived just then, and they both indulged themselves into the homemade pesto alfredo with Italian sausage. Mulder couldn't tell Scully how much it amazed him to actually have any appetite, but he was sure it had to do with Scully's 'calming' presence. "Mmmm... Food's excellent here, Mulder." Scully said as she took another bite of her pasta, splashing a bit of the sauce on Mulder's face by accident. She quickly apologized, but he only shook his head no, and urged her to keep up the pace. "I called Skinner, and he's starting the internal investigation step one on the Santa Monica office." "What do you mean?" Scully stopped chewing. "I recommended doing wire-tap surveillance on the entire building. Skinner's on top of it. Maybe he could hoard up a bunch of whoever pissed the brass off enough to get stuck with this detail." Mulder winced inwardly, remembering his own 'penalty box' time after returning from Puerto Rico. "I've called in Santa Monica, and asked agent Sullivan to get me the autopsy records. They should be at the house by the time we get back, and today there won't be any visitors at the house." "How was she?" 'The bitch.' Mulder silently added. "She was wondering how I spent my time here, so far. She's been wanting to come up here herself." Mulder rolled his eyes. It was time to spill another bean before the stoned bitch begins asking questions about their progress. "Sure, maybe. That is, if Skinner didn't get to her first." Scully took one more bite of her pasta before noticing what was actually said. She swallowed the bite with too little jaw work, and nearly choked wit the effort. Mulder quickly handed her his glass of iced tea, seeing that Scully's soda was empty. She took it gratefully, and downed a few sips at once. "What did you just say?" She asked the moment she set the iced tea glass back down in front of him. Mulder put his fork down for the moment. "Agent Sullivan's not to be trusted. She got caught doing coke by one of the senior agents in the office who's still yet to be identified. Apparently, she's under pressure to keep everything clean. Everything she's said to us in the office the other day probably was a lie. But her request for transfer is for real. Skinner and I both agree that agent Sullivan could easily be coerced into working with us. But for now, she's as dirty as any others. And I don't believe she's in any rehab programs." "Oh, my God! She had me completely fooled!" Scully hated tricks, and Mulder saw the effect of the news on the creases between her eyebrows. "She had me fooled, too. But when you think about it, she's the one who brought out the subject of the underground porno industry, and that led us into the broader scope of this investigation. I think she wants to save her career. Why else would she willingly leak the information? Unless she's trying to lead us into a trap, which is ...why Skinner's doing the wire-tap." Mulder took another bite of the pasta, and watched as Scully processed the new information inside her complex but brilliant mind. Mulder could almost picture her brains drilling into each word she caught from him. "Mulder, if that's true, the trap could already have been set. Is your informant trustworthy?" "He should be. He's got no choice but to cooperate with me." Mulder sure hoped Sam would keep his end of their sick deal. "This afternoon, I'll just spend time checking in with Skinner and then look into Emilio Niccolo's family background. The rest has to be done in US." Mulder finished his pasta, and waved the waiter over to bring out their dessert. Scully still struggled with the rest of the huge main course serving. "I'll be digging into Ms. Waters's marriage background here. And I've got an appointment for interviews with her cosmetician." "Great minds think alike, Scully. I'm doing the same in Santa Monica. She's had trainers and sometimes nurses while she was sick or her maid was out." "I've gotten hold of the minds here, but there's nothing even remotely suspicious about any of them. Well, of course they were pissed about losing their jobs all of a sudden, but Danny promised they may retain their jobs once the museum opens up." "Yeah, I've been feeling bad about them, and to the housekeeper in California. I mean, the moment Sav's murder got cleared, the police forced her out. I didn't have the time nor luxury to really think about what I can do for her. I mean, I didn't think about hiring her back when I moved in, even just for a short time, because I didn't want a stranger hanging around in the house." "Well, maybe once everything settles down and you have house guests there, you can hire her back." Scully popped a green apple from her dessert fruit platter, and chewed slowly while Mulder was taken into the scenery. "I don't really want to leave the place empty for too long at a time. And you already know your family's always welcome there. Maybe my Mom can live there, if she wants a warmer weather." This got Scully's attention. "Do you think she'll come down? I mean, it's a nice place and I'm sure she's probably heard about the craziness happening around you by now." "Yeah, and probably having tough time explaining everything to her Consortium friends." His voice was much more bitter than he'd intended it to be. He shook his head slightly and apologized Scully for running their dinner. "Mulder, she doesn't know much about you and Savannah, does she?" "Not much. Just that Savannah and I were taken hostage together and survived together. That, Savannah was a successful artist and that I'd been her lover for about ...a year at the most, until she went to Italy about seven months after I returned to D.C." "So, you two got in touch?" "Yes, we stayed in touch. But talking for hours on the phone was never my thing, and everything I put on papers seemed fake." "I know what you mean." Scully nodded like the one who had similar experiences and similar habits. Seeing Mulder eying one of her pear slices, she pierced one with her fork and brought it to his mouth. Mulder gave her a curious look, but leaned closer to take it. Not a thanks was needed between them, and Mulder sat back to relax. "I guess neither one of us is excited about going home, huh?" Scully chuckled her words out, and Mulder had to smile. "Who, except for whoever the vultures watching the house, cares if we went home a couple of hours late? There's nobody at the house, and I don't want anyone in there. All our reports are in our briefcases with our lap-tops." "One X-Files office-to-go. ...This is still so surreal, and yet I feel strangely comfortable. I've never felt like this before, Mulder. It's hard to put my finger on my feelings right now." "No one's asking about how you feel. Not unless there's something bothering you." Mulder could guess well enough about just what was bothering her. Or, more like stalling her progress in their investigation. Scully killed a couple of more strawberries before meeting his eyes again. "I can't ...I mean, I don't know who's in this conspiracy. I've checked into the background of everybody who's been around me so far, but I haven't started on their own circles of friends, yet. Danny's ...well, I feel guilty making him shut his mouth about what we're doing here. Most of who we suspect as accomplices on this elaborate conspiracy is who he associates on daily bases. I've been pretty much turning his social and personal lives up and down." 'Guilt, that is.' Mulder nodded. "But, since you've decided to stick with your groupies, you must've found one or two possible." Scully dropped her shoulders, and nodded. Mulder's bottom lip involuntarily twitched. "Yeah, just a couple. One of the women, uh... Marah is her name, owns a night club, though she doesn't do anything directly other than to collect the profit. It's mostly ran by the co-owner of the club.F The other one is Natalie, who used to go out with Danny. She's an attorney who specializes in international law. Her firm has a branch in San Francisco. She goes there about once or twice a year, which she claims to have been the rare chance to meet and stay with Savannah." Mulder's eyes filled with dark glimmer, and Scully knew he'd pegged the woman as a lead. "What does she do in the firm? What's her position?" "She has her own secretary there, although all the woman does is fax or e-mail whatever needs to be taken care of by Natalie. She takes care of property laws. A little bit of land laws, but..." "Then she'd have contacts or clients who are realtors and probate law experts, or even construction companies." "I guess you can do your part on that back in US." Scully seemed relieved to have lesser burden, and Mulder couldn't blame her. "Yeah, I will. Geez, you've been grilling yourself with work. I'm sorry, I didn't get you much help." Compared to what she uncovered, his meager success put him to shame. Then a massive guilt trip came crashing over him, and he understood her need to get away from the world for a while. "...If you're tired, we can go straight home. But if not, we can probably go somewhere and get a breather." Mulder knew he couldn't take her anywhere where they could have a chance encounter with anyone involved with their investigation. And there were lots of those places. Scully pouted her lips, and seemed to consider the option. Mulder threw her another bait. "There was a park where kids play with the slides and swings. Next to it is a church with a huge courtyard and a flower garden. If that idea doesn't sound appealing, we can rent a car, or use one the Lexus that belonged to Niccolo and go for a drive. I'll choose the former if I were you. Just to be safe." When he saw the corners of her mouth making a northward journey, he knew they'd be home more than a couple of hours late. "I've been walking on concrete and asphalt far too long. I'd love to smell the earth and feel the grass under me." Mulder smiled, and waved the waiter over for the check. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica, CA 8 AM US Pacific Time Two Days Later Mulder was more surprise by the unannounced arrival of Skinner than anything else he expected for the day. After the yesterday's events, Mulder was ready for a breather or two, but that hope committed a suicide the instant they met at the door. "Sir?! I didn't expect you here. I thought..." "It's all right, Mulder. I'm here on my own. My team's up and running, but they stay out of sight. No one followed me here from our surveillance base, and I even wore a baseball cap." Skinner knew exactly what the younger agent would be worried about. Mulder snickered. "Since when have I become so predictable?" "Spending five years with my most paranoid agent is enough a time for anyone. You've even been rubbing off on Scully, for crying out loud." Skinner said as he took a look around the lobby. "This is a beautiful place, Mulder." Something about the look on Skinner's face pulled Mulder out of initial shock. "I'm glad you're here, sir. YO saved me the risk of more traveling. Can I get you anything? The kitchen has more food and drinks to feed an entire surveillance team." Mulder snickered again as he led them into the gourmet kitchen. "Wow." The AD let out, and Mulder smiled again. "That's something I never heard from you before, sir." Mulder was well aware of the transformation he's made from what he used o be and what he'd become. But it always made him feel uncomfortable. "So, what would you like?" Mulder opened the giant fridge, and indicated the rows of beverages, none of which were alcoholic. Skinner took out a bottled spring water, and took a seat in one of the stools. "I guess I owe you an explanation." Skinner began ,and Mulder nodded. "If you're still wondering about the effects of this thing on my career, I'd till like to continue with what I do. With the X-Files." Mulder took his seat next to the AD. "But I don't believe the bureau will need to cover my half of the travel expenses for a long time." Mulder chuckled, then took a sip of his ginger ale. "And they also don't need to worry about my pension plan." "Everyone should be so lucky." Skinner laughed, and took another sip of water. "But really, sir. I won't move away, and I'll need to be in D.C. If you'd like to use this place for anything, please let me know. You can even use his place as a safehouse for the surveillance crew while they're here." Mulder felt more comfortable talking about business than anything else. "That's one of the reasons I came her to talk to you about." Skinner caught on, and Mulder shifted in his seat. 'Here we go', he thought. "The handwriting analysis checked out. The subjected letter was written by Tommy Waters. We haven't questioned him, nor put my moves on him to indicate our hunt for him. The fingerprint analysis also found two prints belonging to Tommy Waters. One from index finger, and the other a thumb. I know you ah your own ideas on how to proceed, and I want to hear them all." Skinner waited a beat as Mulder looked away, rubbed the point of his chin, and pushed his glass around a bit over the counter with his index finger. One more score for Sam Ceilon. "...So, Tommy is on our top suspect list." Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "What did you find out abut the man's students?" Sensing the AD wa trying to make things easier on him, Mulder regarded his soda for a moment before going on. "I found nothing so far on any of the students Tommy Waters brought in. Whoever their local boyfriends I checked out also came out negative except for a few minor traffic offenses. Scully did have some luck with Emilio Niccolo's autopsy report. But the chemical used as the murder weapon was a combination of adrenaline and pheromone, given in a massive dose. Scully also found a blood thickening agent, given in a lethal dose. Whoever supplied the drugs to Tommy Waters didn't want to use anything as obvious as narcotics for the murder. Scully didn't find out about this blood test results without talking to the pathologist herself, because it wasn't on the paper." "What? Are you saying...?" "No. The pathologist didn't do the cover-up job. In fact, the report was absolutely spotless clean until Savannah's death occurred." "So, someone messed with it after her death?" Skinner sighed when Mulder nodded a confirmation. "Yes, sir. Someone knew I would be called in. Someone knew that Savannah's autopsy will reveal the assassination plot. Someone who could gain access to the local police records office." "Could be one of the Santa Monica agents." "Could be that unidentified senior agent that Sullivan was talking about. Speaking of which, when are you planning on putting the moves on her?" This was something that's been bothering him for weeks. "We don't know, yet. You know how delicate the situations are, and the security required for our every move. I understand you reinstalled security systems in this house?" "Yes, Sir. So far, Scully and myself are the only ones with the access codes with an exception for Mr. Carpenter, who is the security consultant at the firm Savannah consulted with. I've had the guy checked out, and he's clean." "Good. Keep it that way, and in case we need to invade in this place, the bureau will cover the cost of further reinstallations needed." "Yes, Sir. As far as I know, we already have enough justification to suspect Santa Monica office jus by looking at their copy of the subject autopsy report. The toxicology section indicated absolutely nothing except for an over-stated level of alcohol in the victim's blood analysis." Mulder gripped his glass harder. Skinner clenched his jaw, and studied his bottled water. "Mulder, you know that this could take months until we have enough info from the surveillance. I'm also thinking about issuing a go for the other team to start pursuing the underground porno industry." Mulder looked up to face the AD, but nodded his agreement. "Everything needs o be move so fast, and our department has only two agents. I'm well aware of the inadequacy of our manpower in the situation. But I'm not sure how much I can involve myself in this subject. They know who I am, and what was done to me. I'm the star of the fucking tape and I'm also unsure if I can handle the stress." Mulder hated admitting weaknesses but the case was too important for him to care abut his ego. Skinner nodded understandably. "I had no intention of sending you in, Agent Mulder. YOu're no good for undercover int this city. I want you to concentrate on the murders for now. I understand Tommy Waters is due on arrival in Florence?" "Yes. He probably will recognize me and Scully no matter what we do. But for now, we'll let him swim around and we keep tail. Will you let me know if any of the Santa Monica agents leave town for assignments, or vacations?" Mulder was pretty sure those bastards would have contacts everywhere. Skinner nodded. "You know I wanted you two under federal protection when the case began growing." Mulder nodded. "I've got enough here. This place is tighter than Fort knox. With the motion sensors and cameras everywhere. But I also need you to understand that I don't want every agent to know where everything is." "Of course." "Okay. Then. ...The field office here will notice sooner or later of what we're doing. But the longer they stay wherever they're hiding out, the sooner that moment will be. Here, everything they need is already inside. Of course, someone needs to make an occasional trip to the dry cleaners and glossary stores, but they won't be spotted if they were in casual clothes. I'm not doing this just for them." "Understood." skinner nodded again and stood to head for the door. Mulder didn't refuse Skinner when he requested a quick tour of the mansion to see where what was located. The older man rounded his eyes to see the statues, but said nothing too sensitive. Skinner was also equally surprised to see the indoor pool. "This way, no one needs to go anywhere to do exercise. At least that'll save us some trouble. There's also a treadmill in the basement, in the corner of Savannah's studio room. She wasn't a big fan of gyms, and she didn't want anything much that she could handle on her own." Mulder spoke as he sled them out into the basement again to the security control room. "Well, thank you for showing me around, Agent Mulder. Keep in touch." Skinner said when Mulder determined it safe for them to leave the house without being spotted. They exchanged firm handshake at the from door. Mulder arrived at the restaurant half an hour later, taking Savannah's jeep with him. He'd never driven Jeep before, but after a few test runs in the drive way, he loved it. From their initial investigation, noting much came out of employment records for all employees and even their delivery people. This time ,Mulder was alone an didn't make any appointment. The security manager came out in no time to greet Mulder. He man wasn't happy, because of the circumstances surrounding their first meeting. But Mulder still didn't know why the killer chose to assassinate Savannah in this place. He knew what Scully said, but it wouldn't hurt to examine the scene of the crime again. The security tapes never showed the face of the killer, which meant whoever assassinated Savannah knew the exact placement and angles of each camera shot. "I needed to ask you something." Mulder began once they were in the security control room. Mulder's tone was calm and without emotion. The security manager crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at Mulder, who resisted his urge to smirk at the smaller man. "Agent Mulder, you should've made an appointment..." Mulder ignore the man with a shake of his head. "I need a complete list of everyone who has deep knowledge of this building's security system. Including yourself." "What?! Wy am I under suspicion?!" This was a reaction Mulder hadn't anticipated. "It's nothing personal, sir. Everyone who has ever the most remote relevance to this incident is a suspect. You are employed by the restaurant, but the security firm is also notified. I want to get in touch wit them, and start checking. Whoever killed Savannah Waters, is a person who knows this building, and especially its security." mulder voice was still devoid of emotion, which only worked to annoy the smaller man further. But in the end, the man decided to be on the good side of FBI. And complied with Mulder's request. Then, Mulder came up with an idea. "Sir? You seemed to have identified me quickly." The manager stiffened uncomfortably in his position. Mulder nodded slightly and walked one step closer. "Has any of the Santa Monica office agents come by here lately?" A nervous nod was the man's answer. Mulder nodded back. "How often have you seen them before the murder happened?" The man seemed to have shrunk in his skin. Mulder's eyes how held the familiar glimmer of a hunter. "Sir, I don't ...I can't be sure. Not often, I'm afraid." Mulder nodded to this answer, then placed his hands on his waist. "How long do you keep your security tapes? I know that the one from the day of the murder is at their office. What about ones from before that? Maybe a week or two back? Or did anyone from the office come looking for them, too?" Mulder knew he'd nailed the poor bastard. "From that classic expression of a deer caught in the headlight, I take it you still have some of them, or that they took them. Which one is the right answer?" Mulder leaned in closer, almost touching the man's nose with his own. The security manger began turning green, and Mulder almost felt sorry for him. Almost, not quite. When the man bowed his head to tear himself away from Mulder's prying eyes, Mulder grabbed the man's shoulders and slammed him up against the wall. His prey shuddered and twitched in his hands. "Tell me." Mulder's hoarse voice sounded as though it had been processed through a grinder. Mulder let the frightened man go once he nodded a yes. "They ...they took them all. And brought them back here, to me. But when I noticed the tapes had been altered, they told me not to talk about it." Mulder sighed. 'Another score for the Santa Monica office.' "Who was the agent?" "He didn't have a name." "Smart move. What's he look like?" "Can't say. Not now." "You have a family?" "Divorced. She's remarried." "Kids?" "None." "Then, go with it." "But..." "Do you want to be prosecuted for withholding evidences?" "They'll kill me." "Just give me the fucking list then, and we'll talk about it later." "All right! All right!! Just don't ask me to identify them." "What?! There was more than one?" "Yes!" The smaller man looked defeated, and Mulder decided he'd bullied the witness enough. When Mulder let him go, the man looked ready to cry. "I know I should've called in sick today! I just knew it! I'm probably the only guy who ever saw them, and you had to walk in here today..." "Do you believe in ghosts, sir?" Mulder's question shut up the man faster than any bullet. Looking into the smaller man's fearful eyes, Mulder grinned. "Does it make you feel any better if I told you I danced with one? She had eyes, and we finally could dance eye to eye, cheek to cheek. She even sung to me, just like she used to do. Imagine what more a ghost can do for a salvation." Now the smaller man grew even paler and looked ready to feint. Mulder smiled now, heading for the door. "Get the list and I'll come swing by later. That is, unless this place is being watched by the federal thugs." "No. I ...they maybe watching outside, but nothing inside here." Mulder narrowed his eyes. He didn't actually expect the agents to go to that extent. And he'd driven Savannah's car. 'Shit.' Mulder smacked himself in the face. He needed a back-up plan. "Okay. I'll go back out there, order a big lunch, stay for an hour or two and leave straight out of the door. Don't think about poisoning the food, because I'm reporting everything you just said to my boss. You'll l be the first suspect if anything happened to me while I'm in here. Understood?" Mulder saw the smaller man nod. "So, you're actually acting separately from those local agents?" "Yes. And I report directly to the Bureau's Assistant Director. No one has to know about our conversation except for my partner and the A.D." "The Assistant Director?! Oh, thank God!" Mulder was also relieved that he'd mentioned Skinner. "Yeah, well. When'd you get off work?" "Uhh ...around then." "Okay. Do you know the multi-plex movie theater about five blocks from here?" "Yes." "Be there at ten-thirty. I'll be waiting for you in the theater number one. Whatever the movie they're showing, buy a ticket and I'll be seated in the very back row, first floor. Understood?" "Yes." "Deliver the list to me then." "...Yes." "Make sure no one follows you there, but even if they do, it's hard to notice. That'll buy you some extra time." Mulder spoke rapidly, wanting to make sure that the man had heard him correctly, but also wanting to spend minimum time in the security room. "All right, Agent Mulder." The man nodded quickly, ushering Mulder out of the room at the same time. Mulder didn't object this time. He got himself a table, checking for any familiar face with a quick look through the restaurant. He stayed through lunch, forcing himself to consume the large meal while reading a newspaper he got from the restaurant's magazine rack and calling up Skinner to report on the situation. He'd even checked all the dishware on his table for planted bugs before ever picking up the phone. Scully didn't need any more share of trouble than what she already had to put up with. Skinner only told him to make sure there won't be any tails, and to be armed and ready. Mulder thanked the man, and waved the waiter over for the check. After returning home, Mulder called up Scully in the mansion to get her out of the house and to a pay phone. To inform her about the surveillance team Skinner sent out to the Santa Monica office, but withheld anything further, asking her instead to give him an update. "Natalie Boulder is looking more and more dangerous. I'm on her like glue until I'm absolutely sure that she doesn't fall through the loop. She's heading for San Francisco just two days after Tommy Waters's arrival." Mulder wanted to scream. 'That's in a week.' The thought went round and round inside his head. "Scully, I'm going out to watch a move or two, so I won't be home for a while. But you know you can always reach Skinner or my cellular in case of emergency." "Movie?! Mulder, what the hell do you think..." "Hey, you're having beautiful day out every day to the museums and the shopping mall. I want to have some fun myself." Mulder knew his sarcasm would let her know that it wasn't exactly a trip for pleasure. "Well, all right. ...Mulder, I'm ...I mean, I don't really want to be out unless I have to. If they're listening, they'd know we've been on to them." Mulder paled once he detected a hint of fear in her voice. Well, she was in a foreign country where people speak a language she doesn't understand, surrounded by 'predators' everyday without having the luxury of spotting them in the bushes. "Scully, are you all right? I'm thinking about doing the security installation as soon as possible in that mansion. Find a security firm with no connection whatsoever with the bureau nor the Waters and Savannah's groupies. Then, we'll spend a couple of days redecorating. How's that sound?" It was just an idea, but he was willing to speed it all up. "Mulder, calm down. Now you're scaring me here." Mulder froze for a minute. 