Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Spoilers: None Rating: R Classification: X, UST, A, MSR (titters on the edge, I guess you could say :)) Summary: An anonymous Valentine card has decidedly strange, and dangerous implications for Mulder. Acknowledgments: Thanks go to Carey Regenold for medical information. My Deadly Valentine by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk Somewhere in the Washington, DC area. Wednesday, 6:00pm Standing in plain sight of anyone that would care to look up and see her, the tall woman in the pale pink suit watched the handsome man sit on the bench in the park. She'd been watching him forever, and shifted from one impatient foot to the other. Everything about him was tantalizing. From the burnished copper of his hair, and the strength in his tall, strong body. She was itching to touch him, if only for the few moments it would take to make him hers. Forever. She needed him. Wanted him forever. Wishing to make him happy in the way only she could. Infinity was a long time to wait for a lover. A very lengthy process to turn a man's needs into a dream come true. An exciting adventure that stirred his heart and his blood. Blood. She liked the word. So visceral. What other word looked, sounded and tasted so much like its name? She licked her lips and the tangy, salty flavor in her imagination delighted her. For several moments the man rubbed a finger absently over the envelope as if he treasured this special treat and didn't want it to end soon. He looked almost hopeful, perhaps excited as he opened the envelope slowly. As if he was afraid something would jump out of it and bite him. She smiled. Little did he know how close he was to being right. When he slipped the pale, cream colored card from the envelope, she saw his mouth open slightly in surprise or awe. Well, it was pretty. And that's what mattered. A flawless, lovely presentation. Quickly the man rose from the park bench and headed in the direction of her hotel. With a blink of her eye she followed him, not too close, not too far away. Wouldn't want to frighten him off when the fun was just beginning. There was plenty of time later for scaring him. Plenty of time. FBI Headquarters Basement Thursday, 7:00am Special Agent Dana Scully sorted through the mail on her desk. It was a huge stack, and she was sure almost half of it were things Mulder could have taken care of himself while she was on vacation in Hawaii for two weeks. After tossing aside a piece of junk mail, she stopped abruptly. A large, cream colored envelope with a border of red hearts stared back at her. The weight of the card was heavy. Like the three dollar type you bought when you really wanted to impress someone. On the envelope, in a flourish of fancy handwriting, was Mulder's name. My Darling Fox. Her eyebrows went up. Whoa. The envelope reminded her immediately that tomorrow was Valentine's Day. The season for hearts, flowers, chocolate, and sickeningly sweet sentiment. At least lately that's what she'd felt about the holiday. She smiled. Since there was no stamp or post mark on the envelope she assumed someone in the bureau had sent him the card. What had he been doing while she was gone? "Mail for you, Mulder," she said absently and set the card to the side while she thumbed through more envelopes. When she didn't receive a reply, she glanced up at her partner, and watched his fingers fly over the keys of his computer. A line of deep concentration creased his forehead, and he reached up to swipe impatiently at a lock of hair that toppled over his forehead. She knew that after several hours of searching through his database, he was no closer to finding what he needed on a particular alien abduction case. "The Martians have landed on the front lawn of the White House," she said. No response. "Agent Pendrell sent me a teddy for Valentine's Day." Mulder's fingers stopped moving instantly, and he looked up at her. A slow smile spread across his mouth. "Was that teddy as in Winnie The Poo, or as in lacy, silky material teddy?" She smiled back and tossed him the envelope with the hearts on it and he caught it like a Frisbee. "How long has this mail been piling up, Mulder?" "Probably since you left on vacation," he said, turning his chair toward her and looking at the envelope. "Why?" "What would you like for me to do first? Shoot you, strangle you, or put poison in your next cup off coffee?" "Poison. Harder to detect and not as messy. Hmm, I wonder who this could be from?" "Opening it might help." He grabbed his letter opener and cut open the envelope. "Scully, do I detect a bit of venom in your voice? I thought you enjoyed your vacation?" "I was in a perfectly good mood until I saw this gargantuan stack of mail on my desk. Next time, Mulder, open the mail," she said with a straight face. "Well, I guess that explains why you missed my wedding on Maui." She lifted up another envelope, this one red, and waved it in the air. "Here's the invitation." Mulder ignored her and gazed at the pale pink card in his hand. He titled an eyebrow and whistled. "Interesting. Scully, look at this." He shoved off with his feet and his chair did a quick roll across the space between their desks, and he barely stopped himself from plowing into Scully. He handed her the card. "This is plain weird." She sighed and looked at the front of the card. Embossed with a pattern of cream hearts and baskets of flowers, the card was beautiful. Someone had certainly gone all out for Mulder. She felt a twinge of something deep inside, but wouldn't acknowledge it. Valentine's Day wasn't something she celebrated with Mulder. At least, not together. On the front, in shimmering cellophane red letters, it said, Be My Valentine. "Only you could turn a simple Valentine into an X-File, Mulder." "Open it." Inside the card was a poem, hand written in a dash of red lettering. "Be my valentine, my valentine, be my love so true, I know that I am yours and you are mine. Forever we are two." Scully looked up at Mulder. "Corny but cute. What's wrong with it?" "Doesn't the lettering look funny to you?" Staring at the lettering carefully, she noticed the rusty nuance of the ink. "Strange ink." When she looked up, he took the card from her hands and stared at it again. He wasn't smiling. "Blood. It's written in blood, Scully." FBI Headquarters Washington, DC Basement Thursday, 7:10am "Blood?" Scully asked sharply, snatching the card from Mulder's hand. She examined the carefully executed letters on the thick paper of the card. The letters appeared to be written in something that looked like dried blood. She'd never seen anything like this, and the implications chilled her. Brushing aside the tingle that raced across her skin like an ice cube, she asked, "Who did you manage to offend while I was on vacation?" Mulder grinned. "Skinner wasn't too pleased with me a couple of times. Hell, he wouldn't even send me a descent X-File while you were away. Said he worried that if you weren't with me I'd do something foolish like shoot off my foot." "A distinct possibility." "Your confidence in me is gratifying, Scully." "Don't mention it." Mulder tipped his chair back, and she wondered how many more times he could do that before the chair finally gave way. "Anyone else who might want to play a practical joke on you and send something written in blood?" she asked. "Well, I know I hacked off Frohicke." "What did you do?" He grinned and leaned a little closer to her. One dark eyebrow cocked upwards. "Told him you and I went to Hawaii together." She sighed. "You didn't." "Did." Thinking about the ramifications of taking a vacation with Mulder distracted her momentarily from the valentine. "Wonderful, he'll probably spread rumors around the bureau by way of his conspiracy web page on the Internet." "It's a good way to throw the powers-that-be off our tails for awhile. Throw them a curve and they won't be so interested in what we're doing the next time an alien abduction case comes our way." "Let's hope Frohicke didn't believe a word you said." Grinning, he retrieved the card from her again and caressed the side of the paper with a long index finger. "He believed me at first. You should have seen his face. But imagine him putting together a card like this. I doubt it." She didn't have to imagine it. Frohicke was one of the last people on earth who would be creative enough to send this grotesque Valentine. Then who did? "Maybe you should have the card analyzed, Mulder." "Why? It's a prank. Probably a dozen other agents received this card today. One of the women in word processing is pissed off at Agent Baxter and vowed to get even. Maybe this is her way to get back at all the wayward male agents prowling the bureau." Not entirely convinced, she watched him peruse the card a little longer before she looked at the red envelope she'd tossed aside when she'd mentioned her fictional wedding on Maui. As she touched the envelope, she an irrational thread of apprehension stayed her hand. What if this card proclaimed the same intentions as Mulder's valentine? Carefully crafted and designed in blood. Then, as she looked at the card in her hand, she recognized the writing. Bold, blocky letters. Scully. Simple. To the point. No sentiment. Mulder's handwriting. She didn't want to open it right now, because she hadn't gotten him a card, and until that moment hadn't planned to get him one, either. This was the first time he'd given her anything on Valentine's Day, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. Since he'd cornered her in the car on their last case and forced her to reassess her feelings, she'd been determined she wouldn't let her hormones or Mulder's get in the way of their professional lives. Nothing had really happened, but there had been a quality in Mulder's eyes that was far from brotherly. More potent. More disturbing. All week, since she'd returned from vacation, she'd prayed that bizarre attraction she'd felt for him would have disappeared after two weeks of sun, fun, and Mai Tai's on the beach. Wrong answer. She was far too aware of him in every way. Although her vacation had healed some of the feelings of betrayal she'd felt when Lucien Gray had turned on her, her mind set about Mulder was far from resolved. But her feelings would have to remain that way. Where they belonged. Locked away by her superego's need for order and consistency. Getting mushy over Mulder was not in the interests of their professional relationship, or the bureau's interests. End of discussion. Kaput. "Open it, Scully," Mulder said, startling her. His eyes sparkled for a moment, as if he was enjoying her discomfort, her uncertainty as she stared at the envelope. She looked at him, and then set aside the card. "I've got work to do. I'll look at it later." "I think my feelings are hurt." "Get over it. Take your valentine to Pendrell and get it checked out." Mulder shook his head. "All right. I'm sure Pendrell will be interested in telling me what type of blood this is." "I think you ought to take this seriously, Mulder." "It's probably nothing." She looked up from the pile of mail as yet unopened. "If it was any other card I wouldn't worry." "What do you mean?" "Writing in blood is sick. Whoever did this could be out to do more than play a prank on you." A knock on the door surprised them both. The door opened slowly, and a young woman with thick, straight, shiny brown hair peeked around the door. Her thin face made it difficult to guess how old she might be, but Scully thought she was around twenty-four. Model thin, she looked like a waif. "Hi, Peg," Mulder said, turning his chair in her direction and standing up to go to the young woman. "What brings you down to the inner sanctum?" Looking hesitant, the young woman opened the door all the way and stepped into the room. Her long, slim legs covered the room quickly, and Scully was slightly surprised by the bright white and blue poke a dot suit the woman was wearing. The vivid blue dazzled the eyes, fixing attention on the clothing rather than the woman wearing them. When Mulder smiled the woman held out a manila folder to him. Their fingers involuntarily brushed, and the young lady's features reddened slightly. "Assistant Director Skinner sent me down with this file." Mulder then turned to Scully. "Thanks. Scully, have you met Peg Galley? She's a new secretary in Skinner's office. She started a couple of days after you left on vacation." Scully exchanged pleasantries with the woman for a moment. "I hope you enjoy working here." "I've always wanted to work for the FBI." Peg's gaze darted from one side of the dimly lit room to the other. "Frankly, when Mr. Skinner asked me to come down here, I was kind of excited. I've heard so much about both of you." Scully noted the slow smile Peg gave Mulder, and wondered if he was the one generating the young woman's interest more than what she'd heard about the X-Files. "Don't be a stranger," Mulder said. "We don't get many visitors down here." Peg grinned, and her pristine smile landed directly on him. "Sounds great." Suddenly, she glanced at her watch. "Oh, gosh. I've got to go. I'm getting the full tour of the facility today and I don't want to be late." Still beaming at Mulder, Peg managed to turn to Scully as she started out the door. "It was really nice meeting you. Bye." After the door closed quietly behind Peg, Scully turned to Mulder. "She's just now getting a tour of the building?" He shrugged. "Probably. You know how it works. I'm sure you remember the better-late-then-never tour." Mulder stood up. "I'm taking this Valentine to the lab. See you later." When the door swung closed, Scully waited several moments before she looked once again at the Valentine Mulder had given her. During her vacation she'd resigned herself to getting a life, finding something more to occupy her time than the X-Files and Fox Mulder. Trouble was that most things faded in comparison to the day she'd met Mulder. Everything paled in contrast to working next to a man whose many sides puzzled and intrigued her more each day. Maybe that was what she'd seen gleaming in Peg Galley's eyes. Fascination. Curiosity. How many other women had been seduced into trying to decipher the light that burned brightly in his eyes? Thoroughly disgusted with the vein of her thoughts, she tossed the Valentine aside and tackled the paperwork that awaited her attention. FBI Headquarters Thursday, 9:00am Mulder was halfway back to his office when his cell phone chirped. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Mulder." "You'd better get down here." Scully's voice was crisp, sharp. As if his mother was telling him he'd been a very bad boy. "Skinner called about ten minutes ago. A body's been discovered just outside DC. It's Special Agent Carl Daggert." "Oh, my God." He felt the blood rush from his face, and a feeling of dread settled in his stomach. Not Carl. Cheerful, laid back, competent Carl. Mulder quickened his steps. Scully sighed, as if weary. "Police found a piece of evidence you'll be very interested in, Mulder. They found a valentine laying next to his body. It looks exactly like the one you received today." A Field Outside Washington, DC Thursday, 2:00pm Mulder knelt next to the body of Agent Carl Daggert and felt his stomach roll and shift. He was used to seeing bodies mangled and otherwise subjected to various indignities. But the sight of a fellow agent in this condition was startling, as if agents were protected somehow against the vagaries of crime. Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd become ill looking at a body, but if it was going to happen, this seemed to be the time. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and attempted to get his bearings back. Now was no time to be weak. Carl's chest had been penetrated so many times by a knife that it looked like a pin cushion. One strike had punctured his heart. Flipping the sheet over Carl, Mulder closed his eyes again. