9-96
From Saraid: Greetings and Salutations. That's some terrific pig.
This is part the third of my ongoing M&S series WALLS. If you
haven't read the rest you won't know what's going on here.
*WARNING* This is not a cheerful series. While there are some
moments of peace-love-joy, they is few and far between. 

details CC and Co came up with M&S `an they owns `em, but I'm
borrowin `em for a little while. If anyone sues, they get the
cats. They're pretty annoying cats, they steal popcorn and claw
sofas and shed everywhere...

The lyrics quoted are from 'Question' by the Moody Blues. Pick an
album, they have so many of them I can't tell you which one it
came from first. In an effort to avoid litigation, I will now
flatter Justin Hayward and hope they are appeased; In my humble
opinion he's got the most beautiful voice in rock-and-roll.

There is an actual case here, using a few of my own characters,
specifically Joseph Patterson, Richard Dancer, and Mycroft
d'Arcy. They will probably show up in later segments (hint-hint-
hint), so tell me before you borrow them so I can fit it into the
storyline. (not that anyone will ever want to borrow my
characters :) ...CC don't know how lucky he be.)

I'd give it a PG-13 for no sex, some drugs & rock-n-roll, mild
homoerotic undertones, and a goodly quantity of blood, no VP.

The timeline for this one is...well, sometime after the last one,
but not too long. Don't stress yourself over it.

As always, comments and critiques (Constructive or otherwise) are
welcome at matsu@wf.net Just remember, if you flame me the next
thing you post better be great or it'll come back to haunt you.
<g>

                               Red Bricks
                                    
Interlude
     He was so hungry...but he couldn't go outside, the sun was
too bright, he could hear his skin burn whenever he tried. 
     He could hear everything, and he couldn't make it stop. As
long as the sun as up.
     It hurt so bad. His stomach cramped viciously, doubling him
over as it tried to digest itself. Desperate, driven, he raised
his arm and brought it to his mouth. His short, blunt teeth
weren't made for biting, so he tore until a thin trickle of blood
ran forth. Licking it, trying not to hear his own whimpers, he
lay down in the darkest corner of the room, curled around his
arm, sucking slowly until the darkness took him again.

Part#1
Games

     Special Agent Dana Scully was late.
     And she was never late. Her partner paced agitatedly around
the their chilly basement office, listening to the buzz on the
other end as she didn't answer her phone.
     The door behind him and he turned with innate grace, to
relax as she appeared in the doorway, looking just as she should.
     She held up a bag that smelled good, and cocked an eyebrow
at him.
     "Where ya been?" it came out surly, but he sat at his desk
and leaned back, his face saying other things.

     Dana sighed. He'd been a little overprotective since her
attack some months ago. It was almost endearing, but he'd begun
to let it get into the work. He couldn't watch her back and his
at the same time. Fortunately they hadn't had anything
challenging lately so it hadn't been a problem, but she was going
to have to do something about it soon. Probably the next time he
tried to hold her back or talk her out of something.

     She sat at her desk and opened the bag, pulling out two
large cream-filled chocolate-covered monstrosities. With a smile
she set them on a napkin and scooted them to the edge of her desk
where he could see them, and then went to get a cup of coffee.
     When she turned back he was eyeing the donuts warily, as if
he thought perhaps they were going to leap up at him. She walked
past him, sat again, and pulled out a plain croissant. Bringing
up a file on her computer, she nibbled on it, ignoring him.

     "Trade." he was standing over her and he flopped a file on
her desk.
     "It's not like I was going to eat them." she said, looking
him over. "What's this?"
     "Got it this morning." He picked up the first donut and bit
in half. She expected to see cream spurt out -- it couldn't hurt
that tie, might even improve it -- but was denied that petty
revenge as his tongue slipped out and caught the extra. Scully
watched that tongue flicker and had to suppress a sudden soft
shiver.
     She sighed again and opened the folder.
     Pictures. There were always pictures. She hated pictures.
But, in this case...
     "Mulder?" she looked up at him.
     "Hmm?" he was on the second donut and it was going as fast
as the first. Still nothing on the tie -- that she could see,
anyhow.
     "These people are alive."
     He finished the donut, wiped his face with the napkin, and
leaned on his elbows on the desk beside her. "Nice change, isn't
it?"  
     "So what are we doing with it?"
     "Still a violent crime, Scully. And it's interesting."
     She began reading snatches of the report aloud. "Lubbock,
Texas. Fifteen victims in the last six days. All reported a young
male, inordinantly strong, attacking them after dark. He cuts
them and drinks the blood, and then lets them go." she paused,
thinking about it, trying to predict where Mulder would go with
this. "You're thinking vampires."
     "Nosferatu, Scully. You gotta get the names right." his grin
was twisted.
     "Probably cult related." she said, thinking aloud. "It could
be a gang initiation -- do they have gangs in Texas? -- or cult
related. I don't think it's the same guy every time, do you? What
kind of descriptions did the victims give?"
     "None." now she stared as he actually grinned. "They say
they don't remember what he looked like -- just that he was tall
and thin and had long hair and red eyes."
     "Hypnosis would certainly fit in with cult activity." she
agreed with reservations.
     "And it could escalate." he picked up his briefcase. "Hope
you've got your bag packed."
     She always kept a case packed for emergency jaunts, he knew
that.
     "And that's where we come in?" she asked, shutting down the
computer and gathering her coat and coffee.
     "You betcha." he said as he led her out and shut the door
behind them.

     He waited until they were on the plane two hours later
before he asked again, this time in a much nicer tone. She was by
the window, reading the file, leaving him the aisle so he could
stretch his long legs out and be scolded by the flight
attendants.
     "So, why were you late this morning?"
     "I had a date last night." she said it softly, and saw the
shuttered look as his face closed off, blanked.
     "Anyone I know?" he could have been her brother asking so
causally.
     "Dr.Patterson. Joseph. Do you remember him?"
     "Would you like to ask another question, Scully? That one
was too easy." the blank look was still there, but there was a
hint of humor in his voice. She couldn't restrain a chuckle.
     "No sense giving you any openings." she agreed. "Oddly
enough, I went to med school with his older brother, Matthew. I
ran into him at that conference I went to last month and we got
to talking and I made the connection."
     "So you called him and asked him out." it was deadpanned,
but she wasn't sure there was any humor in it now.
     "No, his brother called him and convinced him to call me.
He's actually a little shy."
     "Did you have a nice time?"
     She smiled a little, wishing he'd be just a little upset, a
little hurt. Or that he'd let her see it if he were.
     "Really nice. We went to Hacalas and drank margaritas and
then he took me to a nice jazz club. It was very relaxing, and we
talked a lot. We have a lot in common."
     "I wondered why you didn't pick up the phone last night."
     She glanced up from the window and caught his eye.
     "I'm sorry. I should have realized you'd be worried. I
didn't have time to check my messages this morning."
     He shrugged slightly, gracefully. "It isn't like I keep tabs
on you."
     She shook her head.
     "But those stairs are hard. I think I'll start bringing a
pillow." he said softly.
     She frowned. "You didn't."
     Grinning suddenly, unexpectedly, he replied. "Nah."
     Then he went back to his copy of the file, effectively
shutting her out.
     Dana looked out the window and wondered how much of what
he'd just said she could believe. He would never lie to her and
he didn't exaggerate, but he could simply not say things. He was
good at that.
     Why couldn't he be just a little bit jealous?

