Freak 
By Ursula Luxem 
mmckenzie@dll-lever.com 
  
Date:     Sun, 29 Oct 2000 
Rating:      PG 
Category:    X (UST) 
Spoilers:    None 
Feedback:    Make my day. 
Disclaimer:  All characters from the X-Files are the 
property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox 
Television Network. All other characters belong to the 
author. 
Summary:     Is it possible one man can be cursed? Or do 
we make our own fate by expecting -- and eventually 
receiving -- the worst from ourselves? 
Thanks to Connie for beta reading and editing. 
For Ford. You're still looking over my shoulder. 
=========================================================== 
"By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 Something wicked this way comes." 
-- Shakespeare, 'Macbeth' 
  
  
Prologue 
Washington D.C. 
Nov 20, 1:10am 
  
She was captivating: pale under the moonlight, possessing 
an audacious nature, blessed with the vivacious curves of a 
mature woman, yet sleek as any athlete. 
Her name was Zelda. 
Nothing was too good for Zelda. Her man took her 
everywhere, be it exotic, or mundane. He made sure she 
never went without. Tonight, it was a club, trendy and 
tucked away on a quiet D.C. back street. 
She may have been parked outside, but Zelda still embodied 
the peak of perfection -- from her precisely timed engine 
to her gleaming chrome hubcaps. Now, as always, the white 
1959 Thunderbird hardtop stood silent witness to her 
owner's misfortunes. 
Quentin Skase leaned on his treasure for support and 
comfort. Zelda was solid. Zelda was steadfast. Zelda would 
never leave him. Quentin's brown eyes, graced with 
impossible to resist long lashes, flicked from the car to 
the woman as he pleaded with his girlfriend. "Don't go. We 
can talk about this, Lucy..." 
"Nothing more to say, Que. It's over." Lucy was an 
striking Chinese woman. Her jet hair swayed like silk as 
she tipped her head to study the man with whom she'd spent 
the past 12 months. He was tall, always stood straight, and 
was always impeccably groomed. In fact, she considered the 
fastidiousness of the man a curse. At first it had been 
endearing. Now, it just rankled. "It's over, Quentin," she 
repeated. 
"Don't talk like that." Quentin's voice began to crack 
under the strain.  "We can work things out." 
Lucy shook her head. "I can't take it anymore. It's too 
much. You expect everything to be perfect. The housework 
needs doing a special way ... my clothes are never quite 
right... nothing is arranged properly in the bathroom 
cabinets..." she waved a hand at the Thunderbird. "That 
damn car always needs washing... tuning... polishing... 
burping." 
He made a move to take her hand, but she backed away. 
"Please... don't do this, Lucy." 
She gave a sigh, and her bloodshot eyes told the real 
story. "It's over, Que. I'm not perfect, and I'm not going 
to be. To tell you the truth, I don't even want to be." 
His pleading brown eyes met hers, and for the briefest of 
moments he thought perhaps she would give in. He gave a 
tentative smile. "You're perfect to me, Lucy..." 
"That's just the problem, Que. I'm not. Nothing and no-one 
ever is." 
"We have to make sure everything is perfect... as perfect 
as it can be," he amended, "Once we're married--" 
Lucy's eyes widened. "Married? Us? Ha! Why don't you marry 
the damn car!" She kicked one freshly blacked T-Bird cross- 
ply radial, then turned and stalked off, crossing to the 
opposite side of the street in her haste. 
Skase bent to inspect any damage she may have caused, and 
scowled at the scuff mark left by her foot. He straightened 
and watched her departure; heard the clack of her heels 
echoing in the lonely street. His expression grew darker by 
the second. "You can't just walk away from me, Lucy," he 
called, "No-one walks away from me!" 
Lucy turned. The streetlights caressed the red silk of her 
dress. She stared back at him. The faint sound of music 
from the club opposite drifted into the street, reduced to 
little more than a primitive rhythm. 
The T-Bird's front grill mocked them both. Chrome teeth 
flashed with the misplaced superiority of a mistress. Skase 
placed a steadying hand on the front fender. 
Lucy whirled, and walked away from Quentin Skase for the 
last time. 
"Lucy!" 
High in the sky, a new star appeared. She wouldn't walk 
away from him again. 
  
  
Washington D.C. 
Nov 20, 1:15am 
The road ahead unraveled like dropped ribbon, damp and 
glittering under car headlights. Scully slowly awoke to the 
soft drone of the radio, and the faint rumble of tires as 
the car carried them back towards D.C. 
The beltway was unusually clear, even for so late at 
night. Mulder's lead foot made the best of it. He glanced 
in his partner's direction. "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty." 
"I was just resting my eyes." Scully peered ahead, 
surprised to find them so close to home. 
"Well, I'm sure they're well rested." Mulder's lips curved 
into a grin. 
With a slight smile of attrition, Scully stretched her 
limbs as far as the cramped front seat of the Ford would 
allow, then glanced at her watch. 1:15 AM. "It's late. 
Skinner wants his report first thing tomorrow." 
"Skinner wants everything immediately. I don't see what's 
so important about another damn seminar. Interview 
techniques, indeed... I'm too old a dog for learning new 
tricks." 
Scully glanced over at him. "You look beat, Mulder. My 
place is closer. Stay there tonight, you'll be able to 
squeeze in a few extra hours sleep." 
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Best offer I've had in a long 
time, Scully." 
"Oh?" Scully gave a slight grin, "Now I know you don't get 
out enough--" From the corner of her eye, she caught a 
flash of blue light from high in the sky. It turned to red, 
then white, expanding by the second. She blinked and looked 
again. It was still there, and growing. 
"What the...?" Mulder leaned forward, peering upward 
through the windshield. By the time he spoke again, the 
object was a brilliant fireball, streaking across the sky. 
"What the hell is that?" He slowed the car, more interested 
in the mysterious object than driving technique. "Plane?" 
"Meteor?" Even as Scully suggested it, she was ruling it 
out. Burning shrapnel peeled from the object, creating a 
fireworks display to rival the 4th of July. "No... Maybe 
you're right, a crashing plane?" 
Whatever it was, it was about to hit land -- and hit it a 
little too close for comfort. 
"Oh... Sh--" Mulder slammed on the brakes, catapulting 
them both forward only to be slammed back by their 
seatbelts. 
The fireball disappeared from view behind buildings a few 
blocks away, a sonic boom in its wake. Seconds later the 
sky lit up again, as the mysterious object came to its 
final resting place. 
Ash and dirt rained down. 
"Mulder... What the hell *was* that?" Scully flipped her 
hair off her forehead and took a steadying breath. Her 
heart raced. 
Mulder grabbed his cell phone and thumbed it on. Silence. 
No carrier. He swore under his breath and discarded the 
phone, then slammed the car into gear and stomped on the 
gas. The car jerked forward with a squeal of tires. "I 
don't know. But I'll bet you that was no plane, Scully..." 
Scully felt a headache begin to throb to the beat of her 
pulse. 
  