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at Scully. She stood on the other side of the body, writing in her notebook. Stone faced and efficient, any upset she might have felt looking at Carl was carefully controlled and invisible. At least, it was indiscernible to anyone but Mulder. After four years of working together there wasn't much she attempted to hide from him. Like proverbial deep pools of blue, her eyes darkened at the sight of the bloody mass on the ground. Her mouth was tight, turned down with grim determination, as if she was in the dentist chair awaiting a root canal. Something else was bothering her, however. She'd been quiet during their whole ride to the murder site, and he was getting that uneasy sensation again. The one that said he'd stepped on her toes and didn't know how he'd done it. Maybe her vacation hadn't solved anything. Her horrifying experience with Lucien would take time to heal. What he didn't like was wondering if the scare Lucien had given her meant she wouldn't trust again. Allowing himself to wallow in a little self- recrimination, Mulder wondered if his antics in Colorado had permanently damaged his relationship with Scully. She'd seemed grateful for the birthday party he'd thrown for her when they'd arrived back in Washington, DC, but now the veil was down again, and he didn't know how to get passed it. Wrestling his obstinate thoughts back to the task at hand he said, "Penny for your thoughts." "Whoever did this to Carl was very strong," she said, flipping her notebook closed. He pulled the sheet away from the body again to expose the deep knife wounds to the man's chest cavity and lower abdomen. "And very, very angry." "Didn't you say Carl was a weight lifter?" Scully asked. "Yes. But there are no signs of a struggle." "He knew his assailant." "Most likely." Mulder put the sheet back and retrieved an evidence bag from his coat pocket. "But what were they doing out here in the middle of a field." She sighed. "Maybe it was an informant. A snitch who didn't want to be seen talking to a Federal Agent." "Very possible." Her gaze landed on the bloodied sheet, and he could have sworn he saw her shudder. "That could have been one of us." Worry creased his brow, and he almost reached out to her. But the plastic gloves on his hands had been in contact with Carl's body, and the idea of touching Scully with them didn't feel right. "But it wasn't one of us," he said. Dragging her gaze up to Mulder, she asked, "Have you looked at the card?" Gingerly grasping the valentine that lay next to Carl's head, he looked at the outside of the card. Splattered with blood and damp with dew, the Valentine was a disturbing directive. What the message was, however, Mulder wasn't sure. He gazed up at Scully, but the watery sun got in his eyes and he squinted. "It's definitely the same type of card as the one I received this morning. Soggy, but the same." "Even the corny saying on the inside is identical." Opening the card he read the inside. "The only thing that varies is the lettering. Although it's the same handwriting, the letters look a little more rushed and the lines aren't as straight." Scully squatted next to Mulder. "Do you have any idea who might want to do this to Carl?" He put the card into the evidence bag and sealed it. "No. Carl was a sincere, nice kind of guy. But sincere, nice guys get killed all the time. Did Skinner say anything about a case Carl was working on? One that might have gone bad?" She shook her head. "Not a word." She stood up. "Maybe we can get permission to look through Carl's office." "Excellent idea. When you're done here we'll head back to the office and see if Pendrell has come up with an analysis on the blood on my card," he said. Slowly peeling the latex gloves off his hands, he started back toward his car. "Where are you going?" Scully asked. "To call Carl's partner, Mike Trevino. I want to know why he isn't here right now." Agent Carl Daggert's Office FBI Headquarters Thursday, 4:00pm Mulder sifted through the small stack of neatly ordered files on Carl's desk. Behind him he could hear Scully opening another drawer in the file cabinet and leafing through a file. "This is going to take forever, Mulder." He glanced at the small clock on Carl's desk. "Pendrell's expecting us in forty-five minutes, so if we don't find anything in that time, we might as well give up for the day. We can always come back to it. Besides, we still have the drive to Arlington tonight to talk to Carl's partner." "You may need to see Carl's partner without me. I need to attend the autopsy." "Yum, yum," Mulder said. Finding nothing of immediate interest on top of the desk, Mulder opened a small side drawer. Inside was a daily planner. Checking through the most recent dates, he found something listed for last Thursday that intrigued him. "Hey, Scully, look at this." She walked over to the desk and looked at where Mulder was pointing with his index finger. "Meeting with Angel at Antone's Place at 7:00pm. That's a restaurant not far from here." Mulder turned forward to Wednesday of this week. The day Carl was murdered. "Meeting with Angel at Antone's Place at 12:00pm. Looks like Carl had a social life." "Are there any entries in this book before last week that show him meeting with this Angel person?" Mulder shook his head. "Not a one. Maybe Angel would be able to tell us just what happened to Carl." "Sounds like we need to schedule a stop at Antoine's, too" Scully said. Mulder grimaced. "I hate Antoine's. Worst Italian food on the planet." She smiled. "Short of your spaghetti, Mulder?" He returned her smile, happy to see a twinkle in her eyes. To see that expression in her eyes, he'd take any insult. "Short of about anything I'd cook." "I didn't say you had to eat anything," she said, and moved back to the file cabinet. After a couple of minutes, Scully looked over at Carl's partner Agent Mike Trevino's desk. The temptation to go through his desk was powerful. She shook her head. That would be unethical, and there was probably nothing there that could explain Carl's gruesome demise. Several minutes later, she heard a rustling sound to her left and turned to see Mulder methodically looking through papers on Agent Trevino's desk. She slammed the file drawer and walked toward him. "What are you doing?" "Going through Trevino's desk." "I can see that. We have no business touching Agent Trevino's things." He continued to sort through papers on the desk. "There's no 'we' about it Scully. If anyone comes in, you can blame it all on me." "That shouldn't be difficult." Mulder found Agent Trevino's desk calendar and began looking through it. "What are you hoping to find, Mulder?" "I'm not sure." He flipped through the pages until he reached the last week in January, then he paused. "Bingo. I think Agent Trevino is going to be able to help us catch Carl's killer." She looked at the calendar closely until she came upon the item he'd stopped at. "Valentine received. So Agent Trevino received a Valentine a little early. How is that significant?" "Look at this," Mulder said, pointing to an entry a week later. "This is a week before Carl's first apparent meeting with Angel." She read the entry. "Angel sent me another card. Set up meeting. Caution." He thumbed through the pages until he reached Valentine's Day. "Meet with Angel at Antoine's." He looked up at Scully. "Sounds like Angel is a two timin' lady." Agent Pendrell's Lab Area FBI Headquarters Thursday, 4:40pm Agent Pendrell smiled at Scully and offered her a seat, but she declined politely. "I don't think we'll be here that long." Mulder observed Agent Pendrell's slightly crestfallen look with barely disguised amusement. The poor man's case of puppy love for Scully never seemed to diminish. "Sorry to hear that. We don't get to see you down here very often, Agent Scully," Pendrell said. He glanced at Mulder. "All we get is Mulder." The urge to tease the agent ever present, Mulder jumped into the fray. "I keep her pretty busy." Scully frowned at Mulder. "With case loads." "I heard you had an excellent vacation," Pendrell said. "We had a great time," Mulder said, the words slipping out of his mouth easily. Scully shot Mulder a looked that would have seared the sides off a side of beef. Instead of replying, though, her mouth opened and closed like a fish a couple of times. Then she grinned and said nothing. Momentarily surprised that she had no come back, Mulder gazed at her intently. Then he realized that she wouldn't break Pendrell's illusion that she might have gone with Mulder on vacation if it meant keeping Pendrell at arm's length. Pendrell pulled out the computer report with the blood analysis and placed it in front of Mulder and Scully. "There were no fingerprints. The blood type on your card is AB." "Rare type," Mulder said unnecessarily. "The blood was mixed with a strange substance I'm having trouble identifying," Pendrell said. "Was the substance used as an anticoagulant?" Scully asked. "It appears so," Pendrell said, pointing to figures on the papers in front of her. "Blood takes within three to five minutes to clot. With the time it took for this person to write the letters so precisely the blood would've started to dry, making it difficult to complete the writing. Whoever did this must have some chemistry or medical knowledge." "How long before you figure out what the mysterious substance is?" Mulder asked. "I'm not sure. I'll work on it at the same time I analyze this other card's blood sample." Pendrell ran his hand over his chin. "There's something strange about this anticoagulant, though." "What is it?" Scully asked. "Well, outside of being difficult to identify, it's almost as if the blood itself was significantly altered by mixing with the chemical." "Wouldn't that be normal?" Mulder asked. "Yes and no." Pendrell shifted in his seat, his gaze resting first on Scully, then on Mulder. "The chemical changed the blood type. Completely altered its structure. It's entirely possible that this blood was another type before it came into contact with this element." FBI Headquarters Basement Thursday, 5:00pm "It's not possible, Mulder," Scully said as they walked back to their office after visiting with Pendrell. "Blood does not change from one type to another when mixed with an anticoagulant. Pendrell must have made a mistake." "What about those machines that have been invented recently to convert any blood into universal type O?" "The technology won't be readily available in most hospitals until sometime next year, if even then. And that has nothing to do with anticoagulant. Unwanted sugar molecules are washed from the blood in order to change blood to type O." He shrugged. "Let's wait and see if the blood on the card that was found next to Carl displays similar structural changes before we say it's not possible." "Whoever drew those letters would have to have a lot of blood." "Not a very appetizing thought." As the sound of their footsteps echoed in the long corridor, Mulder said, "I'm starving. You want to get something to eat before we go our separate ways?" "I never eat before an autopsy." "But you have to eat sometime. We can't have you turning into a cracker butt." She paused at the door to their office and looked up at him. She found it difficult to think straight when he was inspecting her with that cocky, almost predatory look. "Cracker butt, Mulder?" "Yeah, you know. Skinny. Emaciated. Cracker butt." His gazed scanned her thoroughly, running from the top of her copper colored hair to her black pumps, and she felt a blush rising to her face. His examination ended back at her face. Usually not one to retreat from a stare down game, she looked deep into his eyes. Big mistake. For a moment she even forgot her own name. She licked her lips. "I love food far too much. There's no danger of me ever becoming a cracker butt." He leaned his forearm against the closed door to their office. "Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day, Scully?" Amazed at the way his mind skipped from one subject to another without always a logical transition, she didn't reply immediately. "There's Skinner's party at noon tomorrow, but with this case I'm not sure there will be time." He shrugged. "Guess we'll have to wait and see. Don't you have a date or plans for dinner tomorrow night?" "No." "Then I have an idea. Let's go out to eat someplace nice tomorrow night. I think we deserve something special for a change, don't you?" Startled by his suggestion, she once again didn't know how to reply right away. Finally, she said, "We'll see how the case goes, Mulder." He seemed happy with that. He stepped into their office and headed for the closet to retrieve his coat, Scully following close behind. Hastily, she put her own coat on, then walked over to her desk. Mulder glanced at the coffee pot. Two cups of the dark brew were left, and he tried to remember when they'd actually made the stuff. When he couldn't remember he shrugged and grabbed his thermal coffee cup and loaded it with the strong liquid. He tasted the coffee and winced. It bit his tongue, but it would keep him alert on the drive. Walking passed his desk, he almost missed seeing the large red envelope lying there. He lifted the envelope in pleasant anticipation, thinking maybe Scully had gotten him a Valentine after all. But when had she slipped it onto his desk? They'd been together all day. My Darling Fox. A skitter of apprehension did a crawl up his spine. Unless Scully was playing a trick on him, he didn't like the implication behind this Valentine. He opened the envelope slowly, feeling almost as if something would jump out at him if he looked into the envelope too quickly. Pulling out the Valentine, he noted the heavy white stock paper and the bright red letters on the front. 'Be My Love.' He opened the card and saw the letters made of blood. 'Your love hath made me whole. That we should be together for eternity is my pledge. My undying love forever. Meet me at Antoine's at twelve tomorrow. Your loving Angel.' "Looks like Skinner's party is off, Scully." She looked up at him as he walked toward her holding out the Valentine. "What?" "Angel and I have a date." She took the Valentine from him and scanned the words quickly. "This isn't good." "I'd say it's excellent. If I meet with Angel tomorrow I may find out more about Carl's murder." She shook her head. "Or end up just like him. Maybe I should go with you to Arlington tonight, Mulder." "Why?" "Because if this Angel is following you around it could be dangerous." "We don't know for certain if Angel is the killer. It's entirely possible that another culprit killed Carl. Maybe a jealous boyfriend of Angel's." "Okay, Mulder. Do you think you can get back in one piece without me?" He crossed his heart with his fingers. "Cross my heart and hope to die, Scully." She frowned. "I still say whoever wrote this is responsible for Carl's death." "Based on what?" "It's what I feel." "The enigmatic Dr. Scully tackling a case with her feelings? Since when?" He knew immediately his words were a mistake, but like all words spoken there was no way to take them back. She handed him back the card. "Since I came back from Salem, Colorado." Her horrifying experience in Salem had obviously made a distinct mark on his partner's psyche. More than once since that time he wondered how much longer she was going to withstand taking on bizarre cases with him. When were the unusual things they'd seen and experienced going to wear her down? He had to remind himself that she was not made of glass. Although Lucien had put a dent in her ability to trust others, there had been far worse cases in their backyard before. Then why did it bother him so much now that she wasn't happy? For the first time his own obsessions with finding Samantha and nailing the people responsible for her disappearance paled in comparison to his desire to see that Scully was happy. Part of him was terrified she'd be taken away from him again and this time it would be for good. All his petty concerns and driving forces meant nothing if Scully wasn't there to share it with him. "I'll get this card back to the lab before I go to Arlington," he said. She looked at her watch. "It's getting late. She took the Valentine out of his hand. "I'll take it. It's on my way." She looked down at the Valentine Mulder had given her. Maybe if she ignored it, the envelope would disappear. "Aren't you ever going to open it?" he asked. "I'm waiting until Valentine's Day." He looked at his watch. "It's exactly five hours until February fourteenth. I won't be offended if you open it early." Apparently, however, she