     They were getting off the plane -- he had a hand on her arm,
a light touch, protective but not possessive when they went down
the stairs and she heard him ask, right above her ear as they
went into the sunlight.
     "Are you going to see him again?"
     She stopped and looked up at him, but he was steering her in
the direction of the rental car booth, still giving the
impression of brotherly concern.
     She didn't answer. Because she wasn't sure.


     "I guess you can talk to people." Detective Halroy was
mightily impressed with Dana Scully, Mulder could tell. "I've got
their statements, but I might have missed something."
     He didn't seem at all concern that the Feds had been called
in on his case. If anything, he seemed to welcome the help.
     What a strange attitude for local law.
     Mulder looked at Halroy looking at Scully and decided that
her suit probably had something to do with it. Dark green, the
skirt short enough to hint at great legs - he knew - and the
heels bringing out the curve that could make a man's heart stop. 
     He covered a smile as she began piling up the depositions to
read. He knew why she wore the heels. It was most impractical of
her, but endearing.
     "You can have the third office down." Halroy said. "Nobody's
assigned to it just now."
     "Are you going to be available for some questions?" Mulder
spoke up.
     "Anything you need. Just tell me when."
     "Give us a couple of hours to slog through this and I'll
come get you." Scully suggested and the man's tired blue eyes lit
up. 
     As they walked down the bare hall Mulder accepted half the
stack from her and murmured into her hair. "You just made his
day, Scully."
     She grinned wryly and they went in, sat down, and got to
work.


     Two hours later they knew all there was to know about the
strange attacks and Mulder was hungry.
     "Time to get Halroy?" Scully asked as he began pacing around
the small room. At least it was warm.
     "Time to get food." he stopped, sat on the edge of the desk.
There was only one in the room and he'd let her have the chair.
Sometimes he thought better when he was moving. "So, first
conclusions?"
     "I'm stumped." she sighed and sat back. "Feral child? A
twisted version of cattle mutilations? Vampires in cowboy boots?
What do you think?"
     He smiled and got comfortable.
     "Glad you asked. I do actually have a theory, and it's not
as bizarre as the ones you're suggesting."
     She grimaced at that.
     "But it's pretty weird in its own way." he warned with a
glimmer in his eye. "Have you heard of this game -- Vampire? It's
really popular with the high school and college crowd right now."
     "It's a card game, isn't it?" she asked. "There are two of
them, Vampire and Magic. You collect the cards like baseball
cards and play the game with them."
     "No, that's just Magic." he corrected. "Vampire  is played
out of books."
     "A role-playing game." her eyes widened. "You don't think
somebody's playing it for real."
     "I know somebody is. A lot of somebodies. I read reports of
it in the net all the time. When you play it in the real world
it's called The Masquerade."
     Playing a role-playing game in real time." she grinned. "I
bet you played Dungeons and Dragons."
     "Before my time." he snapped back cheerfully. "I've read a
lot about this game and it's got a few funny tangents."
     "Besides pretending to be vampires?" dryly.
     "Beyond that. It's a heavily integrated system, well-
designed." he sounded almost admiring. "One of the aspects of the
game is the concept of blood dolls, mortals who drink the blood
of other mortals as a sort of love-bond."
     "But how does this tie into the case?" she wasn't going to
let him go off the deep end.
     "This is a college town. Lots of kids running around getting
bored. It's possible there's game going on here. No one's being
killed, the victims seem to be covering up..."
     "And nobody says anything because...?" she waited for this
one.
     "Because the first rule of the live game is don't let the
mortals find out. That's why it's called the Masquerade. Humans
aren't supposed to know the vampires exist, and there are
punishments if you tell."
     "Interesting theory, Mulder." she stood up. "And, unlike
some you've come up with, this one actually seems to make sense."
     "So we can eat now?"
     "On our way to the campus." she agreed.
     He followed her out, trying to banish the bits of memory
that were fighting to the surface of his scarred psyche. 
     He didn't want to think about Kristen now.
     She didn't stop to feed him.
     Sandra, the Dean of Student Activities was very helpful.
Part of her job was allowing groups to register with her when
they wanted to play different games on campus. She knew what
Mulder was talking about right away.
     "Let's see..." she led them to three large bulletin boards
on the wall outside the cafeteria in the student center. Scully
studied them, Mulder beside her.
     There were lists of names on each one, each with notations
after them. Some of the names were crossed out, and then there
were new, shorter lists with longer notations after the names.
Sandra ruffled them and shook her head.
     "There's one game of Assassination running now -- looks like
Lord Byron made another kill last night, I'd better watch my back
-- and one of Magic. They'll be starting a new Immortals tonight,
only ten people. No Masquerade, but there's been some talk about
it. The student council has to approve it."
     "Watch your back?" Mulder asked.
     "Yeah." the woman smiled brightly, pulling a key-ring out of
her pocket. It was packed with blue plastic tags. "There's only
twenty of us left now. He's probably going to come after me next.
I dumped him last semester."
     "Doesn't that get in the way of education?" Scully asked.
     "It's an after-hours game only." Sandra supplied. Mulder saw
Scully's eyes narrow. 
     "Murder is not a game."
     The young woman didn't backpeddle, just went on as if Scully
hadn't spoken.
     "I can give you the name of one of the guys who asked about
starting the vampire game."
     "Thank you." Mulder said. When he didn't say anything else
the co-ed turned and went back to the office she worked in,
looking back at them nervously. The he looked down at Scully.
     She was fuming. "I cannot believe these people! How can they
play at killing each other? What kind of person is our society
producing, Mulder, is these are out best and brightest?"
     He lay a hand on her shoulder and felt her calm at his
touch, pleased he still had that effect.
     "They're just kids, playing a game. Getting a little
excitement before they settle down to routine, boring lives."
     "I could stand a little boredom myself." she sighed and
leaned back against him, leaning on his strength for just a
second, then stood again as Sandra came back toward them.

     She handed him a sheet of notebook paper with a dorm name
and number and phone number, and smiled, still friendly. "I
should tell you that he's never in his room, but I know he's
going to be here when they start the Immortals."
     Mulder said "When?" and she said "Eight o'clock. In the
atrium."
     "Thank you." he finished and got Scully out of there before
she could say anything else.