  
Washington D.C. 
Nov 20 1:20am 
Imposing granite statues of birds and winged beasts stood 
vigil, perched on the rooftops lining the street. They 
peered down on an area resembling a war zone. The faint 
sound of sirens called into the night, the caterwauling 
grew to a crescendo as a troop of fire trucks and 
ambulances arrived at the scene. A crowd gathered, huddled 
together and quiet. A few dazed individuals wandered 
aimlessly. 
Firemen called to each other over the clamor as they 
worked to extinguish a few small fires that sprang up on 
nearby rooftops. Another team worked on the main fire in 
the street. Acrid smoke thickened the air. It burned the 
throats of onlookers brave enough or stupid enough to get 
too close. 
The final police barricades were put into place as Mulder 
and Scully dashed through the chaos, trying to pinpoint the 
source of the explosion. 
They showed their badges at the barricade, using hands to 
shield their faces from the heat of the fire, but the 
grizzled cop standing guard shook his salt and pepper crew 
cut, and called out over the crackling of the flames. 
"Sorry, sir, ma'am. This area is quarantined. No one gets 
past this point 'til the HAZMAT team has been in first. 
Possible radiation danger. The military should be here any 
minute to begin the clean-up." 
"Radiation?" Mulder glanced at Scully, then back to the 
cop. "What happened here, Officer....?" 
"Ginelli. Marco Ginelli. A satellite came down..." He 
shrugged, "Sorry, that's all I've been told. Please, move 
back, agents." 
"Any casualties?" Scully asked. 
"A few minor injuries, one fatality. According to 
witnesses, a woman was hit by the debris." Ginelli nodded 
at the flaming wreckage, "They have yet to recover a body." 
He consulted a worn notebook, "Lucy Wong. Age twenty-eight. 
I spoke to her boyfriend," Ginelli's eyes flicked to 
indicate a man leaning against a vintage model Thunderbird. 
"Said his name is Quentin Skase. He's a little odd if you 
ask me..." The cop automatically lowered his voice, 
although the man was too far back to hear anything. 
"Odd?" Scully coughed as a brief wind change blew smoke in 
her face. She fished in a pocket and pulled out a 
handkerchief, and held it over her nose and mouth. "Odd 
how?" 
The veteran cop gave a shrug. "Just odd. Been on the job 
as long as I have you get a feel for it somehow. Talk to 
him and see for yourself." 
"Thank you," Scully acknowledged Ginelli with a nod and 
moved away. 
Mulder waited until they were out of earshot, glad to move 
into an area with relatively fresh air. "Do you believe 
that, Scully? A satellite would have to be the size of a 
truck to do this kind of damage... Every item orbiting the 
earth larger than a baseball is meticulously tracked... by 
the US, and Russia... and probably China. Add to that the 
fact that the chances of a satellite hitting a populated 
area are infinitesimal. Orbits can take decades at least, 
maybe hundreds of years to decay enough to pull and object 
back to Earth." 
"True... Satellites don't just drop out of the sky like 
acorns." Scully stuffed the handkerchief back in her pocket. 
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "You're agreeing with me?" 
"Not exactly... just because something seems improbable, 
that doesn't make it impossible." She looked out over the 
street. "Most of the fires seem to be out." 
Mulder checked his phone again, then shrugged, "No 
signal..." He clipped the cell back onto his belt and gave 
a grin. "So let's find out why the sky is falling, Chicken 
Little." 
Scully saw no reason to smile. On a nearby stretcher, a 
woman howled in panic. Despite the medic's reassurances, 
she seemed terrified. 
Scully tapped the paramedic on the shoulder. "Excuse me, 
I'm a doctor. Can I help?" 
The paramedic nodded. "Yes, ma'am! I can't find anything 
but contusions and abrasions, but she won't calm down." 
Scully leaned over the woman, checked her briefly, patted 
her hand. "No one is going to hurt you. It's over now. 
You're going to be fine, please calm down. What's your 
name?" 
"Joanna. Joanna Riggs." In the dim light, Scully could see 
she was young, twenty-five at the most. Her green eyes 
still shone with terror. "I saw it... must have been a 
spaceship...it was huge..." 
That got Mulder's attention. He edged closer. "Where were 
you? What did you see? Did anyone else see it?" 
The woman on the stretcher cried out then stuffed a 
scraped hand into her mouth, "Don't let him come near me! I 
don't know how... he called it down..." Her hand flopped 
from her mouth to fall to her side, limp. "I saw him 
waiting..." 
"Who?" Scully prompted, "Who do you mean?" 
Joanna paused, then lifted a finger off the stretcher and 
pointed at the lone man standing by the white Thunderbird. 
She curled the finger quickly back into her fist and 
hissed, "Skase. Keep him away from me!" 
Mulder glanced over in Quentin Skase's direction, dug a 
business card out of his pocket and forced it into the 
woman's grasp. "Don't worry. We'll keep him away. What 
exactly did you see?" 
"Mulder... this isn't the time or the place." Scully 
glanced up at him, brow wrinkled. 
He paused, then looked down at the woman. "You've got my 
number. If you're in trouble, call me. Is it okay if I come 
and see you tomorrow so we can talk some more?" 
Joanna clutched his card tightly in one fist, and nodded. 
Scully motioned for the paramedic to take her to the 
ambulance. 
"Told you that wasn't a satellite, Scully." 
"And I was tempted to agree on face value..." Scully 
watched as the ambulance started up and picked its way 
carefully down the street, flashing lights painting red and 
blue swathes on the drab scenery. "I'll need a little more 
convincing than the word of a woman who was clearly 
hysterical before jumping to the conclusion that was a UFO 
full of little gray men, Mulder." 
As she spoke, at least a dozen olive drab Humvees filled 
with soldiers descended upon the area. They slammed to a 
halt and two squads of the camouflaged men scattered into a 
loose perimeter, weapons slung over a shoulder, muzzle 
down. They immediately began herding the crowd back, and a 
third squad made short work of putting up tarps and tents 
to hide the debris from view. 
"Oh yeah?" Mulder tipped his head and studied the action. 
"Then what's under the Big Top?" 
"Has it not occurred to you, that it might be a top-secret 
military satellite?" 
Mulder gave her a sardonic grin, "That's my Scully. Always 
looking for the obvious." He turned his back on the action 
and gazed thoughtfully at the white Thunderbird. "Let's see 
what our Mr. Skase has to say about all this." 
Quentin Skase leaned against his car, head now in his 
hands. Scully displayed her badge to him, her voice gentle, 
"Mr. Skase, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, and this is my 
partner, Agent Mulder. We're sorry for your loss, sir. Can 
you tell us what happened?" 
Skase was blonde; hair short and neatly combed, doe eyes 
red-rimmed and tearful. Scully thought him the neatest 
accident victim she'd ever seen. Not a hair out of place, 
or a streak of dirt on his crisp white shirt. Even the 
crease in his trousers looked fresh. She caught herself 
exchanging a glance with Mulder. He nodded in agreement 
with her unvoiced observations. 
Skase wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and 
straightened slowly, paused before he spoke. "One minute 
she was there... the next... something came out of the 
sky..." 
"Did you see what it was?" Mulder asked. 
Skase sniffled. "It was metal... like a plane... but not a 
plane. I don't know." 
"A satellite?" Scully suggested. 
"I don't know... might have been..." Skase reached over, 
absently picked a stray thread from her shoulder. Scully 
edged back to put more space between her and the man. 
Mulder gestured toward the Thunderbird, "'59 hardtop." He 
ran a finger over the smooth paintwork. "Yours?" 
Skase nodded, and tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket. 
At first, Mulder expected he was going to dry his eyes. 
Instead he concentrated on the car and buffed over the 
faint smear left by Mulder's touch. "This is Zelda. Re- 
built her myself, almost from scratch." A spark seemed to 
ignite in Skase, as if the evening's events were forgotten. 
He gave another rub of the paint with the handkerchief and 
smiled down at the car. 
"She's a beauty, all right." Mulder studied the other man, 
then glanced at his fingertip, holding it up to show Scully. 
She noted the lack of dust or dirt and gave a minute nod, 
picking up Mulder's drift. Skase had some obsessive- 
compulsive tendencies, at least where the car was concerned. 
"Lucky she wasn't parked up the road a little further," 
Mulder commented. 
A ragged moan of pain caused both agents to turn. A dark 
haired young woman staggered out of the crowd, clothes torn 
and face blackened. With a pained howl, she clutched the 
hood of the car for support. Blood smeared the shiny white 
paint. 
Skase cringed, face pinched and eyes dilating. 
Mulder moved to put an arm around the woman's shoulders in 
support, then stopped when he saw her torn bicep. She 
sobbed in relief and groped at Mulder's hand. "Uh, 
Scully...?" 
"Please..." the woman begged, "It hurts... make it stop..." 
"You're injured..." Scully ran a hand down her arm, and 
stopped when she noticed a piece of shrapnel glittering in 
her arm. "You'll be okay, let's get you to a hospital... 
come with me." 
Scully guided the woman to an ambulance. She waited as the 
paramedics treated her, and got her onto a stretcher, 
smiling once in a while to lend what moral support she 
could. 
"We're ready to go now, ma'am." 
Scully nodded, and bent over the girl, gave her another 
reassuring smile. "They're going to take you to the 
hospital. Don't worry, you'll be fine." 
The young woman gave Scully a wan smile in return. 
As Scully returned to where Mulder stood, a panicked yell 
went up from the crowd, followed by a crumbling roar. 
Mulder dove, and brought Scully to the ground with a crash. 
Seconds later there was a tremendous cracking sound as a 
large decorative statue dislodged from the top of the 
adjacent building. It swooped into the air as gracefully as 
any bird of flesh and blood, and landed directly on the 
departing ambulance. With the sound of tortured metal and 
breaking glass, the vehicle ground to a halt. 
An eerie silence descended for a few seconds, while people 
realized what they had witnessed. Soon the noise returned, 
as the crowd let out a mutual wail of panic. Military 
personnel rushed to the crushed vehicle. They looked inside 
the shattered remains, then backed away, shaking their 
heads. 
Mulder stood and brushed the debris from his clothes. He 
glanced behind him. Skase leaned against the T-Bird, 
watching with a blank expression. The car was dust-free. So 
was Skase. 
Mulder continued to watch the man and his car, intrigued, 
as he put a hand down to help Scully to her feet. 
Scully brushed as much debris as she could off her filthy 
clothes. "Thanks, Mulder... you do realize that your heroic 
gesture was wasted... that statue would have pulverized the 
both of us." Her voice trailed off as she followed Mulder's 
gaze. Skase looked back at her. And smiled. Scully averted 
her eyes and brushed at her jacket. "Look what it did to 
the ambulance..." 
"Gee, Scully... You're right. Next time I'm out, remind me 
to take my umbrella." 
  