wasn't inclined to take him up on the suggestion. She firmly tightened the belt on her coat and started for the door. "I'd better hurry. I'm going to be late for the autopsy." "Scully." She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him. "Call me when you return from the autopsy." She nodded, then she was gone. Staring at the door, he wondered why he'd felt he'd lost something. Something he might never get back. Outside FBI Headquarters 5:30pm She watched Mulder leave the building from her safe vantage point. Her uneasiness was growing. Maybe he was like all the others. Carl and Mike had proven themselves unworthy of her love, why should Mulder be any different. After all, he was a man. But Fox Mulder had to be different. He was tall, handsome, and could be trusted. Couldn't he? Agent Scully might be a problem. She'd seen the way Mulder looked at Agent Scully when he thought no one else would see. She'd speculated long and hard over those gazes upon his partner and hadn't decided if they were friends or if something else was going on between them. She frowned and watched Mulder disappear into the parking structure. Carl had been tall, handsome and her perfect man until she'd seen him with that bitch in the cafeteria this week. Mike had a girlfriend, too, and that was simply not tolerable. So far the bastard had been able to avoid her. He hadn't been to work for a week. Claimed he was sick. Lying, cheating, two timing, arrogant- Mulder's car came out of the parking structure, and she rushed to her vehicle parked at the side of the street. As Mulder pulled out onto the street, she followed, just far enough away that he wouldn't ascertain what she was doing. She smiled. If everything went as planned, she'd be very, very happy. Mulder would lead her to Mike. She laughed and the noise echoed around the car with a high pitched intonation as irritating as the sound of breaking glass. Special Agent Mike Trevinos Home Arlington, Virginia Thursday, 6:45pm Mulder looked at the framed photograph of Carl and his partner Mike sitting in a fishing boat and smiling broadly for the camera. "That photo was taken during much better days," Mike said softly, easing his large frame into the chair next to the fireplace. He took a deep sip of his whiskey, half tempted to slam back the amber liquid in one gulp. But he knew if he didnt take it slow hed fill the small glass full and drain it, too. Take it nice and easy. Taking a much tinier taste of the alcohol, he savored the gusto as it burned a pleasant path to his stomach. "Much better days." Mulder turned away from the fireplace mantle and sat in the winged-back chair across from Mike. Hed arrived a few moments ago at the small Georgian style home, and the burly agent had welcomed him inside almost begrudgingly. Reflecting on the eagerness with which Mike had agreed to meeting with him initially, Mulder wondered what had changed the mans attitude in such a short time. As he watched Mike drink the whiskey from the crystal glass, Mulder noticed his pasty complexion and the slightly glazed haze in his dark eyes. Today Mike seemed changed and weakened. Normally pleasant and as jolly as Santa Claus, the agent was jumpy. Mike pushed a hand slowly through the thick, curly brown hair on his head. Mulder noted the twitching, awkward movements and worried the man was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "Youre staring, Mulder," Mike said, sighing like a man waiting with ever increasing anxiety for the time of his execution. Although Mikes movements were steady, Mulder guessed hed been partaking of the whiskey for some time. When Mulder didnt say anything, Mike smiled. "Sure you dont want some of this whiskey? If you dont have some I might drink the whole friggin bottle." "Cant, Mike. Im working." "I thought you did whatever you wanted. How the hell do you do it? Its freaking amazing what you get away with." Mulder nodded. "Spooky, isnt it?" Mike laughed and set his glass on the floor next to him. "I suppose you want to ask me about Carls death? Mulder leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs and lacing his fingers together. "Yes. I looked through Carls desk and found his desk calendar. Did you know hed been receiving Valentines from a person called Angel?" "Yes." Mike smiled faintly. "You probably also went through my desk calendar?" Mulder wasnt proud of what hed done, but he wasnt going to lie. "I did." "No use in me denying what you already know. I got a card the last week of January, but I didnt think much of it. Thought it was a prank Carl was playing on me. It wasnt signed, so I figured it had to be him. I tore it up and threw it in the garbage." Mike shrugged. "I wish Id kept it now. Then I got another card the next week, and this time it was signed by this Angel person." "And during this time you didnt say anything to Carl about the two Valentines you received?" Mike reached down for his glass again, and after perusing the liquid inside for a moment, he slammed back the drink. "Not a word. Like I said, I thought the first one was a prank." "Did you think the second card was a joke, too?" "At first. Then I looked at the letters a little closer." Mikes gaze shifted from Mulder to the fireplace. The merry dance of the gas flames looked artificial, and the warmth they provided didnt remove the relentless cold that had seeped into Mikes bones. "When I realized they were made of blood, I was concerned, but I was intrigued by the invitation to meet Angel at Antoines on Valentines Day. I decided that if it was a nut case sending me the card, Id meet them and assess how dangerous they were. By then Id started to get this creepy feeling." Mulder sat back in his chair. "What kind of creepy feeling?" Mike shrugged, and then he stood up and went to the dark wood sideboard that served as a liquor cabinet. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and filled his glass half full. Screw abstinence. Forget every pretense of being in control. He hadnt gotten drunk in a very long time. And tonight was ripe for letting liquor take him to the Sand Man. Finally Mike said, "Hell, just thinking about it now gives me the creeps all over again." Mulder wanted to press the man, rush him forward and tell him to stop putting off the inevitable. But he realized Mike was already hanging by a very minuscule string. Gathering his patience, Mulder decided to go slowly. Before he could speak, Mike continued. "For the last few weeks Ive felt someone was watching me." He chuckled, but the sound was more a snort than genuine amusement. "After I decided the cards werent a joke, I thought it might be my girlfriend Cindy sending me the Valentines. After all, Cindy and Ive only been dating a month, and we dont know a lot about each other. It was possible she got off on jokes like this and I wouldnt know about it." Seizing on the idea Mulder asked, "How did you meet Cindy?" "At the bureau. She works in Skinners area. When I told Cindy about the Valentines she got really worried, then she got mad as hell at the idea that anyone would send me an awful thing like that. I never explained that I suspected her." "Are you still suspicious of her?" "No. I dont think she did it." Mulder was tempted to ask Mike why hed crossed her off as a suspect, but decided he had more pressing questions. "The cards I received were apparently hand delivered. No postmark. I assume yours were the same?" "Yes. Thats what made me wonder about Cindy at first. She had access to our area at certain times, and she admitted that. But I figured shed hardly own up to that if shed planted the cards." Mulder nodded, not entirely convinced Mikes logic was sound. "Possibly." Mike wrapped his large fingers around his glass and took a swig of his drink. He grimaced slightly, as if tasting liquor for the first time. "Mulder, I need to find out who killed Carl." "Why werent you assisting with the investigation today?" Giving another chortle, Mike gazed at Mulder steadily. "I hate to admit it, but Im scared. Cowardly, I know, but there it is. What type of sick bastard writes in blood, eh?" "A seriously demented individual. Can you think of anyone who might be interested in frightening or harming you and Carl? Maybe a perp with a grudge?" "Hell, Mulder, I couldnt begin to count the number of people who would have sent Carl six feet under if theyd had a chance." He ran his hand over the roughness of his five oclock shadow. "Guess one of them got their wish. But Im not going to let them get me." Mike put down his drink and got out of his chair to pace the floor like a animal imprisoned in a cage. "You ever felt like the world was closing in on you, Mulder? That you cant go any direction but straight down?" Mulder leaned back in his chair. "More often than youd imagine." Mulder could easily sympathize with the man in front of him. Too many times hed felt the same way. No where to run. No possibility of escape. The gnarled, skeletal hand of death seemed to trail right behind Mulder, threatening in the back of his mind where his vivid imagination would design horrific dreams and dire predictions. Hed had these dreams, these visions of his own end for so long he wasnt always sure where reality began sometimes. Always, in the most secret corner of his consciousness, was the fear that everything hed ever loved or known would be ripped from him. Just like Samantha. Just like his father. And, God forbid, Scully. Sensing his minds swerve into a tangent, Mulder decided to get himself back in line. "What did you think when Carl started receiving the cards? Or did you know he was getting them?" "Oh, I knew right away. Carl told me, and I cautioned him not to go to Antoines to meet this Angel person." Mike frowned and looked at his feet. "I was caught between thinking it was a serious problem and that maybe it really was all put on by Carl or Cindy or someone. Carl was such a joker anyway." He took a deep breath. "Then we got tied up with a case and I forgot about it for awhile. Unlike me, Carl is--was as fearless as a ram in mating season. When he received the last card and went to Antoines to meet this mysterious Angel, he disappeared and didnt come back. That was Wednesday." "You werent worried?" Mike stopped pacing and turned on Mulder with fury in his eyes. "Christ, Mulder, do you have any idea how concerned I was about him? Damn fool was always going off half cocked without telling me what he was doing." For an amusing moment, Mulder could hear Scully talking, expressing the same sentiments about his own propensity to let his obsessions carry him away. "A man after my own heart," Mulder said. Mike frowned, and Mulder thought he saw a shudder go through his body. "This time Mike told me where he was going, and I didnt argue with him. Maybe if I had he would be alive right now." Guilt, Mulder thought. An enduring pestilence that eroded self- esteem and ate the heart out of you like a carnivorous beast. It wasnt an emotion you could tell someone not to feel, or try to comfort them. Guilty feelings were either there or they werent. "You think the person who killed Carl will be after you next?" Mulder asked. Mike shook his head and walked to the fireplace. Watching the flames burn steadily, he smiled. "Yes." "Thats why youre not going to Antoines tomorrow, right?" "Yes." Mulder stood up. "Mike, I realize how you feel, but if youd been murdered Im sure Carl would be out there kicking butt and taking names. Sure hed be scared, but hed want justice." Mikes gaze snapped to Mulder. "What are you getting at, Mulder?" "Im saying that Scully and I need your help with this case. I need to find out who the culprit is for my sake, too. Because if I dont, theres a good chance you and I could end up like Carl." FBI Headquarters Basement 7:55pm "Damn," Scully muttered as she headed down the long corridor to the office. She should be thinking about the autopsy shed witnessed a short time ago. Or maybe the eerie Valentines Carl and Mulder had received. Instead she found herself obsessing over the Valentine that remained unopened on her desk. After the little stunt Mulder had pulled in Pendrells office earlier in the day, shed contemplated tossing the card into the trash without a second glance. Maybe, when Mulder returned to the office, shed ask him why hed insisted on letting everyone think theyd been on a vacation together. Skinner wouldnt be amused if he heard the gossip. A picture of Skinner dressed like Queen Victoria and spouting "We are not amused" popped into her head. Of course Skinner would know the rumor was false because it was obvious Mulder had been to work the two weeks she had been gone. She made the decision to ask Mulder why hed started the rumor, and then shed put him in his place. Then again, when she asked him hed probably give her that indignant, superior look, or hed play the innocent. Sometimes there was no understanding the man. Once again she contemplated her apprehension over opening the Valentine hed given her. Was it guilt because she hadnt gotten him one? Was it because she was afraid of what it said? Why was she making a big deal about it? Mulder was feeling a little more charitable than usual and decided that after her vacation he kind of missed her. A pleasant thought, but by no means guaranteed. Maybe shed just open the damned thing while he wasnt around. Then there was his invite to dinner. No use speculating on that right now. With the way this case was going, there was a good chance theyd miss Skinners party and dinner tomorrow night. Once she reached the office she unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. Weary, she sank into her chair and turned on her computer. Looking over at the coffee pot, she contemplated making more of the caffeine loaded brew to keep awake. Then she recalled shed promised Mulder a phone call after shed finished assisting with the autopsy on Carls body. She reached for the telephone and dialed Mulders cell phone number. He answered on the third ring. "Mulder." "Hi, its me," she said. "Im back from the autopsy. Are you still at Mikes?" "No. Im on my way back to the office." "Did he shed any light on why Carl may have been murdered?" "Not as much as I hoped, but Ive got a new suspect in mind. Mikes girlfriend, Cindy." Scully almost dropped the phone. Shed known Cindy Fairchild for quite awhile, and she had a difficult time imagining the petite blonde as a murderer. "Youre kidding." "No, but Ill explain when I get back." "Is Mike willing to help us with the investigation?" Mulder sighed. "Not exactly. I tried to convince him to go to Antoines tomorrow to meet Angel. He refused. Hes scared, Scully. Ive never seen the man so jumpy. Did you discover anything earth shattering at the autopsy?" "No, actually. Cause of death was as we expected. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdominal cavity. But we found something that explains why Carl was so easy to subdue. He was drugged with secobarbital before his death. Whoever killed him drugged him, then took him to the field and stabbed him there." Mulder cursed under his breath. Then he cursed again. "Ah, Scully, I think I have a problem." She felt her pulse leap, banging a fearful tune in her veins. "Whats wrong?" "I think theres someone following me. Theyve been with me since I left Mikes house. They keep a consistent speed. I turned down a couple of back roads to see if I could head them off, but theyve continued to follow." She closed her eyes for a second and touched the small golden cross at her throat. "Mulder, get back here as soon as you can." "Maybe Ill try a different route than I usually go." Fear added extra punctuation to her voice. "Damn it, Mulder, dont take any chances. I knew I should have gone with you." "The vehicle is coming closer." "Mulder" The line went dead. Fear and anger coalesced, and she clutched at the cross, feeling the sharp corners stick her flesh. "Mulder!" Silence. Back road outside of Arlington, Virginia Thursday, 8:00pm Mulder watched as the headlights on the speeding car came closer and closer. He'd dropped the cell phone as soon as he realized that the vehicle behind him was rapidly approaching. The car was going to ram him. Cursing under his breath, he kept both hands tight on the wheel. Rain poured from the moisture swollen clouds in the night sky, and visibility was at a minimum. Despite the chance of hydroplaning, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator. Slam! Mulder had a couple of seconds to wonder why his driving skills didn't kick in, but then he realized with the amount of rain on the road, it didn't matter what he tried. His car spun to the right, hurling and turning three hundred and sixty degrees before it stopped with jarring force in a ditch at the side of the road. When the world stopped spinning, Mulder found himself still firmly strapped into his seat, but his head was throbbing wildly, and he felt slightly dizzy. He shook his head, trying to remove the fuzzy focus from his eyes. Had stay alert in case- Headlights blared into his front windshield, blinding him with their searing brightness. A car had stopped along the side of the road. He instinctively reached for his gun. Maybe it was just a concerned citizen who'd witnessed the accident. Or perhaps it was Angel coming to finish him off. FBI Headquarters Basement Thursday, 9:00pm Scully paced the floor of the office, her agitation and worry increasing with every click of her heels on the floor. Mulder didn't answer his cell phone, and he should have been back by now. She'd trying calling Mike Trevino's house, but there was no answer. If Mulder didn't walk through that door soon, she was going out to look for him. Her headstrong partner wasn't the only one with an overactive imagination. A thousand awful scenarios passed through her mind, bouncing from one unpleasant possiblity to another. She gritted her teeth. Someday his luck was going to run out. If it wasn't the powers- that-be hidden within the higher echelons of the government who decided to put him out of their misery, she might just have to shoot him herself. She glanced at her watch again. A minute later than the last time she looked. Suddenly the office door opened. Mulder stepped inside, his rain dampened coat smudged with dirt, and the side of his forehead streaked with a small patch of dried blood. Her mouth dropped open. "Mulder." Grinning slightly, he said, "It's possible that it could be me, Scully. After that last wild ride, I'm not sure." As he approached her, her anger mixed with relief. She went to him, reaching up to tilt his head to the side. "You're hurt." He grasped her hand and pulled it away from his face. "It takes a lot more than a thump on the noggin to slow me down." Letting her hand rest in his, she gave him a lopsided grin. "Mulder, I'm surprised you have any brain cells left at all considering how many times you've been hit on the head. What happened this time?" He pulled his fingers gently from her clutches and settled into his chair with a exhausted sigh. "I'm afraid Angel found me." "What?" "I guess you could say the Angel of death, in this case." She wondered if the rap on the head had effected him more severely than he was letting on. "Mulder, you're speaking in riddles. Do you have a concussion?" "No. I'm okay." She looked into his eyes and saw that his pupils appeared even. "Let me get some antiseptic and clean off that cut. Then you're going to the hospital for x-rays." She went to her desk and pulled out a small first aid kit. Locating an antiseptic toilette and bandage, she dabbed at the cut on his forehead. "Ow!" She made a face at him. "I've barely touched you." "And here I thought you were going to get all maternal on me." Ignoring his comment, she said, "Tell me what happened." He explained in detail what had occurred during his talk with Mike and then his encounter with the killer car. "After I crashed into the ditch, this car pulled up that I thought might be Angel back to complete the job. Then I realized the car was coming from the wrong direction. I saw the badge and the smoky the bear hat and realized it was a state patrolman. Anyway, he brought me back to the office." "He should have taken you to the hospital." "I told him I had a doctor that makes house calls." "This is exactly what I was worried about," she said, searching his eyes for any sign of concern about the situation. "Somebody, whether it's this Angel person or not, eliminated Carl and now they're after you." Securing the bandage over the cut on his forehead, she frowned deeply. "You're not going to try and meet Angel tomorrow are you?" He shrugged. "At this point it seems like a reasonable alternative to sitting around waiting for her to run me off the road again. At least if we meet in a public place she won't be able to try anything." "You don't know that," she said, watching his eyes narrow and his mouth tighten into a firm line. "By following up on this we're doing our jobs. We can't drop it because someone ran me off the road." Logically, in the part of her she recognized as the old, dependable Scully, she knew he was right. Illogically, she was frightened. Maybe she was loosing the edge required to do this type of job. She sighed. "All right. I understand. But we should be able to think of some other way to do this." "Do you have any better ideas?" She crossed her arms. "You didn't get the license plate number of the car that hit you?" "No." "You mentioned on the phone that you suspect Cindy Fairchild." "Yeah. What does that have to do with the license plate?" "Come on, Mulder," she said as she reached for her coat. "Let's see what kind of car Cindy Fairchild has." "I already checked on what type of car she has, then checked the garage below and there was no sign of her car. I figured we could pay her a visit this evening." For a moment she considered hitting him on the head herself. "You mean you traipsed around the parking facility first before you came up here?" "Yes." Scully opened her mouth to let him have it, then thought the better of it. If she gave him a verbal lashing now, she might also end up saying something she'd regret. Instead she took a deep breath and pulled on her coat. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be concerned about what happened to you, Mulder?" He stood slowly, as if his head might fall off if he moved too quickly. When he said nothing, she felt a blaze of anger heat her face, and she turned to leave, not even caring if he followed her or not. "Scully," he said, reaching for her arm. "Wait." As she turned to face him, she thought she saw an apology in his eyes. But if there was one thing she did know about Fox Mulder, it was that the word sorry was not often in his vocabulary. "My cell phone was broken or I would have called you after the accident." Disappointed with his feeble excuse, she gently disengaged her arm from his hold. "There were other ways to get in touch with me, Mulder. You just didn't care enough about what I felt to try." When he looked down at her from his considerable height advantage, she saw his eyes soften slightly, as if he might be ruminating over what she'd said. Then she turned and left. Thursday, 9:45pm Scully hated waiting. She'd waited to hear from Mulder tonight, now she was waiting while he finished up at x-ray. As she sat in the emergency room waiting area of the hospital and watched CNN flicker on the fuzzy television picture across the room, she was thankful that Mulder's injuries were minor. But the wound to her feelings was more complete. Their drive to the hospital had been fraught with a tension filled silence. She knew the unease was coming from her. She'd always believed that patience was a virtue, and people had complimented her on her ability to weather the most boring situations with aplomb. But it was possible that her forbearance where Mulder was concerned was coming to a close. Maybe she needed to have a talk with him about the way he aggravated her sometimes with his inconsiderateness. She'd always done her best to let him know where she was and what was going on with her when they were on a case. Was it too much to ask for him to do the same? Maybe. She despised that word. How many hearts had been shattered with that one simple word because of what it implied? So many things were left hanging with that two syllable word. Perhaps. Possibly. Like a carrot dangled in front of the horse's nose. God, Dana, get a grip. You really are tired. A long time ago she'd decided Mulder's personality was something she wasn't going to change, anymore than he was going to alter her way of doing things. Like an old married couple they'd resigned themselves to each other's faults. Mulder was a complex man. Like a diamond with a multitude of facets, he could go from being concerned and considerate to rude and stubborn quicker than you could say 'abduction.' Sometimes she wondered, however, if she'd have him any other way. There ought to be a law against men like him. "Scully." She looked up at the tall figure next to her, and he sank into the chair beside her. "What's the verdict, Mulder?" she asked. He gave her a tentative smile. "You'll be happy to know I'm the owner of two bruised ribs. The doctor taped me up and ordered me to go home and rest for the evening. Essentially he doesn't want me to work for a couple of days." "But you're going to go to Antoine's tomorrow anyway, aren't you?" "Yes. Also, I think we should visit Cindy Fairchild this evening." As they walked out of the hospital to her car, she thought about arguing with him on both points but decided it wouldn't do her any good. Mulder would do what he wanted, as always, and no one would stop him. Besides, he was right about checking up on Cindy Fairchild and her car. As they got into Scully's car she glanced at him. He looked very tired, and she was still a little concerned about the rap he'd taken on the head. "You're staying at my place, tonight," she said. "Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked. "You've stayed at my place before." "I know, but you were worried about what people thought when I told Frohicke and Pendrell that we went on vacation together." "Someone tried to kill you tonight and you shouldn't be alone." She expected him to debate, but instead he said, "Thanks, Scully." "You're welcome. I think." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't try to get in touch with you after the accident." She was surprised, and turned in her seat to look at him. "Don't leave me hanging like that again, Mulder. I'm your partner and I care what happens to you, even if you don't care about yourself." For a moment he gazed at her intently, then he nodded. "I really do appreciate this. But I have a request. After we get done interviewing Cindy Fairchild, can we order in for pizza? I'm starving." She smiled slightly. "What happened to your sunflower seeds?" "Ate them all." Somewhere In The Washington D.C. area Thursday, 10:30pm As she lay in bed, the horrifying images crept into the young woman's sleep like demons bent on destruction. Every night the dreams came to her, and Bella showed her the right way to treat men who were unfaithful. Bella instructed her. Explained how important it was to rid the world of those male creatures who showed a propensity for inconsistency. It wasn't enough to tell them where to get off, or to stop dating them. Punishment had to suit the crime. And as far as Bella was concerned, the only answer to a philanderer was a sentence of death. The sheets on the young woman's bed became twisted around her limbs as she writhed, enjoying the ecstasy as she watched Bella begin her performance over the unfaithful man's body. Blood splattered as Bella struck the man over and over again with the knife. The man's body was prone, his eyes closed, and Bella's white shirt became flecked with the man's red life force. Bella's laugh echoed around the room as she finally finished her duty, licking her lips and tasting something salty there. Gasping, the young woman woke from her dream about Bella, and sprang out of her bed. She had to go to the sacred room and perform the ritual. Bella would be angry. Leaving her bedroom she went down the hall to the second bedroom in her apartment. Hastily she turned on the light in the closet sized room and glanced around. At the far corner of the room was a small dresser. On either side of the room was a table, and on them dozens of red candles. Matches. Needed matches. Hurry. Hurry. Before Bella went into a rage. Bella's fury was excruciating, and nothing was worth attempting to defy her. She located the matches on one of the tables, nestled into their specially designated crystal dish. She frantically lit the candles. Candlelight flickered over the red walls creating bouncing shadows that danced like ghosts in a macabre parade. She knelt by the small dresser that held all her essential items of worship. On the lace draped top were pictures of Carl and Mike. And Mulder. It had taken considerable time to accumulate these images of the men she loved. For weeks she'd followed them one by one, carefully planning her every move to be in the right place to snap a quick photo. Bella demanded it. The young woman closed her eyes for a second and heard Bella speak. Do it. Do it. Kill. Kill. Kill. Bella was always whispering in her ear, telling her that all the men she loved would eventually hurt her, lie to her, deceive in the worst possible way. They were all bastards who took advantage of women and then threw them away. Carl had deserved to be punished. Bella said so. Therefore it must be true. Picking up Carl's picture, she held it up to the flame of one of the candles on the dresser and watched the light waver behind the photo. Carl had been like the flame. Unsteady, unreliable. Suddenly, violently, she began to rip his picture to shreds, tearing the three by five into the tiniest pieces she could manage. By the time she was done, her breath came fast and hard, and she felt a tingle start in her lower abdomen. It was always like that when she tore their faces to pieces and watched them fall to the floor like confetti. A satisfied moan issued from her lips, and the thought of blood on her lips added to the glorious tingling through her body. She held Mike's picture up to the flame and gazed at it for several moments. A deep sigh came from her throat and then turned to a growl as she dropped his picture back onto the dresser. Hell, fire, and damnation! She'd screwed up royally this evening. And Bella was going to punish her for it. Instead of going after Mulder, she should have killed Mike. As she'd waited down the block for Mulder to leave Mike's house this evening, her reasoning scrambled from one possibility to another. Kill Mike or kill Mulder? Decisions, decisions, decisions. Before she could make her own determination, fate had apparently taken the problem out of her hands. Mulder had left Mike's house and she'd followed him. Ramming him with the car had been an impulsive act, she knew, but it pleased her to do it. She knew as she'd raced away from the scene that she hadn't killed him. He'd only gone into the ditch. But at least she'd taught him a lesson. Arabella would be happy about that. Sighing, she lifted the picture of Mulder and held it to the flame. She felt a slow, burning resentment as she looked at the photograph. Why couldn't Mulder just go somewhere by himself sometime so she could have gotten a picture of him without Scully in it, too? It seemed he went everywhere with her. Wait. Wait until you meet him at Antoine's tomorrow. Then you can be alone with him. See how he acts towards you. If you like the results, he might prove himself to be worthy yet. Yes. Bella was right. Patience was a virtue. Cindy Fairchild's Apartment Thursday, 11:00pm The first thing Mulder noticed about Cindy Fairchild as she opened the door of her house was how petite she was. Smaller, perhaps, than even Scully. The second thing he perceived was how her paisley silk robe dipped low enough in front that Mulder's imagination didn't have to do much to fill in the blanks. Cindy's short blond hair framed a pixie face which made her look about nineteen, although Mulder knew she was at least twenty nine. Cindy's blue gaze bounced from Scully to Mulder, and she frowned. "Dana. Agent Mulder. What are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock at night." "We apologize for coming by so late, but this is bureau business," Mulder said. Still looking puzzled, she opened the door wider. "Come in. It's freezing out here." She invited the agents into the living room of the large house, and when