     After going to their hotel and checking in Mulder really
wanted to eat, so they went looking for a place.
     "It's Texas, so I guess we should eat steaks." he said as
they drove through town. It wasn't a small place.
     Scully had the file open and was studying it.
     "Scully? Steak?" 
     "I think there's a problem with your theory, Mulder." she
said. "I didn't mention it before because I hadn't really thought
it through, but at least half of these victims aren't college
students. One of them is fifty-seven."
     "I don't think the victims are playing the game, Scully." he
saw a steakhouse, large, dark and the parking lot was full. Must
be a good place. He swung in. "In the game, humans are cattle,
here only to feed the vampires."
     She looked around as he parked, grimacing at his choice. He
got out and came around to open the door for her. "Should have
spoken up." he chided as he saw her expression.
     "Next time I will." 
     There was a wait to get table, so they sat in the bar and
drank coffee and iced tea, Mulder happily cracking the ice in his
glass until she stared at him.
     "That's going to ruin your teeth, Mulder."
     "You're a doctor, Scully. You know that's an old wives'
tale."
     "Like ninety percent of the X-Files."
     "But that other ten percent sure knocks you on your ass,
doesn't it." he looked at her, and was relieved when she smiled
and chuckled.
     "Don't it just."
     They finally got a table, Scully smiling and stopping to
sniff at a huge bouquet of long-stemmed roses set in a tall brass
planter that could have easily have held a small tree.
     "There must be hundreds of them." she said as they were
seated in a secluded booth. "I wonder what they're for?"
     He smiled. Flowers weren't really his style, but he made
exceptions for Scully.

     He had a steak. A thick, juicy rare one, and a baked potato
oozing with butter and sour cream. Staring over her pasta salad
Scully managed to restrain her comments, but couldn't bear to
watch him eat it. She could hear his arteries clogging. 
     They argued quietly back and forth, amiably suggesting and
refuting ideas as they went. It was a pleasant hour that
stretched into two as Mulder had a piece of pecan pie and Scully
indulged in Irish coffee and they were still talking about the
case when it was time to go back to the school.
     Walking out the door, Mulder plucked a single rose from the
display, smiling wickedly at the cashier, who grinned and looked
away.
     He held it behind his back as he walked behind her to the
car, and then brushed it over her hair and into her lap as she
fastened her seatbelt. 
     She startled, sighed, and smiled up at him, and for that
minute he felt complete.

     The opening ceremony - ? - of the game was strange, but the
people seemed normal enough. Marcus Adlerson was bright,
articulate, and had a quiet sense of humor that came through
every word.
     Yes, he played the game on paper. No, he wasn't playing it
live. As far as he knew, nobody in town was. Sure, he'd give the
names of some of his friends, but, hey, they'd all be at the
party tomorrow night, why didn't they just drop by? He gave them
an address. Mulder accepted, much to Scully's dismay.
     "A frat party? We're going to a frat party?"
     "Never let it be said I'm a boring date, Scully." he said as
they stepped off the elevator and walked to her room. She held
the file in one hand and her rose in the other.
     She had nothing to say to that. 
     "Speaking of dates, you'd better call doctor Joseph
Patterson. He's probably been trying to call you."
     She nodded and was surprised when he leaned and kissed her
lightly on the cheek. "I'm going to see if this bed's as good as
a couch." he said, turning and walking down the hall, to open his
door. He gave her a little wave before he went in and shut it.
     She touched her cheek where he had kissed her. How very like
him. He was going to be noble and step aside so she could be
happy.
     But she wasn't sure anyone else could ever make her happy.

Interlude
     He walked, for miles on end. He could see the night now a
new way, with eyes that smarted in artificial light. The people
flowed around and through him and he could hear them, smell 
them, almost taste them. 
     Yes...taste them. That was what he needed. The sight or
smell of food made him nauseous, brought back the pain. But blood
eased it. These things passed through his mind as something quite
different from rational thought. He could smell them, he could
see them, and he needed them, so he smiled at them and he took
them...and they let him.
     The pain eased and he could sleep at last. For a while.     

Part#2
Hunts

     The insistent ring of the phone woke him just after he'd
managed to fall asleep, having counted his way up the list of
prime numbers. 
     "Mulder." he hoped he didn't sound too groggy, assuming
Scully was on the other end. She'd be the only one who could
tell.
     "Agent Mulder." it was Halroy's voice, still cheerful at --
what was it? Four a.m.? -- and adrenalin hit him as he rolled to
a sitting position, wearing only grey flannel boxers although the
room was cool bordering on cold. "We just picked up another
victim. Would you like to come down to the ER and talk to him?"
     "We'll be there in thirty." Mulder said flatly. "How badly
is this one hurt?"
     "About thirty stitches' worth."

     Scully woke from a warm, pleasant dream where she was held
in strong arms and soft hazel eyes laughed down at her to the
sound of Mulder's banging.
     "Scully. C'mon, we gotta get down to the hospital.
     Not wanting him standing in the hall making a spectacle of
himself, she grabbed her robe and pulled it over the sensible
cotton T-shirt she was wearing to open the door and usher him in.
     "Give me ten minutes." she said. She grabbed clothes and
went into the bathroom while he went to the coffeepot and started
it. When she came out, ten minutes later, he handed her a large
cup, cream, no sugar and she smiled gratefully all the way to the
hospital.
     
     "Daniel Osborn. 29. Says he was just out for a walk, but,
personally, I think he was cruising. He has that look about him."
Halroy confided as they approached the cubicle where Mr.Osborn
was getting sewn up.
     "What look?" Mulder asked the calm casualness Scully knew
meant trouble.
     "He's gay." Halroy shrugged.
     "You can tell that by looking at him." Mulder gave him a
hard look and Halroy noticed it, and turned his speculative eye
to Mulder himself.
      "There are some things that are dead giveaways." he said,
still studying Mulder. "Loud ties, excessive neatness..."
     "That rules you out, Mulder." Scully joked, trying to catch
him before he sank into a funk or lost his infamous temper.
     Mulder gave her a hard glare and walked past both of them.
Halroy looked at Scully and smiled apologetically with a shrug.
She brushed past him to follow her partner, deciding he wasn't
that helpful after all.
     Daniel Osborn, 29, an elementary school teacher, wasn't
talking much.
     "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk." he said with quiet
insistence as the intern finished stitching the two long gashes
on his forearms where he'd thrown them up to protect his face.
     "Just anywhere." Mulder sounded disbelieving.
     "I haven't done anything wrong." Osborn's eyes, a bright
green, left Mulder's to seek Scully's, catching them and holding
them. "Can I go now? I've got to call a my principal so she can
get a sub."
     "He just came at you with a knife, cut your arms, held you
down and drank your blood, then got up and let you go?" Mulder
went over the sequence with mild derision. "You're a pretty big
guy, Daniel. How did he manage to hold you down?"
     "I guess I was in shock." Daniel said, shaking his head. "He
was bigger than I am, and it hurt a lot."
     "Have you ever played a game called Vampire?" Scully asked
suddenly.
     He shook his head, still meeting her eyes. "I know it's
popular at the high school, but I don't have time for that sort
of thing."
     "And you don't remember what he looked like?" Mulder pushed,
sounding angry. But Osborn didn't get defensive, just answered in
the same quiet, tired voice, "No. There was a general impression
of red -- his clothes or his hair or his eyes, or all three. But
I really don't remember anything else."
      "You can go now." Scully said suddenly. "Detective Halroy
may want to speak to you again."
     "If I can just get to a phone first..." the man slid off the
table, his bandaged arms crossed over his chest. Watching him
walk away Scully privately decided she agreed with Halroy's
assessment of his sexual preference.
     "I was still talking to him, Scully." there was a dangerous
undertone in Mulder's voice, but she ignored it.
     "I think we should have a talk with the other victims." she
said, leaving quietly. Swallowing his anger, for now, Mulder
followed her into the parking lot, where she turned and leaned
against the car to talk. "We may be going at this wrong."
     "How so?"
     "I think Halroy was right. That man is gay. What if the
other victims are too? This could be a series of hate crimes in
disguise."
     "Many of the victims reported that he went for their faces."
Mulder said slowly, his temper cooling in the face of her logic.
     "To disfigure them."
     "What about the red?"
     Scully shook her head. "Did any of the other victims say
something similar?"
     He paused for a moment, bringing the pages of the file into
his mind's eye and flipping through them with the speed of
thought.
     "Not really. Maybe Osborn is just more fanciful than the
others."
     "Fanciful? Fanciful, Mulder?" she teased gently and he
shrugged.
     "It's too early to talk to them. Let's get some breakfast."
he suggested."
     "Deal." they got in and drove around until they found a
Denny's.