'Shit!' He scowled himself. "Sorry, Scully. Just worried about you." "I know, Mulder. But your idea sounds good. Should I get the Gunmen to check out whoever I selected, or to have them recommend one for us?" "Good call, partner. I don't think a trunk full of your underwear's gonna get Frohike out of the country." Mulder laughed, relieved to hear it returned from the other end of the line. "I agree." Scully's voice made him feel warm again. "Mulder? Now that both of us are updated, what're your moves for tomorrow?" "Ahh... I've got to go check something with the restaurant again and go talk to Savannah's beauticians. She had a lot of them, including a membership with this salon and spa club. We neglected that area before, but I know you are checking into the area, too. I want you to know that Santa Monica agents conducted their own interviews, but I can't trust them." "Okay, Mulder. I'll be gone all day tomorrow, too, by the looks of it." Mulder winced, knowing the Savannah groupies were stalling her each day with their 'plans', taking advantage of Scully's language problem. He knew she had Danny wit her for all interviews conducted with the Niccolo family, the prospective of the two-way communication alone exhausted her. "Scully, I'm sorry. I wish we had more manpower in cases like this. I really want to get you a break, but it won't be for awhile. Just hang in there, and I'll be there as soon as..." "Mulder, I'm not an invalid." 'Am I over-protective again?' Mulder wondered where the line lay, but decided it was useless to try and define it. Besides, once it was clear, it could immobilize them quite a bit. Better let the sleeping beast lay. Federal Bureau of Investigation Regional Office Building Santa Monica Midnight US Pacific Time, Next Day Mulder tried very hard not to panic as he led himself further inside the building. His memory served him well, and Mulder needed little light to get to where he was going and to get what he needed. The voices coming from the ear piece set beside the small camera on his right temple guided him away from unwanted attentions as the so-called 'power outage' provided Mulder the cover he needed. "I know I'm close, but I haven't been anywhere beyond this door. Am I cleared through the records office? I only know the blue-print." "You're cleared, Mulder. But you better make it quick, before the one roistering around in the ladies room comes around." "All right." Mulder answered as he made a run for the door, then hurried down the long corridor and made two consecutive right turns. One small staircase led to the heavy metal door guarded with a keypad and nine digit pass code. "Okay, boys. What's the code?" "Almost have it." Langry said, trying to reassure Mulder. Finally, Byers released a breath as a 'ping' of the reading machine came up with the answer. "047101111." Everyone was silent for a long second until Mulder's shaky fingers punched his own FBI budge number minus the 'JTT' in the front, into the keypad. The little red light turned green. "Boys, when was this fucking code entered?" Mulder hissed his words out, very surprised he actually had strength to speak. "Ahh ...July, 1989." "Just after Savannah got her teaching job in Italy?" "Right after you received commendations for catching Monte Props the year before." "Fuck." Mulder tried to calm down as he rifled through the file cabinets until he found the complete file for Pickett and Harbor, then made his way to the computer records office just next door. Scully was going to love this, and the fact that he'd promised Frohike to send Scully to have a lunch with him once this mess was all over. Mulder took his seat in the leather chair in front of the main computer, and waited for the password. "Mulder? Enter Quimbanda." Mulder sputtered at this one as he punched it in. "I hope you're joking, guys." Humor was gone from his voice. "What do you mean?" Byers asked as he watched Mulder's fingers fly over the keyboard through the monitor. "Quimbanda is a term relating to black magic. Their practitioners believe spirits' evil natures are necessary for their black magic. Umbandistas generally refer to 'lower' or 'mischievous' spirits rather than evil ones in the faith that, with education, all spirits eventually evolve to higher consciousness. A bit different from that of Quimbanda, but it's related. Quimbandistas appeal to their identities as tricksters and specialists in witchcraft, and sorcery. Whoever at the receiving end of their curse could lose their job, their lover, their family, become ill and eventually die, unless the victim was treated by the white magic of the 'orisha's." Mulder read out of his memory, not wanting to emotionally become involved with the issue. But his subconscious was already connecting the black magic to the serial killers to the underground porno industry and their twisted methods of achieving sexual fantasy. The Gunmen were understandably silent for as long as their speaking wasn't required. But once Mulder reached the main frame and got into the list of their office security consultants, another password was required. Mulder only hoped this one wasn't going to set him off, because he was reaching his limit of patience and rationality. "This one is Voudoun, Mulder." Langry's voice echoed inside his head, and Mulder wanted to blow his brains right there and then. He took a shaky breath, and typed it in. "Mulder, hurry up. Someone's ...no, two people are headed your way. You've got less than a minute." Byers shocked Mulder back into the present. He slapped himself in the face once, then quickly pulled up the list of security guards, consultants and the firms. He took out the list given by the security manager at the restaurant, and pulled up what were in the list that matched up with the one in the computer screen. Three matches were found, and Mulder quickly downloaded the files into the floppy disks he had in his pocket. "Done." Mulder announced as he switched off the computer and ran back his way as he was guided out by the Gunmen. "Are you all right, Mulder?" Frohike asked as Mulder practically threw himself through the back door of the van like a live bullet, and landed with a loud thud on the floor of the Gunmen's mobil office. Mulder was shaking badly, and the short gagging sounds he made told them that he'd been crying. For some time, probably since the moment he finished loading the files. When Mulder didn't get up, the three men led Mulder's limp form to the only couch in the large vehicle, and laid him down. Mulder was still struggling to get himself under control, and took the roll of toilet paper Langry handed to him. "So, what's a voudoun?" Byers asked as Frohike searched their database for reference. They knew it had to do with black magic, but that was the limit of their knowledge. They both gasped as the information appeared on the screen. Langry soon joined after covering Mulder with his trench coat. "Oh, crap." Frohike mumbled. "No wonder Mulder flipped." "Should we warn Agent Scully?" Byers asked the other two, but they collectively clammed up. "Voudoun ...a.k.a., voudou, vodoun, voodoo, and hoodoo, is a product of the slave trade, principally in the Spanish and French colonies in the Caribbean such as Jamaica and Saint Dominque, now divided into Santo Domingo and Haiti. Whites forbade their slaves to practice their religion on pain of torture and death. Any slave found possessing a fetish was to be imprisoned, hanged, or flayed alive. "To save black souls, the masters baptized the slaves as Catholics. Like Santeria, Vodoun became a syncretism, with Catholicism superimposed upon secret native rites and beliefs. Tribal deities took on the forms of Catholic saints. Worshipers saw the addition of the saints as an enrichment of their faith, not a profanity. Fetishes were replaced by Catholic statues, candles, and holy relics." The screen read. The Gunmen scrolled the parts explaining the different rites and customs, to stop at the 'vodoun and black magic' section. "Voudoun worshippers may not all practice black magic, but darker aspects of Vodoun do exist. A houngan more involved in sorcery than healing is known as a bokor or boko. The greatest fear of the bokor is not a death curse but zombification." "But didn't Mulder say he made sure she was all right? On the other side, I mean?" Langry asked, turning back to see Mulder still busy recovering in the back of the car. "But it doesn't mean they'd given up. Whatever they did took Savannah Waters's life, her husband's life, and..." "Savannah Waters was half black, although Tommy Waters is a full-blooded Anglo-Saxon. The entire family is Catholic. ...Savannah was a product of an illegitimate affair between her father and an unidentified black woman. He'd agreed to raise her, but I guess Mrs. Waters wasn't too crazy about the idea. Says a lot for the way they distanced themselves from her." Byers then gave Langry a beat to finish whatever the man had to say. "Now, maybe they're getting started on Mulder and Agent Scully." Byers commented, not liking a word of what he said. "I don't know what the French originated cult is at work in Italy, but it all corresponds to the fact that the serial killers' victims lost what they most treasured about themselves. The musician's hands, the opera singer's vocal cords, Savannah's eyes, the lawyer's tongue, and the chess master's brain. Not to mention their attempts to extract Mulder's heart." "The Quinbanda thing that Mulder told us about ...could relate to Savannah's breast cancer before finally finishing her off with the pierced brain. And it did occur inside the restaurant where Mulder got the list for their security consultants matching with the bureau office..." Frohike trailed off as they all clammed up again and collectively turned to see Mulder finally getting up from the couch and making his way toward them. The Gunmen looked at each other one more time before getting out the name and the address of the security firm of their recommendation in Florence. Florence International Airport Florence, Italy 2 AM Florence Time /5 PM US Pacific Time Same Day Mulder hastily let himself into the car, and closed the door firmly behind him. He couldn't do anything except to call Scully up to announce his pending arrival. He'd spent the entire morning and early afternoon confirming his findings with the restaurant manager and then to talk to the beauticians at the salon. Because he didn't make an appointment with any of his unhappy interview subjects, he had to at least agree to let one of the beauticians to do his hair and a full facial touch-ups. Mulder at first resisted, not wanting to risk anyone poisoning him or slit his throat. But as soon as the beauticians' manager came to bark at them to return to work, Mulder took pity on them and agreed to stay in for an 'emergency appointment'. They talked about all they could once they were out of the danger of being fired on spot, promising Mulder to provide him with Savannah's billing records and a list of chemicals or ingredients used for each treatment session she got in. After he'd looked at the list of substances used, he requested the list of names and addresses of the companies which the salon bought the products used, which got him another round of forced appointments. It was good to actually observe everything in the rooms Savannah used to visit, but getting the first-hand experiences on them weren't his ideas. With the mud bath, warmed seaweed bath, pedicures, facial fruit/grain masks, and waxing of eyebrows to the trimming of nose hair, not to mention oil therapy and full-body massage, there were plenty of opportunity for anyone to slip a few toxic chemicals unnoticed by any of the technicians. Toxins which wouldn't show any dramatic effect at single dose, but in a long- term exposure, would result in devastating results. Mulder shuddered at the thought, and the memory of being probed and poked on by the technicians. At least he now looked squeaky clean and twice as handsome as when he walked in. And a whole lot wiser than before he left Florence the last time. Mulder called Skinner to report on the progress from a pay phone in the lobby of a hotel he passed by. Skinner was decidedly worried, but thanked him for getting the lists and the files. They both agreed to keep Scully in the dark, and to instead concentrate on their leads in Florence. Skinner also recommended Mulder to leave the issue of the restaurant security issues and the threats made to the security manager up to his team. Mulder thanked the man and got into his car again. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Florence, Italy 2:30 AM Florence Time Same Day The drive back was done on auto-drive, leaving his mind blank for as long as it could afford the luxury. Once pulled up in the driveway, Mulder jumped out of the car and quickly made his way toward the front door. Mulder had to be careful what he could say, as before. Only this time, he had to be more careful. He made his way up the stairs, not wanting to wake up Scully in case she managed to fall asleep. He hesitated going into his bedroom, and instead headed for the first floor, where the statues were recently moved out of their basement vault. He stood in front of the "Penance Undeserved" statue, and sat down on the floor to gaze at it. Eventually, his back began complaining, and he laid down on the stone floor. The moonlight was cast over the statue, the bluish white glow enhanced by the Italian marble walls of the lobby and most of the first floor hallways that led to the stairs. The surreality of the images combined with a fatigue-induced haze and memories coiling around inside his head gradually let him zone out until he was beyond caring of where he was. It was the sound of an alarm clock that finally shocked him back into consciousness. He instinctively reached out to the night stand to shut it up, but was beat to it by a much smaller hand that now covered the 'snooze' button underneath his palm. 'Alarm?' Mulder didn't remember setting it, much less getting into a bed. But the feel of the small hand under his was all too familiar. "Scully?" Mulder asked the same time he forced his eyes open, and met the sleep- rugged ocean-blue that stared up into his hazel-green. He hastily distanced himself from her in the bed by breaking the firm hold of his arms on her, and untangling his legs from hers. She was apparently still half-asleep as she turned around to snuggle close to him. "You feel so good." She mumbled as she snaked her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest. Mulder couldn't remember when he got undressed, though he was thankful to have remembered to leave his boxers on. But somehow, he knew he hadn't yet crossed the line. "Scully, how did I get here? Why didn't you wake me? And why didn't you kick me out of your bed?" Now fully-awake, Mulder asked his still half-asleep partner, getting a few grunts in return before she drifted off again into sleep. Mulder tried several times to speak, but soon gave up and turned off the alarm instead of keep hitting the damn 'snooze' button every five minutes. They were tired. Too much trouble was on their way to process without ruining their already ruined day. They could sleep in. Mulder awkwardly reached for Scully's silk-clad body, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head in her hair. Scully's body got the idea, and adjusted itself into a more comfortable position, which included placing her right leg over his left to rest her knee in between his thighs. Deciding their position would soon lead to trouble, Mulder shifted them both to rest on their sides with their bodies neatly lined parallel. This time, he felt her hand reaching to cover his. Listening to the sound of their breathing, he was again lulled back to sleep himself. Scully opened her eyes to the almost blinding rays of sunlight that attacked her eyes. But that was nothing compared to the feel of steady breaths on the back of her neck. She looked down, and found a familiar hand attached to an equally familiar forearm. But she hesitated for a second, because the hand didn't look the same. It was too neat. Then, she looked at her own hands. They also looked neater than they looked in years. 'The beauticians.' She remembered. Then, her memory jumped back into her and she knew she wasn't mistaken. 'Mulder also talked to the beauticians.' She relaxed just as the arm that was draped over her waist tightened its hold on her. She called his name, and his hand sought out hers to give it a squeeze. 'He's up.' Scully thought, and turned to face his sleepy eyes. "Morning." She greeted him with a small smile, getting a kiss on her forehead in return. He then drew her closer for a moment before mumbling his own greeting. "You first." Mulder said as he let her go. She sensed what he was asking about, so she shrugged. Mulder's eyes widened. "You don't remember, either?" Scully shook her head no. "The last thing I remember from last night is laying down on the floor of the first floor lobby, if front for that dreadful statue. Then I woke up at the alarm and I was here, with you." "I don't remember waking up at all, Mulder." Scully spoke a soft voice that flowed as smooth as her silk sleepwares. This was troubling. For all he knew, someone could have gotten into the house, did God knew what to them, and put them into this bed. "Do you think we need to worry about it?" Mulder asked, thinking about getting trace evidences taken. Scully was wondering the same thing, but shook her head no. "Not yet. If we go to a hospital and get us examined, it'll delay the investigation. If we are in any mortal danger from some hideous poison, it's probably too late, anyway. I can think of worse ways to die than this." Mulder pondered the thought for a moment, and ran his fingers through her hair to smooth them out. She gave him a curious look before she returned the favor. "So, you also checked into the substances the salon use?" Mulder whispered for the benefit of the surveillance crew, and got a nod for an answer. He nodded back. "How much torture did you have to go through to get them talking?" This time, he spoke for real, and failed to hide his smile. "I had my hair trimmed, then got dumped into a mud bath, before getting stuck into a sauna to sweat out whatever is clogging my pores. Then I had a pleasure of spending hours in the estetician's room, before getting my face massaged and got all the unwanted hair on my face trimmed off. I was finally allowed to take a shower before I left. They told me I never need to shave my legs or armpits again. How about you?" By this time, Mulder was reduced to a giggling fool. "Same. More or less." Mulder managed before getting to his own story. Seaweed bath and the full-body massage were what Scully missed, but wasn't sorry about it. He dropped his voice to a whisper again for the sensitivity of the matter. "I've had the complete list of substances faxed to me, including the names of their makers and distributors." When Scully nodded an understanding, he distanced his face from hers to speak in a normal tone. "I probably spent half a day in that building. They wouldn't just let me wait and kept throwing all their tricks on me. Did they make you eat spa food for lunch?" "Sure. Broiled fish and minestrone soup. They tasted good, but I didn't care much for the seaweed salad." Mulder made a sour face at the mention of the last item, and Scully chuckled. "I swam in those things for two hours! ...Although, I should tell you. The feel of those slickly things moving over your skin is quite interesting. Very arousing, I should say. They don't get too many male clients to do it, so the technician had fun teasing me. She did answer all my questions, though. And told me to 'come back any time if you have more questions'. What do you think?" Mulder grinned before flopping down on his back and stare up at the ceiling. "So, what did they feed you?" Scully kept one hand over his chest, and Mulder toyed with it. "Some kind of shrimp salad with finely chopped vegetables. ...I don't know what to tell you. I know it's a Mediterranean dish. For dessert, they gave me two chocolate- covered candy sticks." "Hmmm ...and I had a chocolate mousse. Wanna compare your notes with mine?" Scully was offering her awareness of their situation, that they needed to get up and go to work. But all enthusiasm was gone from her voice, and Mulder didn't want to go anywhere, either. Not after what he'd uncovered the day before. Not only that, he never wanted to let Scully out of his sight. "Sure, Scully. But looks like we're gonna be staying in today." The slightest change in his eyes told her to be ready for his whispers. "I've had the Gunmen give me the name of the security firm trustworthy enough to take care of this house. I've contacted them as I was leaving US, so they should be here by later today or early tomorrow morning." Mulder looked into her eyes for support, and was relieved to see her nod. "That sounds appealing." She answered before giving his cheek a kiss and slid out of the bed. Mulder followed, and let himself out of the room. He found his clothes scattering in the hallway, all the way down the stairs. 'Jesus.' He thought as he felt a blush creep up his face. He couldn't think of a reason why he'd sleepwalk while stripping off his clothes, enter Scully's bedroom unannounced, and have the nerve to actually invite himself into her bed. He decided to at least cook branch for them. Natalie Spencer's Office Downtown Florence Business District 3 PM Florence Time Same Day Mulder hadn't met nor talked with Natalie Spencer personally since the memorial service. Since the appointment was made only for Scully, Natalie seemed surprised when Mulder followed Scully into the office. "Dana? How are you?" Natalie had enough English skills to carry a regular small talk or two, which helped Scully as well as it did Natalie. Mulder pegged the woman a target the moment he saw the look she gave him the instant she saw him. "I'm fine, Natalie. Mulder and I came here hopefully to ask you something." Scully said as she took a seat in the comfortable chairs facing Natalie's glass desk. The office was located in the thirteenth floor of the building, and was probably larger than Skinner's office in J. Edger Hoover building. 'Impressive.' Mulder nodded approval as he looked around. "What can I do for you, Dana? I can only spare you about forty minutes before my next appointment." Natalie said as she took a sip from her bottled water, then pointed to the mini fridge located in a corner of the room. Contrary to Mulder's assumptions, Scully stood to get two can of soft drinks, and handed him a can of ice tea. Mulder took it gratefully, but never opened it. Scully was seated just half a foot away from him, and he was going to take advantage of that as soon as an opportunity came. Mulder shifted in his seat, and took the first stone to throw. "We can start from something simple. Will you give us an overview of your position in your profession? What kind of clients do you handle? What kind of cases do you take? And, how do you normally handle them?" Natalie's eyes narrowed, regarding Mulder as if he was an intruder. "Excuse me?" The woman asked, then sought Scully's attention. "Dana? What is this all about?" Scully was loath to take either speaker's side. "We found out that you take rather frequent trips to San Francisco for business purposes." Scully started, getting a startled look from Natalie. "We were wondering if you'd used the opportunities to visit or see Savannah Waters in Santa Monica. We were hoping that you could maybe provide some information for us about her." Scully struggled to be clear to Natalie and still keep peace. Leave it to Mulder to stir up the dust where it's not wanted. "Yes, I've seen her during my stays in US, but not every time. She was handful whenever she was in the middle of a project, and I wasn't there for pleasure." Natalie swung her chair a bit to his direction, so she faced him directly. Once the initial shock passed, the woman had guts. "You said Savannah was handful. In what ways?" Mulder knew about Savannah's temper fits, but she was never the type to push anyone away just because she was busy. Rather, she hated hiding herself in that way, and willingly exposed everything that was about her. Natalie seemed to consider this for a bit, eyeing him suspiciously. "She didn't want interruption whenever she was brainstorming. She practically threw me out of the house at one time." This, Mulder knew was dead wrong. Of course, she may have changed a bit especially after her Emilio's death that was now pegged as an unsolved murder. But fundamental qualities of her openness to the others wouldn't have changed no matter what. It was Savannah's nature. "Well, that's understandable considering many of the world-famous artists." Scully quipped, trying to see where in this mine field to step on next. It was Mulder's idea to invite himself for this meeting after he suggested her making the appointment. Scully knew how Mulder loved to face his enemies, to put them to test. "But the fact remains that you're probably one of the last people who ever saw Savannah alive. I'd appreciate any information you could give us..." "Dana, that's all I've been doing ever since I've met you two. She was a friend of mine, and it still hurts me to think that she's gone." Natalie shook her head sadly, and took another sip of her water. "Have you met anyone else in Savannah's family? Maybe she talked about them visiting her in her house?" Mulder just took another plunge into the mine field, and Scully braced herself. "She talked only about Emilio while I was there. ...She does have a younger brother named Tommy, and he does speak Italian. But that's about all I know." "Then you didn't know that he's teaching high school students who are in exchange programs sponsored by the university she was teaching at?" This was another major step in the chess, and Scully was ready to call for a timeout. Mulder silenced her with a look, and together they faced Natalie again. "I haven't personally seen him more than once or twice. I don't remember much about him. ...I know he didn't get along well with Savannah. ...Excuse me, but why are you asking me all these questions? I mean, is there something wrong?" Now, Natalie was making her way into their territory. Mulder stood up from his seat, and walked the three feet distance between the chairs and the glass desk. Scully shifted uncomfortably in her seat, ready to stop him if he made a wrong move. "No, Miss Spencer. We're only doing our jobs, and excuse me if you find my manners intrusive. But you know how detectives are. They're bloodhounds when they've got more than one unsolved murders in their hands." With that, Mulder offered Natalie a handshake, which she took graciously. The relief of getting rid of them was plain in her eyes, but both he and Scully ignored it. Scully also shook hands with Natalie, muttering something about going out somewhere together again 'without work'. "I'd like that." Natalie smiled her answer, and saw them out of the office. "Mulder?! What the hell were you thinking?!" Scully exploded the moment they were inside the elevator. Mulder shrugged. "She was lying, Scully. Savannah never rejected anyone, much less kick them out of the door. Savannah was never 'handful', although she tended to have short tempers during her projects. She was never..." "That's exactly the problem, Mulder. You're too emotionally involved in this to think how a person can change in ten years! I've changed a lot since I began working with you, and who knows what can happen in twice that time?!" "Scully, you never really changed. Not that much. You became wiser, but you still lay your faith in science and rationality. You are still as much a skeptic as I am a believer. We just got evened out a bit, because we were both confronted by evidences which contradict our initial beliefs. You are still conservative in your choice of clothes, although it's seen a dramatic improvement over the past four years. I've stopped wearing crazy ties, and now people remember me more for my work and characteristics than my ties. But that's about the extent of changes we've gone through." "And you still stick your nose too deep into every mess you come across. What were you trying to do by ticking that woman off? I mean, I know that everyone would soon realize that not only Savannah was murdered, but also her Emilio had fallen prey to predators. But that wasn't exactly the way to go, Mulder. You could've set some sparks in there. I don't know about you, but I still need to socialize with these people." "And I was ready to knock that damn soda can off of your hand the moment you opened it." Mulder leaned heavily against the elevator wall as the door opened to the main lobby. Scully sighed. "Look. I know what you were worried about and why. Half the companies on our list of salon product suppliers are located in France. Natalie Spencer was also from Nice, France, before getting her law degree in Paris and moved to Florence with her relatives." 