they sat on the couch, she sat down in a chair across from them, curling her feet under her as if she were cold. "Does this have something to do with the valentines Carl and Mike got?" Cindy asked. Mulder exchanged a glance with Scully. "Did you send the valentines, Cindy?" Mulder asked without preamble, hoping for an immediate and revealing reaction. Cindy's mouth dropped open in what appeared to be genuine surprise. "Excuse me?" Scully gave Mulder a glance, then looked back at Cindy. "Forgive Mulder, Cindy. He's had a bad evening. What we need to know is anything you can tell us about the valentines Carl and Mike received." Cindy shrugged. "I don't know if I can tell you anything." "I talked to Mike this evening, Cindy," Mulder said. For several seconds Cindy stared at Mulder, expressionless, as if she was waiting him to add more. Then she unfolded her body and stood up, giving Mulder a flash of smooth legs as she reached for a brown afghan lying on the back of the couch. Wrapping herself in the afghan, she settled back onto the couch. "And did Mike tell you he suspected me of sending the valentines?" Cindy asked. "He told me he suspected you at one time, but that he realized after talking with you that you wouldn't do something like that," Mulder said. Cindy grinned and looked at Mulder sharply, her full lips thinning with what looked like indignation. Her expression almost made him ashamed he'd asked her whether she'd sent the valentines. Almost. "Did he tell you that I once spent some time in a mental institution?" Cindy asked. "No," Mulder said, glancing at Scully. He was a little angry with himself for not checking on her background before they came over. Maybe his brains were more like scrambled eggs than he thought. "What were you there for?" Scully asked. Cindy tightened her hold on the afghan, as if she could use it as a shield. "Depression. It was about six years ago. My boyfriend was murdered." She sighed. "Look, I have nothing to hide. You could find the same information about me without coming here late at night to find out." Scully nodded. "We apologize for the intrusion, Cindy, but you know we have to do a thorough job on this case. Mike could be in danger if we don't track down whoever did this. I'm sure you can understand that." Cindy's crystal blue eyes calmed slightly, and she nodded. Mulder was glad Scully was there to soft soap the situation. She always seemed to know how to smooth things over. Sometimes Mulder felt like she was the other side of his personality. The better half, in this case, it seemed. "Mike said that he didn't tell you he suspected you," Mulder said. "He didn't have to tell me, Agent Mulder. Mike is a nice guy, but sometimes he's as transparent as hell." Cindy flung the afghan back off of her shoulders, as if the room had suddenly become too hot. "Anyway, I didn't really blame him for being suspicious. He knew I'd had problems in the past with depression. I was honest with him about that." "Commendable," Mulder said. Cindy smiled, and the curve of her lips seemed genuine this time. "Honesty is the best policy in relationships, Agent Mulder. Come clean straight up and no one can ever say you deceived them. A lot of damage is done by lying. You never know if you can trust someone ever again if they lie to you once." As she gazed at him steadily, he almost felt like she was talking about him. The feeling wasn't very pleasant. Why should he feeling guilty? Shaking the unsettling idea to the side, he tried to muster another question. Nothing would come. "Where were you on the night Carl was killed?" Scully asked. "In bed." "Can anyone substantiate that for you?" Mulder asked. She smiled. "If you're asking was someone in bed with me that night, no." Scully glanced at Mulder, but he was glad to see that for once it wasn't an exasperated expression. "How long have you been working with the FBI, Cindy?" Cindy smiled. "You know me well enough you shouldn't have to ask. About two months." Scully smiled. "Sorry, but it's all in the routine." "And what were you doing before you started working at the FBI?" Mulder asked. "I worked for the Defense Investigative Service as a secretary for almost five years. It was during that time my boyfriend was killed." She looked upward and to the left, and Mulder tried to recall what he knew about neurolinguistic programming so that he could tell if she was constructing something in her memory, or making the image up in her mind. But like everything else tonight, his photographic memory wasn't working. "Why did you leave DIS?" Mulder asked. "Because I was bored and needed a change," she said. "Five years was more than enough time to get antsy and move on. After I got out of the treatment for the depression, I decided it was time to find greener pastures." "Cindy, do have any idea who might be sending these valentines to agents at the bureau?" Scully asked. Cindy peered at Scully, and her lips parted slightly. Mulder thought she looked genuinely surprised. "Are you saying other agents besides Carl and Mike received valentines?" "Mulder has received two. All of the valentines were distributed by someone with access to our offices." Cindy nodded "Mike told me that. So it has to be someone in the bureau." She sighed and reached back to pull the afghan around herself again. "Well, at least that narrows it down a bit." Mulder leaned forward. "May we have a look at your car, Cindy?" She shrugged and stood up. "Sure? Why?" "Mulder was run off the road by another car this evening," Scully answered. Cindy ran a hand through her already mussed hair. "And you think I did it?" Mulder kept his face deliberately passive. "We're checking all angles." Cindy sighed and stood up. "Follow me." She lead them through the kitchen and to the door that connected to the garage. After she unlocked it and flipped on the light, she moved back from the door. She gestured to the open door. "Be my guest." Mulder scanned the large green sedan with interest. It was at least ten years old, and had seen much better days. After going over the bumpers and generally perusing the worse for wear vehicle, he concluded it wasn't the car that had hit him. They returned to the living room, but this time Mulder and Scully remained standing. "Sorry we had to come by so late, Cindy," Scully said. Cindy looked back and forth between the agents, her lips pursed into an uncompromising straight line. "I suppose it was necessary." As they moved toward the front door, Cindy stopped and looked at the agents again. This time her expression was less guarded, more worried. "How was Mike, Agent Mulder? I mean, when I saw him last night he wasn't doing so well. Carl was his best friend. But Mike hides his feelings so well, it was like he was trying to keep everything in." Scully glanced at Mulder, and he saw something in her eyes he couldn't define, but it piqued his interest enough that he was determined to ask her about it when they were alone. "I think he'll be okay," Mulder said, non committal. Cindy was right about Mike. Although Mike had lost his partner, his suffering was fairly well hidden. "I think he just needs time. Lots of time." Cindy paled, and for a moment he thought he saw fear in her eyes. "What if that crazy bitch comes after him?" Scully glanced at Mulder again. "Bitch?" Scully asked. "The woman who killed Carl," Cindy said impatiently. "How do you know it's a woman?" Mulder asked. Cindy made a sarcastic noise, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "Mike said it had to be a woman." "We're not completely certain," Scully said. "Nothing is concrete at this point." Looking down, Cindy nodded. "Well, whoever it is needs to be caught quickly." The agents were silent as they went down the porch steps. "Agent Mulder?" He turned to look at the pixie-faced woman and she smiled slightly. She took a deep breath and then said, "Be careful, Agent Mulder. Nothing like a woman scorned." 11:45pm What if I lost Scully? The thought slammed into Mulder with unusual force, and as they said their good byes to Cindy he couldn't remember what he murmured in farewell. The thought of loosing Scully to death was too often on his mind these days, but he tried to keep the horrifying idea at bay as much as possible. When Lucien Gray had used his powers on Scully, Mulder had thought he might never see her again. Alive. As they got into the car he was silent, and Scully glanced at him a couple of times as she drove them toward her apartment. "Okay, what's on your mind, Mulder?" she asked finally. "A pizza and a good night's sleep." Scully smiled. "Do you think Cindy could be our murderous Angel?" He shook his head. "I don't think so. Her car wasn't the one that hit me." "That's no guarantee she isn't Angel." "True. She had enough time to possibly ditch the car she used and get back home in time to be suitably mussed up. Did you see that robe she was wearing?" She smiled. "I think the question is, what didn't you see?" His answering smile was devilish. "You got any robes like that, Scully?" Her eyes widened, and she looked momentarily shocked before she smiled and said, "What if I did?" Mulder frowned. "I hate paisley." * * * Scully lifted a piece of pepperoni from the slice of thick crust pizza and watched as the cheese attached to it stretched, refusing to let go of the crust. She hadn't realized until they'd ordered the pizza that she was starving, and she anticipated her next bite with great relish. As the stubborn cheese finally let loose, she popped the spicy meat into her mouth and chewed. She looked up at Mulder, and he was staring at her from across the small kitchen table. Licking her lips and then dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin, she said, "What are you looking at?" "You," he said, his expression intent. "And?" He was silent for so long, she was almost sure he wasn't going to answer. Didn't he know it was rude to stare at someone like that? Like what, Dana? Like you're a piece of pizza, and he's dying to take a bite out of you? The unbidden thought made her blush, and she looked away from his intense scrutiny. After the unnerving incidents between them in Salem, their relationship seemed to have been redefined in the most subtle of ways. Although he'd always looked at her with a special understanding that she found intriguing and often comforting, it often disturbed her. Internally she knew it wasn't possible for Mulder to look at her any other way. And part of her also realized she enjoyed those moments when they could glance at each other and realize what the other was thinking. Wordless communication was an asset between partners, especially in their positions. Sometimes, however, it was disconcerting to know that so much went on behind Mulder's eyes that she didn't understand. It gave her a sense of being alone. Adrift and aware of her own vulnerability. "This pizza sucks," Mulder said, chewing the soggy piece of crust with a trace of cheese and sauce clinging to it. She almost laughed out loud, stunned that she'd built up this tension, this profound sense of importance in what he was about to say, and then poof! Grinning, she finished the last bite of her pizza and wiped her hands on her napkin. "Mulder, you are a never ending source of amusement." "Let me entertain you, Scully." "What?" she asked sharply, her eyes widening again. "You know, that old song. Let me, entertain you." He cleared his throat as if he was getting ready to sing. She laughed. "Don't even think about it. The neighborhood dogs will have a field day." They lapsed into a companionable silence as Mulder worked on finishing the last two pieces of pizza with relish. Scully was staring off into space when she realized he was staring at her again. Eyes narrowing, she pinned him with a perturbed stare. "Mulder, I swear if you don't stop staring at me, I'm going to let you sleep in the alley." "I was just wondering what makes a woman kill," Mulder said. "I can tell you that." "Hmm?" he said around a mouth full of pizza. "You should know by now that women often kill for the same reasons men do." His eyebrows went up. "Sex, drugs, rock and roll?" "In the case of Angel, I think we can say insanity." He nodded and took another bite of pizza. He chewed thoughtfully. "Let's think for a moment, though. She's gone to a lot of trouble to send these cards, but her pattern is broken. She's not really leaving many clues. We know she has something against men in the FBI." "It doesn't have to be specifically FBI men. It could be men in government in general. If the perp is Cindy, for example, she worked in the DIS." "Yeah. I wish now we'd stopped by the office to do that background check on her past." She sighed. "I'm beat, Mulder. We can do it tomorrow. Nowhere in the FBI manual does it say 'thou must work twenty-four hours a day.'" "Sometimes it's preferable to sleeping," he said, his expression darkening. For a moment she almost reached out to him, wanting to cover his hand in his and tell him that if he ever need to talk, she was there. So much of his life was a haunted house. Creaking doors that lead nowhere, strange noises in the night, mysterious clues that took him deeper and deeper into a morass that he might step into one day and never come out. Closing her eyes for a second, she forced the disturbing image to the back of her mind where it belonged. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on thinking about the case at hand. "Something else about Cindy bothers me. She's hiding something from us." "My feelings exactly. She mentioned a boyfriend being murdered. Did she ever tell you how that happened?" She shook her head. "No. We've only talked a few times, and never got that personal. Before tonight, though, I always felt like she was honest. First thing tomorrow I'm going to find out more about her." Scully remembered some comments Cindy had made about Mulder. At the time she'd considered them amusing. Now she wasn't sure if they were innocuous observations. "She said some things about you, Mulder." He looked at her sharply and cocked one eyebrow. "Oh?" "I don't know if I should tell you. It might deflate your prodigious ego." He frowned, pursing his lips in mock hurt. "I'm wounded, Scully. My ego is not prodigious. Generous, perhaps, but not monumental." "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." "Shoot." "She said you thought you were irresistible and that one day a woman would knock you off your pedestal and prove you wrong," she said, her voice so low he almost didn't hear her. Silence expanded in the room like a living entity, and she waited for his response for a few taut seconds. He had a distinctly amused glint in his eyes, and his mouth curved slightly as he leaned on the table. "Well, you've resisted me all this time, haven't you, Scully?" Her gaze locked with his and held. Unprepared for the wild flutter his statement sent to her stomach and through her entire body, she looked away and tossed her napkin into the empty pizza box. She closed the lid. Hastily, she got to her feet and stuffed the pizza box into the trash. Then she turned back to him. If she hadn't been prepared for that unusual attention in his gaze a moment ago, she wasn't ready to see that he was still looking at her that way now. She took a deep breath. "Good night, Mulder." With that she turned and headed down the hall. When she closed her bedroom door, she turned and leaned against it. Then she closed her eyes. Mike Trevino's House Arlington, Virginia Friday, 2:00am Mike jolted upright in bed, the strident, piercing jangle of the telephone ringing in his ears. His heart banged in his chest a hundred miles an hour as he groped for the telephone on the night stand. He cursed as he searched blindly in the dark. Finally his hands closed over the receiver. "Trevino here." There was along pause before he answered again, his brow drawn down deeply in a frown. "What? You do? Are you sure?" He sighed deeply and looked at the digital numbers on his bedside clock. "That's impossible. What proof do you have?" He raked a hand through his hair. "That's ridiculous." He swung his feet out of bed and glanced at the clock again. "Okay, okay. I'll meet you there at about three thirty." Slamming down the receiver, he stared at the phone for several seconds, wondering if he was making a big mistake agreeing to meet in such an isolated area. Opening the bedside table top drawer he pulled out his gun. He fingered it slowly for a moment, caressing the cold metal like a lover. Scully's Apartment Friday, 5:00am Groggy, Mulder stumbled toward the kitchen, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. His eyes felt grainy, as if someone had poured sand in them, and his mouth was as dry as a burlap bag. Navigating with a disoriented gait around pieces of furniture, he came to an abrupt halt when he plowed straight into a soft, petite body coming down the hall. "Oof!" The small figure expelled a grunt as he wrapped his arms around Scully and tried to prevent them from falling to the floor. "Mulder!" After staggering, and getting his legs tangled in hers, he managed to keep them upright. But they ended up against the wall, Scully mashed by Mulder's significantly larger frame. Taking a couple of deep, restoring breaths, he held her there. Fortunately, he couldn't see her face. She was probably giving him a nasty frown from hell. Unfortunately, he could feel every soft inch of her against every hard inch of him. They were only pressed together for a few seconds, but it was enough to bring a distinctly startling and revealing reaction into his mind and body. But, being Mulder, there were some things he wouldn't admit, even if someone had said they were going to hold a blow torch to his- Scully shifted slightly, and he sucked in a harsh breath. "Scully, if you'd wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask." Her small hands were pressed against his chest, and in the dim light he could barely see her face tilted upwards. Suddenly she shoved, taking him off guard. He released her instantly, stumbling back a step with his momentum. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, reaching over to snap on a table lamp. Her hair was, like Cindy's had been earlier that evening, very mussed. Without a trace of makeup on her face she looked young and vulnerable, and flushed. She was wearing a thick white terry robe that was too large by far. It looked like a man's robe. Mulder felt an undeniable, unrestrained burst of jealousy. Oh, oh, Mulder, he thought. Let's not go there. "What are you doing?" he asked. "It's five in the morning." "I overslept. We should be on the way to the office by now. You scared the crap out of me, Mulder. You should be thankful I didn't kick you in the--" "Scully, don't even think that." Shaking her head, she moved swiftly for the kitchen and once she was inside she flipped the light on. Mulder blinked in the dazzling light, and put his hands over his eyes for a second. When he looked back at her she was opening the refrigerator and taking out the milk. "You'd better watch out, Mulder," she said as she turned closed the refrigerator and then reached for a glass from the cupboard. "The next time you sneak up on a woman, she might just kill you." He groaned and stretched. "Your couch is going to kill me first." Giving him a disparaging look, she tossed him an apron. "Here, Mulder. Your turn to cook." He smiled as he tied the apron around his boxer shorts. "Okay, Scully, but I warn you. The only way I like it is sunny side up." FBI Headquarters Agent Pendrell's Lab Valentine's Day Friday, 9:00am "I don't know what to tell you," Agent Pendrell said to Scully as he sat down at his desk and handed her his report on the card that had been found by Carl's body. "It's the same as the card Mulder received. The blood on this card is type AB. "And all your tests revealed nothing about the anticoagulant discovered in the blood?" she asked. "Not a thing. I still don't know what it is. I'm going to send the information to the National Forensic Science Institute in Maryland later today. Maybe they can help me." Pendrell wrinkled his nose as if he'd smelled something bad. "Outside of that strange amino acid protein you found in our small pox shots that one time, Agent Scully, this is about the weirdest thing you've brought to me." Scully felt sympathy well within her for Pendrell. It was apparent that he was frustrated he couldn't produce more information for her. She sighed and smiled. "Thanks for trying." Pendrell smiled, and his puppy dog look amused her. "I...uh...didn't know you and Mulder were dating, Agent Scully," he said suddenly. Startled by his directional change, she didn't respond for a moment. To admit they weren't dating gave Pendrell an opening, to pretend Mulder was more to her than a partner and friend could start more rumors. As if there weren't enough rumors already. Nope. She had to come clean. It was the mature thing to do. "We're not dating," she said. "Don't believe a word that comes out of Mulder's mouth about my vacation. You know how he is." Pendrell's smile was rueful. "Tell me about it. But you're really not dating him?" She shook her head. "No. End of subject. Now what else did you find out?" "Well-" Scully's cell phone rang and she retrieved it quickly. "Scully." "It's me," Mulder said. "I've got some bad news." She felt a shiver of unease do a crawl along her spine like a moving row of spiders. "What now? "Police just found Mike Trevino in the field where Carl was discovered." "Oh, no," she whispered. "He's alive. Just barely. He's still in surgery, so no one has been able to talk to him to try and find out what actually happened. He was shot twice, and there's still a good chance he might not make it." "Any idea when he was shot?" "They say sometime between three and four this morning. He was found about five o'clock. It's amazing he didn't bleed to death before he was found." She sighed. "Mulder this is getting more dangerous all the time." "I know. Skinner already let Cindy off so that she could go to the hospital. Did Pendrell come up with anything new on the blood?" She looked at Pendrell. "Other than it was type AB again, absolutely nothing. He's sending the blood sample to NFSI for more testing. Where are you?" "On the way to Skinner's office." "Do you think he'll be able to tell you anything more about Cindy?" "I don't know. I'm not sure he likes the angle we're taking on this." "That wouldn't be anything new." She looked at her watch. "Not long now, Mulder. We'd better get some more information on this Angel character before noon." After she hung up, she reflected on the words she'd wanted to say to Mulder, but had avoided. What good would it do to tell him for the hundredth time that she was worried about him? Mulder knew the risks and expected them as part of his job. Any agent with common sense knew that some assignments were dangerous. And since when had the X-Files been any different? Outside Skinner's Office 9:15am Mulder had almost reached Skinner's office when he saw Peg Galley coming down the hallway toward him. Today she'd chosen a conservative gray pinstripe suit rather than dots, and her midnight black hair was swinging long, loose, and straight rather than in her usual chignon. The only thing that marred her expression was a frown. Never immune to the sight of a woman's long, lovely legs, Mulder concentrated for a moment in admiration before he greeted her. When she saw him her face brightened like a supernova, her smile setting off the stunning blue of her eyes. "Hi, Peg." "Agent Mulder, what brings you here?" "I'm on my way to visit Skinner." Her smile disappeared. "Watch out. I know I shouldn't say anything, but he's a bit crabby this morning. Cindy tried to get him to say why he's so uptight, but he growled at her. Practically told her to mind her own business." "Sounds like him. He'll get over it once his agents stop getting killed and shot." "God, don't I know it. Poor Cindy was frantic this morning when she heard about Mike Trevino. It's a good thing Mr. Skinner let her go to the hospital. She wouldn't have been able to work today thinking about him lying there at death's door." "When you say she was frantic, did it seem like she was faking?" Her eyes widened slightly, and she frowned again. "No way. She was practically crying. I didn't think she really cared about him that much. This is getting scary Agent Mulder. I feel like looking over my shoulder ever two minutes." She shivered. "I don't think you need to worry. So far the perpetrator behind the crime isn't interested in women." Peg crossed her arms, as if she was trying to get warm. "Yes, but I don't feel secure here anymore. Isn't that crazy?" Mulder glanced around the corridor. "Well, I haven't seen any liver eating mutants or UFO's within the last half hour, so I guess you're probably safe." For a moment she looked puzzled, then she laughed. "How does Agent Scully keep up with you?" "Frequent trips to the psychiatrist," he said, hoping she didn't really believe him. Then he remembered that Peg worked with Cindy. "Peg, I have a couple of questions about Cindy. Can I count on you to keep my questions confidential, though?" She looked wary. "I don't know. What's this about?" "It's related to an investigation Scully and I are doing right now. But I need to know you'll remain quiet about what I'm going to ask you." Mulder watched her revolve the idea around before she nodded. "Okay. But I've got to get back to work. Can we talk about this during my lunch hour?" Thinking about his date with an "Angel" at noon, he hesitated. "I'm not sure. When is your lunch hour?" "Eleven o'clock." "That'll work. It'll have to be short and quick because I have somewhere to be at twelve o'clock. Where do you want me to meet you?" Grinning once again, she put one hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side. The movement gave Mulder a good view of her slim, white neck. "There's a little restaurant not far from here called O'Riley's Tavern. Know the place?" "I think so. Is that the pub that serves Irish grub?" "That's the place. Hope you like corn beef." "Hate it." "Don't worry, they make a mean hamburger and fries." She shivered again and rubbed her arms. "Anyway, it'll be a lot warmer in there than it is here." Looking at her watch, she started to move away. "Sorry, but I gotta go. Assistant Director Skinner expects me to pick up some papers from Operations. See you at eleven?" "I'll be there with bells on." He smiled and watched her walk away before he headed into Skinner's office. * * * Skinner took his glasses off, closed his eyes and rubbed his nose. Then he sighed. "Agent Mulder, this is not an X-File. I'm turning the rest of this case over to Agent Patteris and Agent Gilligan." "Gilligan?" Mulder said. "Was he the one who wore those sailor-" "Don't even start, Mulder." Skinner opened his eyes and squinted at the younger man. "I've had a rotten week, and after this morning, I don't think it's going to get any better." "Why do you want to reassign the case?" "It doesn't fall within the guidelines of a normal X-File." Mulder wondered if Skinner realized how it sounded to use normal and X-File in the same sentence. "I'd agree it's not as strange as the type of case Scully and I handle regularly, but since I could be one of the next targets for the killer, I think I'm in the middle of this whether I want to be or not." Skinner continued to squint. "I'm not suggesting you drop the case entirely, but two other agents watching out for you might be a good idea." "Scully and I work better alone." Looking distinctly unsure of that statement, Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose and then squinted at Mulder again. "That reminds me. I've been alerted by a few people that you started a rumor that you and Agent Scully were on a vacation together in Hawaii." Mulder started, unprepared for this sudden revelation. "I hear if you wear your glasses on your face you can see a lot better." Putting the glasses back on his nose, Skinner pushed back his chair and assessed Mulder. "You'd better be glad I have a sense of humor." "Is that what you call it?" Skinner stood up suddenly and pointed toward the door. "Damn it Mulder, if you don't cut the crap you can get out right now. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." Realizing too late that he'd been walking a high wire and had just fallen off, Mulder nodded. "Sorry, sir. Peg said you were having a bad day." Skinner put his hands on his head and tipped his head back. He took a deep breath, then looked at Mulder. "Where's Agent Scully?" "She's with Agent Pendrell. She was working on getting the results of the blood tests Pendrell was running on Carl's card and my card." Mulder went on to explain that nothing new had been detected in the blood and that the anticoagulant had not been identified. "At least she's doing something productive instead of coming in my office and asking me stupid questions and starting rumors." "I haven't asked the stupid questions yet." Skinner sat down in his chair. "Fire one, Agent Mulder." Mulder gestured toward the door. "Sir, I have reason to believe that Cindy Fairchild might know more about Carl's death than she's letting on. She didn't have an alibi for where she was when Carl was killed. Apparently she was home by herself." "I believe her." "That doesn't make her innocent if you believe her, sir." Skinner leaned forward in his chair. "It doesn't make her guilty, either." Mulder knew he was pushing the envelope again, so he held back another pithy comment. "You're right. It doesn't make her guilty. I'm keeping an open mind. Did she ever tell you she was institutionalized for a short time because of depression?" "She came clean on that." "Did she explain why she depressed?" "No." Skinner sighed. "Where is this leading Mulder? Are you saying her depression might be causing her to send valentines written in blood?" "I'm not sure yet. But last night she said some things that made me suspicious. Sir, I could use your help. Is there any way you could provide me with access to Cindy's personnel files-" "No," Skinner said abruptly. "Until you establish a hell of a lot more motive and have a lot more to go on than you do now, I won't subject Cindy to more stress than she already has." "She won't have to know I'm checking her records--" "No, Agent Mulder." Feeling his own anger begin to flare, Mulder slowly stood up. "All right, sir. But may I request that you not put any other agents on this case? I have a feeling that this may be more of an X-File than I first thought. What I've told you about the blood samples should qualify as an abnormality." Skinner seemed to contemplate this suggestion for an inordinate amount of time, and Mulder was itching to get out of the office before Skinner remembered he'd been sidetracked about the rumor. "Okay, Agent Mulder. I'll leave it as is for now. But if Agent Trevino dies, I'm putting extra agents on the job. You're going to need the protection." "Agent Scully can protect me, sir." Skinner's gazed landed on Mulder, probing and curious, making him feel like a zoo animal on exhibition. "Will that be all, sir?" Mulder asked. Clasping his hands, Skinner leaned on his desk. "That will be all." Mulder opened the door and started out. "Agent Mulder." Mulder turned around and looked at Skinner. "About the rumors," Skinner said quietly and precisely. Busted. Playing dumb was all Mulder could do. "Rumors?" "You and I both know you weren't on a vacation with Agent Scully. What you do on your own time is your business. Now get out of here." FBI Headquarters Basement 9:30am Scully stared at the card Mulder had given her for the third time in less than a minute. She was about ready to open the damn thing when the door opened. "Hey, Scully," Mulder said as he sauntered in. "Mulder." She looked at the Valentine and sighed. If he noticed her concentration on the as yet unopened card, he didn't say anything, and for that she was grateful. "So what did Skinner say?" Mulder plopped down in his chair and explained how Skinner had wanted to take them off the case "He still doesn't believe Cindy has anything to do with the valentines, and he won't give me access to her personnel files." She looked at the clock. "We don't have much time left and practically no clues to go on. I don't like this, Mulder." "What's not to like?" "This whole set up. You going alone to Antoine's." "I won't be alone. You'll be back up, remember?" Scully felt frustration building up at Mulder's nonchalant, unconcerned manner. "Mulder, a federal agent has been murdered and one