     
     After a long day of questioning the victims, many of whom
weren't particularly thrilled to have the FBI on their doorsteps,
they made their way to the campus only one step ahead.
     "Okay, so I was wrong. It was a good idea." Scully said as
he opened the car door to let her out at the ramshackle two-story
building that housed the fraternity. They'd both changed to jeans
and sweaters, his black and black, hers dark blue and soft green.
Their weapons were hidden beneath warm jackets, because the wind
was fierce.

     At the door Mulder stopped her with his hands on her
shoulders, and spun her around, looking into her eyes. For a
split second she thought he was going to embrace her -- perhaps
even kiss her -- but then the closed look came over his face and
he asked, in an entirely too-normal tone -- "Did you call Doc
Patterson last night?"
     "He was on duty." she said. "But he left me a message and I
left him one."
     "Good." he released her so suddenly that she almost
stumbled. Looking up quickly as she recovered herself, she saw
the depth of his eyes and drew a quick breath.
     "Mulder..." she tried to speak, but he looked away. When he
looked back there was nothing there.
     No emotion at all.
     "Let's go to the party, Scully." 
     
     It was loud and crowded. Somebody shoved a beer at Mulder,
who took it and sipped judiciously, thinking that the last thing
he needed just now was to have his wits muddled by alcohol.
Scully shook her head at one and they tried to spot Adlerson.
     There was some curiosity directed at them, out of place in
the young crowd.
     "I don't see him." Mulder had to lean low and whisper in her
ear to be heard over the music. "You want to dance?"
     There was a slow, loud song playing. She looked up at him,
her mouth brushing his face as she spoke.
     "Why?" 
     "I like this song." he said back, then took her hand and
pulled her into the middle of the crowded room, where thirty
other couples swayed together. Stopping in an empty patch, he
pulled her into his arms, to lean against him, and she rested her
head on his chest, her hands linked behind him.
     He put his arms around her waist and leaned his head down to
talk as they swayed. Years of working together had sharpened
their timing and it showed in the way they flowed together.
     Scully glanced at Mulder. His face was pressed against hers
lightly, and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be singing under
his breath. She listened to the words of the song, trying to
remember where she'd heard it before and who'd done it.

     It's not the way that you say it,
     When you do those things to me.
     It's more the way that you mean it,
     When you tell me what will be.

     The lines made her heart clench and she could feel him
tighten his arms around her.

     I'm looking for someone to change my life.
     I'm looking for a miracle in my life.
     And if you could see what it's done to me
     To lose the love I knew and safely lead me to 
     The land that I once knew, 
     The love as we grow old, 
     The secrets of our souls

     "Mulder..." she sighed, not knowing what to say.
     "Moody Blues." he whispered in her ear.
     "Look - there's Adlerson." she pulled away and pointed to
him, talking to another young man wearing black.
     Mulder let her go and they walked over to their contact, who
smiled at him. He was obviously stoned.
     "This is Paul. He wants to talk to you." Adlerson smiled
widely and offered Mulder another beer.
     Scully grimaced when he took it and drank. She didn't need
to deal with Mulder drunk, and he was so unaccustomed to alcohol
that even a little bit affected him.
     "Do you know anything about a Vampire game?" he shouted to
be heard over the music.
     Paul shook his head. "I don't know about any game!" Paul
shouted back.
     "Then why do you want to talk to us?" Scully slipped in
front of Mulder to face the slim young man.
     "My roommates missing and I'm worried about him."
     "How long has he been gone?" she asked, seeing the barely
controlled grief on his face.
     "Since last week. A week."
     Mulder cut in with a sharp question. "What day did he
disappear?"
     Scully watched Mulder, knowing he was making a connection,
but seeing it. She'd back him, she always did, and his intuition
was legendary...
     "A week ago." Paul looked like he might cry. "We were at a
party and he took something and then he ran off. He forgot his
medicine, and I'm worried about him."
     "Let's go someplace we can talk!" Mulder shouted above the
noise. He took Paul's arm and steered him up the stairs,
surprising Scully, who followed quickly.
     Mulder opened the first door they came to -- a young man and
blond woman were having vigorous sex on the bed in the room.
     "Sorry!" he said loudly, slamming it and leading Paul on
down the hallway, looking for an open door, going through it when
he found one.

     He pushed the young man down on the bed and sat in the chair
near it and studied him. Scully stood by his side and whispered
at him fiercely.
     "Mulder! What are you doing? You're scaring him half to
death!"
     "Have you reported your roommate missing?" Mulder ignored
her and her eyes flamed. Paul looked frightened.
     "I was going to...but I called his family and his dad said
they'd take care of it. But I called the police station tonight
and they said nobody ever filed a report."
     "What's your friend's name?" Scully asked kindly.
     "Myk. Mycroft d'Arcy."
     Mulder smiled suddenly and Scully glared at him, so he
quelled it.
     "Do his parents live here?"
     "No, they live out by the lake. Lots of money. Myk was
homeschooled, he never had many friends. And he never did
anything wild before."
     Scully went to stand in front of Paul, looking down at him
with a mixture of rebuke and concern.
     "What was he taking medication for?"
     Paul shrugged. "I dunno. He said it was something genetic
and had a really long name. He's taken it ever since he was
born."
     "Was it something potentially fatal?"
     "He never said." Paul was looking more and more worried. "I
called his house but they keep telling me his dad's not home. He
hasn't been home for two days, unless they're lying to me."
     "What did he take at the party, Paul?" Mulder spoke up.
     Hanging his head, not looking at them, Paul mumbled
something.
     "I didn't hear you." Mulder said with dangerous softness.
     Paul mumbled again.
     "Two hits of acid."
     "Who gave them to him?"
     Paul looked back up, terrified.
     "It wasn't me! I told him not to try it -- !"
     "I want his home address and a sample of that medication."
Mulder said, standing and reaching a hand to Dana. "Scully?"
     "I've got some in my room -- if you'll wait here..." Paul
got up and was going to leave, but Mulder grabbed him by the arm
and spoke quietly. 
     "We'll go with you."