  
All Saints Private Hospital 
Georgetown, 
Nov 21, 9:25AM 
Mulder pulled into the car park of the stately private 
hospital, killed the engine and glanced over at Scully. "Go 
on, say it..." 
"Why are we here?" 
"You heard what Joanna said, Scully... she may be able to 
help us. I must have made a dozen phone calls this morning, 
and the only information I can get about the debris from 
last night is that it's classified and the military took 
all of it." 
"Which is the exact answer you'd get if it was a satellite." 
"So humor me." Mulder climbed from the car, waited on her, 
then locked the doors before heading for the entrance. 
Scully trailed. "OK. Just remember you owe me. After this 
turns out to be a wild goose chase, you can buy me a cup of 
coffee. And lunch." 
As they headed for the elevator, Mulder spotted a familiar 
car. "Well, well, what have we here?" He nodded towards the 
white T-Bird parked in an adjacent row. 
"That looks like Skase's car." Scully gave Mulder a 
curious glance as she pressed the up button. "Perhaps I'll 
use my impressive powers of deduction and guess he's 
visiting a sick friend?" 
The elevator arrived with a quiet ding, and they stepped 
on. The Thunderbird was they last thing they saw as the 
doors slid shut. 
Arriving on the mezzanine, they stepped off and glanced 
around. Despite the elegant surroundings, the smell of 
disinfectant was pervasive. There was an expensive foyer, 
with large sweeping staircases on either side of the 
elaborate mahogany reception desk. Classical music purred 
in the background. 
"Remind me to update my medical insurance," Mulder 
commented as they made their way towards reception. 
Scully showed her badge. "Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI. 
This is Agent Mulder. We'd like to see Joanna Riggs. She 
would have been admitted last night." 
Mulder glanced around and saw Skase waiting by the other 
bank of elevators. He was busy scribbling something on a 
piece of paper and didn't look up. 
The perfectly coiffed receptionist tapped her computer 
terminal with a lavender nail, "Room 318. Third floor. You 
can take the stairs." 
As they approached the stairs, a blood-curdling scream 
stopped them in their tracks. Moments later there was a 
sickening thud, as a patient landed heavily on the Italian 
marble floor. 
Mulder looked up to see where she had come from. An 
orderly was yelling over the edge, standing by an 
overturned lunch cart. From the man's almost incoherent 
babbling, Mulder deduced he'd accidentally knocked the 
unfortunate patient over the safety rail. It must have been 
60 feet to the ground. He grimaced and looked back to the 
patient now lying on the floor. She looked like nothing 
more than a loose pile of rags. Mulder hit the stairs three 
at a time to catch up with the orderly and get his story. 
Scully went in the other direction, rushing to the woman's 
side and checking her pulse. It was faint, but there. She 
called out. "Head injuries. Get a crash cart and a 
backboard in here! Stat!" She noticed the woman clutched a 
business card in one hand. 
Scully tugged the card loose and sucked in a breath as she 
recognized it. Mulder's. She looked at the woman again. 
Joanna Riggs. 
Joanna grabbed at her in a vise-like grip, nails biting 
into Scully's wrist. "Skase..." she breathed, "He's taken 
a... liking to you... don't let him... in." 
Scully frowned, but didn't get a chance to ask for more 
information. She was ushered away by a phalanx of medics, 
yelling instructions. 
Mulder headed back down the stairs and caught up with her. 
"You look like you've seen a ghost." 
"Ghost?" Scully shrugged it off, "No, that's Joanna Riggs. 
She intimated that Skase might have been responsible. Do 
you think he's somehow covering his tracks? After what she 
said to us last night?" 
Mulder frowned. "He was standing over at the elevator at 
the time. I saw him, so I can't see how he could have done 
it. Besides, I spoke to the orderly, it was an accident. A 
cart got away from him, collided with her, and pushed her 
over the edge. The poor guy is beside himself." 
"Excuse me. I'm looking for Agent Scully." The wide eyed 
candy striper spoke timidly, eyes darting from Mulder to 
the injured woman on the floor. 
"That's me." Scully answered, "What is it?" 
She offered Scully a small envelope, "A man asked me to 
give this to you." 
Scully took the envelope, gave Mulder a curious glance as 
she watched the volunteer walk away. She tugged a small 
piece of notepaper from the envelope and read it out. 
"'Agent Scully, I'm very sorry we didn't get the chance to 
meet today. We'll talk soon.' It's signed, Quentin." 
Mulder took the slip of paper from her, "Cheeky. He's 
hopeful." 
Scully didn't reply. She watched the team of doctors 
working on Joanna stop, shake their heads, and stand. 
Scully wasn't going to get the chance to clarify what the 
woman had said to her. 
  