'If you only knew.' Mulder thought. "She's got a job traveling back and force between here to San Francisco, I know. You told me." Mulder said as he returned to the car, and threw her the key. "If you don't mind, I'd like a little breather before going home to wait for the security firm guys, and you look like you wanna be behind the wheel. Will you take us to the church next to the park we went to? I feel like walking in the garden." Scully said nothing as she took out her sunglasses and settled down into the driver's seat. Mulder was thankful for her foresight, and pressed the button to take the top off of the car. Scully only once looked at him curiously, but shrugged and turned on the ignition. Mulder began flipping the CD collection in the carrying case, eventually coming up with "Iris", by Goo Goo Dolls. When asked to make selections while at a red light, Scully picked "Angel" by Sarah MacLachlan. Neither said nothing, but they knew the reasons for their selections. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA 6 AM US Pacific Time Next Day Mulder walked into the now very familiar surrounding of the house, and wondered how everything would change again once Skinner's team moves in within thirty-three hours. After checking into the connection of security firms on the list provided by the restaurant's security manager, Mulder decided to take up another recommendation from the Gunmen to reinstall the security system in the house. Mr. Carpenter was understandably upset and demanded Mulder's reasons, but of course he didn't tell the man that his bosses may have involvement in Savannah's murder. But knowing Mulder's credentials, Carpenter didn't dare try to push Mulder too far into changing his mind. "It's nothing personal, Mr. Carpenter. I'm sure you have more than one client." Mulder said as he saw the man out of the door, and called up the new security firm to make an appointment at their earliest convenience. When they called him back on his cellular, Mulder was surprised to find them available just that afternoon for initial consultation. Mulder immediately jumped on the opportunity, and read through Scully's background check on Natalie Spencer again to report to Skinner. With luck, he could request an undercover agent or surveillance crew to check around the woman's San Francisco office. The house seemed so empty without anyone else around. Although he'd gotten used to it recently, it didn't mean he liked it. Mulder made a trip to a nearby shopping mall as soon as the reps of the security firm went out of the door to assemble their team for their next morning's work. Mulder was as tired as Scully of getting her out of the house everytime they needed to talk. Now that the problem was solved, it was time he got them their own satellite cellular phones, with international connections and extra batteries. She would probably narrow her eyes and tell him to take them back to the store, but as long as Mulder was her superior, she would have to put up with his mothering. 'Or fathering, for that matter?' Mulder wondered as he handed cash to the store clerk. "You know the deal. Twenty-four hour waiting period for activation, and one-year contract. This is a satellite phone, so it's more expensive, but the services provided with this particular package is very..." "Yeah, I know. I've paid for them already. Don't worry about losing sales on these." Mulder snickered when the younger man blushed and saw him walk out. He called the phone company to request activation the moment he got home, then jumped in the pool for two hours to work out the madness. He was beginning to understand the reasons why his father left his assets to his son and not his mother nor his missing sister. The old man probably knew how much it would take for his son to search out the truth and Samantha. Just as Savannah understood what it might take for Mulder to 'avenge' her death. But he doubted she knew about the black magic and voodoo. Or, it could be that she'd found out about it and her brother's involvement in the plot to assassinate her, in just enough time to revise her will. If Mulder had another chance to talk to Savannah, he'd probably apologize her for having whatever counts as fun that he'd had at her expense. He still felt guilty to set himself in an environment he didn't exactly deserve. Although he was planning on setting up a scholarship program in her name as soon as the investigation was over, avenging her death and to bring justice alone threatened to take not only his life but that of his partner's. He wished that at least he could concentrate on one place at a time. Once he got out of the shower, he called Scully to update her on the things at home. But he immediately detected trouble in her voice. "Danny was here just here for breakfast, and told me Natalie called him last night." 'Oh, fuck me.' Mulder thought as he walked into the kitchen. "Do you think we should be worried?" Mulder asked, as he always did at times like this. Scully sighed, and told him she didn't know. "Well, would it be a bit too much to ask him to stay on? Tell him as much as you can about what we're really doing here and there. We owe him that much." "Mulder, he knows that Savannah's death wasn't accidental. He knows we're investigating a murder here, but he knows absolutely nothing about the other one." "Oh." Mulder's curious tone could've been heard all the way from Florence. Scully sighed again. "Mulder, I had to tell him that much. He's no damn kid, Mulder. He began sensing it around the end of the first week, when I began asking questions about what everybody did with their lives to match up their words with facts. But you were right to trust Danny, and you are right on fearing for his safety. I could let him stay with me in the house, since it's been swept and guarded. But I'm not too crazy about the idea, to be honest. If he stays here, it's only a matter of time before he learns too much about what we're doing for our comfort." "I agree. Look, Scully. You've got Spencer as the lead, and you've taken care of the autopsy details on the dead man. The other woman you had pegged checked out clean, and Tommy Waters is due on arrival in several days. It's probably inevitable that Danny needs to be off the hook. For the past week, I've been requesting Skinner to find us a good and clean Italian translator, so I maybe able to bug the AD to put a rush on it. But until then, maybe Danny shouldn't even be near the house. If you let him stay, our enemies might believe Danny knows more than he should. Request his cooperation until then, but only until then." "I didn't know you've put up any request to the AD. What else aren't you telling me, Mulder?" Scully had that interrogation tone in her voice, and Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose to think up a good enough answer. "Skinner's assembled another team on his own to investigate the underground area. We both agreed that it was just too dangerous for either of us to try and investigate, since our physical descriptions are widely known. No disguise would cover us." Mulder prayed she would be satisfied with that much. Scully sighed. "Mulder, you should tell me these things, you know. The house's safe now. We can talk about whatever we want to." 'No, definitely not.' Mulder thought. And the house wasn't completely safe, considering Scully had no guard, and anyone could invade there by force. "I'm sorry, Scully. I want you to concentrate on Natalie Spencer and Tommy Waters. You're only one investigator, and I don't want you work yourself to the ground. I'm going to be onto Tommy like a glue for the next several days until he's off to Florence, and I'll follow him. Be waiting at the airport, but follow Waters. I'll follow behind you. Skinner's keeping updates on Harbor and Pickett sightings, but so far nothing's been up. But as soon as we find a possible lead, I'll have to cut Tommy loose and head there, instead." "Okay, Mulder. Looks like you've got your hands full." "I hate to push Tommy alone in your hands if that happens, but I'll get to Florence as soon..." "I know, Mulder." He could picture her smiling and shaking her head. "Did you order the security reinstallation?" "First thing tomorrow morning, they'll come work on it. Gunmen were really helpful as usual, and I think they put in a few good word for me to rush it." "Good to know. ...I guess it's time for me to get to work, and time for you to eat something and go to bed." He heard her sigh again, and knew it was time for him to get ready for stakeout at Tommy's place. He already had two other agents waiting for his arrival. But of course, he didn't tell her that. "Thanks, Mom." He disconnected when Scully began laughing. Filippo Niccolo Estate Rome, Italy Noon Rome Time Noon Same Day Niccolo family's hospitality was a bit south of the South Pole on a thermometer. They have never been welcoming to Scully's presence, but actually visiting the family home revealed so much more of their hostility toward anyone who had a friendly association with their late daughter-in-law. "That bitch took our Emilio away from us!" Daniel Niccolo, Emilio's father, exclaimed the moment Scully mentioned Savannah. Danny the translator flinched next to her, and reluctantly translated the man's harsh words for Scully's benefit. She winced, thinking how Savannah and Emilio managed to survive for four years of their marriage. "Mr. Niccolo, I understand your frustrations, but the Federal Bureau of Investigation still needs your cooperation in searching out for your son's and your daughter-in-law's murderers." Deciding to keep it in strictly business atmosphere to get through this detail, she went on. "My partner and I have been staying at Emilio's mansion, trying to collect enough information to build our case. The sooner we have your full cooperation, the sooner we can stop bothering you. And we do want justice done for your son's sake." As Danny translated, his voice somewhat unstable, the Niccolos finally noticed the important part of Scully's statements. "Did you say Emilio was murdered by the same people who murdered Savannah?" Filippo asked, and Scully nodded solemnly. Next to the large man, Mrs. Niccolo went transparent. "Yes, we have gathered enough evidence to support this claim. The murderer was most likely the same person or persons responsible for Savannah Waters's murder occurred a few weeks ago in US." "It's been unsolved for so long... Many of us thought the woman was responsible for it." Mrs. Niccolo whispered softly, and Scully herself was on the barge of tears. "Yes, Ma'm. The copies of your son's autopsy report and recently the Florence PD report of the same investigation were false. Our investigation did reveal the details of your son's murder, but until now, everyone in US was told your son died of a heart-attack. I wish we could have uncovered the true cause of your son's death sooner, but only by directly talking to the pathologist who performed your son's autopsy, did we discover that the documents were falsified." "But how is that possible? To falsify a police report, I mean." Mrs. Niccolo's question was a rational one. "I'm afraid it was due to the involvement of law enforcement officials." Next to her, Danny the translator flinched, and Scully's heart went out to the poor man. "What? Florence PD wasn't involved, was it?" Filippo stood from his seat, towering over the three people. "Not directly. It was most likely one of ours. FBI agents, or someone in the Florence PD who was either blackmailed or bribed to do the job after Savannah Waters's murder occurred." Scully tried to hide her embarrassment in the face of the large man's boiling fury. "The damn Americans!" The man exclaimed, and with this one, Scully needed no translations. Also, it became clear that Niccolo family don't have the information she needed, although she would need to keep checking in with them. "You will have our full cooperation." The impossibly clear statement was a music to Scully's ears as she thanked them and shook hands with them. Danny the translator also looked visibly relieved as he shook hands with them, and got ready to leave. Scully left Mulder's house's number written on the back of her business card with the Niccolos on her way out. "Dana? What was that about FBI agents coming in here to...?" "I can't tell you much, because it's an important information in the case. But we think that someone from Santa Monica office is involved, and it was true that we didn't know about Savannah's Emilio being murdered. You probably didn't tell us in the beginning, because you thought we already knew." "Yes. I was rather surprised to hear that you didn't. But it has remained unsolved, and I thought that was the reason you kept digging into the area." Danny was rubbing the point of his chin thoughtfully as they went to their rented car to get to the airport. Santa Monica County General Hospital Intensive Care Unit - Lobby Santa Monica, CA 5 AM US Pacific Time Next Day "Did you get a hold of Agent Scully, yet?!" AD Skinner barked at the younger agent, who shook his head no. "I left about fifteenth message in the answering machine, but not yet. Agent Mulder said she'd probably gone to Rome to interview the dead man's family." "Mr. Niccolo's mansion? For what?" "Supposedly to get any information on their son's murder." "Mulder said the case was labeled as unsolved. If they're trying to solve the case, it's not our jurisdiction until we determine that it was indeed been done by Tommy Waters." Skinner growled as he looked at his watch for the thousandth time that morning. "It's been over three hours. ... Excuse me, nurse? When will Agent Mulder be out of surgery?" Skinner asked the chief nurse, who told him to just 'wait quietly'. "Sir, he took a lot of shrapnel from the explosion. A lot of it went into his rear, shoulder blades, and right temple. He's lucky he had his back turned. He could have had a collapsed lung, a punctured kidney, blindness, or even hearing loss. It's taking them long, because of the number of wounds he's got. Not necessarily the seriousness of his injuries. Maybe the surgeon could discuss the situations once he gets done, and Agent Mulder is moved to the recovery room." "Yes. Thank you very much." Skinner relaxed a bit, and nodded when the nurse gave her a reassuring smile before walking away. The bomb had gone off at one a.m., set inside the Volvo that was parked in Tommy Waters's garage. Mulder and the two accompanying agents were getting relieved by the next surveillance crew. He was exiting the car and had his back turned as he was closing the rear door when the loud 'bang' was heard and the small car exploded. Mulder fared worst by the incident, because the other two agents were on the opposite side of the car, getting only a few deep gashes that needed less than fifteen stitches. Not a four-hour surgery. Skinner hounded the surgeon the moment the woman appeared at the door leading to the operation room. Mulder on the gurney followed, pushed by three nurses. Skinner took a look at the unconscious agent, and felt his headache inflame at the sight. "How is he?" Skinner asked as he followed surgeon's guiding motion toward the waiting room, where a crowd gathered in anticipation of the doctor's words. "The surgery on Agent Mulder was very successful. We needed the time to carefully extract the glass shards and metal shrapnel out of his back and especially the head. As you requested, I've had every object removed from his body kept in a plastic container for your forensics team. Recovery period in situations such as this one varies, but I believe no physical therapy is required. He was extremely lucky this time. He has no broken bones, but his shoulder-blades are looking like beehives right now. It would be as long as a month before he can do any heavy lifting. "The cuts on his rear will force him to lay on his belly for a long time, and he won't be able to sit down in chairs for too long at a time for a while, but as long as he follows our advises, he should just be fine. Judging from the nails, shuttered glass, and other undescribable sharp metal pieces we pulled out of his body, the explosion was most likely from a pipe bomb. As soon as you can get in touch with Dr. Scully, you can tell her that he's out of danger for now, and that he kept telling the ER doctors and my surgical team that he wants her in Italy." The doctor received a round of thanks, and left for the recovery room to check on Mulder again before getting to another patient. "Did the bomb squad come up with anything?" Skinner asked his agents, but they only looked around the room for other agents, and remained silent. Skinner sighed. If the bomb was a pipe bomb as the doctor suspected, it wasn't designed to destroy the house, but the person who would be driving it, or the three agents across the street. The house was mostly saved, only retaining a couple of broken windows and singed walls. But this incident gave them a damn good excuse to place Tommy Waters in custody. "Get me Waters!" Skinner barked again, scattering the junior agents like a bunch of baby spiders. Skinner's cellular summoned him right then, and he snatched it out of his jacket pocket. "What happened to Mulder?!" The woman needed no introduction, and Skinner relaxed a little. "Finally. Where were you, Agent Scully?" "I went to Rome with Danny to see the Niccolos, and I just returned to the mansion. They've promised a full cooperation, but we can take them off the list of our suspects. I'm heading for the airport, and I'm on concord." Skinner clearly caught the sound of cars running by in the background. "Are you on a pay phone?" He didn't want to imagine how many coins she must have piled up or just how short he would have to edit his explanations if that was the case. "No, my cellular. ...My new satellite cellular. It was delivered to me by UPS express, just as I was getting to the door." Skinner narrowed his eyes, but soon began explaining Mulder's conditions and the short summary of the incident. Scully listened closely and relaxed a bit, but of course she exploded once Skinner relayed her Mulder's message. "Agent Scully, Mulder's going to be all right. He was just released from surgery. Mulder is right. If this was an attempt to divert our attention, your coming in here would only make it easier for them to escape or snoop around. I've sent for you the translator I promised Mulder to get, so stay by the ...I mean, carry your cellular around and continue your investigation." "But, sir..." "No buts, Agent Scully. That's an order." This shut Scully up. "Mulder's cellular is still intact, so I'll have him ring you once he comes around. I told you, he's going to be fine. If Waters's already on his way to Florence, you need to have him under arrest." "Yes, sir." "Besides, he's going to be on his belly for a long time. Don't you think enough people are going to be looking at his ass?" It was rare for Skinner to give out any joke, but he was relieved to have Mulder back in one piece, and could use some break in the ice. When he heard a low chuckle from the other end of the line, he knew Scully understood that Mulder really was going to be all right. "That'll be all, Agent Scully. We'll be in touch." Skinner hang up, and scratched his head. He'd left about two messages for Tina Mulder as he always did, but doubted the woman would call back. The woman never did unless the call was about Mulder was supposed dead. He was glad he hadn't yet met the woman personally. He decided not to call her the third time, the old saying for charm be damned. There was a lot of work to do, and he had no time to spare. When Skinner returned to the surveillance base, he moved everyone to Mulder's house as was planned. If Waters intended the bomb to wipe out the surveillance team, staying at their current location was no longer appealing. No one objected to the idea once they took a good look at an evidence bag full of bloody nails, blades, glass, twisted sharp metal pieces, and even tuck pins pulled out of Mulder. Scully called in to check on Mulder just as he was getting everything set up in Mulder's new living room. She was ordered to bed after the call. "Wow! This is unreal!" One of the wire-tap technician exclaimed once he discovered the kitchen and the pool. Skinner quickly herded everyone back into the living room, and gave them orders not to go fooling around. This was a team made from six green agents and three experienced agents, Skinner included. Only Skinner had the entry code to enter the house, and one of the first things he did was to set one of the senior agents into the security control room in the basement. In an old downtown apartment complex, Skinner was also busy setting up an undercover mission to trap who was rumored to be one of the most powerful drug-lord of this area. A female agent had herself ready, looking like a Sex Pistles reject. A camera was planted in the heels of her shoes, one to show the images from behind her, and the other providing the front view. The agent also had a bug to leave in the apartment, hidden inside her ring. Skinner betted something was going to come out of this, one way or another. Natalie Spencer's Residence Florence, Italy 9 AM Florence Time Next Day "Would you like one more cup, Agent Scully?" Paul the Bureau translator asked as she stifled a yawn. "Uhh, sure. Thanks." She answered and stretched in her seat. She'd never had a more boring stakeout. When she and Mulder were together, he could use his photographic memory to advantage, and could tell her stories from movies, books, or personal experiences. This agent had enough respect for her, but had the personality like skim milk. Which was why she ended up mostly talking about X-Files and Mulder. The agent knew how Scully kept calling back Skinner for an update, and had the insight to let her talk. The stakeout was Scully's idea, who was convinced that if Natalie was involved in planning this charade, she will make a move soon. So far, Natalie had gone to office from her condo as she always did, but she exited the building within half an hour and returned to the condo. So far, the woman seemed to be busying herself, but nothing more was detectable from their distance. It took her only a few hours to figure out who got her the powerful satellite phone and why. Now, she couldn't have been more grateful for its presence. When she first used it to contact Skinner, the phone had only been activated for a few hours, which told her just how important for him to get it to her. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether or not Mulder expected something to happen to him, but she was sure this was more out of concern for her safety and to conserve time for communication than anything. As if sensing her boredom, her cellular demanded her attention at around ten-forty. An unfamiliar and excited voice of an agent greeted Scully, reporting from Mulder's Santa Monica house. "We've got a problem." "What is it?" Already feeling bile in the back of her throat, she sucked in a breath and held it. "One of the local agents was reported missing. Skinner thinks he's headed your way, but we're not sure. If he is, he's likely to be using a fake name. We thought about alerting the customs and immigrations, but Skinner wanted the guy loose for a while. Send someone to the airport and check for sighting, or stay where you are and see if Spencer's going to make a move." "I think it's safer if we stayed here. How long ago was the agent reported missing?' "The last time anyone's seen him was four hours ago, when he went to the mall. He left the car there, and probably flagged a cab to the airport." "Four hours? ...Send someone here from your team and put the agent on concord. Our guy can get lucky and catch up to the suspect." "What if the suspect was on concord?" "Then he's already here. Thanks for the update." Scully hang up and relayed the word to Paul. It was around midnight that they finally detected something worth reporting. A car pulled up in front of the condo, and a young man ran inside the building. Scully stopped Paul from running outside to see if he'd gone into Natalie's unit or not, but the man exited the building with Natalie on toe another half an hour later. Scully saw Paul look up from a folder full of surveillance photos, and nod his confirmation before turning on the ignition. Just as Scully was getting her weapons ready, Skinner called in for update. "We had some luck from our undercover mission. We've got two guys in custody, and they're willing to talk. We should have something by the time you guys contact us. Be careful, Scully." Skinner's tone was clearly authoritative, yet underlined with the man's fear for her safety. Scully thanked the man, and gave a nod to Paul. Her next call was made to the local PD, which was already alert and was waiting for her call. She let Paul talk while reading the map. "They're headed for the train station. Maybe they're looking to get through the border or heading for a port. Tell the police to alert every train station in the area, and alert every coast patrol. Sir, I think you'll need to question every individual on the list of Savannah's close associates." "Stay on the path, Agent Scully. You're the one in control of this." "All right. You be careful, too." Scully hang up. "Agent Scully, I think they spotted us." Paul said as he floored the gas pedal. 