     Following Paul across campus -- he walked everywhere, he
said -- the icy wind sliced through Scully's coat like it was
tissue. She shivered, and Mulder put an arm around her, pulling
her to his side as they walked. She leaned into him, grateful for
the warmth, and asked what the hell he was thinking.
     "Think about it! The kid was kept home all his life. Maybe
there's something wrong with him, maybe he's psychotic. They got
it under control with drugs, but then he drops acid and flips
out. He runs off and he's off meds and he's lost his marbles."
     "Schizophrenia?" Scully thought about it. "But he said he's
always taken the medicine."
     "There are cases of early childhood onset schizophrenia."
     "Not that early."
     "Then he exaggerated. To cover up. His father is looking for
him and won't file a missing persons report because he wants to
find him and cover this whole mess up first."
     "Okay." she nodded. "It's a possibility. Another theory."
     "But he still might be a vampire." Mulder said, staring at
her just to see her reaction. She rewarded him with a grimace and
a little shove as they came to Paul's dorm.

     Thirty minutes later they were pulling into a long circular
drive in front of a beautiful modernistic house on the bank of a
small lake, sparkling in the moonlight like a poem waiting to be
written.
     Scully stopped just to look at it for a minute. 
     "Scully?" Mulder stopped beside her, their arms barely
touching.
     "It's so peaceful." she sighed.
     "You'd die of boredom in a week." 
     "You're probably right." she replied as they went to the
front door, but there was another sigh in it.

     "We need to see Mr.d'Arcy." Scully insisted, getting angry
now. The butler seemed to flinch, but stood his ground.
     "We can come back with a warrant." Mulder, behind her,
threatened softly. The butler stared at him as if he were crazy,
specifically for associating with this termagant.

     "That won't be necessary." another voice spoke, softer,
tired, and another man, wearing a robe over pajamas, stepped past
the butler. "I'll speak to them."
     "Yes, sir." the butler said stiffly. "In the library, sir?"
     "In my office." the man said, turning away.
     "Right this way." the butler led them after him.
     Scully and Mulder exchanged glances, but followed.

Interlude
     It was getting easier now. Picking out the ones who would
respond to him, the ones he appreciated. No thought, just a cycle
of cold and hot, hungry and fed. No memory to disturb him. As
long as he could eat he was fine.

Part#3
Skeletons

     "Mr.d'Arcy?" Scully asked as he sat behind a large desk in a
luxurious room and the butler closed the door behind them.
     The man, who looked very pale and frail, nodded. Mulder was
studying him carefully, the he glanced over and caught Scully's
eye, both of them thinking the same thing. 
     This guy is too old to be the father.
     d'Arcy watched the communication and understood.
     "Yes, I am too old." he said, startling them. He laid his
hands, thin and lined, on the desk top. "I told my wife that when
she carried him. We were both too old. She died giving birth to
him and I will die before he reaches twenty-one."
     "Are you suffering from a terminal illness, sir?" Scully
asked curiously.
     "Life." he said, meeting her vivid sapphire with washed-out
blue. "Life is terminal. It just works faster on some than
others."
     "You are Mycroft d'Arcy's biological father?" Mulder went up
to the desk, leaning on it, insisting on the truth.
     "If I weren't you wouldn't be here."

     Scully pulled a brown plastic medicine bottle out of her
pocket and held it up to him.
     "As well as an FBI agent, my partner is a doctor." Mulder
said with quiet pride. The tone of his voice gave Scully a soft
thrill.
     "A forensic pathologist." Scully clarified. "Mr.d'Arcy, I've
never heard of this drug, but your son's roommates claimed he
took it daily and that it was necessary to his life."
     "It is."
     "Where do you get it? What pharmacy? What does your son
suffer from?"
     d'Arcy shook his head slowly. "No pharmacy. I make it
myself."
     "You've been giving your son an unapproved medication since
his birth?" 
     Mulder stepped back, letting Scully get in front of him. He
knew that tone, knew she was on a roll -- well and truly pissed.
     "Do you know the federal statutes regarding the distribution
of illegal drugs, Mr.d'Arcy? Dow you know what the FDA can do to
you for this?"
     The old man shrugged, and then sat back further in his
chair. He was looking them over, Mulder realized. He fought the
urge to step closer to Scully, to establish domain.
     d'Arcy saw the struggle on the handsome man's face. He was
very close to his partner. And she was standing tall beside him.
They were obviously parts of a whole.
     Intelligent, inquisitive parts. He knew something about
them.
     "Mr.Mulder, Ms.Scully. Would you like to hear a story?"
     They glared.
     "I promise you'll find it interesting. It might even qualify
as an X-File."
     They both looked sharply at that.
     "What do you know of the X-Files?" Mulder asked harshly.
     "Sit." d'Arcy urged. "Listen to me. I am a rich man,
Mr.Mulder. I use my money to protect the ones I love. If I hadn't
allowed it you would never have heard the name Mycroft d'Arcy."
     Reluctantly the two agents sat in the armchairs before the
desk, and waited.
     After a moment the old man began, his eyes on Scully's.
     "I'm sure you are aware, Dr.Scully, that there are billions
of genes on a single strand of DNA."
     She nodded once.
     "And that flaws can occur on these genes or in the spaces
between them. If these flaws are mistakenly copied the DNA is
forever damaged."
     She nodded again.
     "My family has a long history, going back generations, to
medieval Europe. There are some of us who think the damage was
done during the great plague, or perhaps one of the little ones.
Be that as it may, there are fewer than a dozen of us left now.
We have inbred ourselves right out of existence. My own dear wife
was my first cousin. Though we swore never to have children, when
she found herself pregnant at the age of forty she refused to end
it, claiming the child was worth more than her life." he paused
and a sad smile crossed his lips. "She was right. Though it
killed her to have him, my son has been the light of my life."
     "What illness do you have?" Mulder asked, thinking he was
missing something. But Scully looked as confused as he did.
     "It's an odd thing. We've managed, by spending millions of
dollars, to pinpoint the damage - it occurs in three segments of
DNA, each affecting a different bodily function, but the
combination has a singular result; our bodies do not produce
several key enzymes that allow people like you, Mr.Mulder, to
draw nutrition from food. Enzymes carried in the blood."
     Scully shook her head.
     "That's not possible. A fetus with that problem wouldn't eve
survive to term."
     "Unless its mother was taking a supplement that allowed her
to digest basic proteins." d'Arcy corrected gently. "My great-
great-grandfather perfected the formula, through a study of human
and animal blood. It's not hard to make and it's not expensive,
and it allowed my family to live as normal people."
     "What did your family do before they had the formula?"
Mulder asked quietly.
     "We used the enzymes that other people produced. Sometimes
given willingly, sometimes not." d'Arcy bowed his head, covering
his face with his hands.
     "You're saying that you're a vampire." Scully said, and then
snorted. "He's all yours, Mulder."
     "No, no..." d'Arcy. "We are not 'undead'. We are just as
alive, and just as human as you are, though we do tend to die
sooner."
     "Sooner?" Mulder was close to laughter, Scully saw. Just
like the man. All the times Mulder had tried to convince her that
things like vampires could exist, now he was presented with one
and he didn't believe them.
     d'Arcy looked back at them, obviously angry. "It's not a
joke, Mr.Mulder. My life is not a joke."
     "Can you offer any evidence?" Scully broke in.
     "I knew you would ask that." he opened a desk drawer and
pulled out a thick, fat file, laying it in front of her. Then he
added a small tube of what appeared to be blood. "This is mine.
If you do not believe me I will allow you to draw your own
sample." he turned his arm over and displayed an angry red patch
of skin. "Unfortunately my veins aren't what they never were and
drawing blood is something of an ordeal."
     Scully stared at his arm, and then at the tube.
     "I'll accept your word for it." she said softly.
     "A secondary characteristic of the condition is a reduction
in red blood cells. We produce approximately half as many as you
do and thus breathing can become difficult."
     "It also explains the skin tone." Scully agreed. Beside her
Mulder was frowning, deep lines between his eyes.
     "If what you say is true -- and I'm not saying I believe you
-- why would you tell anyone now? Especially us?"
     d'Arcy smiled wanly. "He's my only child. Possibly the last
of his kind. I tried to protect him, tried to give him a normal
life, but there were risks. I do not want our names in the paper.
I do not want camera crews from Unsolved Mysteries or
Sightings camping on my lawn. You have always shown integrity,
Mr.Mulder, in the face of overwhelming odds. You will not run to
a tabloid to sell my story."
     Mulder nodded.
     "What have you done to try to find him?" Scully asked. "You
know he's hurting people."
     "They will be compensated." d'Arcy sagged. "He won't kill
anyone. He doesn't have it in him. I hired a private detective,
but he's had no success. Mycroft must be moving, sleeping in
different places every day. A sensitivity to the sun is part of
the disorder, Ms.Scully. It is exacerbated by the lack of proper
food and the fact that Myk is a redhead with skin fairer than
yours does not help."
     "Can we have a picture of him?" Mulder asked.
     d'Arcy flipped open the file and handed him several. He
passed half to Scully, who whistled in surprise.
     "Good genes." Mulder deadpanned.
     Indeed, Myk d'Arcy was an uncannily handsome young man,
verging on beautiful. His hair was a fiery shade of red that
flowed past his shoulders, his features fine and aristocratic,
his eyes a deep, unrelenting green. He was tall and thin, and his
skin was a fragile china-doll white.
     "That depends how you look at it." Mr.d'Arcy said. "Will you
help me find him, Mr.Mulder, Ms.Scully? I will not ask that you
bury the file, because I know that will happen regardless."
     "You're probably right." Mulder said with a touch of heat.
Scully reached out and laid her small hand on his arm and d'Arcy
saw him visibly relax.
     "We'll go over the information you've given us." she said,
"And get back to you after we've made a decision."
     