J Edgar Hoover Building 
Basement 
Nov 21, 2:10PM 
"Considering the circumstances surrounding last night, 
I've managed a day's grace on getting Skinner's reports in." 
"Hmmm... that's good Scully..." Mulder didn't lift his 
eyes from the folder he was reading. 
"So I thought we could try and get it out of the way this 
afternoon." 
"Fine..." 
Scully rolled her eyes. "Then we gave his secretary the 
day off and spent the whole morning going at it like 
rabbits." 
Mulder kept reading, "That's good..." After a moment he 
looked up, "What?!" 
"So you *are* listening." Scully smiled unpleasantly. 
"Yes... Skinner wants his report tomorrow. I'll be bright- 
eyed and bushy-tailed. I promise." Mulder sat up, "I've 
been doing some checking on Quentin Skase." 
"Why?" Scully shuddered. "Just being creepy doesn't 
usually warrant an FBI investigation." 
"Because I'm not convinced what we saw last night was a 
satellite, and after what happened this morning at the 
hospital, I'm even more convinced he knows something he's 
not telling us." 
"I still think it was a satellite." Scully drummed her 
fingers against the top of her desk, "So what have you 
found?" 
Mulder blew out a breath. "Nothing. He's twenty-nine, an 
accountant for USTEL, a Northeast communications company. 
Went to NYU, graduated middle of his class. Both parents 
deceased, and he inherited the family home. No siblings. He 
spent a few months in a private clinic not long after his 
mother's death. Not much info on that though." 
"Nothing sounds particularly unusual so far." 
"No..." Mulder closed the folder and rubbed a hand over 
his face. "You're probably right, Scully. I'm trying to see 
things that aren't there." 
The conversation was interrupted by the shrill of a cell 
phone. They checked automatically. "Mine" Scully answered 
it. "Scully." 
Mulder tipped back in his chair and waited. 
"Mr. Skase?" Scully glanced over at Mulder and repeated 
for his benefit, "You'd like to meet later this evening to 
talk about last night...?" 
Keen to seize the opportunity, Mulder nodded to encourage 
her agreement. 
"OK. Where...?" Scully paused, nodding to herself, "Yes, 
That's not far from here. I'll see you at seven. Bye." She 
tucked her phone away. 
Mulder chuckled to himself and sat down at his desk. 
"Something amusing?" 
"Scully's got a boyyyy-friend." 
Scully groaned and rolled her eyes, "That's what I like 
about you Mulder, I can always count on you to raise the 
tone of any given moment." 
  