agent critically injured on this case. Both agents were well trained, cautious individuals and yet look what happened to them." He shook his head in exasperation. "Scully, who is the most paranoid agent you know?" "You." "So what's the problem? I may through myself into a case, but I don't trust anyone. Unlike Carl and Mike, I'm looking at everyone as a suspect." After an uncomfortable silence, she decided to drop the line of conversation. He knew what the risks were. "At this point I guess lunch at Antoine's will have to do." Mulder leaned forward in his chair. "There's one chance I might find out more about Cindy and this case before I meet Angel." "Oh?" "I'm meeting Peg Galley for lunch at eleven." She felt the lurch of disappointment start in her stomach and work its way into her body like a disease. Why should she care if he has lunch with Peg? "When did you have time to make a lunch date?" He stood up and began to move around the room. "I ran into her on the way to Skinner's office. It's possible she knows more about Cindy than Skinner does." "And you think Cindy might have confided in Peg?" "You got it." "While you're having lunch with Peg, I'll go to the hospital and see if there's any chance of talking to Mike. I'll contact you before you meet with Angel at twelve." She stood up to get her coat, and was acutely aware of Mulder's scrutiny as she put the coat on. "I think Skinner was ready to roast me on a spit, but I managed to head him off," Mulder said. "Uh, and he said something else before I left that was kind of interesting. I'm not sure how to take it." She waited expectantly while he reached over to his desk and picked up a pencil. Twirling the writing instrument in his fingers like a baton, he gazed at the floor. When he looked at her she saw something new in his eyes that took her by surprise. A certain depth of feeling, a new direction that held her immobile. "What did he say?" she asked softly. "He heard about the rumor." "Did you start another one? Don't tell me. We're having a wild affair, and I'm going to have your love child." Dropping his pencil back in the desk, he gave her a small smile filled with possibilities. "I haven't gotten that far yet. He knew about the vacation rumor." Sagging back into her chair, she sighed. "Great. That's what I was afraid of." "But then he said something I never would have expected. He told what we did on our own time was our business." When she didn't say anything, he continued. "So I guess that means we can have dinner tonight without jeopardizing our careers." "You're assuming I'm going to dinner with you," she said, unable to suppress a smile. "I'm hoping," he said. "There's a big difference." He shrugged. "In our case I'd settle for some take out." "How romantic." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she saw that silly, almost juvenile smile twitch across his lips. She stood at the door to the office and made a decision. "Mulder, you've got to stop telling rumors about us. We're already looked upon strangely without any additional help from you." Out with it, Dana. Let him know more about how you feel. Since you didn't have time to get him a Valentine card this year, then show him some camaraderie. Walking toward him, she smiled slightly, and when she reached his chair and stood close to it, he was the one that had to crane his neck up to see her. She put her hand on his shoulder and savored the warm, human contact. Something she had so little of these days. "Since we seem to be working on this case at all hours of the day and night, there's a good chance we'll be together during the dinner hour. I'll pick the restaurant." She turned to walk away, but he caught her by the wrist. "Scully." When she looked down on him, there was a warmth in his eyes built by years of friendship, trail-and-error, and the bond that comes from experiencing the most bizarre and worst in life. "Promise me you won't pick an Italian restaurant." Smiling slightly, she said nothing until he released her wrist, and then she turned away. * * * 10:35am Scully stood by Mike Trevino's bedside and watched as the respirator expanded and contracted with a hissing sound. The antiseptic scent in the room was faintly nauseating, and she wished now that she'd eaten something before she'd come to the hospital. Mulder was right. If she kept missing meals she was going to be a cracker butt. The nurse stood on the opposite side of Mike's bed adjusted his IV. Watching over Mike reminded Scully of bad times. How many times had Scully stood in a hospital room and watched Mulder lying in bed, his life hanging precariously in the balance? How many days had he waited for her to awake from the coma, never giving up hope that she would? As she recalled the trepidation upon which she'd looked at Mulder's Valentine card, and at the injured fellow agent lying in this bed, she wondered if Mulder knew how she actually felt about him as a friend. Friend. We're just friends. It sounded so good, so right. Yet, it didn't quite define their relationship. No other companion had done for her so much, nor would she have put her career, her life, her everything on the line for a mere friendship the way she had done with Mulder. Perhaps there was no way to outline it. That word again. Perhaps. "Agent Scully?" The nurse fiddling with Trevino's IV had finished and was looking at her expectantly. "Has he regained consciousness at all, yet?" Scully asked. "Once. I don't know if you're going to get anything out of him until much later," the nurse said. Scully nodded. "I didn't think so. Was there a Cindy Fairchild in the hospital inquiring about Agent Trevino's condition?" "Quite some time ago. But she left." "How long ago did she leave." "Probably about an hour ago. Said there was somewhere she had to be." As the nurse started to leave, Scully turned to her. "Nurse? Is there a gift shop in this hospital?" Outside The Tavern 10:35am Bella was in the car. The young woman was sure of it. As she'd been peering into the mirror dabbing makeup on, she felt her presence, and knew she was there before she even looked around. "Bella," she whispered. "You in here?" A gust of wind hit the car, and the sound of it whispering filled the car. The young woman smiled. "I knew it was you. You're always hiding thinking I can't see you." The young woman chuckled, and then her attention was drawn to the front of the restaurant. When was he going to arrive? She was getting very impatient. Besides, all of this had to be done before he met her at Antoine's. Everything had to be done. "What did you say?" The young woman looked about the car as another blast of wind rocked the car. "He's not worthy?" She looked into the rear view mirror and put plastered a thick coating of the cherry red lipstick on her full lips. "I know, Bella. I know. They're all low down dirty dogs. But can't I at least have a little fun with him before I kill him?" The Tavern 11:15am Red hearts, pink roses, champagne, bubble bath. All of these things ran through Mulder's head as he arrived at The Tavern late for his meeting with Peg. Well, the champagne might be nice, he thought. Tonight he'd drink champagne, even if he had to eat it with egg rolls and Teriyaki chicken. One thing he hadn't explored in a long time was a good buzz. After his encounter with Scully this morning in the office, when she'd come up to him and touched his shoulder, his mind had drifted from the case to her with disturbing regularity. Yep, getting shit faced was a distinct possibility. Bubble bath was not an option. Not with Scully. Did she ever take bubble baths? Pushing in the swinging door to the restaurant, he was instantly greeted by the sound of Irish music pumping loudly from the speakers. Inside the dimly lit pub, the smoke ran in a thick blue line over the heads of the people in the smoking section. He saw Peg sitting close to the front in a booth and waved to her. Two tall glasses of something pink, frothy, and refreshing looking sat on the table in front of her. As he arrived at the table and slid into the seat across from her, he said, "Happy Valentine's Day. Sorry I'm late. I got tied up at the office." "Happy day." She lifted her tall glass and took a sip through the pink straw before replying. "Mmm. This is delicious. I ordered one, but it's an early two for one special in honor of Valetine's Day. So, the other one is yours." Mulder touched the stem of the tall glass. "Looks good. It's non alcoholic, I hope." "Perfectly non alcoholic. I'm a teetotaler myself. Waitress assured me it's as harmless as a Shirley Temple." Leaning on the table Mulder nudged the glass aside and picked up the paper wrapped straw on the table. "Thanks." "Anything for you, Agent Mulder." He looked at her closely, and the twinkle in her eye made him grin. "Watch how you say that, Peg. You'll start rumors." "Like the ones about you and Agent Scully?" she asked, then took a sip of her drink. He leaned back in his seat. "You've only worked at the bureau a short time and you've already heard those stupid rumors?" "I made it my business to find out and Cindy told me." After giving her a rueful smile, he blew the wrapper off his straw and it hit the catsup bottle. "Remind me to thank her. Why were you so curious?" He was surprised when she blushed slightly, and the color gave her pale skin a translucent glow. "I wanted to know more about you. After seeing you and Agent Scully together a couple of times I thought you might be-" "Dating?" "Right. But Cindy said I shouldn't listen to the rumors." "You're absolutely right." She stirred her drink with her straw and looked into the depths of the pink, slushy liquid as if it were a crystal ball. "Go head, Mulder. Fire away. You wanted to know what I know about Cindy?" "Did she ever tell you about her murdered boyfriend?" She didn't even looked startled that he'd asked. She turned the glass around a couple of times. "Yes. We had lunch here one day. We got to talking and I found out she's a complicated lady. Apparently her boyfriend was stabbed several times through the heart and the stomach." Peg squinted for a moment, and it reminded him temporarily of Skinner's expression this morning. "When Agent Daggert was murdered I got to thinking about her boyfriend's murder." "In what way?" She shrugged. "Well, all during the time the Valentine card thing has been going on, her emotions have been up and down, up and down. Sometimes she comes into the office in the morning and she's mumbling something about her house, and not being able to sleep. Didn't you notice the dark circles underneath her eyes?" "No, I didn't notice." Remembering Cindy's paisley robe, Mulder stuffed his straw in his drink and then took a long sip. Strawberry. Definitely alcohol free. "What else do you think is strange?" Peg took another deep draw on her drink, and Mulder mimicked her gesture. She shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Just a feeling I get, you know? I may be young but I'm not stupid. Don't get me wrong, I don't think she's the one who killed Agent Daggert or shot Agent Trevino." "I didn't say that she did." Flipping her hair back from her face with a toss of her head, she shook her head. "You didn't have to. You see, I'm really good at picking up what people are thinking." "You're psychic?" Her eyes widened slightly and she almost choked on her drink. Then she laughed. "Hell, no. It was the look on your face. You have a very expressive one, Agent Mulder. I can read you like a book." Mulder shoved his drink to the side. It was too sweet. "What am I thinking now?" "You don't like your drink." "I'm impressed." She smiled. "Any dummy could have got that one. You screwed up your face on the last sip and shoved the glass away. Easy guess." Enjoying her easy banter, Mulder glanced at his watch. Time was marching on and she wasn't giving him much information. He needed to cut to the chase. Glancing out the front window of the restaurant he thought he saw a familiar figure on the sidewalk, peering inside the window. But there were too many people at the front of the crowded little restaurant, and he couldn't see. He brought his attention back to Peg. "What else can you tell me about Cindy?" Looking up and to the right, Peg said, "I'm kind of worried about the way she talks sometimes about men." She looked back at Mulder as if to check and see if he was listening, then she glanced into the distance again. "I remember this conversation we had one time not long after I started work at the bureau. She said that men were low down dirty dogs." "A not infrequent assessment." "I wouldn't have thought anything about it, but she said it Tuesday, the day before Carl was killed." Mulder looked at the pink drink he'd shoved to the side and then thought the better of taking another sip. "Are you trying to tell me that you think Cindy is Carl's murderer." "I'm not sure about anything, Agent Mulder." She shrugged. "Except one thing. She gives me the creeps sometimes." "Has she ever threatened to harm you?" "No." He glanced at his watch and realized how close it was getting to noon. He reached into his wallet and threw some money on the table. "Peg, I hate to call this quits, but I've got that meeting at twelve. I'll need to talk to you about this later." She shifted to the edge of her seat and slid out of the booth as he began to leave. "Sure, no problem. I'll walk you out with you." He nodded as they slipped around the back of the building and started into the car park and headed towards the elevator. As Mulder was walking he felt a little tired. That was it for him. No more late night pizza parties with Scully at one in the morning and then getting up at five. "You okay, Agent Mulder?" Peg asked as they came up to the elevator and she punched the down arrow. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Late night." The elevator doors opened and they got in. "What did you do? Work all night?" "Almost." "Ah, Agent Mulder, would you walk me to my car?