     d'Arcy thanked them and the butler showed them out. Mulder
stayed silent until they were driving out the gate, sweeping
brick wings flowing back from the road.
     "I don't believe this." he muttered.
     "Mulder? Rejecting an extreme possibility?" she teased,
opening the file. "There's alot of information here."
     "Faked." he said, giving her s sideways glance. "Just like
those pictures of your 'brothers'."
     The unexpected jab brought a sudden smile to her face and he
gave a little back, a small, crooked grin. "I thought you'd
forgotten how to do that."
     "It's been a rough few weeks." she said.
     "You want to go to the hotel and catch some rest?" he looked
at the deep black of the sky. They were far enough away from the
lights of the city to let the stars really shine.
     "Yes. We'll go over this file and then I'll use the station
lab to run some tests on this sample." she played with it,
holding it up to the dashboard, where it glowed a sickly green in
the reflected light. 
     "It sure looks like vampire blood." Mulder said softly.
     "You'd know better than I." it was out before she could
think about it and she saw his face close up.
     "Yes." he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I would."
     Scully sat back, mentally kicking herself. She knew how he
felt about that incident with Kristen while she was missing. Knew
he had slept with her out of a sense of despair, his pain and
anger fueling a desperate attempt to feel something, anything
else. She'd forgiven him for it even as he told her, her heart
breaking to see the level of self-hatred he concealed, shown to
her so rarely and no one else, ever.
     Knowing how he felt about it, she had to throw it up in his
face.
     Saddened, she looked out the window as he drove.

     He left her at her door with a promise to meet her at
breakfast the next morning, and turned and walked away without
another word. She wanted to go after him, to apologize for her
careless words, but she knew he needed time to heal, at least a
little, before he could speak of it rationally.
     There was a message from Joseph on her voice mail, telling
her to call no matter how late she got in.
     Torn, needing comfort and unable to go to Mulder for it, she
did.

Interlude
     He had seen the man following him. Was he offering himself?
That would be nice of him...he really didn't like to hurt people.
It was just as well most of them seemed willing to help...he
would look for him while he was out tonight, and smile at him.

Part#4    
Bricks

     Mulder had changed by the time he picked up Scully the next
morning, knocking on her door at eight.
     She could still see him, the man who was her friend and
partner and once-upon-a-time lover, but he was buried deep, deep
beneath that other half.
     The half that hated himself and everything he'd ever done,
the half that knew no peace, that sought pain to fill the void
left when other emotions were too painful.
     Scully didn't like that half of Mulder, but she knew how to
deal with it; ignore it until it went away and try to keep it
from hurting him too much in the meantime.
     So she greeted him with a soft smile and walked to the car
carrying the cup of coffee he'd brought her.

     "So what do you think we should do?"
     "I'm going to join this Richard Dancer and help him track
this kid down while you run some tests on that blood and research
the stuff in that file. So we know what we're working with when
he have him."
     She let him know she didn't like it with a glare.
     "He sleeps during the day, Scully." Mulder said. "There
won't be any danger."
     She looked at him as he drove, looking for a crack in his
facade, but his other face was firmly in place.
     "Okay. That sounds like a good idea." she agreed, looking
for any relief on his part, but there wasn't any she could see.

     He dropped her off at the station and drove to the offices
of the PI d'Arcy had hired to look for his son. Walking into the
plush suite, shown into a wood-paneled office, Mulder thought
that maybe he was in the wrong business.
     Of course, money could buy silence on a range of topics.

     Dancer was a small, slender man who moved like his name.
Mulder couldn't quite tag his ethnic background, had the feeling
it was interesting.
     "Rich." the man said in a voice like a song as they shook
hands. His was calloused and rough.
     "Not Dick, huh?" Mulder couldn't resist.
     The man sat back down behind a largish desk with an
impossibly neat surface and grinned widely at him, not at all put
off.
     "My line of work was predestined." 
     "d'Arcy called you?" Mulder leaned on the back of the
offered seat. Usually short people were intimidated when taller
people loomed over them, but Dancer didn't seem to notice.
     "Mr.d'Arcy said I'm to give you any assistance you need."
he stood again, suddenly, his movement fluid. "Maybe you've met
my cousin...he's a field agent in California, a few years younger
than you are; Ruark Dancer?"
     Mulder shook his head and Dancer shrugged. 
     "It's not that small." he said, reflectively as he lead
Mulder out of office to the elevator in the lobby. "I hate that
stupid song anyhow. We'll take my car, if you don't mind...?"
     Mulder was still following the line of half-jokes when the
elevator doors closed. Small world, the Disney song, everybody
knows everybody...he allowed himself a tight smile.