  
McNally's Bar, 
Downtown Washington D.C. 
Nov 21, 7:10PM 
The bar Skase suggested as a meeting place was close to 
the office, so Mulder and Scully decided the walk would do 
them good. The evening was crisp and clear; the temperature 
low enough to see your breath in the air. 
It was still too early for nightlife, but lowlifes were 
out in force. The bar they turned into was dingy, even the 
low lighting couldn't hide the fact its last refit must 
have been sometime during the mid-70s. The dark-pink velvet 
upholstery was more threadbare than plush. The nearly 
deserted lounge held a table of girls out for a drink 
together after work, and a few men at the bar who looked 
like they'd been glued to the same stools all day. 
Scully's nose twitched as the smell of stale beer and 
urine drifted in from the men's restrooms. The perfect 
start to a perfect evening. She stamped on the spot a 
moment and rubbed her frigid hands together, then loosened 
her overcoat. 
Skase was easy to spot. He didn't quite seem to fit in 
with the crowd -- maybe it was the blazer with an array of 
pens peeking out of the pocket, or his tie, still sporting 
a perfect Windsor knot. 
Mulder gave Scully a nudge and pointed. They headed to 
where he was waiting at the bar. 
Skase stood to greet them, took Scully's hand and kissed it. 
Scully's eyebrows rose nearly as high as Mulder's hackles. 
She did her best to extricate her hand from Skase's grasp 
without appearing to be rude, then covertly wiped it on her 
pants. 
"I didn't expect we'd have company." Skase looked at 
Mulder, then turned his attention to Scully. "I was hoping 
we could discuss things over dinner... then perhaps go for 
a drive..." 
"Scully has plans for dinner already." Mulder pulled up a 
stool and waved at the bartender for service, then helped 
himself to a handful of complimentary nuts. "You suggested 
you had information? About the incident last night?" 
Skase gave a small nod, "I work for USTEL. I knew you were 
both curious about what happened, so I pulled in a few 
favors and asked around. They did lose a satellite last 
night." 
Mulder chewed on the mouthful of dusty nuts, swallowed 
before continuing, "That's not the only favor you pulled 
in. How did you get Scully's phone number?" 
"It's not a private number, Agent Mulder." Skase looked a 
little put off, "I looked it up in our database." He smiled 
pleasantly at Scully, "I thought I was doing you a favor." 
She responded with a half-hearted smile of her own, "Thank 
you, Mr. Skase. You have been helpful." 
He widened his smile. "Then join me for dinner." 
"Ah... no, thank you." Scully gave Mulder a quick glance, 
but he was preoccupied ordering a drink. 
"I could show you Zelda." 
"Zelda?" Scully stared daggers into Mulder's back. 
"My car... I built her myself." 
Scully folded her arms. "Thank you, but I've seen plenty 
of T-Birds." 
"Not *this* one." Skase looked disappointed. "At least 
allow me to buy you a drink." 
Mulder turned back from the bar, and handed a beer to 
Scully. He looked at Skase, "You didn't say what you were 
drinking." 
"I'm not." Skase sounded somewhat disgruntled, but added, 
"Thanks." 
"I must admit, Quentin, I'm a little confused as to why 
you'd go to the trouble to confirm with us exactly what 
happened last night." Mulder paused, then downed his drink 
in one swig. "Why is it so important we believe it was a 
satellite?" 
"I didn't say it was important." Skase frowned, "and I 
really don't care what you believe... I just wanted to be 
helpful... for Dana." 
Scully had had enough. She slammed her beer onto the bar 
and glared at Mulder. "Are you coming?" She headed for the 
door. 
Mulder stood, and added purely for Skase's benefit, 
"Coming, dear." 
As he followed Scully out the door, he tripped on a piece 
of ragged carpet, only just saving himself from falling 
over with a few ungainly contortions. He composed himself 
and continued on his way, pride the only casualty. 
  
  
Scully's Apartment 
Georgetown 
Nov 21, 7:15PM 
Scully's feet ached as she climbed the stairs to her 
apartment. She'd seen enough in the past few days to last 
her a lifetime. All tragic incidents, sure, but she 
couldn't see exactly what it was that made Mulder so 
interested in trying to find something that wasn't there. 
As much as she loved him, she wasn't beyond finding him 
extremely exasperating. 
She paused at her front door, key in hand. On the floor in 
front of the door sat an elaborate flower arrangement, a 
symphony of bright color. Scully pulled the card from the 
arrangement and read it. It was one simple sentence, with 
no signature. 
'I forgot to say thank-you.' 
She smiled to herself, picked up the flowers, and let 
herself into the apartment. Although it was very unlike 
Mulder to show such sentiment, he could be thoughtful at 
the most unexpected times. Smiling to herself, Scully 
headed for the kitchen to put the flowers into some water. 
That done, she settled into a seat and kicked off her 
shoes, picked up the phone, and dialed. 
"Mulder." 
"Thank you, Mulder." Scully put up her feet, still 
admiring the fresh vase of flowers now taking pride of 
place on her coffee table. "You're full of surprises." 
"Anytime..." Mulder paused. "Uh, Scully? What did I do?" 
"The flowers. They're beautiful." 
"Uh..." The silence lengthened. "What flowers?" 
Scully felt her face flush, "You mean... you didn't send 
them?" 
"Well... as much as I'd like to take the credit... No. I 
didn't send you flowers." 
"Oh." Even though she couldn't see him, she could almost 
hear Mulder grinning like an idiot. 
"What's this? A secret admirer? Intriguing..." 
"Not so secret. It must be Skase." Scully heaved a sigh. 
"What is it about the word 'no' he doesn't understand?" 
"Is he turning into a problem? I don't like it... he must 
have got your address from the phone company records." 
"Nothing I can't handle. 'Night, Mulder. I'll see you 
tomorrow." 
"You're sure?" 
"I'm sure. Goodbye, Mulder." Scully hung up the phone, and 
stared at the flowers a little longer. 
Then she got up, picked up the vase, and walked back to 
the kitchen. 
The flowers went straight into the trash. 
  