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "No problem. Scared?" "I hate parking lots like this with all these levels. You never know who might be hiding around. Ugh. It's just scary." When they got off on her floor and stepped out of the elevator, Mulder's stomach did a sickening flip flop. Fabulous. Indigestion. "I'm over here," she said, moving toward an old, blue classic car. She unlocked the car and turned towards him. "Thanks, Agent Mulder. You're great." The seductive smile she gave him would have intrigued Mulder, but at that moment a wave of sick dizziness swam through him, and he had to grab the roof of the car for support. "Agent Mulder, you okay?" The sound of Peg's voice was faint, as if she'd gone down a tunnel. Alice in wonderland, he thought as his knees sagged. Then it hit him. Oh, shit. What a time to remember the neuro linguistic programming he'd been trained in. Peg had lied about Cindy. Peg had looked up and to the right. This indicated that she had been constructing visual scenes in her mind that she hadn't seen before. Cindy had never told Peg that men were low down dirty dogs. 11:45am Scully dialed Mulder's cell phone number and waited patiently in her car outside of Antoine's. He should have been at Antoine's by now. She'd gotten there earlier and expected to see him arrive and go in the restaurant as they'd planned. His phone rang twice. Three times. Four times. Five times. Uneasiness built behind her eyes, threatening to give her a headache. She rubbed her eyes. The phone rang six times, seven times, eight times. She hung up. He always answered by the second or third ring. Unless something was wrong. Damn! What could be the hold up? After another five minutes of waiting with no sign of her partner, she started the car and drove toward The Tavern. Maybe Peg's numerous and sundry charms had made Mulder forget his meeting with Angel at noon. She frowned. Back off, Dana. Mulder's assignations were none of her business. Any more than her dates were his business. Smirking to herself, she accelerated the car. As if she'd had any dates lately for Mulder to be curious about. Her cell phone chirped several moments later. Maybe Mulder had revived after being mesmerized by Peg and had just realized he was going to be late for his meeting with Angel. "Scully." "Dana, this is Cindy." "Cindy? What's going on? How did you get my cell number?" "Assistant Director Skinner. He tried to call you a few moments ago but your line was busy. I said I'd keep trying. You need to get to The Tavern as soon as possible." Scully accelerated a little more, as much as she could in the pea soap traffic in front of her. "What's happened?" "It's Mulder. I'm watching him and Peg Galley. They're in the parking structure behind The Tavern. She's going to kill him." Parking Structure Behind The Tavern 11:45am "Agent Mulder, are you all right?" He heard Peg's voice as if it was coming from a distance, down a long tunnel. His vision wavered, and he leaned against the car and tried to keep his feet under him. His cell phone rang but he couldn't maneuver his hand so that he could get the phone out of his pocket. Scully. It had to be Scully calling. He reached for the phone in desperation, knowing that if he passed out now he'd be at the mercy of Peg. Or should he call her by her nickname? Angel. "Don't touch that phone. Or I'll have to kill you now," Peg said with a sickeningly sweet voice. Mulder backed away, grabbing his gun as he stumbled and fell on his backside. He pointed the gun in her direction. "Angel." His own voice sounded far away and raspy. "Don't move or I'll shoot." "Agent Mulder, I don't think you could hit the broad side of a barn right about now." She laughed, and he thought a witch's cackle couldn't have been more atmospheric or so appropriate for her state of mind. Time seemed to stretch for Mulder, pulling him forward at a slow, almost unreal pace. The pink drink. She must have put something in his drink. "Maybe not, but I could sure as hell try," he said, raising the gun and aiming directly for her midsection. He vaguely registered that she wasn't moving any closer to him, but he sensed her threat like a storm hovering on the horizon, or a cobra ready to strike. "Look, I haven't got time for this," she said. "You'll save us a lot of time if you get in the car. We wouldn't want anyone to see us. They might think we were having a lover's quarrel." He swallowed hard, attempting to talk past the dry lump in his throat. "Is that what happened to you, Peg? Did your man betray you and now you're on a rampage to kill all men?" She laughed again, but this time the sound was soft and deadly. "You are kidding right? Hell, no. None of this is really my doing." "I get it. You're going to kill me and then plead insanity?" "Won't have to. By the time I get through everyone will think Cindy has been killing federal agents." "Why did you bother to tell me all those lies about her if you were going to kill me anyway?" He could barely see the smile that curved her lips. But the smile never penetrated the sparkling evil that blanketed her eyes and froze him down to the bones. "It was fun. What better way to get revenge on you for misleading me." "I don't understand." "Carl and Mike and you. All of you betrayed me, just like Bella said you would. I gave you all my love and yet you turned me away. Bastards! All of you! I thought you might be different. But no, all you can do is make eyes at Agent Scully! Bella warned me. I should have listened to her." She made a small step in his direction. "Who is Bella?" "The woman who haunts my house." He tried to concentrate on her words, attempted to think of the next question and the next. Anything to keep her talking until he could get his equilibrium back. Hell, Mulder, he thought. Who are you kidding? He was going to pass out any minute and then Angel could do whatever she wanted with him. She stepped forward again. Mulder straightened his wobbling gun. Maybe he'd shoot over her head and it would attract attention. "I didn't betray you, Angel. How could I? I love you." His declaration stilled her instantly. "Love me?" Her words were hushed, as if she listened to his words in wonder. Keeping his gaze trained on her, he lowered his voice to the most beguiling tone he could manage considering his mouth was dry and his consciousness was slowly diminishing. "Would you believe Bella over me? The man who loves you? I loved your cards, too. I was happy you killed Carl and almost got rid of Mike. I mean, they'd have been competition for me." She stepped forward once again. "Then give me the gun." "I can't do that." "Give me the gun, damn you." "Is that any way to talk to the man you love?" "What do you plan to do, Agent Mulder. Shoot me?" Her voice was low, almost beguiling. "Try it. Just try it." "Agent Mulder might miss, Peg. But I won't." Cindy. He saw Angel whirl around and look at Cindy. The petite blonde did indeed have a gun, and it was pointed right at Angel. "You bitch!" Angel spat the words one at a time, as if she was trying to expel a horrible taste. "I've been called that. But not without reason. Put your hands up and back away from Mulder before I have to prove it to you." Angel fingered her handbag, and Mulder noticed the motion. She had a weapon in there, he guessed. Probably the knife she'd planned on using on him once she'd hauled him out to the field where she'd killed Carl and shot Mike. Mulder was amazed these thoughts had time to go through his mind, so hazy and disjoined did he feel. Dazed to the point of insensibility, tried to hold the gun up but felt his arm weakening. "Angel," he said. "Listen to Cindy. She'll shoot and I'll shoot, and then you'll be dead. You want to live, don't you? How can we go away together if you're dead?" She gazed at him steadily, and Mulder thought there might be a chance she'd believe him. "Do you really mean that?" Peg whispered. "With all my heart." As he spoke the words he felt his nerveless fingers release the gun and it clattered to the concrete floor. Angel took that as her opportunity. She lunged, bringing the knife out of her handbag in one quick, efficient move. She hadn't believed him. But apparently she hadn't counted on Cindy's reflexes, either. The sound of gun fire rang out, and as Cindy's shot hit home, lodging in Angel's shoulder, she fell to the ground in a heap a few feet from Mulder. "Mulder!" With no more energy left in his drug loaded body, Mulder wasn't sure if he'd actually heard Scully shout his name or not. Instead he lay back on the cold concrete and let the sand man take him away. FBI Headquarters Basement 8:00pm "Mulder, this is crazy. You should go home." "I'm fine, Scully. We've got some unfinished business." As Scully opened the door to their office, she wondered for the hundredth time that evening if she should have refused to let Mulder go back to the office. But, she supposed, if she had refused, he would have called a cab and walked right out of the hospital. The amount of drugs in his system had been significantly less than it would have been if he'd drank more of the pink concoction at The Tavern. Luckily, the drug had sweetened the drink to a nasty consistency that had turned Mulder off to the taste. She remembered with awful clarity the sound of Cindy's gun going off and seeing Peg fall. Scully had knelt beside the unconscious form of her partner and discovered no knife wounds or any other serious injury. It had taken him five hours to sleep off the drug, however, and during that time Scully had berated herself for not getting to the scene faster. Once at the hospital and assured that Mulder was going to recover, she visited with Mike and he was able to tell her and Cindy that it had indeed been Peg who had called him and lured him to the field. Apparently she'd told him that she had evidence that Cindy was a murderer. Mike didn't believe it, but he was immediately suspicious of Peg. He admitted to being very fond of Cindy and becoming worried about what Peg might do to Cindy. Once they were inside the office, Scully flipped the lights on and Mulder put his hand over his eyes as he sauntered slowly into the room and flopped into his chair. "God, Scully, turn that off. It's killing my eyes." She reached for a small table lamp and switched it on, then she turned off the overhead light. The table lamp barely gave enough light to see by, but she knew Mulder's headache was making him feel awful. As she took her coat off she said, "You should have stayed in the hospital, Mulder." "No way. I've spent far too much time in hospitals as it is. I don't think I could stand another minute of Cindy and Mike making goo goo eyes at each other." He grinned and leaned his head back. Narrowing his gaze, he watched her sit at her desk. "Besides, I'd think you'd get tired of visiting me in hospitals." Turning slightly toward him she frowned. "I was right about how dangerous this case was, Mulder." "Go ahead. Rub it in." Running his hand of his face wearily, he sighed. "I'm sorry." "For what?" "For reading that whole situation with Peg incorrectly. She had me totally fooled. Hell, if it hadn't been for Cindy, I'd probably be dead right now." "And I'm sorry, too, Mulder." He focused on her, watching her blue eyes turn a deep green in the dim light. Her pretty, full lips turned down. "About what?" "For not being there in time." Mulder wasn't used to seeing her wallow in self blame, and her expression worried him. Wheeling his chair over to her, he stopped only when his chair bumped into hers. Then he gripped the arms of her chair and turned her to face him. "You're always there for me, Scully." She felt his words hang in the air, as if they were meant to be there forever. The sound of it rang in her ears and threatened to repeat over and over like a litany that she never wanted to forget. Or maybe it was his damn habit of invading her personal space, or the way he was looking at her that made her this unstable. And his eyes held so much. They were expectant. Deeply intent. Once again she was reminded that within his eyes lie as many truths as there were secrets. And she wanted to discover every one of them. If it took her a lifetime, she'd find them all. When she didn't say anything he grinned and released the arms of her chair. "Who would of thunk it?" She smiled. "What?" "Cindy Fairchild being an undercover, undercover, undercover FBI agent." "Very good. Can you say that three times fast, Mulder?" "Not tonight, I have a headache." Scully and Mulder were too tired to be angry that they'd wasted their time suspecting Cindy. Cindy had never worked for the DIS, and had been an FBI agent in the field for several years. Cindy had told the truth about her own boyfriend, who had been murdered many years ago. That case had never been solved. Scully guessed that it made the Peg Galley case all the more compelling for Cindy to solve. "You think Skinner will ever recover from the evil eye you gave him after he confessed that he knew Cindy was an FBI agent all that time?" Scully asked. He shrugged. "If Skinner had let us in on what had happened in the bureau offices in New Mexico, we might have been able to help. Instead I almost got killed." Scully, once again, didn't want to be reminded of that. She was just grateful that Cindy was a good agent, and when she'd begun to suspect Peg, had trailed her to The Tavern and watched as Mulder and Peg had gone into the parking garage. Suspicious, and curious, she'd followed at a safe distance. Lucky for Mulder. She nodded. "You're right. As if there aren't enough secrets already in this agency." "There's only one secret bigger than that." "What's that?" "Why you haven't opened my Valentine yet?" Another silence descended, and she smiled at him. Then he looked at her desk and shook his head. "Scully, Valentine's Day is almost over. If you're not going to open that card now-" She raised a hand. "Okay, okay." She fished around in her purse. "What are you doing?" "I managed to get you a card while I was waiting for Mike to regain consciousness." Sheepishly, she sighed. "Kind of tacky, I'll admit, to wait until then to get you a card, but I didn't realize you were going to get me anything-" "Just hand me the card." She pulled out a plain white envelope, and Mulder took it eagerly, noting his name written in her flowing script on the front of the card. Mulder. Simple. Concrete. Straightforward. "Go ahead, open it," she said. A silly excitement gripped him, and suddenly he felt like a nine year old getting a valentine from his first girl friend. Opening the envelope, he reached in for the red card. On the front of the valentine was a white heart and inside it said simply, 'For My Dear Friend.' He opened it slowly and held his breath. In black lettering she'd written her own message. 'Thank you, Mulder, for thinking of me on Valentine's Day, and for being the only person in this world I can count on. Forever, Scully.' Scully didn't wait to see his reaction to her card. Somehow the idea embarrassed her. So, she opened the envelope she'd been trying to avoid for two whole days and held her breath as she pulled out the red card. She smiled. It was the same card she'd gotten for Mulder. It read, 'For My Dear Friend' on the front. On the inside he'd written in red pen, in his bold handwriting, 'Happy Valentine's Day, Scully. Your friendship is more important to me than anything. I mean that. Thank you for enduring our adventures all these years. Here's to many more X- Files together. Love, Mulder." When she looked up at him, he didn't smile. Instead his gaze lingered on her face, seeking, searching. The seriousness of his gaze terrified her. But an exploration of this feeling was even more sharp, deep. "Mulder, this is scary." "What are you afraid of?" She couldn't tell him what she was really afraid of. Not yet. "We got each other the same cards," she said. "What are the odds of that?" "Looks like we've got another X-File, Scully." "God, I hope not." Mulder slipped the card she'd given him back into the envelope, and leaned forward in his chair so that she was forced to look at him in very close proximity. "We didn't get to eat that dinner we planned," he said softly. She smiled. "Maybe next year." "Count on it." Agent Dana Scully's Case Log #91 Margaret (Peg) Angel Galley, twenty four years old, was found to be not guilty for the murder of Special Agent Carl Daggert and the attempted murder of Special Agent Mike Trevino by reason of insanity. Special Agent Fox Mulder was not seriously injured and will have no lasting ill effects from the drugs he consumed unknowingly as the result of Miss Galley's attempt to kidnap him. On further examination of Miss Galley, it was discovered that she was extremely iron deficient, although that this has any bearing on her behavior seems unlikely. She frequently suffers from being cold, and while she claims this is because of the presence of a ghost, it is this agent's suggestion that the iron deficiency might account for her feeling of being cold. Peg would not admit to using blood to write the Valentine cards. Although no evidence of cuts on her own body could be found that would suggest she was using her own blood, further tests revealed it was her blood used to write the letters on the card. A determination on what the anticoagulant substance detected in the blood was, has never been finalized. More study may be warranted. Miss Galley was admitted to Brecksman Medical Facility in Virginia, where she will remain for the rest of her life. Psychiatrists have been unable to determine diagnose the exact affliction from which she suffers. Until Miss Galley moved to the Washington DC area there is not record of her suffering any form of mental illness. She has no parents or siblings or other relatives alive that might shed some light on her condition. A combination of personality and paranoia type disorders will no doubt be found to have contributed to her delusional state. Peg claimed during the trial that she was being possessed by the spirit of a woman who inhabited her home. Agent Mulder investigated her claims and was able to discern that in 1885 a woman by the name of Arabella Katherine Spring had indeed lived in the house Miss Galley now rents. Mrs. Spring stabbed her husband to death after discovering that he was having an affair. Subsequent investigations into the house where Peg says she heard the voice of Bella ordering her to kill, reveal that no less than ten murders have been committed at the same location over the more than hundred year span since Arabella murdered her husband on Valentine's Day, 1885. THE END -- Denise A. Agnew