     His car was a four-wheel drive Jeep Grand Cherokee, ready
for any and all terrain. Mulder agreed to take it, and they were
off. Dancer drove even faster than Mulder.
     "So where are we going?" Mulder asked as they slowed and
turned into an old residential district. Many of the houses were
boarded up, and there were no children playing in the tiny
overgrown yards.
     Dancer gestured, and Mulder looked up to see a bank of
tenements that started two blocks down. they were also boarded
up, with bright yellow warning signs posted up and down the
walls.
     "I've been analyzing the attack patterns and I thin our boy
may be holed up here."
     "But the attacks have taken place all over town." Mulder
said as they parked on a parking lot that bordered a giant
concrete flood channel, now flowing with sluggish dirty water.
     "I Know." Dancer took off his coat and Mulder saw that he
wore only a T-shirt and jeans under it. No shoes.
     He glanced meaningfully at the man's feet, which were thick
and heavy, very unlike the rest of him. A second glance confirmed
that his hands looked out of place as well.
     "Don't you get cold?" Mulder asked quietly, tightening the
belt on his trench.
     Dancer shrugged. "Gotta touch the earth to dance." he said
softly, then he was all business again. "Although the attacks
were in different areas, they were all business districts. I
don't think he's been hiding there -- too many people. He won't
like people right now." he flashed a grin at Mulder that told him
Dancer knew d'Arcy's story, and bought it. "This is central to
almost all of the attacks, and perfect for his requirements."
     "You're playing a hunch." Mulder assessed.
     "Exactly." Dancer smiled at him again and then led off into
the first building. "These things were supposed to be torn down
several months ago, but the money for replacements seems to have
gotten tied up someplace..."
     Mulder followed him into the cool dimness of the building,
pulling out a bright flashlight.


     The sky was beginning to darken, and Mulder was tired. Tired
and hungry. Tired and hungry and sore. 
     He watched Dancer as the man scrambled nimbly up yet another
flight of broken stairs. Mulder had tripped down one earlier and
only the PI's surprising strength had kept him from a bad fall.
     And his feet were apparently immune to glass and nails and
other dangerous debris.
     In spite of himself, Mulder was just a smidgen impressed.
     But they hadn't found anything.
     Dancer looked out a window where the board had been pried
loose.
     "Full moon out?" Mulder asked, intending it as a joke.
     "Three more days." the small man said.
     "Want to call it a day?" Mulder didn't really want to meet
this boy at night, whatever was wrong with him, and he was really
hungry.
     "He didn't get anyone last night." Dancer said. "That means
he'll be out there tonight. I'd rather catch him before he hurts
anyone else."
     "He may not be here." Mulder almost hated to point it out,
but Dancer shook his head quickly.
     "He's here."
     "How do you...?"
     Mulder's pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone. Frankly,
he was surprised she hadn't called earlier.
     "Hi, Scully."
     "Mulder, where are you? I'm back at the hotel, changing."
     "A block of condemned project housing." Mulder said. "What
did you find out?"
     "If scientific proof..." he heard a grunt and rustle -- she
was pulling a shirt over her head -- "was all we had to go on,
I'd believe him."
     "What?" he'd never thought he hear that.
     "Documents can be faked, Mulder, and samples doctored. But
everything I read today, every test I ran upheld his story. I
even found two obscure references to patients suffering from this
condition."
     "They must have been relatives." Mulder mumbled. Scully
believed this?
     "Any luck tracking him?"
     "Well Dick the PI here insists he's in this building
somewhere, so we're going to keep looking."
     "I'll catch up with you. Just give me the address."
     Mulder balked.
     "We're doing fine here. Why don't you get something to eat
and call Doc Patterson." out of the corner of his eye Mulder saw
Dancer leaning close to a doorframe, the door long gone, and -
sniffing it?
     Sniffing it.
     This was getting weirder and weirder and he didn't want
Scully anywhere near it.
     "Mulder, I am not going to sit on my ass here while you
track down a potential killer." she snapped.
     "He hasn't killed anyone, Scully." Mulder followed Dancer as
he crept through the doorway, still sniffing it. He covered the
mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and hissed at him. "You got
a cold?"
     Dancer flashed him another grin and continued. Mulder went
back to the phone and realized he had dead air.
     He redialed quickly, but there was no answer though he let
the phone ring a few hundred times.
     "Damn!" he shouted suddenly.
     Dancer stopped. "So much for the element of surprise."
     "She's on her way over here, even after I told her I - we -
could handle it." Mulder snarled, debating throwing the phone
into the water below.
     "She is your partner, am I right? "Dancer said. "She
probably just doesn't want you hurt."
     "I don't want her hurt." Mulder snapped back.
     "Then we'd better find him before she gets here." Dancer
turned his back on him and continued his search.

     Getting out of the cab, scully paid him. When he protested
leaving her there alone she gave him a glimpse of her gun and
pointed to the jeep.
     "I'm meeting someone." she said and the man had driven off
unwillingly, leaving her bemused by his chivalrous attitude.
     But there was no one there. Looking up at the buildings she
tried to decide where to start. How far could they have gotten
since this morning?
     She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. He answered it
before the first ring finished.
     "Where are you?"
     "The parking lot." 
     "Stay there - we'll be out in a minute."
     "I'll meet you - which building are you in?" she wasn't too
fond of parking lots anymore - especially large, poorly-lit ones.
     "The third." he said. "We're on the fifth floor, it'll take
us a few minutes to get down."
     "On my way." she said.

     Negotiating the staircase again was an effort. Mulder set
his feet carefully, fully expecting the cracked and broken steps
to give way without warning. Dancer...danced down ahead of him.
     
     She played her bright light over the room exposed by the
door they had left pushed open.
     Nothing here but us chickens, she thought. Olly-olly-all-in
-free.
     Grinning at her own silliness she went to the next room,
looking for the stairs.

     They had made it to the second floor when Dancer suddenly
stopped, and then began simply bounding down.
     "What? Did you hear something?!" Mulder demanded as he
struggled to keep up. 
     Dancer spared him a glance.
     "He's down there!"
     "Scully's down there!" Mulder didn't ask how he knew that,
just accepted it - faith - and began to follow him heedless of
his own safety.

     There wasn't a sound to give him away, but Scully suddenly
knew she wasn't alone.
     Quickly she backed against the nearest wall, playing her
light over the room she was in, but it was rather a large
one...and it had gotten very dark.
     "Mulder? Don't tease me, dammit."
     There was a soft breathing sound, strained, and then
something grabbed her.
     She screamed, as loud and as hard as she could, terrified
memories of her rape suddenly leaping to the forefront of her
brain.
     