'Great.' Scully kept the comment to herself, and tightened her seat belt. The subjected vehicle was indeed speeding up, maneuvering between other moving cars. "Shit. I won't be getting special driving courses until next month!" Paul exclaimed as he struggled to catch up. "Do you want me to take the wheel?" Scully could drive like a live bullet, thanks to the five years of X-Files and Mulder's obsessions. When the subjected vehicle less than dutifully stopped at a red light, Scully's car was about fifty feet away. Scully decided not to dash for them and endanger innocent civilians. Especially not in this country. Scully and Paul quickly changed seats, and restarted the chase. But once they reached the next intersection, the escapees made a run for their lives, and Scully barely kept up pace as they dashed through the red lights, getting honked and yelled at in passing. They finally managed to catch up with the fleeing car at a country road, some twenty miles from Spencer's condo. Scully was frustrated, and was ready to fire on them to burst the suspects' car tire. Paul, as green as an agent could get, was put in charge of communicating with the local police department, informing them of the change of course. Once deciding on a move, Scully took a deep breath and floored gas pedal even further. "What are you doing?!" Paul's panic was justifiable as Scully shortened distance, approaching the fleeing vehicle to mere five feet, then swiveling to the opposite lane. "I'm gonna gain some distance in front of them, and close their path." "But... But..." "Do you rather fire on them?" "Well, no..." "Tighten your seat belt, Paul." Scully carefully waited for the right timing, trying to get around to the fleeing vehicle that now read Scully's mind and moved in a zig-zag pattern. But in that instant, the fleeing car suddenly braked to a halt, making the pursuers' car swivel violently to the side just to avoid a head-on collision. The air bag was immediately deployed, bouncing Scully's upper body violently while Paul hit his forehead dead-on into the dashboard. Scully was dropped into shock, but was still conscious enough to see Spencer step out of the car to rush over to the agents. However, once she spotted an incoming car in the distance, she changed her mind and jumped back into the car, taking the wheel in place of the driver. They were out of sight before anyone noticed, and before Scully blacked out. Santa Monica County General Hospital - Mulder's Room 6 PM US Pacific Time Same Day His head was a whirring mass of nausea and blur. But what was worse was the feel of his bare back. His absolutely bare back. And the stinging pains in his upper back. The first thing the nurse told him after he regained consciousness was never to move. Don't turn his head, don't touch his wounds, and never ever try to turn over. Mulder asked her how that was possible, and was told to put up with it, or get into restraints. But even in such predicament, his eyes spotted his cellular phone lying next to the water pitcher on the nightstand. He reached for it, and gasped as pain shot through his shoulders all the way down to the pelvis. Gritting his teeth, he managed to drag the phone in front of his face. He pressed the fourth speed dial, remembering Scully's satellite cell number. She answered on the first ring, but her state of distress was easily readable even to someone in his condition. "Sculllyyyy?" His voice sounded plain miserable, especially having his left cheek pressed against the mattress. He head her gasp, and call his name. He grinned when she asked him how he was. "Can you tell me what happened? There's an agent outside my door, but no one's come to talk to me." "Mulder, I can't talk right now. You don't know it, but you've been missing some incredible parties ever since you got hurt. But you need to follow the doctors' advises. I'm still in Florence, and I'll be here for awhile. Hang in there, partner." Mulder tried to process every word she gave him, but all he could come up in return was a thanks. 'It looks like someone had blown the self-destruct switch in the conspiracy.' He thought. Only he'd been at the receiving end of it. But knowing that something was actually in motion made him feel much better. It was about fifteen minutes later that his attending physician visited him and explained in unpleasant details about what he should expect. "You were incredibly lucky, Agent Mulder. None of the shrapnel went to the vital organs. Your forensics team took the shrapnel away, but a lot of them were embedded deeply into the bones. You'll be in quite a bit of pain for several weeks, but we won't know for sure about the full extent of your head injuries until we can run more tests." Mulder grunted, but thanked the doctor anyway. "Sure. The hospital's been a zoo since you got here, and finally it's gotten quiet again just a few hours ago. We were told to never let anyone in this room except for the Assistant Director, Agent Scully, myself and the chief nurse. I don't know the details of your investigation, but we haven't had this much excitement around here for some time." The words he recalled out of the encyclopedia about Quimbada assaulted his senses. There were people who were frayed alive. Getting hit by pipe bombs could be the modern version of the same thing. He should tell Skinner about his snooping around in that building with the Gunmen. The man had the right to know that much. "Oh. Well... How long before I can at least move on my own?" "Maybe in two weeks or so? Your had your shoulder-blades looking like beehives. Your rear is missing good chunks of flesh and a lot of skin." Mulder closed his eyes at the thought. A couple of clean bullet wounds sounded much better than this. "How pleasant. ...How about my head?" Mulder gazed up to indicate his right temple with his eyes. The doctor clasped his hands in front of him, and Mulder knew that meant the doctor was nervous. Either about the FBI investigations or about his condition was beyond him. "You're missing some hair and flesh, but they won't show much if you keep your hair long enough." The doctor was talking in the manner fit for a finest-class restaurant menu. Mulder thanked the doctor, and asked the man to leave the cellular for him, or else he'd go nuts. From this position, he couldn't even watch television. Not that he was too crazy about channel surfing, because the mere thought of lifting anything sent shock currents of pain down his back. This was going to be a long, long week. When Skinner came to visit him in the morning, Mulder was in a painkiller-induced sleep. But still, small gasps of pain and evidence of circulatory problems caused by keeping the same position for too long were heard between each breath. Skinner sighed, and took his seat in a chair set next to the bed. Where he knew Scully always sat instead of him. And he didn't like the majority of what he had to say. "Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked for start. When Mulder didn't respond, he called the agent's name again and got a response. A small response. "Just listen to me for now. We placed a total of four suspects in custody last night. Two of them belonging to the underground porn stuff you were talking about. The rest are the missing local agent, and Ms. Spencer. Scully's handling their questioning at the Florence PD. Okay, that's the good part. The bad part is, they're not the key players in the game. They're merely useful to us as moles, but it's a start. Tommy Waters hasn't been found yet, but he could still be alive. "Okay, the worse part is, while in pursuit of the suspect, Agent Scully was injured. Nothing serious, or else she wouldn't be able to attend interrogation at the police station. She only has a nasty sprained ankle and a cut on her knee from the impact of the collision. Agent Paul Hollander was in the passenger seat of the vehicle when it was ran off of the road. He escaped with a fairly serious concussion and a gash on his forehead. Right now, we need these suspects on our sides to keep playing the game. We've made a few deals with the federal prosecutor's office to lessen their sentences or enrollment in witness protection program, in exchange for their full cooperation and participation in our investigation. I know you hate games, Agent Mulder. But in this case, there's no alternative. "Right now, we're doing everything we can to keep all the excitement under wraps, including yours. I've already received a few phone calls from the Director to get things in motion, and to keep surveillance on the Santa Monica office. We'll be transporting you out of Santa Monica shortly to hide you for a while until you recover enough to move around. We first thought of your house here, but even your house wouldn't stand well against bombs and weapons. "I have various reasons for coming here to tell you these details, but the most important of all is to protect your sources. Whoever they are, and wherever you got your information from, every suspect we've placed in custody claims no one should have known as much as you and Scully did. When I questioned Scully on this point, she told me you've been very protective of your sources, even to her. I know you have many doubts about our abilities to keep information confidential. But I believe your sources are in mortal danger right now, and I don't intend to lose any of them..." "Ceilon." The voice was barely above whisper, but clear enough. Skinner felt a strange tingle begin at the top of his head, the sensation slowly spreading down his body. "Ceilon ...Samuel Ceilon, also known as Sammy Ceilon?" Skinner was hoping he heard it wrong. "Yes." The agent's jaw moved, making the entire head bob up and down. "All right. I'll send someone to protect him, but I'll save the job of interview to Scully as soon as she gets done in Florence." "Not her." Skinner narrowed his eyes at the words, but then understood the reasons soon enough. "All right. But I may have no choice in the matter." "...Fine." The voice was a bit nasally, which Skinner assumed was caused by the lack of covers over his bare body. "Why didn't she ...call me? When she got hurt?" "You were sleeping. Doctors were concerned." "Shit." Mulder closed his eyes again, and seemed to try desperately to find a more comfortable position. "Mulder, don't move. As soon as your wounds close up, you'll be able to do pretty much whatever you want." "'Kay. ...What'd they been givin' me? Hard to ...talk. Think." "You suffered a violent nightmare last night, and you can probably guess what that led you to." "Oh, so that's why I can't move my hands now?" Mulder opened his eyes again, and sighed upon recognizing the restraints. "I feel like a fucking animal experiment subject. ...You know, they test all these skin creams and stuff on rats' backs and asses. They shave'em, put the stuff on them, and watch them suffer." "Which is probably why the other two surveillance crew are so thankful to you." "How're they?" 'Always the compassionate one', Skinner thought. "They've got a few nasty gashes and several stitches, but nothing more." "Great. If they call me Spooky again, I want to have your personal authorization to shoot them." Skinner couldn't hide his smile. "Just what's ...how bad is it? I mean, I know it in words, but I haven't been able to turn and look. I just wish they'd cover my ass at least with a sheet." "Agent Mulder, most of your back is covered with dressing gauze. And the doctor was right. Your shoulder blades do look like beehives. The nerves are exposed, and some of the shrapnel were embedded in your spine, although no neuromuscular damage was done." "Pretty lucky. You're right." At least Mulder was carrying on a conversation. "Yes, you were. ...If we could've known that the local agent knew about our surveilling them, we could have prevented this. But you know we were doing all we can." "I know. Just ...keep Scully safe for me." "That's my intentions. ...About Ceilon. How did you know what role he plays in this?" "...Can't tell you just yet. I'm sorry, but there's' just too many things to figure out first. You said whoever the guys you caught weren't the key players. Sam is a missing link. The moment we begin questioning him, Sam'll end up dead no matter what we do. He's by far the strongest game piece we have. Can't ...expose him. If Tommy wasn't caught, he could already be on his way to eliminate him." Skinner was impressed Mulder could still process this much thinking over the chemically-induced haze. "All right, Mulder. ...Do you think you can keep something down? You haven't had anything more than water since you got here." "Sir, anything I try to take in comes right back up ...or, more like slide out. It's hard for a healthy person. For me, it's a near impossibility. I could maybe crack a few sunflower seeds, but I would risk choking." "They're talking about feeding tube, Mulder. Even now, you've got that IV on you." Mulder winced at Skinner's words but quietly nodded his submission. "Do what ...you have to do. Just keep Scully safe and away from this room." "Understood. I'll see what I can about the phone. You knocked it off of your bed last night, and they took it away. They figured since you are in the restraints, it would be useless." Mulder's eyes instantly held the familiar dark glimmer, and he clammed up. "Mulder, she's been calling me every few hours for updates. She knows you probably didn't want her in here. But I told her you're doing as well as can be expected." "There's something else you should know." Mulder's voice returned to the hoarse whispering, and Skinner leaned closer. Mulder knew he couldn't hide this one any longer. "Right before you visited me at the house, I got into their office. With help, of course. They hacked into the computer records, and I got them downloaded." "Does that have to do with both of your trips to the salons?" "Yes." "Okay, what else?" "The security firms. The ones who set everything up for the Santa Monica house... They're dirty. And Spencer's related to it. But Sam was right about Carpenter being innocent. If we uncover this to the rest of the team, Carpenter will be the fall guy. But the poor bastard knows nothing about the conspiracy." "Spencer practices property law..." "Yeah. And the bitch hates my guts." "She hates all of our guts, Agent Mulder. We'll just have to live with it." "She could be the link between Waters and the Santa Monica bureau office. With all the stuff we've uncovered about her, she could've been sleeping with the guy." Skinner wasn't really used to Mulder's full blown temper. Not in this way. "Agent Mulder, what's bothering you?" "I..." Mulder hesitated, his eyes staring off into somewhere only he could see. Skinner couldn't risk Mulder having a panic attack if that was what this was coming to. "Agent Mulder..." "I'm fine, sir." Mulder cut the man off, knowing what the AD was concerned about. "It's extremely important that you believe me. There was a clear indication that the agents at local office are ...engaged in the practice of black magic, especially voodoo." 'Here we go.' Skinner thought. "Go on." He sighed and scratched his head. "When I broke in there, the records room door was protected by a typical nine- digit key pad. The numbers were of my own FBI badge, minus the JTT." "What?!" "There's more." Mulder wanted to get off of the subject as quickly as he could. Skinner deflated in his seat and let him continue. "The main computer was protected by a password. This one was Quimbada. A form of black magic. When I got into the list of security firms and consultants, we needed another password, which turned out to be voudoun. Also known as voodoo." "What does that have to do with...?" "Sir, I know you've seen the damn tapes. Think back to the way they behaved. What they took away from their victims, and the way they coaxed their victims into submission. They postponed the time of their victims' deaths for as long as possible. Their victims' pain and suffering are their addiction. Their obsession. Quimbanda is a term relating to black magic. Their practitioners believe spirits' evil natures are a necessity to the magic. Then there's also the umbandistas, generally refer to 'lower' or 'mischievous' spirits rather than evil ones in the faith that, with education, all spirits eventually evolve to higher consciousness. A bit different from that of Quimbanda, but it's related. Quimbandistas appeal to their identities as tricksters and specialists in witchcraft, and sorcery. Whoever at the receiving end of their curse could lose their job, their lover, their family, become ill and eventually die, unless the victim was treated by the white magic of the 'orisha's....The Gunmen know. Don't you contact them, though. They're some of the few friends I have." "And you think that's exactly what happened to Savannah Waters? Because she and you survived the tests they put you through?" "We survived, because I got them what they wanted for long enough. I think this whole thing explains why in the hell it took the SWAT guys three hours to execute a tactic move, while they've reported to have heard us screaming our guts out." "You think they purposely delayed you?" "I think they already knew what was going on, and wanted the tape." "That can't be proven." "I know. But it's a sick possibility. All the while that investigation was going on, they kept stalling it. Agent Lewis kept rejecting my profiles, although I was right from the beginning to the end. Their choosing to put an agent as green as myself in a big case such as that one alone calls for some questions. If you were on the scene and had control of the situation, I know you'd know enough to come get us within an hour. They fucking waited for three hours until the SWAT leader got too impatient and pushed Lewis to let them go in." These details were exactly what Skinner was wondering ever since watching the sick tape. He began feeling even sicker at what Mulder was suggesting, but only because Skinner himself knew Mulder could very well be right. "And do you believe Ms. Waters's breast cancer was a result of these ...curses?" "Could be. None of the Waters family has cancer in their genes. Of course, many cancers are acquired. But breast cancer?" "Doubtful." "And chances are, they've already gotten started on Scully, myself, possibly my mother, Samantha, and you." "Me?" Skinner grimaced. "They all know who you are, and what you look like. Sammy even knew what Scully looks like without ever seeing her. He knew who Mr. Carpenter was, and he knew who Danny the translator was. Enough that the guy knew Danny was a homosexual. Such level of knowledge can only come from people who'd had direct contacts with federal agents. Namely Tommy Waters, whose name was on the most recent list of visitors for Sam." "So, that's why you said he was the missing link?" "Yes. ...I hope you told nobody here about the letters I gave you?" "No. No one at the local bureau knows." "Keep it that way, but don't go protecting the guy with the bells on. Or else, people will start to notice who the corroborator is." "Understood." "About the curses... I know I'm paranoid, but you said Scully and Paul were injured, although Scully fared worse than the driver. I got a pipe bomb exploding on my back, and the other two guys escaped with scratches. Tommy Waters is missing, and he could have joined Harbor and Pickett. You should get Agent Sullivan to see if the agent caught in Florence is the same one who caught her doing the coke." "All right, agent Mulder." Skinner was well aware of Mulder's increasingly labored breathing, caused by stress, lack of nutrition and the fatigue the younger man's body was putting up with. "Good work you've been doing." "Just one more thing." Mulder cut Skinner off in his hurry to get the man what he needed before everything goes too late. Skinner silently urged him on. "The crime scene at the restaurant. Do you remember the security manager I told you about?" "Yes. He said the security tapes were altered?" "Did you retrieve them? Or any of the originals?" "Once Scully gets the suspected agent talking, we should know. You said the man has no family, so I could place the man in protective custody." "Not that. These suspects had federal resources in building their network. Have someone keep an eye on him around the clock, but don't go stealing him away and into hiding until that's determined safe." Skinner sighed his understanding, and patted Mulder on the back of his hand. "Good work. Now get some more rest. I'll talk to the nurses and see if they can untie your hands, at least when you're awake, to use the phone." Skinner finally met Mulder's tired, rather sad eyes then, and really wished he could untie the damn things himself. A slow blink was Mulder's nod of understanding. "Thank you, sir." Skinner failed to ignore the slight tremble in the younger agent's voice as he nodded and exited the room. Florence PD Interrogation Room #3 Florence, Italy 6 AM Florence Time Next Day (Or Two Hours after Skinner Left Mulder's Room) Scully picked at the gauze that is covering the cuts on her knee perhaps for the thousandth time in the past several hours, and downed her pain pills with the stale coffee. "So, let's go over this one more time. Agent Furgason, you are sure you have never threatened to expose Agent Sullivan?" "I said no, Agent Scully. But if she's guilty, then she should be guilty." "Tell us about your activities for the past two weeks. I want to know where you were at all times, and who you had contact with." "I plead the fifth, Agent Scully. I want my lawyer." "Your lawyer's in the next room, being subjected to the same questioning as you are." "I told you, she's the one you should be asking questions. She's the one who travels back and forth from here and San Francisco." "And how did you know that? You said that the night when you came to her condominium was the first time you've met her." "Federal database, Agent Scully." "No, that's not true. We had the entire building surveilled. No one accessed the personnel files. Not especially of anyone outside the US. And no one called Miss Spencer's San Francisco office within the twenty-four-hour time window except for her colleagues and you. The office surveillance was ordered by the Assistant Director and was consented by the Director. We know the level of knowledge you can provide for us in our investigations into the underworld. Maybe, with your promise for full cooperation, you can escape a prison sentence. Including attacking two on-duty federal officers." "You were the ones who attacked us! We were merely defending ourselves against..." "Save your speech for the people who will listen." Scully was losing patience. "And you save yours, Red." Scully sucked in a sharp breath and slammed her fist against the desk. Her hands reached for the suspect's jacket lapels to yank the man's upper body forward. "Agent Furgason. This is one incredibly generous deal you are being offered here. Aside from the US law enforcement involvement in the falsified forensics reports of Mr. Emilio Niccolo, your possible involvement in covering up evidences from Savannah Waters's murder, which includes the conspiracy your bureau office and security firms have been whipping up." Her hands yanked the man forward with every breath she took. If the officers outside the door stormed in to stop Scully from inflicting excess force to the suspect, it wouldn't be for the first time. "What are you talking about? Look, I don't know anything about any of that crap! What evidences do you have to confirm all that? Besides..." "You've worked in that office for close to six years, just about the time Agent Mulder has opened the X-Files department. You should know by now the key code to enter the computer records room of that building." Scully finally let the man go, who slumped into the chair to catch his breath. "Sure, I do. Everyone needs it to enter that room." "So, recite it. For the record." Her fury stricken eyes drilled into those of the suspect. "047101111." "And are you aware what else those numbers belong to?" "I don't know. It's just a nine-digit access code." "Are you sure?" "Yes!" "So you are telling me that you didn't know of Special Agent Mulder's badge number?" "No!" "What about the security passwords protecting your computer mainframe? Quimbada?" "I don't know where that's came from." "And the one protecting the list of your security consultants and security firms? Voudoun?" "I don't know that, either." "You never questioned their origins?" "No. Why would I?" "Who designated these codes?" "I don't know. The security consultants, maybe?" "Are you aware that out of the fifteen security consultants belonging in the list taken out of the computer, five have been reported missing? Or, that two have been found dead in the past forty-eight hours?" "No!" "What do you think would happen to you, if we let you go walking out of here? After passing a word or two about our questioning you?" "..." "Then, tell us who else is involved in this mess. Especially the name of the senior agent who threatened to expose Agent Sullivan." "I can't. Okay?" "No, it's not okay. Who set up the pipe bomb at Tommy Waters's house? Injuring three federal agents." "I don't know!!" "What do you know?!" "Nothing! I was just sent here to get her!" "Who sent you?!" "I can't... I..." "If you don't tell us, you might end up dead within twenty-four hours, just like those poor witnesses and the security consultants." "You can't protect me." "Then why don't you just tell us, anyway? Telling the truth, after all, could save your soul from zombification." Scully's tone had an undertone of leer, and the suspect shuddered. "...You seem to know what I just talked about. Tell us who's involved in the black magic cult." "There's just too many..." "Within the bureau office, idiot!" "The ASAC! All right?! Leave me the hell alone!" "Not until you tell us what we need to know. Or hell is would be your next destination. How much is the Assistant Special Agent in Charge involved? Did he make you and others join the cult? Or was it voluntary?" The suspect was now panting with fear, looking ready to cry. "Yes and no." The words were barely distinguishable between the sobs that broke out of the man. Scully released a long breath, and stopped pacing. 