  
J Edgar Hoover Building 
Basement, 
Nov 22, 12:50PM 
Mulder studied the information laid out on his desk. There 
was something going on --while he couldn't really tie 
anything into UFO and cover-up conspiracies, something 
niggled, and forced him to keep looking. 
His cell phone rang. He pushed his chair out from the desk 
and answered. "Mulder." 
It was Frohike. "Hey, Mulder. Haven't heard from you for a 
while. I was starting to feel neglected." 
"Yeah... well..." Mulder leaned back in his chair and put 
his feet on the desk, "I've been busy." 
"How are you?" 
"I'm fine." 
"Ahem. And the lovely and talented Agent Scully?" 
"She's fine, too." Mulder's foot jiggled impatiently, "Did 
you get the message I left this morning?" 
"Yep. I checked into it for you, but to be honest there 
wasn't much to check. We already knew we'd lost a 
satellite. There was no cell phone communication in that 
area for quite a few hours until they managed to re-route 
all the traffic." 
Mulder raised his eyebrows. "That *really* was a 
satellite? How could that have happened?" 
"Long odds, I admit. As far as we can tell, a meteorite 
hit a communications satellite. A small one, but enough to 
wipe out its telemetry and knock it straight out of orbit. 
The re-entry angle was so steep that there just wasn't 
enough time to recover it." 
"Are you *sure* about this?" Mulder tapped his pencil 
against his desk, fidgeting as he waited for an answer. 
"Yep. It was USTEL-4 to be exact. We were using it at the 
time. It went down at 12:57 PM, and was not heard of again 
until it ended up decorating the pavement in downtown D.C." 
"Okay, Frohike..." Mulder frowned to himself, deep in 
thought, "Thanks for the info." 
"Anytime. Say, how about we get together and--" 
Mulder hung up the phone, still thinking. He looked over 
the information spread out on his desk one more time. It 
was about time he paid Mr. Skase a visit. 
  
  
Chevy Chase, MD 
Nov 22, 10:45AM 
Primrose Lane was a fine example of affluent suburbia. 
Neat homes and tidy yards lined the street, dusted with 
newly-fallen snow. He was sure he'd seen it before on a 
Christmas card. 
Mulder brought his car to a stop, and peered out the 
window at the pre-war cottage marked number 25. Missing 
from the driveway was the Thunderbird he expected to be 
there. He guessed he wouldn't find Skase at home. 
He climbed from the car, walked past the picture-book 
white picket fence, then followed a path lined by perfectly 
symmetric hedges to reach the front steps. 
He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. A fat tabby 
cat perched on a window ledge nearby, blinking at him 
through sleepy eyes. 
Mulder got up close to the window and looked inside. The 
interior was immaculate. It looked like a cover for Better 
Homes and Gardens. No man should live that neatly. It was 
unnatural. 
"You won't find Quentin in today," A quavering voice 
drifted over from next door. 
Mulder trotted back down the steps and looked over the 
fence. An elderly woman stood nearby, tending to her bare 
rose bushes. "Do you know where he is?" Mulder asked. 
The woman gave a nod, and moved to the fence, "Terrible 
business about Lucy... she was such a sweet girl..." She 
tugged off one gardening glove, then offered her hand over 
the fence, "Hilda Desmond." 
"Fox Mulder." He shook her hand carefully, and agreed for 
the sake of conversation, "Yes, terrible..." 
Hilda looked him over again before dropping his hand. "Are 
you from the funeral home?" 
"Uh... no." Mulder glanced down at his dark suit, not sure 
if he should continue. 
"Government, then?" 
"FBI." Mulder showed his badge. 
Hilda clutched at her collar in surprise. "My goodness." 
"Nothing to be alarmed about, ma'am, I just wanted to ask 
Mr. Skase a few questions about the accident... all very 
routine." 
"Quentin is spending the day with Lucy's family." She 
shook her head, although the tight curls set into her gray 
locks managed to remain rock solid. "That poor boy never 
seems to get a break. Lost his mother in a freak 
accident... must have been five years ago now. I remember 
because he'd just bought that car of his. Total wreck it 
was at the time too, though you'd never know it now. He's 
always washing and polishing the thing..." 
"I'm sorry to hear that. What happened to his mother?" 
"Daphne? It came out of the blue, that's for sure. She was 
hit by a fly ball at one of Quentin's baseball games. Don't 
think he's played since." 
Mulder tried not to raise an eyebrow at her story. "Tragic." 
"Then he took up with a nice girl a year or so later..." 
Hilda frowned as she remembered, "she was killed in a car 
accident I believe. Now this..." 
Mulder frowned to himself, "Do you remember the name of 
the girl?" 
"Yes, Gabby... Gabby Albright." 
"Well, thank-you. I'll catch up with Quentin later." He 
took a step, but then paused, and looked back at Hilda, 
"Just one other thing, Mrs. Desmond. Have you ever heard of 
a woman called Joanna Riggs?" 
"Yes... I'm surprised I haven't seen her around here 
since... She's Lucy's best friend." 
"Thanks." Mulder waved, and headed down the driveway to 
his car, then gave his watch a quick check. 
He was late. Scully was going to chew his ear when he 
finally arrived back at the office, but the flaying would 
have to wait. He still had one more stop to make. 
  