     One floor up Mulder heard her and punched his way past the 
racing, bouncing detective.
     "Scully!" he yelled once, and then saved his breath for
running. If he fell, hurt himself, he wouldn't be able to help
her.

     Whoever it was wasn't hurting her, or trying to stop her
noise. She dropped gun and flashlight and the beam spun crazily
until it pointed across her, held tightly in...arms?
     She craned her head back to get a look at the face, but the
rank smell and long dirty red hair that spilled over her was
enough to identify who had her.
     "Mycroft?" she demanded harshly. "Are you Mycroft d'Arcy"
Let me go!" she struggled but he held her as if she were a small,
angry child.
     This wasn't the kind he liked...what did he do with it now?
It wiggled too much and made a lot of noise. Maybe if he
smiled...
     Scully was turned gently around and lifted so that her face
was level with the boy's.
     She shuddered. He was smiling, but his lips and face were
coated with peeling dried blood.
     "We're here to help you." she told him, softly, urgently,
trying to reach the boy, the college student who loved his
father, beneath the animals mask he wore, as pretty as it was.
     She was struck by her own thought. He was pretty, even in
this state. Mulder was right, he probably was gay. That explained
why he only attacked men.
     So what did that say about her?

     "PUT HER DOWN!!" Mulder's roar shook Scully's body. Myk --
if that's who it was, and there seemed little doubt -- turned
slightly so Scully could see him, and small man following him.
     Mulder pulled his Glock and took careful aim.
     And his gun was snatched from his grasp by the PI.
     "Sorry, Mulder." Dancer threw the gun, and it went right
through the board over the window, crashing the glass and sailing
into darkness. "I can't let you shoot him. He's kind of a cousin
of mine."
     Moonlight streamed into the room and Scully thought she saw
something change on the detective's face.
     Staring at him, Mulder thought he saw the detective's face
change.
     "What are you?"" he breathed.
     "Hadn't you better concentrate on saving your partner?"
Dancer came back. "I can't attack him - it's against the rules."
     "Is this some sick game?" Mulder snarled. "Has it been a
game all along?"
     Dancer shook his head.
     "This is life, Agent Mulder. I don't play games."
     "Mulder..." Scully tried to get his attention back. Her
upper arms were starting to ache where Mycroft held them.
     Abashed, Mulder took a step forwards. Mycroft growled, deep
in his throat and Scully winced as his grip tightened.
     This one looked better than the one he had...maybe he could
trade? It was coming closer, maybe it wanted him. Wanted to help
him...
     Mycroft watched as Mulder took another careful step, his
shining green eyes wary but interested.
     Mulder got to a couple of steps away before Myk jerked
Scully close. She was unable to restrain a whimper.
     Mulder's heart broke.
     Without a thought, without premeditation, he did the only
thing he could.
     Grabbing a piece of glass off the floor he held out his left
arm and slashed across it, deeply. The sudden pain made him giddy
and he dropped to one knee.
     "No!" Scully shouted, too late.
     Mycroft looked at her, and then at Mulder, who was looking
at Scully. The blood ran freely, pooling on the floor at his
foot. He braced his other hand on the floor to keep his balance.
     That was an offer...YES!
     Mycroft dropped Scully so suddenly she landed on her butt
and had to scramble back to her feet. She looked wildly around
for her gun, but couldn't see it, and Dancer was staring at her.
     
     Mycroft approached Mulder hesitantly, his eyes lighting up,
hands reaching. 
     Mulder nodded and offered the arm to him.
     With an eager sound the boy threw himself to his knees and
fastened his mouth over the deep gash. Mulder could feel his
mouth working on it and flinched - it hurt. But he didn't pull
away, even when Scully stood in front of him making frantic
gestures, afraid to disturb the boy with words.
     Mulder lifted his good hand and laid it on the boy's head.
With a sound like a purr Myk leaned against his chest, Mulder's
arm tight to his mouth, eyes closing in contentment.
     "It's okay, Scully." Mulder said softly, stroking his hair.
The brilliant red was still visible on a few strands. "He's just
hungry."
     She stared, and then glanced as a shadow passing over the
window.
     Dancer -- or whatever he had been -- was gone.

     When the boy finally stopped eating Mulder was able to take
his hand and lead him out of the building. Dancer's jeep was
still in the parking lot, the keys in the ignition.
     He climbed in the back seat with Mycroft and Scully,
reluctantly, slid to drive. Dancer was such a small man she
didn't even have to pull up the seat.
     "Where to?" she asked. The implication was "this is your
show, how do you want it to end?"
     "Let's take him home." Mulder said.
     Beside him Mycroft slipped into sated sleep, his head in
Mulder's lap and Mulder picked up a towel that was lying on the
floor and applied pressure to his wound.

Part#5
Gaps

     "He'll be fine." d'Arcy senior told them as he personally
ushered them to the jeep, Myk bathed, dosed with medicine and fed
a real meal. He was too sleepy to understand what was going on.
"You need to get that arm stitched, Mr.Mulder."
     Mulder stopped to ask a question.
     "Did he know?" it was said with low intensity. "Did he know
what he was?"
     d'Arcy rubbed a palsied hand over his eyes.
     "I was going to tell him when he finished school. It's a
terrible burden...I wanted him to enjoy the last of his youth."
     Mulder pulled his wallet out one-handed, flipping it open
and lifting it to take a card out with his teeth and tongue.
Scully watched with a shiver.
     "I'm a psychologist, Mr.d'Arcy. I think I'm uniquely
qualified to help your son through the adjustment he's going to
have to make."
     d'Arcy shook his head. "He will be fine."
     "He's attacked seventeen innocent people and drank blood for
a week." Scully backed Mulder. "I think he's going to need some
help."
     "And why are you so qualified, Mr.Mulder? I can afford the
best therapists in the world." d'Arcy wasn't smiling anymore.
     "But none of them will believe you."   
     He took the card.
     "I will not push him -- but when he feels up to it, I will
suggest that he call you."
     Mulder nodded.
     "Thank you for finding my son." d'Arcy said.
     They went to the car and Mulder turned to shout back at him,
shattering the peaceful beauty of the scene.
     "What the hell is Richard Dancer? One of you? Where can we
find him?"
     d'Arcy smiled faintly and even Mulder could see the quiet
laughter in it.
     "He is absolutely not one of us, Mr.Mulder. And I have the
distinct feeling that he just left for a long vacation."
     Mulder slammed the car door.
     "Drive, Scully."    
     
     Scully drove.

*****************************************************************

From Saraid: That's it so far. I hope everyone likes it.
(Actually, I don't, that would mean it isn't dark enough :)
As I said, Myk and the others are mine. I think I came up with
the concept of genetic vampires, but it's entirely possible I
read it or something like it someplace and then forgot. But I've
worked on it a lot. More to come...(after I get done with my real
book I've been neglecting for this obsession :) As always, q&c's
to: matsu@wf.net