'Give him a few seconds.' She thought and waited until the suspect could at least breathe normally. "Explain to me." Scully asked when the agent calmed down enough to lean forward and place his elbows on the desk. "Not much else, really. Check the bureau personnel files." "We already have." "Then you should know about the six agents who got sick and either were transferred or taken out of their positions on permanent disability leave." "Yes. But we didn't know whether those agents were related to the conspiracy." "Oh, they are. Out of the six, two have already died. The two agents who refused to keep their mouths shut." "But there were no report concerning..." "Of course, not. When you were a ASAC of the FBI, you are so highly regarded, you wouldn't have any trouble getting cooperation of the younger ones. The ones who are green enough to not yet know how to see through the web." "And you were one of them?" "No, I was one of the agents who did see. Sullivan wasn't." "Why did she guide us away? Who told her to deter us?" "She was ordered by her SAC to get rid of you two, but we never actually counted on you two staying away from the building. We were supposed to mail you a copy of the tape with Ms. Waters and Mulder if you two didn't stay away." "What? To blackmail Mulder into covering up our findings and return to DC?" "Empty-handed, yes." "They're still going to try that, won't they?" "Probably. We know how much Spooky wanted that tape confined in the evidence vault." "Who's involved in this?" "I don't know! I just know that whenever Spooky makes the next big move, they're gonna distribute the tape all over the underground clubs, to be used not only in Santa Monica, but everywhere it's wanted. Including here in Florence, London, and in France." Scully paled in an instant. "How far? How big does the 'next move' have to be for them to use it against him? Against us?" "Considering what you already know, it's far enough." "How much do they know about our progress?" "How the hell should I know?! Look, I told you absolutely everything that I know. Get the rest from the perky lawyer. She's the one sleeping with the ASAC, in exchange for protection from dangers of prosecution." "While she does what?" "She's got a copy of the damn tape. There must be hundreds of them by now, ready to be sent off on moments' notice." "Where are they kept?" "I don't know! Some storage unit in an underground club somewhere!" "Great." Scully hoped Skinner had some good news with the continued undercover operation avenue. It seems even Skinner didn't have the big picture. No, all he had was a corner of an ice burg. A big corner, but a corner none the less. "Do you know how much she knows?" "No. I told you, I was just sent by the ASAC to fetch Spencer for him." "How were you planning on leaving?" "We have British passports, and tourist visas." "Provided by whom?" "By the same people who have access to the storage unit." "Cash?" "Supplied out of their own stash of bribe money." "You mean, the money to bribe FBI?" "Yeah. Why do you think the ASAC's got two accounts in Swiss Bank?" "I didn't know there was an account in Swiss Bank. Why two?" "One for pleasure, one for business." "How convenient. ...How long have you known about this?" "A couple of months, by accident. I thought they'll kill me for it, but they let me go." "In exchange for confidentiality." "Yes. And this is absolutely everything I know." "....." "Please!!" "...I'll tell you when we know more. I'll go check out the lawyer friend of yours." "She ain't a friend. She's a fucking vampire! ...Not in the literal sense, and she's got nothing to do with the Club Tepes that Spooky investigated three years ago." "You mean, the 'three' and Kristen Kilar?" "The one and only. That case file caught some attention of the underground guard dogs. They thought Spooky was on to them." "But Miss Kilar killed herself before that happened." "She was never involved in the crap these people do. She was running away from them. It's the other three that were neck deep in the mud." "Mulder wasn't too forth coming on the details of that particular case. How much do they know?" "That Spooky fucked the bitch into cooperating with him." "No. She cooperated, because she feared for her safety." "You believe what you want. Did you know that Miss Kilar had her own security consultants? Ones with our connection?" "No, but it should be clear once we check into it." Scully was getting nauseated again. "I don't know how much he's told you. But we've got that tape, too. As soon as Spooky was brought into the investigation, they've been watching him. To see if Kristen was going to give out name of her pursuers and their connections. She killed herself before that happened. And the night before that, was when Spooky crossed the line. Kristen was a suspect. Do you know how much trouble an agent can get into for being caught fucking a suspect?" "So, they were going to use that against him, too? In addition to the tape from the Colorado cabin?" "Spooky is ...well, Spooky. Doesn't hurt to shut him up." "Where is that tape?" "We had a buyer about two years ago. He somehow got the information, and bought every copy we had of it. He's someone in power, and he threatened us to give every copy of the tape, or else he was going to expose us. We knew he wasn't joking, so we followed." "What did this person look like?" Scully had at least a few that came to her mind. "....." "Look. I can think of at least three. Was it an old British man? Very neat, Queens English. Professionally tended, manicured hands. Almost white, silverish grey hair?" "No." "Was it an old Canadian? Speaks at least four languages, has greying hair, chain smokes Morley cigarettes like they're a part of his body?" "...." "Cancer man, it is." Scully nodded and left the room. She made it safely to the restroom before losing whatever content of her stomach. She thought the call from Skinner just a couple of hours ago was bad enough. Every tragedy in her family occurred after she was assigned to the X-Files. Her father's death was from a heart-attack. Melissa was shot dead mistaken for her. She herself was abducted, experimented on, returned with a cancer that Mulder helped push back into remission. The incident at the church her family attended occurred just several months ago, and looks like the streak wasn't yet over. Skinner's got his own share of the bad luck. His wife was in a car accident while he himself was framed for murder he didn't commit. The case had his past about the sleeping disorder revealed, as well as about his Vietnam War experiences. On other occasions, he'd been shot in the gut by Melissa's assassin, kicked down a stairs by Krychek, slammed up against an elevator wall by Mr. X, maced in the face by Holly before kicked down to the floor, punched in the face by Mulder in the office corridor, and took a bullet in an arm when they apprehended Nathaniel Teager at the Veterans cerebration. Considering the sum of scores counted for the black magic demons, it was no surprise that Savannah's and Emilio's lives were sacrificed the way they had. Scully the rational federal agent was telling her that it all came with the territory of their jobs. But Melissa didn't have to be in her apartment at that particular timing. Skinner didn't have to have the Avatar come back to haunt him at the perfect timing for them to frame him for a murder. His wife didn't have to be in the hospital. He didn't have to be the one to walk into the computer records office while Pusher was inside with Holly. If Mulder was right about there being no such things as coincidences, then how else could these things happen? The easiest thing to do is to directly blame Mulder. However, that was never in her option. She blamed those who ever practiced the damn magic, and those who ever placed any curse over a person or persons. But right now, she needed to update Skinner. Scully didn't blame Mulder for keeping information from her, because she knew the reasons. And in a very twisted way, Cancer Man did indeed protect Mulder from being fired from the FBI. Skinner was at the undercover project base when she got him. Skinner told her firmly then to stay away from Mulder and the hospital even after her eventual return from Italy. Scully asked if she could at least talk to Mulder, but this request was also denied, because they were in the process of transferring Mulder to a safer location, and the nurses wouldn't untie Mulder's hands. Scully sighed, and updated the man. "Sir, if this theory holds true, they must be busy putting curses on all of us. If any word of our suspects' arrests gets out..." "Agent Scully, I'm doing everything I can to keep it where it is. The Director also knows the sensitivity of this case, and is corroborating with the bureau spokes staff to keep it under wraps. But you have to admit, you've been creating some spectacles in there. Mulder wanted to talk to you, but also wants you to stay away." "Understood, sir. I know all this sounds fantastic at best, but..." "Agent Scully, no need to go further. We'll be careful, quick, and successful." "Yes, sir." Scully resisted the urge to salute the AD as she hang up. She steered toward the interrogation room #2, where Natalie Spencer was being held. "It's been hours, Dana. Can't I have something to drink or eat?" Natalie asked the moment Scully entered the room. "Please don't call me Dana any more. And I'll see what I can do about the second request." Scully seated herself into the plastic chair again, giving a nod to the local detective who had been watching the room. "Has anyone else been here?" She asked, and got a no. She nodded, and asked him to arrange a light meal for Spencer. Once they were alone, Scully grilled Natalie mercilessly on her involvement in the cult. "You are the only link between the contacts at the security firms, the Santa Monica bureau office, and the ASAC. And we know the ASAC was a member of the cult. We're about to go over to him for questioning, but you have to know that he'll probably try to use you as the fall guy. You and Agent Furgason." "The boy is as green as an agent can be, Dana." "He's been with the bureau for the past six years. And don't call me Dana." "Free speech rights. I call you whatever I want to call you." "This is Italy, and you're born in France." "I see you've done your homework." "Not enough. Are you the one who the ASAC contacts whenever there's a transaction to be made? In certain Swiss Bank accounts?" Spencer glared at Scully, who had her hands on her waist. "Are you aware of the forces at work? Trying to frame you as the fall guy, and to expose your sexual involvement with the ASAC?" "You have no proof of this." "It's only a matter of time, Miss Spencer. Skinner has been conducting twenty-four hour surveillance of the Santa Monica office, under a direct order of the Director. We know about the security tapes in certain Los Angels mansion that the ASAC and his groupies tried to use as a blackmail tool to silence Mulder. So as about the secret manufacturing of the Colorado tape. Ready to be distributed for whoever desires it." "And don't tell me you don't want it yourself." Scully slapped the desk hard, and resisted the urge to kick the bitch in the face. Spencer didn't flinch. "We know enough about you two. How close you are together. You didn't even know when I planted the bugs under furniture, because you didn't know who to pursue. But I didn't' know your partner was the type to read you bedtime stories." "What are you talking about?" "The poetry." "So, you were listening." "I knew he noticed it after returning from US a couple of weeks ago." "Then you know who attacked him?" "No." "He wasn't forthcoming on his whereabouts, and I believe he used a false name." "Don't ask me, Agent Scully. I wasn't even the one who was in charge of the surveillance. All I did was plant the bugs." "Aside from taking me to museums, shopping malls and restaurants? An interesting job you have here." "We needed to stall you for as long as we could." "And you did a good job. You should be proud. But you should've also known about my snooping around my new group of friends." "Of course, we all did. The others didn't know anything, so they just kept you company rather than staying away from you and get you suspicious. No one likes a nosy Fed messing their lives." "You also stayed around to make sure I didn't learn anything I shouldn't have." "Yes. But I wasn't planning on getting caught. Furgason? Is that the stupid boy's name? Lewis should have sent me a more capable snitch." "Agent Lewis will soon be brought in for questioning to be conducted by the Assistant Director. As soon as we get the information from his Swiss Bank accounts." "They're not in his name, and you know why he chose that particular bank." "And we have advanced technology. It wouldn't take us a day to get to them." "Good luck, Dana. Looks like you know just about all I know. But you should know, when we hand out those surveillance tapes in the mansion, the bureau will be concerned about the status of your relationship with Agent Mulder. We all know he's crossed the line not for the first time. You haven't crossed the physical boundaries yet, but it is plain to everyone that emotional boundaries were crossed long ago." This woman hadn't been holding her position this long without gaining some nerves. "Are you blackmailing me?" "I know the surveillance was done illegally, but that doesn't make your behaviors right." "Neither does yours. How far are you involved in the black magic cult?" "I'm not that sick. The hours I spent in the psycho's bed were a just price to pay for what I got." "Glad to see you admitting something." "No sense hiding it. You already know too much. They won't reserve themselves from acting on you once the word gets out. The three of you will probably end up dead in a matter of a few days. Maybe a heart-attack, plane crash, poisoning, car accident, gunshot, rape, stubbing, mugging, bank robbery... Take your pick." "No, I think you should pick one. You seem to have been a target yourself. For your information, everything is being kept under wraps with the Director's orders. No word has been released so far, in the fear of getting any of our witnesses eliminated. Don't underestimate Mulder, Miss Spencer. He knew the sensitivity of this case, and has been telling us never to make an obvious move. To protect people like yourself." "How kind of you. Are you blackmailing me now?" "As long as you cooperate with us, nothing about you will be said. You will probably be wired and surveilled around the clock, but you will be released. We need Agent Lewis, and whoever the hell he takes orders from. Agent Furgason, you, and Mulder's secret sources can get ASAC in no time. The chances are, that we already have Agent Lewis in our hands. You deliver us your complete stories, and you walk free. Whoever the hell is running the cult also need to be captured. I don't believe in their curses, but a lot of people seem to, and the fact is that the cult is dangerous to all of our safety." "Do you also know that it's illegal to interrogate us this way? Without a legal representation?" "You never verbally requested one. You can still have one. Only whoever you call would probably have ties to our enemies, and I don't want to bother checking the guy out for background info." "I guess you finally realized what we are up against." Spencer said as she stretched out her legs. The guard outside knocked on the door, and brought in the takeout food and a plastic cup full of soda. Scully looked back to Spencer, and took the delivered food from the officer. "Did you go get these yourself?" Scully asked, then relaxed a bit when the man nodded a yes. "Thank you. Don't give her anything that was delivered by someone else to minimize the risk of poisoning. This witness requires that level of protection. And so does Agent Furgason. We shouldn't take much longer in here, and I appreciate your cooperation." Scully put down the food on the desk and shook the officer's hand, who blushed slightly at the touch. Scully smiled as she closed the door behind the officer. Looking back, Spencer swallowed hard, a bit of something mixed with fear showing in her large blue eyes. 'Gratitude?' Scully questioned herself as she sat back down in the chair across the desk from Spencer, and took out her new cellular. Continue on to Ch. 4... Ch. 4 - Indifferential Chaos Fox Mulder's Room Exact Location Unknown Eureka, California 8 PM US Pacific Time Two Days Later His cellular phone was ringing. He could answer it if he could reach for the damn thing, but his hands were still in restraints. He was out of the tranquilizers a long time ago, and could have walked if they let him stand up, because his legs were unharmed. His butt would probably scream with every step he was to take, but it would take some of the humiliation away. But he kept putting up with it, because he stopped caring. Seemed like Skinner and his partner was bringing down the house from whatever he could hear in passing. Mulder could leave this fucking world as soon as he was done testifying. The chances were, he would be fired for crossing 'the line' and ignoring 'the book' where Scully was concerned. He knew he'd given too many opportunities for 'them' to bring him down. In part, because he no longer cared about it. If his resignation would stop Scully from getting repercussions for this investigation after the full reviews which he was sure will be following after trials are done, he'd gladly throw his badge and gun in their faces. Hell, maybe he'd leave the room with a few bodies trailing behind him for the absolute hell these people put he and Scully through. Throughout the hours-long transferring process, Mulder kept asking them to let him use the phone, but was denied the wish each time. His neck was throbbing from being forced in the same position the entire time he's been hospitalized, and he suffered each time they changed the gauze. Mulder wanted to do what he could from where he was to close the case as soon as possible. But in reality, all he could was to give out hints to the agents assigned as his guards. They had Skinner's orders to relay every word from Mulder in the exact manner he spoke. It was never enough. "Agent Mulder?" It was Brian, the guard again. Mulder grunted for answer. "AD Skinner's on the line, wanting to talk to you." The guard pressed Mulder's phone against his gauze-clad face. Mulder thanked the man, and called Skinner's name. "Agent Mulder, there's... We've found something rather disturbing in Natalie Spencer's condo in San Francisco." "What is it?" Mulder could already feel the bile that was sliding into the back of his throat. "It's a tape." "Colorado?" Mulder closed his eyes. "Yes. She's been cooperating, and did provide some information we needed. This is one of them." "How is everything else?" "We need to meet in person to discuss that, Agent Mulder. I never know who's listening around me." "Yes, sir. ...Can't I even use the phone? I mean, I'd like to do something." "The only thing you can do right now is to recover as fast as you can, to get yourself out of the damn restraints. All you have to do is to wait until the wounds close up. It doesn't help to refuse food." "Sir, if I could at least sit up, I'd be able to." "Didn't they have you on the rotating bed?" "They do. Do you think that if you were in my shoes, you'd have any appetite left in you? I'm tied down like a fucking animal, and I can't even watch television." Mulder wanted to bitch and whine all he wanted, but he was surprised when Skinner readily let him. "What is this thing I hear from Agent Furgason and Miss Spencer about another tape? Los Angels?" "Huh?" Mulder didn't have an idea. 'Los Angels, Los Angels...' "Both agents are going on and on about the case you investigated in Los Angels three years ago. They have no evidence of this, because Cancer Man apparently bought them all and destroyed them or hid them somewhere." 'Oh my God.' Just when he thought his day couldn't get worse, it did. "Kristen Kilar?" Mulder didn't need to add another word, and all the AD needed was a sigh in return. "How ...what have you heard about it?" "That you've involved yourself sexually with the suspect?" "She's not guilty, sir. She was seeking protection. To run away. To..." "Agent Mulder, I don't care how you want to define it. Do you have any idea what trouble you can get into..." "You said there's no evidence of it. Until you find one, I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation. If they do find an unrefutable evidence that I've had sex with late Miss Kilar and they want my badge, it's theirs. But only if they let me keep it until the trial is over." "....." "And, only if the X-Files stays open under Agent Scully's command with you as the immediate supervisor of the department. Under these conditions, I've no complaints about what you or they do with me." "Agent Mulder, are you... I mean..." The man's concern for him was obvious, and Mulder shook his head slightly to clear it up. It was apparent that Mulder had revealed too much, and now it was time to run for cover. "Sir, you have work to do. Just... please remember what I just said. Excuse me?! Brian?!" Mulder raised his voice to call in the agent at the door. Skinner gave a growl in response, but Mulder didn't want to hear another word. "Keep Dana safe for me." Mulder spoke into the phone as a gesture of finality. Then he nodded to the guard who took Mulder's phone and exchanged a few words with the AD. When the agent hanged up the phone, he placed it on the nightstand and proceeded to tell Mulder about Scully's pending departure from Italy within a few days. Mulder closed his eyes again in answer. Florence International Airport Florence, Italy 4 PM Florence Time, Four Days Later Scully was a still a bit shocked at just how fast things wrapped up in Italy once Spencer and Furgason promised their cooperation. She had been so busy with paperwork that couldn't be done in US, plus arranging for the ongoing undercover missions and surveillance. So far, they'd found the two women responsible for ordering the salon products for the Florence salon from France, and one of them provided the description of a man who was in charge of their handling and checking of their status. The man had broken down only after four hours of Scully's intense interrogation that was interrupted only once by the local PD's intervention for 'the use of excess force'. The suspect was now singing as good as a canary, and Scully left the disheveled man with a confession form and disgust. During the last several days, she'd only spoken to Mulder twice. Although she enjoyed listening to his usual fits of dry jokes and compliments on her job well done, she could see he wanted to stay a lot longer on the line. After all, he was the one who'd gotten her the satellite cell phone, and even paid for the damn thing, with the regular twelve- months contract. The nurses would be ready to untie his hands and feet by the time she makes it to Eureka in two days. The stitches on his rear were healing nicely enough for him to at least wear underwear and perhaps his dress pants, but not quite enough to turn over and sit up. Scully smiled sympathetically once he mentioned how he missed wearing his jeans, but the fabric was just too rough and hard. "At least you have your sheets and boxers, Mulder. You know how much the nurses would love to strip you nude again if you won't behave yourself." With that, Scully didn't wait for his response before hanging up. As she waited for her yet another concord seat, she made sure everything was going indeed fine with Skinner's end. He got the paperwork she sent express, but whined her to let him sleep a bit. Knowing the AD, Scully quickly hanged up. It had been very difficult for her to predict when the man was resting, since his sleeping schedule had been compromised during the past two weeks. No one really knew when he was asleep or awake from day to day. 'That sounds like Mulder.' Scully thought as she checked her bags in. Her next destination was Colorado Springs. After everything turned up and no one they'd placed in custody claimed to have never leaked Mulder the vital information, it was her hunch that Mulder got his leads from one of the inmates in the psychiatric prison. Scully wasn't looking forward to the idea, but that was the only place Mulder would have gone. Skinner quickly agreed with her idea and told her to be careful, because Mulder had been warning everyone never to make a big move noticeable enough to get Samuel Ceilon eliminated. Scully shuddered when she heard Ceilon's name from Skinner, especially accompanied by the AD's strict orders never to let any other inmate know her presence. The photos and the detailed file on the man Scully's memory retrieved gave her a nausea. It didn't help her to think about their pending meeting. She could only imagine how it must have been for Mulder. Once on board, Scully made the final check with the local PD and the FBI team still finishing up with the details of the transport procedure of the federal witnesses. The local PD and Scully herself had established a rather strong ties based on their mutual respect in each other's commitment to do their jobs right. Scully only had to trust the agents still left here to complete their duties. The pathologist with the Florence PD was placed under protective custody, much to the man's disapproval. The witnesses, namely Spencer and Furgason were to be taken to the Headquarters to discuss things with 'the brass' about what was expected of them while being undercover. "The weather is beautiful here in Florence, Agent Scully. Looks like the coast's clear enough for take-off." The chief of Florence PD cheerily announced. Scully laughed, picturing the man saluting her. "No more paperwork, witness interviews, or crash course of Italian?" With this one, Scully earned the older man's laugh. "Nope. The sky's clear and blue. Now, don't forget to pay us a visit once trials are done. Everybody here knows you are listed as the co-owner of the Niccolo estate, so don't forget to send us the invitation for the museum's grand opening." Scully released a breath of relief, then felt a tug of ache for her needing to leave the beautiful city. 'I can come back here anytime. With Mulder and maybe my Mom.' She thought as she hanged up the in-flight phone, and tightened her seatbelt. Getting to Colorado Springs was harder than she'd first anticipated, as her connection flight from Los Angels to Denver was delayed three hours, and the drive to the prison became downright miserable the moment she got a flat tire in the middle of a storm. Once she got the tire changed with the help of a kind passer-by, she slammed the car door shut, now drenched from the top to the bottom. Getting her clothes changed took another twenty minutes, drying her hair another twenty minutes. By the time she got to the prison, it was already 3 PM, US Central time. She figured two hours would be more than enough time. "Agent Scully? How kind of you to finally pay me a visit. I've been expecting you for some time now." This first response from Samuel Ceilon surprised Scully. "Excuse me?" Knowing she hadn't met nor spoken to the man directly before this occasion, Scully shuddered just thinking what the man must be thinking about her, and how in the hell he figured who she was before being introduced. "Red, right? That's your nickname?" Scully dare hoped Mulder hadn't told Ceilon anything personal about her. Scully pursed her lips and stood erect. "That's Agent Scully to you. I'm here only to confirm our findings so far, and then you know that we'll be protecting you around the clock, but our moves won't be too obvious to the other inmates nor to the guards. This is a highly classified operation, and not even the local PD knows what we're doing." "Little Foxy has good instincts." Scully closed her eyes at the use of the man's pet name for Mulder. "So, go fire away, Red. I know what you've found and probably a bit of what I don't yet know. But I hope you got Tommy. That crazy son of a bitch can go either way, you know?" "What do you mean?" Scully didn't want to tell the man that Tommy was still missing. "That boy ...he'll either go runnin' like hell's after his ass, or be hell himself." Scully opened her eyes, and kept her arms crossed in front of her. "I'd say he's inclined for the latter, Mr. Ceilon." "Uh, call me Sammy, Red." Scully hated the nickname, but put up with it just for this occasion. "Okay, Sammy. Mr. Waters is suspected in planting a car bomb that injured three federal agents surveilling his town house." "What?! You've got him on the loose, aren't you? Still after him?" 'Mulder's right', Scully thought. Sammy wasn't dumb. A highly intelligent psychopath was always to be afraid. Scully nodded reluctantly. "He doesn't know. ...Well, nobody but me, Mulder, Skinner and you know about his coming here and talking to you." "You forgot the guards and the director of this zoo. ...They know about Foxy signing the papers to get me the deal." Scully narrowed her eyes. "What deal?" The smile that now floated over Sammy's thin lips was the Satan's self-portrait. "For one, he got me French Vanilla ice cream. To be delivered once every week for the rest of my natural life." Seeing Scully's puzzlement, Sam indicated the small trash basket at the corner of the cell. Scully craned her neck and saw a large empty carton of it, and arched her eyebrows. Leave it to Mulder to remember the man's favorite dessert. "When was this?" "About three weeks ago." Scully's interest piqued. That was about the time she found him all bruised and scarred in his bathtub. Most likely due to the Mulder-trademark chase he'd given to the mysterious leads based on the information he was provided with b. 