  
Lazarus Deli 
Washington D.C. 
Nov 22, 12:45PM 
  
The smell of fresh bagels overpowered Scully's senses. She 
admired the array of food displayed through the deli's 
glass counter, her stomach growling in anticipation. 
"You should try the foccacia," a male voice came from 
behind her, "I hear it comes highly recommended." 
Feeling his breath on the back of her neck, Scully turned. 
Annoyed, to find herself face to face with Quentin Skase, 
she kept her response cool. "Thank you. I think I can 
choose my own lunch." 
"You look like a ham on rye girl." Skase leaned against 
the counter. 
"What are you doing here?" Scully folded her arms. 
"Getting lunch. I work nearby." 
Scully had seen the reports Mulder had collected. Skase 
was lying. "Look... Mr. Skase... Quentin." 
"Call me Que, all my friends do." 
"That's the point, Mr. Skase. We aren't friends. I'm sure 
you're a very nice man... Flattering as all your attention 
may be--" 
"Did you get the flowers I sent? Beautiful, weren't they? 
Just like you." 
"Please. Let's not--" 
"A beautiful woman such as yourself needs a man to--" 
"I do not *need* a man." Scully gritted her teeth. 
Skase looked surprised, then laughed. "You have a 
boyfriend? Surely not that slob the Bureau has you tramping 
around with all day?" 
"That's none of your business," Scully flushed, both with 
anger and frustration, "and beside the point." She turned, 
faced him squarely. "I'm only going to say this once. Your 
advances are not wanted, nor are they appreciated. Please, 
just stay out of my life. No calls, no notes, no flowers." 
"But, Dana..." 
Her appetite suddenly lost, Scully didn't wait to order 
lunch. Instead she turned and walked out into the street. 
Skase let her go without another word, but his expression 
told of his displeasure. 
No one walks away from Quentin Skase. 
  
  
J Edgar Hoover Building 
Basement 
Nov 22, 1:30PM 
Mulder swung into the office, whistling. 
"Where have you been?" Scully pounced, "I've spent the 
whole morning making excuses for you. Don't you know what a 
phone is?" 
"Sorry... I've been at the library. You gave Skinner the 
report on our thrilling, seminar-filled weekend?" 
"Yes, Mulder, I covered your sorry butt... again." 
He gave her a contrite smile. "Thanks, Scully. I owe you 
one..." Mulder tugged off his jacket, "I was making a few 
inquiries." 
"Why?" Scully folded her arms across her chest. "Don't 
tell me you *still* think that was a UFO... every official 
report I've seen, including the newspapers, are all saying 
it was a satellite re-entering." 
"Actually, no. I've confirmed it was a satellite after all." 
"Oh? And exactly *how* did you confirm that?" 
"Frohike told me." 
"So that somehow makes it 'official'?" Scully dropped into 
her seat and muttered, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I 
even bother coming in in the morning." 
"Take a look at this, Scully." Mulder passed her the 
folder he was holding. "How many co-incidences does it take 
before you can no longer call them co-incidences?" 
Unimpressed, Scully opened the folder and picked up the 
first news clipping from the top of the pile. "Skase's 
mother was killed in a freak accident at a ballpark... 
So...?" 
Mulder pointed to the next clipping in the pile. "And his 
last girlfriend was hit by a car." 
Scully shrugged. "Stranger things have happened." 
"Keep reading, Scully... she was getting a bikini wax at 
the time." Mulder kept digging through the pile, "and look 
at this, a former manager from USTEL was killed when a 
plate-glass window fell onto him from the 30th floor of a 
skyscraper." 
"So you're suggesting..." Scully skimmed through the news 
clippings, "that somehow Skase managed to orchestrate these 
accidents?" 
"Not exactly," Mulder leaned against her desk, "I didn't 
find much more on that hospital stay of his, except that he 
was suffering paranoia. The hospital records are sealed, 
but I did come across a record of interview following his 
mother's death. According to the interviewing officer, 
Skase was convinced he'd done it. In fact, he was pretty 
much convinced that every time someone stubbed a toe it was 
his fault." 
"I'm not sure I'm following you..." 
"Think about it Scully... look at that list of accidents 
in front of you. Every person on that list could 
conceivably been seen as a source of frustration, or 
repressed anger for Skase. His mother, girlfriends, boss - 
even that poor woman who had the audacity to bleed all over 
his precious car." 
"You want me to believe these accidents are a by-product 
of Skase's frustrations?" Scully's brow furrowed, "His 
wrath unleashed in some kind of bizarre physical 
manifestation?" 
Mulder nodded, "You got it, Scully." 
She shook her head, "I'll buy that he might somehow bring 
these tragedies on himself, by expecting the worst... but 
I'd really like to know how to arrange for a satellite to 
drop on someone's head, Mulder, even using mind control." 
She looked up at him, pinched the bridge of her nose in a 
vain attempt to quell the headache looming behind her eyes, 
"If I knew, I might even try it myself sometime." 
Mulder smiled sheepishly. "I'm really wishing I'd sent you 
those flowers now." 
Scully closed the folder and looked squarely at him. "Is 
that what this is about, Mulder?" 
"Is what what this is about?" 
"You know... Skase. Leaving me notes... sending me 
flowers." She decided not to mention their encounter at 
lunchtime. Her voice softened, "You don't have to get... 
well... jealous..." 
Mulder's jaw dropped. He shut his mouth and shook his head 
emphatically. "No, that's not it. Take a look at the file 
again, Scully. You'll agree there's a little more to it 
than just me being an ass." 
"You're not an ass, Mulder. Usually." 
"I am." He gave her a soulful look. "But read the file 
anyway." 
  