'Where the hell did you go to be attacked like that?' Scully wondered, but there were many more important issues to be dealt with. "Sammy? I have a list of our findings so far, and I'll need you to confirm each detail. If during this review, you notice anything that needs to be investigated further, or anything we've done wrong, I need you to tell me. Okay?" Scully wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Sammy seemed to consider this a bit, then nodded. "Sure thing, Red. Go on." Sammy waved his hand like a military officer, and slapped his knee. Former Savannah Waters Estate Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA 7 AM US Pacific Time Next Day Samuel Ceilon's eagerness to cooperate with the bureau both relieved and unnerved her at the same time. He had been thorough for most of the time. Even polite. This was not the same man she'd read about on the transcripts of the court sessions from eleven years ago. The man was reasonable, never delusional, and didn't make any harassing comment of sexual nature. 'Eleven years is a long time, Dana.' Scully reasoned on her way back to Santa Monica. She had the protection of the entire FBI surveillance team still camping out in the house, and followed Mulder's forwarded advice of taking the master bedroom for herself. At first, she felt awkward about sleeping in this particular room because of the memories it held for Mulder. She felt like she was an uninvited guest here. But then, she reasoned it was only natural for Mulder to request her to stay in this room, since no one else here knew this room's history and its significance. Plus, her fatigue was wearing her down, and the bed looked ready to send her straight into dream land. "But, sir...?" Scully rubbed sleep out of her eyes and clutched to the receiver tighter. "No buts, Agent Scully. That is an order." "Yes, sir." Knowing Skinner's words were final, Scully hanged up the phone. The order to stay away from Mulder somewhat made sense, due to the risk of their enemy detecting her moves. But the fact that Mulder had requested it didn't make anything easier. Scully stared at the suit case she had set on the floor in front of the walk-in closet, and sighed. 'Looks like I won't be needing any more flying for a week, at least.' She thought, and crawled under the covers again. Once she was awakened by an agent of the surveillance team at noon, Scully busied herself with overseeing the team's progress. Taking Skinner's place in this surveillance detail was a big shoe to fill, but nothing she couldn't handle. Besides, Skinner had his hands full with the undercover missions in both Los Angels and San Francisco underworld, setting up the traps for Agent Lewis and Tommy Waters before Spencer and Furgason arrive back in States with their fake British identities. So far, Agent Sullivan was cooperating, and even asked how Mulder was doing. Instead of answering the woman's question, Scully asked if Sullivan had gone through the detox program. The agent thought of all the horror stories of detox procedure and paled slightly, but told Scully she was to start the program in two days. "They needed my knowledge, and they wanted to get done with the initial interviews before I get into the program. They're going to conduct another bunch of interview sessions after I'm cleared and under watch." Sullivan said as she ran her nervous hand through her hair. Scully nodded slowly, absorbing the agent's words. Sullivan wasn't as bad a person as Scully feared she might have been. And the request for transfer to the Headquarters was made for real, although it looked like Sullivan would soon be losing her badge in exchange for avoiding a jail sentence. Scully was only spared a few minutes to ponder this line of thoughts as the surveillance team got ready to roll by seven. Agent Jim Parrison was to be Scully's right- arm guy to monitor everyone's movement while Scully directed what they do and where to go when. Gran Met was located, as expected, third basement floor of a bar/grill place in the middle of a buy downtown business district. The owner of the club hadn't been notified of this FBI invasion, since he'd been a suspected participant of the whole scheme of the cult. The supposed connection was made since the soon-to-be former ASAC Lewis and the man were acquaintances. Scully helped agents loading up the necessary equipment into the utility van fit for a Lone Gunmen parking garage, checking everything for the countless times before nodding for Parrison and another female agent named Kate Clifford who was in charge of equipment wiring and connections. Kate also had a knack for mechanics, and she was to serve as the repair woman once an equipment failure occurs. The three agents set out on the road, with Kate who was ever a sucker for funny Western films humming along to the "Three Amigos" theme. Exact Location Unknown Eureka, CA - 9 PM Same Day Brian Newton hated hospitals ever since his mother was ravaged by Multiple Scrosis and spent her final days in hospital ICU five years ago. Although he had to put up with the painfully familiar confines of hospital rooms occasionally for the sake of his duty as an FBI agent, it didn't mean that he had to like it. His current job as the small army of three dedicated law enforcement officers - two FBI agent and one local PD deputy - assigned to protect the federal investigator / expert witness was his first big assignment out of Quantico Academy. The other two guards were assigned for their morning and afternoon slots while Brian was forced into taking the graveyard shift. The local PD deputy was only available in the mornings, because it was a temporary job and because his wife was out of town, leaving their two kids for the man to take care of. The agent in charge of the afternoon slot had a morning class to teach in technical collage, aside from being a single mother who needed to stay home for evenings and early morning hours to be with her daughter. Thus it was decided almost immediately that Brian Newton, the rookie, unmarried, and without kids, filled in the blank. "Brian, relax. I'm not going anywhere." His subject muttered with a tone uniquely combined of annoyance and amusement with a touch of sympathy as he flexed his freed wrists. Frowning at the chaffing marks on both wrists, the older man grumbled and gingerly massaged the reddened area. So far, the man hadn't caused as much trouble on Brian's end as he first feared. "Yes, I know. But I have my orders. I still need to be in the same room with you for as long as you insist on going without the restraints." His emotionless reply hadn't seemed to get to Mulder, as he grinned and dropped his head back again on the mound of soft pillows specially imported from Italy and delivered to him by the courtesy of Special Agent Scully. Brian knew the devotion the partners had for each other, and the collection of rumors circulating within the Bureau circle about them. However, Brian hadn't even needed to ask for confirmation as his subject eventually voluntarily cleared out the facts from rumors during the countless hours they were forced to spend in each other's company. It was true that Brian took his job very seriously, which was why the Assistant Director Skinner entrusted him with one of his very best agents' life. And it was just as true that his seemingly stocky behavior was the perfect stereo type image of how an FBI agent should be behaving. So it was only natural that the sometimes-difficult patient lying on the bed in front of him would start to use his Oxford psychology degree and his years of experience working for the Investigative Support Unit and the Violent Crimes to try picking his bodyguard's brain. Within the first three days, Brian was forced to admit to Mulder's abilities as a psychology expert as the man began to rub off on him. No matter how hard he tried to distance himself from the agent, he couldn't help being drawn to the man's intellect. Since the fourth day into his assignment, Brian began using Mulder's extensive knowledge of investigative techniques to his own advantage, and asked a series of questions - good questions, the older man pointed out to him - to take notes on. Even in his college days when he studied criminology, he was a serious student who didn't give a damn about the reputations of his professors as long as their teachings were good. Soon, the old habits returned to him with vengeance as he found himself carrying around a microcassette recorder for the older agent's nightly 'lecture sessions'. His temporary professor blushed visibly the first time he'd seen the small electronic devise being placed on the nightstand beside the bed, next to the man's ever-present cellular phone. But soon the man took his new found role seriously, and began lecturing him on everything from tricks on how to pick criminals' brains to how to score clean in a basketball game from twenty-two feet away, to every word the man remembered of the Jungian psychology, to give out several pointers on behaviors and fixations of cult groups in some of the actual X-Files. Last night, Mulder made his new student almost choke to death on his coffee as he began rattling on and on about how to best induce multiple orgasm in female sexual partners with the same precision and seriousness as any other lectures Brian was given. When asked to change the subject, Mulder only said it was a serious matter, one in which every man's ability to procreate and excel in the art of lovemaking depended on. So, contrary to his initial intentions, Brian not only endured the lecture, but he'd even managed to ask a few questions in which he was provided with meticulously detailed answers for every one of them. Tonight, as Brian set the ever-present microcassette recorder on its usual spot on the small nightstand, he looked at the older man's damaged wrist and asked him if he wanted to put ice on them. "No, it's all right. I think they'll put gauze and some ointment on these once they take a look." Brian nodded, remembering the first night of his assignment when Mulder suffered from what Brian thought was the most violent nightmare anyone he'd ever seen. Since then, Mulder chose to be sedated or made to sleep at daytime and stay awake at nights to avoid unnecessary panic episodes. The doctor and the nurses at first protested the idea, but they'd bent the rules to Skinner and Scully's requests. It was just fine for both of them, since it allowed them more time to talk and to think. It was also their routine to have Brian drop off a topic of their next discussion at the end of each lecture, so Mulder had something to think about during the day besides the current X-Files investigation which he was being deliberately kept at distance from. And just as always, Mulder began. "I was thinking that since you were talking about the Border Collie you raised when you were just a kid, aside from your interest in the bond between humans and the canine species, I was going to talk about the origin of this bond. However, if you'd prefer to change the topic, I can talk about the genetic experiments done on the Eves me and Scully worked on earlier in our partnership. Take your pick." Brian had only mentioned about his first pet briefly in passing, just as another meaningless fill-in-the-blank chat. It honestly impressed him that the agent would remember about it. "Ahh... I'll stick with the first one, since I made you wrack your brains for it. It's supposed to start with the Egyptians, doesn't it?" "That's the case for cats." "Oh. Well, then. Even more reason for me to stick with the first one." Brian said as he pressed the 'record' button. At a few minutes past four, the agents were forced to put their second half of the lecture sessions - this half was spent discussing the Eves and the horrifying history of Eugenics - to a halt as the power suddenly went down in the entire floor, and possibly the entire building. While Brian frantically tried to check back with whoever understood their situations, Mulder was already alert and was searching for his Sig Sauer. "They disabled the security system, and I can't get a response from the security office in the basement. Sir, I need you to stay put." Brian knew, from the lack of sufficient response from the radio that there had to be more than one assassin to be dealt with. No one-man party could bypass the security system in this particular hospital and wipe out the entire team of hospital security guards on reserve in ten minutes. As instructed, Brian went into Mulder's closet and took out the black leather knapsack the AD personally handed to him to use only in extreme emergencies and with extreme caution. "Holy shit." Brian muttered the moment he opened the bag. He understood very well why the AD wanted them to keep a very low profile. But it didn't mean that they won't be adequately armed to deal with dangerous situations. Well, Brian was now armed enough for an invasion in Baghdad. Beside him, Mulder released a gasp upon seeing all the lethal but compact weapons. "You're right. Holy shit." He said as he slid out of bed, taking the safety off of the Sig. "And you actually know how to use all this?" The man asked as he inspected some of them. "Yes, sir. My Quantico special training was in special arms and hostage rescue. But I was better as a chemist." "And you majored in philosophy? How does that happen?" "Happens when you have the Dean approach you and asks you to change your major." Brian got everything loaded and ready for use within five minutes while Mulder downed a double dose of his prescription painkiller pills, then put on a pair of surgeon's scrubs which Brian found among the weapons in the leather bag. "For disguise." Brian said as he helped Mulder put on the surgeon's cap and the mask while the man worked on putting on a pair of white tennis shoes. With the physician's long white lab coat with the fake hospital I.Ds clipped onto its lapel and on the breast pocket, the disguise worked well enough. "There should be about twenty guards roaming around in the building, barring anyone getting killed on their way up here. If they attacked the security station in the basement, there should be about seven or eight guards down." Brian spoke as he guided Mulder down the hallway and into the 'staff only' door at one end. Inside was a janitor's cleaning tools and an overall. Brian stepped on an aluminum ladder that reached just a few inches short to the ceiling in the small confinement, then opened the trap door in the middle of the ceiling. "Okay, listen. You go straight, take two left turns, then another two turns to the right. There should be a fan, but since everything's down, it shouldn't be on. Break it down and take another right turn. Open the door just three feet away from that turn, and get under. There should be a service elevator for catering use. Use that and go down to the third floor. Get out to the parking lot, find a navy Dodge Viper in the fourth row out of the door, and get the hell out of here." Brian was thankful that the man had a photographic memory. He then threw the man his satellite phone, and handed over the car keys. "I smashed your old one. That thing's government issue, and someone could've tracked it down. Call the AD and inform him of the situation. He should be able to tell you where to go from there." "All right." Doubts and questions were beyond Mulder. Brian nodded and closed the trap door. Then on the second thought, he opened it again and threw the half-empty leather bag to the agent. "I've got to go fetch the doctor and to stall them long enough for you to get out. Take these, too. They should be simple enough for you to use." Brian hoped the agent hadn't take any offense. Seeing that none was taken, he smiled. "Try not to scratch my car, though. My girlfriend loves it." Seeing the agent return a smile, Brian jumped down the ladder and put on the night-vision goggle. He opened the door just a crack in time to spot the doctor come down the hallway followed by two men in black uniforms holding the poor man on gun point. Once they failed to spot the target, they came back out without the doctor following them, and quickly spread out to check the rest of the rooms. Brian took the opportunity and shot down one of them with a dart gun. He moved quickly into senior agent's old room and took cover. The doctor was dead on spot with a bullet in his head. A quick inspection of the body revealed some nasty bruises on the man's face and a fractured hand, no doubt a consequence the man was forced to endure for not giving the assassins what they demanded from him soon enough. Brian sighed. He knew their car which always waited for them at the fifth floor parking lot couldn't have been safe to use. These assassins would know that much. With the doctor dead, he knew they needed to take the show out of the building to avoid any more loss of innocent lives. The problem was how to get himself out of the building without getting killed. His gut instincts proved itself up to the task as the second shooter appeared back from the door leading to the staircase accompanied by five more black-clad men. If Brian could have used the trap door like Mulder did, it could have saved him a lot of trouble. But knowing how badly the man was injured, Brian couldn't take that risk. It was an old trick, the one in which Brian trusted in this occasion. If he made as big a noise as he could, 'they' would be attracted to the fireworks. He only hoped Mulder safely got out. He had a rather high hope, since the bloodhounds hadn't stopped looking for him in the building. He got two smoke cans ready for use, and hid under the bed. It was only a matter of time before they came to recover the doctor's body for disposal. The problem was how many men would be coming into the room for that to happen. The guy in the hallway wouldn't wake up for at least four hours, but the guy wasn't dead because the AD's team would need him for questioning. If Brian could at least recognize the leader of this assassination team, he'd know who to save for later and who to blow up. He only had two pairs of handcuffs, anyway. There were three men who came to retrieve the body within a few minutes while the others checked the other floors and parking lots. Within thirty seconds, none of the men turned out to be the leader of the pack, and Brian quickly fired from under the bed. His aim was precise, and all three targets had their feet missing as he got out. Another three bullets took care of their shoulders. He grabbed one of the downed men and asked him who their leader was. After a couple of kicks in the groin and jaw, the man gave up and told him to look for a man in a grey suit. With that, Brian let the man go, waiting patiently until he was cleared to exit the room and proceed to the stairs. He hadn't gone more than one floor down before he heard foot steps approaching from both sides. "Shit!" He hissed, and threw down the smoke can to land it precisely one floor down while grabbing the metal door that led to the fourth floor. He'd barely closed it before bullets came raining down from above. The small grass window on the center of the door was ripped to shreds in a matter of several seconds, wires and all. Brian suspected he would meet more men coming from both ends of the hallway if he didn't hurry up. He got the second grenade and threw it over his head, behind the shattered window. He hoped the structural damage to the building wasn't beyond repair as he raced down the hallway and into the doctor's lounge, relieved to find it empty. The bloodhounds must've chased everyone out. Brian had to believe that, because the alternative wasn't an option. There were only ten people who knew about where they were, and less than half of them had the whole picture. Brian wrecked his brains, trying to think and concentrate on the door at the same time. It could have been their cellular, and it could have been that someone within the team had turned nasty. If these guys knew how to breach the security of this mental hospital, they might as well have known how to hack into FBI main frame. Who knew about his being assigned for this job? His supervisor only knew that he was working under the AD's command. But if they had his name, the rest of his personal files would be easy to find, since he was new and didn't have high security access. But none of the suspects who aren't under tight leash was capable of this type of invasion. The ASAC Lewis didn't even know these missions existed. So, what went wrong, and who's behind it? The only alternative Brian came up with was that someone who found out about the FBI undercover missions in three cities tipped one of Lewis's guard dogs. He looked at his watch briefly, and realized the bust in Gran Met was going down as he breathed. Something may have gone wrong for them and word got out. Or the two assigned hospital nurses could have planted a bug or two in Mulder's room while changing the bedding and the gauze. But they could've just poisoned the guy and get it done without creating such a mess. However, Brian again ran out of time as foot steps stopped around the corner and slowly approached the door to the lounge. He quickly situated himself beside the door, so as not to let them spot him. With luck, they might think he still had the injured agent with him. If the grey suit guy was to come outside the door, Brian knew the man would let his men in first to sweep the room. It sounded simple enough. Take down whoever was wearing black and save the grey. He took out the soft plastic explosives and stuck half of them on the door, plunging in the stick in its center. He then took out its remote trigger and placed it on the floor within an easy reach. He then took out his dart gun and waited. The grass window shattered as the silenced bullets slammed into them and one of them stepped inside. Brian took him out with the dart gun, the man's limp body sliding down on the floor. Just as he guessed, several men came flooding in at once, firing rapidly on their way in. Brian hit the remote trigger as he felt one of the bullets slam into his upper arm and into the bullet proof vest. His scream was drowned out by the explosion of the door. Brian's shoulder was still intact, and the bullet didn't break the bone. Damn lucky, he thought as he held the dart gun again with the good arm, getting off of the floor and firing for cover while he took the safety off of his own beloved Sig. He heard a few foot steps around the door, and knew they were being cautious. There were three bodies now lying on the lounge floor, none of which belonged to the said grey-suited man. "Agent Mulder?!" An unfamiliar man's voice called from outside the door, making Brian smile. The bastards really believed he had Mulder. "It's about time, bastard!" Brian replied as he grabbed a can of tear gas. "Agent Newton, I suggest you surrender your weapons and come out!" The same voice commanded, not knowing their target would be out of the city by now. He smiled to himself. "No, I think I'll stick around here a bit longer. But if the man in grey suit would kindly walk in here with his hands locked behind his back, I can promise the rest of you can go." Brian inched closer to the door, opening the can of tear gas and rolling it to the door. His night-vision goggle was shielding the residual gas from hurting his eyes, and he heard a few men squeal outside the door, but that didn't stop them from running inside, firing randomly. Brian was right in pressing himself against the wall, next to the door when the attack came. He got no more than a scratch while taking down two more men with the Sig. When no further attack came, Brian poked his head out of the door to face an empty hallway. Figuring the survivors have probably fled, Brian made his way quickly around the corner, not wanting the leader to get away. "Brian!" A familiar voice called, making him jump with tension. But he lowered the Sig once he recognized the man from Skinner's meeting room. "The leader's the guy in a grey suit..." "I know, we've got him." Brian almost dropped on the floor with relief to see a man wearing the navy FBI jacket over a black bullet-proof vest. The white undershirt peaked out of the small space around the neckline. "What took you guys so long to get here, anyways?" "Ah, you know, the traffic. The guys in Santa Monica had a bit of trouble with their stuff." This was along the line of Brian's speculation, and he nodded. "Where is Agent Mulder?" This got Brian's attention and he tried not to feint on the floor. This time, with terror. "I don't know, Sy. I thought he's with you." Brian replied weakly. If Mulder called the AD and the local police about this mess, Sy would have the agent or at least have been in contact with him. He certainly wouldn't be here by himself, either. For all he knew, there could be a grey suit discarded in a men's room somewhere. Suddenly, the said grey-suited figure didn't seem important. "Thanks for coming, man. I didn't think I'd last too much longer." Brian needed to put on a show enough to convince this man to give him a chance to take him out. Knowing the guy, the AD probably trusted him enough to let him handle everything in Eureka and was waiting for the final details in front of his phone in San Francisco. With luck, Sy could have slipped out of the team's meeting room by himself to get here. Sy patted Brian on the back, and began escorting him to the stairs. "We're a team, Brian. We're there for each other." 'What a load of shit.' Brian thought even as he gave the man a smile. "How are the wounds? How bad?" 'Assessing how well I can move.' Brian thought, and decided to lie. "I can barely walk, Sy. I had to use grenades and plastic and shit. My thigh took a bad flesh wound, and my arm could be broken." "Oh, well. We'll get you fixed up, then." 'Sure, and into a grave.' Brian thought, and gave the man a laugh to disguise the sound of his Sig being taken out of the holster. He kept his right hand firmly pressed against his thigh to get it out of Sy's sight as they headed for the stairs. "Not only that. I'm gonna need a vacation after this." This, Brian said with honesty. Sy snickered and reached for the door, stepping in first as Brian held it open for both of them. The door clicked shut, announcing at least one more impending death in this place. "Yeah, I'll see that you'll get that. My friend, you'll be ready for a long vacation." Taking it as the cue, Brian ducked just in time to avoid Sy's punch that was intended to throw him down the stairs, and slammed his body into Sy's much heavier one. They both went down with a gasp, with Brian landing atop Sy. He placed the nose of the Sig right down Sy's arm and fired. Sy screamed, struggling with Brian's weight on top of him. "Should've known better than to trust you, Sy. Where did he go? The guy in the grey suit?" Contrary to Brian's belief, Sy released a chuckle and kept chuckling in a series of hoarse tone. Brian pointed the gun to the man's knee, and fired for the second time. Again, Sy screamed and tried to get his good arm free from beneath Brian's knee. "Where did he go?" Brian repeated, this time moving the aim down to the man's groin. Sy groaned, trying to get his breathing under control. "...You're a good man, Agent Newton. Real good. But you ain't good enough to make me talk." Sy gasped out the words between his rugged breath, and Brian gave up. He was wasting precious time while the trigger man was still out on the loose. He punched Sy in the face and turned him over to slap the cuffs on the fat wrists through the steel railing mounted on the wall, effectively minimizing the man's chance of escape. He felt weird reading the Miranda rights to an SAC, but this man was a criminal. Sy chuckled slowly as Brian completed the procedure. But the chuckle died down as Brian took out another pair of handcuffs, and snapped one end around Sy's ankle. The larger man glared and snared at him as Brian lifted the man's leg. It was Brian's turn to laugh once he cuffed the other ankle over the railing in the same fashion as the wrists. "You'll make a pretty good pot roast, Sy. In the flames of hell, that is. I've gotta go, man." With that, Brian reloaded the Sig's clip and ran down the stairs. He was thankful that Sy used this stair case instead of the one he blew up. He didn't want to know just how many men he had to kill this morning. He met no resistance as he went out of the first floor door, and just as he expected he saw the red and blue lights of the local PD cruisers. He checked his watch, seeing that forty-five minutes had passed since the first gunfire. It seemed like hours. He walked over to the bunk of pay phones, not wanting to get shot at in case Sy misinformed them about who he was. He got a hold of the AD, who assured Mulder was safe. As Brian kept on with the news about Sy's deception as well as about the bodies piling up inside the building, the AD nearly had a heart-attack. The man quickly recovered, and told Brian to stay put until he got a hold of the local PD chief, and have him personally escort him out of the hospital through the front door. Skinner also told Brian to let the rest of them be in the charge of capturing the said grey-suited man and to send himself to the nearest hospital. Brian thanked the AD and hanged up. He called Mulder next on his satellite phone. He answered on the first ring, and told him he was on the freeway, heading for San Francisco. "Don't. You shouldn't be anywhere near LA, Santa Monica, or San Francisco. Nobody, including Sy, knows that you're driving my car. I suggest you keep driving until you get to somewhere safe. Somewhere remote. Well, you said Agent Scully's family is in San Diego, so maybe you should head for their place. They could maybe help you with medical attention." "No. I can't place them in an unnecessary danger. Look, I'll just keep driving until you guys catch the guy. You've got a hot car, Brian. But I don't want to get any more stares or advances. And that's after I lost the mask and the cap." Brian could've laughed if not under the circumstances. "Sy could have gotten to Agent Scully's surveillance team. If Marah knows about their planning an invasion in there, she's in mortal danger. I contacted the AD, but he's got his hands full." "It was Sy? Sy Greene?" "Yes, sir." "Fuck! Why are all the Greenes in my life turn out to be scumbags?! ...Are you all right?" "I'll live. You?" "I ...you might need a new driver's seat, because I'm bleeding. I tore several stitches during my escape. Scully's gonna have a fit with this." Brian could hear Mulder laughing over the line, and couldn't help a smile himself. "Have you been in touch with Agent Scully, sir?" "No. I didn't want to compromise her or her team's safety just in case. I still don't know anything about their plans. I don't think I should contact her without having her contact me first." Brian nodded into the phone, knowing there was a recent kidnapping case the partners handled, in which the use of cellular phone compromised Mulder's safety. Just then, he saw the Eureka PD chief walk up to the double door, and motioned for the man to come inside. "Sir? The PD chief's here to get me out. If Sy isn't the guy in grey that the uniform guys kept talking about, the guy could still be inside. I might go assist them once I get done with the hospital. The AD's team will have interrogations to do once the place is swept clean, sir. There should be more than a couple of guys, including Sy, that are still alive." With that, Brian hanged up the phone and followed the police chief outside. Gran Met - FBI Surveillance Location Santa Monica, CA 8 PM Two Days Later Rain began falling hard, then kept falling harder until it came down in a sheet. In Dana Scully's opinion, there was a million and one better things to do than to sit in a surveillance vehicle, watching as the three undercover agents put on very convincing performances as a bartender, a strip dancer, and the light coordinator. As soon as they got what they needed, the light guy was to shut off all the power in the main dancing hall for cover, while another agent cut the power cable from outside the building to completely shut down the club's power supply. "If anything happened outside the building, we can't see a damn thing from out here!" Scully complained, only earning a shrug from the agent by the monitor. "We've got to move the van closer, Jim!" Scully pushed, wanting to get a closer outer view. Parrison shook his head no. "Can't do, Agent Scully. They'll recognize us! They're used to seeing Lewis, and Skinner's convinced that Marah already knows every trick of surveillance technique the ASAC knows. For all we know, we're lucky we've got this far without losing any of our pawns. Lewis's justifiably paranoid about every single new employee, and it took the US Attorney just to provide these guys the fake I.Ds." "Any news on Tommy Waters?" The last time thy had a close run-in with the fugitive, the man was getting ready to cross the border into Canada in exchange for merchandise, which included a copy of the Colorado tape. Although they've confisticated the merchandise and other trade-in goods Tommy had been carrying in his van, Tommy was still out there, running loose. Skinner's special team assembled outside the one Scully and Mulder were in, did manage to arrest Tommy's three Canadian buyers, but that turned up nothing on Tommy's whereabouts. "None yet, Agent Scully." Parrison replied, resigned to his own predicament. "How's Agent Mulder?" He added as though he'd just remembered about her partner. Scully sighed. "That last one was a real close-call, but he's holding on. Agent Newton's still in the hospital, and the two nurses, along with the doctor didn't make it. They're holding their funeral services tomorrow." Parrison turned sharply, obviously been too busy to keep up with every detail of their investigation. Scully nodded a confirmation, hating herself for being the messenger. "Yeah, it's true. I'd hate to miss my chance to kick Sy Greene's ass myself, but doing my job is more appropriate way to see the good doctor and the nurses off. At least the fucking bastard's not gonna get his filthy hands on any more lives." The moment Parrison saw the expression on Scully's face, he felt his blood quickly escape from his head. "Mulder's going to pick up another sizable stock of burden on this incident, and he won't be able to attend the doctor's funeral, either." "Kinda hard to do when he can hardly move." Parrison offered, trying to either lighten up their mood or change the topic of their conversation. Sensing the younger man's effort, Scully nodded. "I've been moving around so much lately. Meeting all these new agents I never knew existed, but somehow seem to know a lot about us. Surely, it won't be the first time I've been in a situation like this. But this is the first time I've gone on without having Mulder at my side for this long ...it's been both more difficult and liberating at the same time." "I've never actually had partners, so I wouldn't know what to tell you. But I understand the nervousness that come from working with guys you don't know. I'm glad I always stay in one team, instead of moving around the world like you two do." Scully's eyebrows shot up appreciatively. "That's why we only trust each other ...no offense." "None taken." This earned the young man a genuine Scully Smile that always made Mulder stare at her longer, because it was a rare sight. "Thank you, Parrison." She saw the agent slightly blush, and barely contained her laughter. Former Savannah Waters Mansion Marvel Avenue, Santa Monica CA Noon Next Day The sudden abort order for the surveillance team last night came as a shock to everyone including Scully, but that was nothing compared to the load of news that accompanied it. Although Scully didn't have the pleasure of personally interrogating the man, she still had the satisfaction of listening to the whole thing on tape in the kitchen while fixing an oriental chicken salad for herself and the rest of the team. It was reported that after five hours of interrogation by an enraged Skinner, even Sy Greene cracked under the pressure and told them he was the man in grey. This was confirmed by the discovery of a grey man's suit from a waste basket in a hospital men's room. However, Greene made a mistake in assuming the AD knew about his covering for Tommy Waters, who was at his house in Fresno. When asked for the reason, it turned out that Sy had been a member of a militia group based in Idaho. The group promised to provide Waters with protection since they valued Greene's membership to get inside information. Knowing almost everything Tommy Waters stood for was against the group's beliefs, the AD demanded the reasons for their accepting Waters in the first place. "He had connections everywhere in the US and abroad, including Canada. He's got a deal going on with three Canadians right as we speak. Sure, they were underground connections full of pervs, but they knew where to get goods from and to deliver. Weapons, information... Anything you needed, they could get it delivered without being detected. Whenever there was an official accidental arrests and even speeding tickets for the members, I covered it up." The man's pain-loaded voice came through the cassette player. Scully tossed the chopped vegetables in the glass bowl first, then tossed in the grilled chicken breast and the oriental salad dressing. Sy's voice continued after a few minutes' pause. "I swear, man. I didn't contact Lewis, nor the owner of the perv's club. My connection to your case is strictly for our courier, and to protect the information vital to our group." "You mean, the militia group?" Skinner growled, ready to bite the man's head off if given a chance. "We were itching to get rid of the perv, anyway. We just should've done it early enough." "Why attack Agent Mulder? He's already injured, and he was temporarily off of the investigation." "We knew he'd been in Colorado Springs recently, but we didn't know where he went. I suspected he's gone to the psychiatric prison, but others doubted it, ever since seeing the tape." "What? You actually carried it out?" "Tommy Waters had it. In fact, that's one of the stuff he's trading with the Canadians for. After that, I don't know. He could be getting ready to cross the border with them. These people are literally underground, sir." "What? Are you saying that they literally have tunnels dug under the border?" "Go get a shovel, man. But I don't know where the hole is." "Oh, give me a fucking break!" Scully slammed down the 'stop' button on the player and scooped some of the salad into a small wooden bowl. The garlic bread was heating up nicely in the oven, and the two pitchers of fresh lemonade was cooling rapidly in the freezer to conserve the time. She wondered about Mulder. The last time he'd called to assure Scully that he was alive and well, he was calling from Chico, right along the Sacramento Valley. Skinner personally arranged for a chopper ride to get him into a safe house located on the Malibu Beach, but Mulder protested, forcing the AD to change the location to another safehouse located in Central Valley, fairly close from Lake Shasta. It was in the neighborhood of a national park, which afforded Mulder the cover of the forest in case anything went wrong. After lunch, the AD called Scully on her satellite cell, figuring from Newton's statements that regular FBI cellular was no longer safe for this investigation. With Sy Greene and the plans in Eureka blown, Skinner asked if Scully would be willing to take over the security detail in Central Valley, but Scully decided to decline, insisting that she'd been working on the surveillance detail here in Santa Monica, and with his permission, she wanted the chance to prove its worth. The AD quickly approved it, and wished her luck. "But I'd like you to send me up to Central Valley as soon as I'm done here." Scully didn't forget to add in her two cents, which Skinner appreciated. She was in the shower when Mulder called for the second time, informing her that he'd been safely transported into his new 'hole' after being treated for his injuries. Scully carried the phone back into the bathroom, and spoke to him while rinsing the shampoo and soap off of her exhausted body. When Mulder got that piece of information, he went on with the very expected series of teasing remarks. Instead of dismissing or denouncing his jokes, she went on with her own set of comments, reminding him that she'd seen him in nude more than once. She continued the banter well after getting out of the shower and towel dried her hair. It was more a battle of just who will give up first than an attempt at grossing each other out or arouse each other out of humor. "This means war, Scully. Expect your underwear drawer to be empty when you get home. Frohike would be my slave for the entire next year." Scully loved these childish exchange, knowing he needed the breather after what he'd gone through and without her presence. "Yeah, sure. Expect the same for yours. You're gonna have to fly all the way to England to get them back. From Phoebe." "Ahhh! No! She'll probably torch them or hang them down from the fucking clock tower!" "Uh-huh. Right under the big hand-made sign with your name and size written on it. All caps." "Dana Katherine Scully." His throaty voice caught her a bit off-guard. She had to admit, it sounded seductive. She remained silent. "If you're rubbing that coconut milk and vanilla lotion on your body right now, as you often do after showers but never after taking baths, I'd love to be your lotion." 'Damnit', Scully thought. 'He's winning the game!' How he found out what kind of lotion she wore was beyond her, much less when she used it. "In your dreams, Mulder." She resorted to the old trick, and hoped he wouldn't catch her blushing. She was wrong. "Sure, Scully. You have nooo idea how many times, or just how often you've been in them. Especially around lonely Saturday nights..." "Fox William Mulder! You've gone far enough!" She was more embarrassed than angry. "All right, Scully. I should've known I'd extended my sense of humor far enough. Besides, you're the one who once asked me, 'oh, is that what you were extending?'. Well, if you didn't think I really meant my professional courtesy, then whatever else you think I was extending at that point, I'm doing it right now." Scully threw in her towel to surrender. 'Damn Phoebe Greene.' Scully cursed the spiteful woman once again as Mulder brought up the old memory. She decided it had gone on long enough, and moved for the final kick. He'd already won the game, anyway. "You can try, Mulder. But I don't think it's long enough to affect me. Good luck." With that, Scully hanged up without waiting for his reply. If she'd really offended his male pride, she could still argue and say it was him who started the damn contest. The phone rang again just five minutes later, and she again answered it on the first ring. "Mulder, if you called back to apologize to me for teasing my height and bra size, or to ask me if I really meant what I said..." "Agent Scully, this is Skinner. I don't know what you're talking about." "Oh, hi. ...Uh, sir." Scully's tongue stumbled, trying to get a grip. The AD cleared his throat at the other end of the line. "I was just calling to issue a go on your surveillance detail. You're safe to continue, but I suggest you wait for the rest of us to catch up with some more with details around here. A couple of days should be enough." "Yes, sir." Not composed enough to manage anything more, Scully begged the heavens to let Skinner pass on her earlier comment. A dial tone granted her wish, and she quickly got dressed. She was applying make-up for the second time that day when the phone rang again. She answered on the second ring. "Do you miss me?" Scully choked out a laughter the moment she heard Mulder's voice. "Are you calling to apologize to me?" 'You better.' Scully thought. She heard his sigh. "Yeah. Score's even." Scully smiled, nodding into the phone. "Okay, then. Yes, I've missed you." "...Who were you talking to just now?" Mulder asked after a few moments of silence. "Skinner. He gave me a go to continue with the surveillance, but to wait for two days to clear things up." Scully decided not to tell Mulder she'd been caught flirting with him by Skinner. "Be careful, Dana." The unaccustomed use of her first name told her how serious he was. After what happened to Newton, she couldn't be careful enough herself. "You know I will, Mulder. How do you like it up there?" "It's beautiful around here. Full of life. ...A little too much life." She heard him slap somewhere on his body, probably swatting at mosquitoes or some other mystery bugs. Mulder hated bugs, with a passion. Scully laughed. "Are you laughing at my misfortunes, Scully? Oh, now you've done it." Scully laughed harder, knowing that was his intentions. As if to confirm this suspicion, he chuckled after her. "Let the bugs feast on you and save your energy for some other time. I don't want you tearing out any more stitches. I'll fly out to Central Valley as soon as I'm done here. I can maybe bring some mosquito net and a few cans of bug spray with me when I come over." "But Scullllyyyy ...they itch." Scully cracked up again, picturing his pitiful look. "Mulder, the stitches will itch for at least five more days, and the ones you torn out will take another two weeks to be taken out. The bug bites can be cured with ointments. For someone who can get used to broken ribs and gun shot wounds, you're always a sissy about small stuff. I can never figure out why that is." "Probably because I know that I can behave like a child, and you naturally turn into a mother hen. I don't know. Maybe it's got something to do with one of my unresolved childhood issues, or maybe because I know that if I behave like a baby, you'd play along with me and allow me to behave like one. Who knows?" 'Tina Mulder', Scully thought. 'Damn the bitch.' This was a direction she wasn't expecting he'd lead her to. Something was really bothering him, but he wasn't letting on that far. She decided to take whatever was offered, and piece the puzzle together some other time. "I like you doing that, too, Mulder. I've always been such a strong-minded kid, I never allowed myself to ...how do I say ...return to a kid. Maybe I'm afraid I'd look helpless. I don't know. I envy you that way, Mulder. That, you can release that part of yourself." "I don't do it in front of everybody, Scully. My own mother doesn't know the half of me." This conversation was quickly losing its humorous side. Scully sighed and padded into the hallway, the phone still in her hand as she descended the stairs. "Hold on, Mulder." Scully said and stopped Parrison to tell whoever asks for her not to disturb her for a few hours unless it's a dire emergency. She thanked him when he nodded, and padded back into the master bedroom. "Okay, I'm free for a few hours. You were saying?" Silence greeted her. "Mulder? Mulder? Are you there?" "Yeah. Sorry, Scully. I didn't mean to..." She could picture him pacing around in the house and studying the pattern of the hardwood floor. Probably with his free hand running back and forth in his hair. "Don't be sorry. You're the one who got this phone, and the bill's on you. I've done all I can here for the moment until at least tomorrow, anyways." Now, she was getting worried. And it was very important not to let him know of that fact, or he'll flee and hang up the phone after muttering some inane joke. "Scully, you're spoiling me." "Indulge yourself. I don't do it too often." This earned her a chuckle. "So, Scully. What are you wearing?" 'Bingo', she thought. He was getting ready to run. "Save it for later, Loverboy." She hoped it was enough of a warning not to go into that direction. His melodramatic sigh was the confirmation. "All right, Scully. I'll be honest with you. I love it when you let me have my way, just because I believe you know that you have that much power over me. Not because I'm being aggressive enough, or that I'm trying to control you. But because you know when to let me fly and when to let me loose. Just as you know when to keep me grounded and when to put a curfew on me. Almost always for my own good." "Mulder..." Scully didn't know what to say to that. It was a compliment, probably of the highest level. "Yeah, Scully?" "Uhh... I don't know. Please continue." She didn't want to lose the chance to let herself into that complex mind of Fox Mulder. A long moment of silence invited itself in between them before he started again. "I haven't always been this way, Scully. I don't think you were always the way you are these days, either. I used to smoke. I used to drink regularly, though I kicked the habit, thank God. I used to believe in the Little Green Men, and I used to think I could outsmart every criminal mind ever to exist. There was a time I thought I was to blame for Samantha's abduction. I even fell for Phoebe's old trick again when I thought I'd learned not to." "But that's all in the past and she's gone, Mulder. You said it yourself. She isn't worth your time." Scully was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Something is really, very much, bothering him. "There's a lot more of these skeletons in my closet that I'm not ready to pull out into the light, and which I believe I'll never be ready to. I don't know how I became what or who I am, and I often wonder why you stayed with me. But I'm always thankful that you've been there for me, and with me." "Mulder, what's wrong?" Scully knew it was the wrong question the moment it was out. He didn't speak for awhile, but she heard him breathing in an irregular interval. 'Now you've really done it, Scully.' She scowled herself. Making him cry over the phone wasn't her intention. But she was glad, in a way, that he'd be willing show that side of him to her. "Mulder? Don't be upset about telling me things about you. I'm not saying this out of pity nor to judge you, either. Come on, Mulder. You're the psychologist here." "Did Skinner tell you about the Canadian buyers? Of the tape?" "Colorado?" Her heart dropped with her mood. 'Tommy Waters', she thought. "We're close to catching them, Mulder. Don't worry about it and let us catch the bastards. Tommy Waters's got some deal going on with them, and Skinner's on top of it. He was in Los Angels, directing a surveillance team there and the one in San Francisco. But he sent another team to take care of the north. Why?" "Someone ...uhh, called on my voice message at our office. I got it just a couple of hours ago." "Oh. ...It's probably nothing, Mulder. They just want to scare us, to make us think they've actually got something up their sleeves to discredit you." 'So, this was it.' Scully kicked the mattress. The bastards knew just how to rattle Mulder's nerves. "But what if they have it, Scully?" His voice rose a bit, indicating his tension. "Maybe they think that they can get it after they made the exchange with Tommy Waters. They don't know that we're sending a team up there to track them down. They don't know that we've got Sy Greene in custody. Did they leave any clue when they called, Mulder? Just repeat exactly what they said on the phone." She knew damn well he hadn't told Skinner about it. "Word for word?" His exasperation was clearer than a fire burning in a night sky. "Yeah." Scully hated saying it, but they both knew it had to be done. "Take all the time you need, Mulder." She added just for comfort, and to let him know that she wasn't going to let this go. "Ammm..." Mulder hesitated, but took a deep audible breath to ready himself. When he spoke again, his voice was very calm. "'Foxy baby, you look so sweet, I can already taste you. I love the way you cry, and I can come just watching you tremble. But I saved that fun until you came in his mouth. Foxy baby, I'd love to show you just how you make me feel, and I'd love for you to show me how I make you feel. I'd love to stick my cock up your skinny ass and fuck you senseless. "'Foxy baby, I know you hated to be in so much pain. But you know you're so sexy when you scream. I'd love to hear that sound again and again, over and over. Your pouty lips look so delicious, I want to feel them over my own. Your tongue looks so soft, I'd pay a fortune to feel it closed around my cock. Your hazel-green eyes are a wonder on their own, I'd love to lock them with mine for hours at a time. I can just imagine how they'll water with your tears; how they'll smolder with desire; and how they'll lose their focus as you come. I'd love to smear your skin with my special brand of olive oil; you have no idea how well that works as a rube. Can you imagine my cock sliding in and out of you as well as I can feel yours moving inside me? "'Foxy baby, I'd love to keep you for myself. But you're so hot, you can do so much good out there in the free world. Don't you love it that so many people want you? Oh, but if I am to let you go unleashed into the world, at least I'd love to keep your heart with me.'" Scully barely made it to the bathroom before she lost her lunch in the toilet. She hated that he'd had to hear her vomiting. No wonder Mulder went down spiral. She would, too, if she was in his shoes. Mulder was calling her name, asking where she was and how she was. She needed to respond. She quickly grabbed her mouthwash, and washed out the sickening aftertaste. "Yeah. I'm here, Mulder. I'm sorry, I lost it." Her reply was still a bit hoarse. "No, don't be. I was doing that for more than an hour and a half before I gathered the nerve to give you a call. I needed to hear your voice." Scully didn't know whether to cry or be glad he'd trusted her that much. "Mulder, you need to tell Skinner about this. He can run a voice scan, and see if it matches any of our suspects." "I think it belongs to either Pickett or Harbor, Scully. It could be Tommy Waters, but I haven't heard his voice, yet." Mulder was trying to steer her away from talking to Skinner about it, and she knew it. But as much as she wanted to spare him the suffering, the AD had to have every evidence and clue there was to go on. "I know you could be right, Mulder. But you know just as well as I do that Skinner needs this." This was the time for her to be tough and unyielding. "Besides, you know that they're counting on you not to tell Skinner about this. That, if they made you believe that they are ready to release the damn tape, you might as well get scared and stall the investigation. Are you going to let them do that to you, Mulder?" "...No. I mean, I knew what they were trying to do, but... I don't know. I got scared." "Any sane person would, Mulder. Who else besides you and Ceilon know about your nickname?" "Probably everyone who participated in the act. The six convicts and myself. Oh, and whoever watched the tape probably heard Ceilon calling me that. I've already been working on the guy's profile. You probably noticed the way the guy sort of started as an observer, then quickly closed distance with me. The way he personalized my responses to the convicts' tortures, to the way he kept using my pet name like he gave it to me." "So, that's where you got the idea that the caller was one of the escaped convicts?" "Yeah. But then toward the end, he almost sound sympathetic. Talking about how he wants to keep me to himself, but he can't. He thinks he's doing me and the world a favor by letting 'the world' have the same pleasure as he got from watching me being tortured. If this was one of the convicts as I first thought, maybe that explains why they taped their act. But I thought it was intended originally to embrace the experience for their own pleasures. To ...make its effect last for as long as they could, and not to share it with the whole world. "This guy's sick to the core, and probably a control freak. He probably likes to have aggressive sex with male sexual partners only for the sake of expressing his domination over his chosen partner. He could have been a homosexual, but not for all his life. Could have been in prison at early age. Did you notice the way the guy completely disregarded, or even eliminated, Savannah's existence out of his experience? She was with me, being subjected to the same and similar tortures as I was. But the guy didn't even mention her, nor seem to recognize her presence at all." Mulder suddenly stopped, as if he finally noticed what exactly he was talking about. He clammed up, and waited for her response. "...Okay. Do you want to call and talk to Skinner, or should I? If this phone has the three-way system, we could both talk to him at the same time." Scully hadn't taken the time to read the technical manual entirely. "It does, but I think I should be the one to do that." Mulder's voice now gained back some of its original strength, and Scully was relieved. "That's my Mulder." Scully heard him chuckle, and returned one of her own. "You amaze me, Scully. You're the best." Now she was smiling from ear to ear. He knew just how to make her feel strong when she needed it. "If you're trying to talk me into cooking you a dinner, you better be willing to do the dishes." "I'm at your service, Ma'm." Scully chuckled again, wondering how he did that. "All right. Call Skinner right away, Mulder. Then you call me right back. As I said, I'm free for the next ...an hour and a half, so don't hesitate. Okay?" "Okay. Thanks, Scully." With that, he was gone. Scully waited for the dial tone before hanging up, then placed it on the nightstand and sprawled over the mattress again. As she guessed, a distressed Skinner called her fifteen minutes later to tell her about Mulder calling him. He wasn't surprised that she'd already known about it, and promised her he'd increase the security around Mulder's hideout. When she thanked him, Skinner paused a bit before asking her to keep a close eye, or in this case a close ear, on Mulder. Scully promised him she would, and told him she'll call Mulder regularly to check up on him. Mulder didn't call her until an hour after Skinner hanged up, but he'd asked her if she was feeling better before saying anything else. That little detail made her grow more fond of him. Scully didn't disgrace him by not telling him why she had to keep calling him every three hours. Mulder hadn't taken offense, and rather appreciated it. The day brought up nothing urgent to do on her part, and the X-Files' Dynamic Duo ended up spending much of it on the phone, discussing about everything from Egyptian mythology to Greek philosophy to how to maintain dental hygiene of various animals. Scully in turn told him about everything from the details of various diseases she'd only learned about in passing, to the topics raised in recent medical journals, to how whales live while they travel around in the northern seas. To the partners' mutual amazement, that night they both fell asleep while still on the phone. FBI Safehouse Central Valley, CA 3: 30 PM - Three Days Later When Scully arrived at the house, the two of the assigned day-shift agents named Young and Brennon quickly ushered her inside. She rounded her eyes upon entering into the lobby, marveling in its modern country architecture. Although Mulder's new houses were beautiful in their pristine and historic ways, this house had warmth that could only have been delivered by the polished wood and rough-edged stone of the fire place. "Agent Scully? Nice to have you here." Another agent named Ginny watching the living room called for her, shaking her hand. There were a total of six agents assigned for Mulder's protection, seven counting Scully. "I know you must be exhausted from your trip and the assignment back in Santa Monica. AD Skinner specifically told us to make sure that you rest. There are six of us, after all." Scully nodded as she shifted her baggage in her hand and on her shoulder. "Where's my room?" She asked, wanting to get everything settled down quickly. Ginny understood her feelings, and guided her straight to the stairs. "On the third floor, fifth door from the stairwell. Agent Mulder's just across the hallway." "Oh, thanks." Scully carefully carried herself up the stairs, cursing the architect for neglecting to install an elevator system. 'Well,' she thought, 'gotta save the tax payers some trouble'. Although she knew the house was donated by a late senator, she couldn't imagine how the man had put up with the four-story building without an elevator until his death at age eighty-four. Scully opened the door to her bedroom and instantly fell in love with it. The room's walk-in closet was also something to be praised for. She quickly hang up her suits and kicked off her shoes. Taking off her suit, she changed into a pair of moss green denim pants and a thin black v-neck sweater. Judging she was comfortable enough, she jumped on the bed and sprawled over the down comforter. Outside, birds sang their afternoon chorus, making her realize just how much she'd missed the sounds of the nature. She closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. When she awoke at seven in the evening due to the commotion around the house, she was neatly tucked into her bed. The second thing she noticed was the smell of food. 'Dinner.' Her stomach complained the instant that thought registered into her foggy brain. 'Gotta have food.' Scully pulled herself out from under the covers and opened the door. Someone was laughing at something, but she wasn't close enough to listen in on the conversation. But since nobody stopped talking once she entered the dining room, it wasn't anything about her or Mulder. It was refreshing, and so was the light jazz that played in the background. "Hey, here comes the Sleeping Beauty." Mulder called her from the kitchen, a large plate of grilled vegetables stuck with chicken and sermon on barbecue sticks balanced on one hand. "I'm starving." Scully said as she accepted a fresh glass of iced tea from Young, who was in charge of pouring it for everyone else. "Good thing, because I cooked way too much food. Again." Mulder's reply got her eyebrows to do a good jump. It turned out he'd been cooking ever since they moved him into this place. The other agents took turns doing the shopping and dishes for dinner time, while Mulder took his part in doing dishes during lunch hour. Scully noted he was moving around with little difficulty, and that he'd remembered, as always, to pack a few sweat suits that would cause minimal hassle for the stitches. "We're lucky to have him here, you know." Scully tipped in as she took her first bite, making everyone including Mulder turn to her. "He's an excellent chef." "Oh, save that comment until after you eat my apple compote." This got everyone's attention toward Mulder, standing proudly with a large white dish in one hand. "That is, if any of you had an objection toward the last Sunday's brunch menu." "And what was it?" Scully was utterly curious as much as nervous about what he'd done to change himself like this. "Fondue." Brennon, who was sitting next to her answered for her. At Scully's incredulous look, he went on to explain how Mulder made cheese fondue, then used a replacement top to make chocolate fondue for the fruits. "Mulder, really. Where'd you ever...?" Brown asked, marveling at the texture of grilled sermon piece on his stick. "Savannah used to cook. I was there to help, watch, and learn how she cooked. But Scully here's the first one to taste any of her recipe. I just didn't get around to try much of them until very recently." He said as he took off his apron and sat their dessert plate in the middle of the dining table. Scully momentarily worried about Mulder sinking again, but was relieved when he kept his smile. "What did you cook before this?" Scully asked Mulder as he popped a large grilled chicken piece in his mouth. Mulder quickly chewed and swallowed the piece before opening his mouth, but the other agents beat him to it. "The first night, he roasted a duck. The second night was sermon fillets in wine and lemon marinade. It even had a lemon-dill mayonnaise on the side instead of the normal tartar sauce. The third night, it was shrimp with really finely chopped vegetables..." "Oh, I know that one. It was great the first time I had it." Scully spoke the instant she remembered the night he cooked the dish in that gourmet kitchen. Everyone momentarily looked toward Scully, freezing her fork just inches from her mouth. "It's good with mango sorbet." She added, then gestured the agents to continue the discussion. However, as she looked toward Mulder she was rewarded with a wide closed-lipped smile. "The forth day, I think it was vegetable gumbo. Real Big Easy style. The fifth day, it was... What was it?" "Basque chicken. French dish." Ginny supplied. "Tiramisu for dessert." "What? Mulder, I didn't know you do pastries." Scully's eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. Mulder laughed his throaty laugh. "Scully, that was the first time I made it. I was just watching the TV cooking show, and I memorized it." 'Leave it to Mulder to turn himself into a culinary guru overnight.' Scully thought, thinking of how many chefs would be jealous of him. "What? I didn't know that." Young commented upon this new revelation, and shook his head disbelievingly. Mulder nodded a confirmation. "What did he cook on the sixth day? ...Oriental Chicken stew?" "Yeah. The liquid was clear, because he used rice cooking wine and a bit of soy sauce. Onions and carrots really added the flavor, but I think that shiitake mushroom was the secret." By now Scully was gaping at Mulder, who kept eating calmly as if it was a completely expected reaction. 'Maybe because it is', Scully thought. "Then just two days ago, he cooked vegetarian lasagna. It was my personal favorite." Ginny, who was the only other female agent, told Scully. "It had at least five ...no, six vegetables in it. Zucchini, black olive, corn, green and red bell peppers, and broccoli. He used three kinds of cheese on top and in between the pasta sheets." "He even made the sauce from scratch. With wine, white mushroom, and fresh tomato. He had me stirring the damn thing while he measured all the spices and dumping them in." "Who are you, and what did you do with my partner?" Scully joked, earning a genuine laughter from him. "Scully, I was off of the case and I needed something to do. I couldn't go for a run nor for a hike, much less shoot hoops or swim. I was too hyper to stay quiet and read or write. There's only so much television you can watch, and cooking doesn't require too big a movement of my limbs." At this, Scully nodded an understanding. "Then, just yesterday he made garden burgers. With at least ten ingredients. We were a bit craving for something we were familiar with, and he suggested the burger or a broiled snapper. We voted for the former." "By the way, the snapper's for tomorrow's dinner. I won't let that fish go to waste." Mulder quipped. "Then tomorrow, I'll defrost the mahi fillets. I'll make white wine and garlic sauce for them beforehand, but for whoever wants a different sauce, I'll make a fruit salsa. For that particular side dish, it's either wild rice pilaf with vegetables, or sauteed mushroom. Take your pick." "The veggie pilaf, definitely." One agent voted in, while two others wanted the mushroom. As Scully also put in her vote for the pilaf, it was decided on the pilaf. "It's good you came, Scully. No tied scores in voting. Personally, I wouldn't really mind having whatever I cook, but even I change my taste from day to day." Mulder quipped as the others began digging into the apple compote. "So, how many of you for the cream sauce?" Again, three hands came up, and Mulder nodded. "All right. For the rest of you, your sauce takes a hell of a lot shorter to make, so you can expect your dinner to start at least fifteen minutes earlier than others." Mulder was speaking as if this was his life. Scully wondered if this place reminded him of something about Savannah, and was trying to reconnect with the fond memories of the woman again. "What did you guys do for breakfast and lunch? I mean, if your dinners are like the five-star restaurant..." Scully was genuinely curious. "We had pasta and soup a lot. We also took care of any left-overs from the previous dinner. Sometimes we used stuff Mulder was planning on using for dinner and got yelled at, but..." "Hey! Basque chicken aren't as good with only one green bell pepper and half the ham." Mulder whined, making others sigh with exasperation. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Besides, how was I supposed to know that you were planning on using that much wine for the tomato sauce?" "Drinking on duty isn't a model behavior." Scully swore Mulder looked ready to pull away the agent's dish. Mulder in the mother-hen mood was one of the worst, as well as one of the rarest. "Fuck you." "Back at you." "Guys, guys. We're federal agents, for crying out loud. Behave." "Yeah, and the decorated J. Edger Hoover wore women's lingerie." "At least he had a character." "He could've been a hit in Vegas." The dinner conversation went on in this pace, convincing Scully that everyone here did get along with her partner very well. After the dinner, the agents went back to their assigned spots, a half of them to bed and the other to stand guard outside as well as inside of the house. Ginny pulled Scully aside while she was brushing her teeth. The conspicuous way in which she looked at Scully was an indication to what was coming. "Is this about Mulder?" Scully asked, saving the woman the trouble of coming up with a way to start it. Ginny looked at Scully startled, and nodded. "We weren't exactly cheerful like this ...before you got here." "What's wrong with Mulder?" There was a lot of things going wrong with Mulder, but not many people knew that. Paula looked around them and dropped her voice. "The night you called ...when he just moved here ...he had some kind of nervous breakdown. He kept throwing up for, like, two hours." "Yeah, I know about that. He called me." "He didn't tell us why, but then he was talking to you on the phone and he calmed down. I believe he fell asleep with the phone still on." "So did I." This seemed to surprise the woman, but Scully kept silently urging her on. "Uh... Did he call you in between the second and the fifth day? What about the last couple of days?" This got Scully's attention. Her gaze darted everywhere around her as she tried to remember. "I remember the second day. I talked to him in the morning, when he woke me up. He's an insomniac, so he noticed the phone was still on and heard me breathing through the line. I didn't get in touch with him for about three days, then I told him about my coming up here, because Skinner gave me the okay. He wanted me in charge here. Why?" "Does he always have bad dreams? Day or night, regardless?" 'Oh, no.' Scully thought. "Yes." She had to give that much. "He worked in Violent Crimes, and his sister disappeared when he was twelve. We've had loads of cases more horrifying than any horror story. He feels responsible for my abduction, even after my return." Paula seemed to deflate, leaning heavily against the wall. "In those days that you weren't talking to him for at least an hour at a time, he had very violent dreams, and kept waking the three of us day group up. He didn't seem to remember much of those episodes, but we do. I don't know how you put up with him for so long, but he keeps asking for you every time we wake him up. Once, he even mistaken me for you and asked me if I, I mean you, were all right." Scully joined Paula in sighing. "I'm sorry. Did Skinner know how bad things were going?" "I think so. Especially around the second day." "I should've told you guys to make him call me everyday. I suspected this, but..." "It's all right, Dana. You're here now." "Thanks for telling me about this. I would've made a fuss if he starts doing it in the middle of the night without my having any prior knowledge of this." "He ...God, he screams so loud. I'll probably turn deaf within the next two weeks that we've been assigned for this." "Did he or Skinner tell you about the suggestive voice message he received in our office? He suspects it was left by either Pickett or Harbor. It contained a very detailed description of exactly what the man wanted to do to him once he had Mulder with him. It would scare anyone away, and he's got a photographic memory." "Oh, so that was it. ...No. No one told me, but it makes sense. The doctors tried to give him sedatives and everything, but he refuses them. We didn't want to hold him down or anything to force the stuff on him, because we might cause him more injuries..." "If that's the case, you know that I'm a medical doctor. I can try." Scully hated it, but these five agents did deserve peaceful and restful nights. Mulder wouldn't fight her if she talked to him long enough or assertive enough. "Thank you, Dana." Paula seemed relieved, and Scully couldn't help giving her an encouraging smile. Then, a realization dawned on Scully. "If this just started, there's one other way to stop it." "What is it?" Paula didn't waste time wondering what it was. "When we stayed together, both in Italy and in Santa Monica, he never had the fits that you're describing. Which is why I didn't know he was having such a tough time in here. If you guys are willing to ignore the bureau protocol a little, I'd like to stay in the same room with him during however long he sleeps here." Paula's eyes widened, and Scully sighed. "Don't get me wrong here, Paula. We haven't done anything people gossip about. It's just I don't remember his having violent nightmares much during this case whenever I was around. This case really got to him, and I think it would get anyone with a sound mind." "Okay, I'll talk to the guys. Don't tell Mulder..." "It's all right, Paula. We can handle this." Scully said quickly. "You aren't used to his sleeping disorders like I am. The horrors we've been subjected to aren't any part of your lives. I think, that not knowing the things we know scare you much more than actually witnessing them with us. And knowing that on surface doesn't make things much easier to actually experience them first hand." "What would you suggest we do?" "That, in case he stubbornly refuses to take med, I'd be allowed ...to, uh..." Scully stuttered, suddenly embarrassed how it sounded with words. "To hold him down and give them to him, because you're his personal physician?" Scully shook her head no. "No. I meant that I'd be allowed to stay in the same room with him. We've done that during tough times we had in Florence and sometimes in Santa Monica." A sharp intake of breath was Paula's sign of realization. Scully met her eyes briefly, then looked away again. "I've noticed that since he keeps asking for me when he wakes up and all, my presence works just as well as any of the sedatives. You all just have to ignore that part of the bureau protocol." "Dana, you... I have no objections. I mean, without..." "I just didn't want it to sound like I was being forced to stay with him, or that I suggested this alternative to ...uhh, to, uh..." "To have sex with your partner." She was very blunt. "...Yes." Scully slowly nodded, her eyes choosing to stay on the floor. "It's all right. He won't stay with me unless he feels the need to. Since we're across the hall from each other, it shouldn't be too often. But if it happens, it is very important that no other agent will throw us any teasing remarks or flirtatious comments. Even without our presence, Mulder could over hear them. He's an extremely perceptive person, and he senses when someone's not being honest. The moment any of you get started on the rumor mill, he'll shut down completely." The seriousness in her voice was a good enough indication that it was, after all, a very serious matter. "All right." Paula nodded. "Hopefully, no one here talks about the things that happens here to the outsiders, and you guys will get good sleep." "I think that'll be okay. They ...I mean, none of us dislikes Mulder at all. We like him, and we'll like him a whole lot more, if he's like he is today all the time. He's such an easy person to be a friend with if not for the moodiness. I was kind of feeling bad for Mulder myself. He knows he's got the problem, and he feels bad about it. I think that since he's off the case, he wanted to do whatever he could to make things easier for us." "Cooking the kind of things he's been cooking reminds him of Savannah. So does the profiling work he's done on the caller, just based on what the man said to him. I think he also feels some residual effects from the incident in Eureka. Agent Newton did make it out alive, but only by chance. Mulder hates to put any life in danger unless it's absolutely necessary." "Would it help him if we informed him that Agent Newton is scheduled to be promoted?" "I doubt it. Most likely he knows about it already." "Is it possible for us to call up that therapist who stayed with him and Miss Waters before? When they were recovering?" "I think we could try, but he wouldn't accept it. Doctors make the worst patients, and he's a psychologist. He's most likely to outsmart the doctor and chase her away." "Speaking from experience?" "Something like that. Not only about him, but on my behalf. This whole case is about him and Savannah. It doesn't help to find that the woman was murdered by the same people, or at least the people who have relations to the same people, who tried to have them killed. It terrified me to just find out that an entire bureau office was engaged in such elaborate conspiracies and networks of underground porno industry. Much less the sick cult they're in. ...He's not always this vulnerable. He's ...I don't think he's ever been this vulnerable. If you get an impression that he's a crybaby, you're wrong." "Okay. ...Does that have anything to do with his avoiding red meat? I had a friend of mine who survived a date rape, and she'd avoided red meat ever since. She finds them too savage." "He did tell me something to that respect. Yes." The two women nodded solemnly, understanding where they're coming from. "Well, whatever happens, we're glad you are here." Paula placed a reassuring hand on Scully's upper arm, and returned to her post. After putting her hiking boots on and walked around the house, Scully found two old picnic tables and a swing in the back. She also found a hummock and a very narrow hiking trail that led up to the hill in a small distance. It was such a contrast between the houses in Florence and Santa Monica, Scully felt like she just stepped into a story in one of her children's books she read as a kid. The grass was carefully maintained around the house, but they grew with abandon beyond the house's premises. Dragon fly added a sizable buzz to the rest of the insects' orchestra, and she spent hours trying to get them to land on parts of her body and clothing. The trick was not to make a move as you point your fingers up, then slowly bring the other hand from behind the dragon fly until you have the chance to snap its wings shut in between your index finger and the middle finger. Waiting until the dragon fly rests its wings before attempting the capture always helps. She was letting go of the third one when she felt one particularly big one landed on top of her nose. The fly's hairy legs tingled, making her laugh. Surprised, the dragon fly flew away, but it came back a moment later and landed this time on the top of her head. She could feel the same tingle on her scalp, and decided to sit down for the fly's benefit. When she looked down, she spotted a beetle making its way toward her shoe lace. She grabbed it and inspected it closely, taking in its complex structure and the beauty its shiny armor showed. She wondered, not for the first time, if humans learned to make armors from looking at these organisms. She threw the beetle in the air to land about a few feet away from her, and watched as it half walked, then half flew away into the shelter of the forests. 'Melissa would love to stay in a place like this.' Scully thought, feeling the same old ache inside her that always made her feel warm and alone at the same time. She could picture the summers she spent with her family in places not too different from this place. The old memory of the garden snake she shot with her brothers still managed to sting her conscience. Her Ahab would have loved to come here, too. That is, only if he was allowed to bring his beloved shot gun to hunt for deer or birds in the lake she heard was nearby. "If you get a dog and build picket fences, you're ready for an early retirement. Don't you agree?" Scully didn't need to look up to know who it was. "You're surrounded by bugs, Mulder. Don't give me the girly scream, all right?" "You said you'd bring the bug net and bug spray for me." Mulder's foot steps closed distance in between them in no time, and he sat next to her with a can of iced tea. He then reached for his coat pocket and took out a can of root beer to set it in front of her. She had to smile. "Yeah, and they're all in my backpack. You've been in forests often enough, Mulder. They shouldn't bother you that much. You've even been in the cockroach house, for crying outloud." "Oh, but you know me, Scully. I like to be a sissy about sissy stuff." He took a large sip of his tea, then fixed his gaze ahead of him. "Thinking about Melissa?" He asked, eliciting a smile from her. "What about you? Are you thinking about your Melissa?" The woman who claimed to have been Mulder's wife in their past life was long gone. But it did happen in a field not too unlike this one. Mulder dropped his gaze, a dead give-away that Scully had another break-through. "Not much, but it did come across my mind." He watched as Scully opened the root beer top, and took a swig. "It just... Well, I was listening to one of the CDs Sav left for me, because it had a song that was underlined with a silver marker. It hit me too close to home. It was a Loreena McKennitt number, and she used a Saint John of the Cross's poem, The Dark Night of the Soul. The CD itself wasn't released until 1993, so it was long after we split, and a little before Emilio Niccolo was murdered. I know that it could have been, and is probably, about her and Emilio. But I just couldn't help thinking it was about us. Especially with her high voice and all. Savannah was great at singing, and she also had an alto voice that could easily reach soprano level if she practiced." Scully stared at the soda can in her hands, then at Mulder's far-away gaze, focusing on the curtain of trees ahead. "Do you want it to be about you two?" Scully asked and saw him look down on the ground in front of the toe of his boots. Scully gave him as much time as he needed to compose his thoughts. "Yeah, I do. Sort of. You already know about our first night. ...I mean the night we ...in the pool." Mulder didn't look back at her, but swallowed hard and looked down at the same spot on the ground again. Scully wondered what was making it hard for him to tell her what he'd already told her. "Yes, you told me. You two wanted to get through with the experience, but you couldn't because of the memories. Until you two found yourselves in the