Scully's Apartment 
Georgetown 
Nov 24, 7:45PM 
There was a time when the last person Scully wanted to 
spend her Friday nights with was Mulder. Not anymore. Now 
she found herself looking forward to it. She couldn't even 
pinpoint the exact time when she'd changed her mind - 
someway, somehow, he'd managed to get under her skin. He 
made a few beers and a B-Grade movie seem like a fun night 
out. 
But Friday seemed to take forever to roll around. Every 
day Scully returned home that week, there were messages 
from Skase waiting on her answering machine. She deleted 
them all without even bothering to listen first, but they 
kept coming. She'd taken to keeping her cell phone switched 
off to avoid being bothered during the day. The stress was 
beginning to take its toll. 
Changed into jeans and a casual sweater, she checked 
herself in the mirror before heading into the living room, 
ready to go. The doorbell made her jump. Quietly she 
checked the peephole. Skase. 
Bile rose into her throat. Instinctively, she reached for 
her gun. A little attention from the opposite sex now and 
then could be flattering. Too much attention from a man 
with a psychiatric history of paranoia and a string of dead 
girlfriends was a different matter all together. Unwilling 
to answer the door, she remained silent, hoping he'd assume 
she wasn't home. 
He knocked again. "Agent Scully? Dana?" 
Scully held her breath and waited. Her ploy worked, and 
she soon heard his footsteps retreating. Relieved, she gave 
him another few minutes head start before grabbing her coat 
and keys and heading for the door. 
Outside, she crossed the street and climbed into her car. 
As she guided her car into the traffic, Skase was forgotten 
as she looked forward to a relaxing evening. Maybe she'd 
pick up some Chinese food on the way. 
She didn't notice the white T-Bird pull out after her. 
  
  
Mulder's Apartment 
Virginia 
Nov 24, 8:30PM 
Mulder sat up on the couch at the sound of a key in his 
door. "Hey, Scully ... I smell something good..." 
A few moments later Scully joined him in the living room, 
dumping a few cartons of Chinese take-out onto the coffee 
table from a greasy brown bag. Sweet and Sour Pork, and 
General Tso's Chicken. Fried rice and a couple egg rolls. 
Two fortune cookies. "I know I'd suggested I might cook for 
a change..." Scully didn't turn to look at him, just busied 
herself opening the soggy containers, "but it's been a long 
week..." 
Mulder nodded, "All that paperwork on seminars *can* be 
trying..." 
Scully let out a quiet sigh and her shoulders sagged. 
"Has Skase been bothering you?" 
"Not really... well..." She relented, "maybe a little..." 
Mulder reached over and rubbed her shoulder, waiting for 
her to continue. 
Scully gave up fiddling with the food containers in favor 
of leaning back into his arms. She closed her eyes and 
stayed quiet a moment, taking comfort in his proximity, 
feeling the day's tension begin to wane. "He's been calling 
me constantly, coming round to my apartment, arranging to 
'bump' in to me on the street." 
"I didn't realize it had got that bad. Why didn't you say 
anything til now?" Mulder rested his chin on the top of her 
head, "Tell his boss. The only way he could have got your 
phone number would have been by using his connections at 
work. He's got to be breaking Federal privacy laws for a 
start." 
"No... I don't want this to escalate any more than it 
already has. He'll give up when he realizes how futile it 
all is." 
"Are you sure? I could talk to him if you like." 
"You?" Scully turned her head a moment to look at him, 
then settled back again, "What would you tell him?" 
Mulder grinned mischievously and muttered in her ear, 
"I'll tell him all about your boyfriend... the big, bad, 
handsome, and well-armed FBI agent." 
"You forgot modest." She laughed softly. "I suppose it 
doesn't matter how much of that is actually true." 
"Nope... as long as it gets him out of your hair." 
Scully closed her eyes. "I don't want to think about it 
now. Turn on the movie." 
Mulder hit the remote, then helped himself to a fortune 
cookie. He snapped it open, then read the little slither of 
wisdom contained within. 
"So what does it say?" Scully sat up, spiked a piece of 
chicken with a plastic fork, and popped it into her mouth. 
"Good things come to those who wait..." Mulder grinned and 
settled back on the couch. 
By the time the movie was over, Scully was asleep. 
Deciding not to disturb her, Mulder tugged the blanket over 
them both. He took the opportunity to study her; when she 
slept, she looked so childlike and peaceful. He pressed his 
lips to the top of her head a moment, then snapped off the 
lamp on the table beside him and settled down. 
  
  
Outside in the street, Skase waited. He peered up at the 
apartment building and waited. And waited. Several times he 
got out of the Thunderbird and paced the sidewalk, only to 
return to the car and wait some more. Towards dawn, he gave 
up, pulled his car into the deserted street, and headed for 
home. 
A truck passed from the other direction, its enormous 
wheels kicking up a flurry of sticky mud that splattered 
against the side of the white car. 
>>From barely a block behind, he heard the sickening crunch 
of metal on metal and the sound of breaking glass, the 
result of an accident at the previous intersection. Even 
when his car rocked, caught in the blast wave from the 
explosion behind him, he didn't bother to look back. 
  
  
The sound of car horns wafted in from the window, waking 
Mulder with a rude start. Doing his best to avoid waking 
Scully, he extricated himself from his position on the 
couch and headed for the window. 
His quiet street looked like a parking lot. He peered up 
the road as best as he could, but was unable to see the 
cause of the problem from his vantage point. Curious, he 
sat down and started putting his runners on. 
"A little early, even for you, isn't it?" Scully rubbed 
her eyes and squinted at the clock. 
"There's something going on down the street, an accident 
or something. I'm just going to take a look. Get some more 
sleep." 
Scully pushed off the blanket and slipped on her shoes, "I 
better come too." 
He raised an eyebrow, "Don't trust me to go to the end of 
the street on my own?" 
"Apart from that," Scully grinned slightly, "If it is an 
accident, they might need a doctor." 
"OK." Mulder got to his feet and handed Scully her 
overcoat. She tugged on the coat and followed him out into 
the faint morning light. 
They followed the string of halted traffic and irate 
drivers to the source of the problem. Scully's jaw dropped 
as the sight in front of her sank in. One tanker of pure 
polyunsaturated vegetable oil had collided with a smaller 
truck with a consignment of what looked to be ...frozen 
french fries. 
It even smelled good. In the absence of breakfast, and 
much to her chagrin, her stomach growled. She continued to 
watch as the clean-up crew swept away the fries, each one 
golden brown and done to perfection. "Mulder, tell me I'm 
seeing things...." 
A strong wind sprang up, blowing more french fries from 
the surrounding rooftops. 
Scully raised both eyebrows and stated the obvious, 
"Mulder... it's *raining* french fries." 
"Shoestring, my favorite." Mulder's brow furrowed a moment 
and he looked back at Scully. "He was here, Scully. Skase 
was here. Spying on us. Son of a bitch..." He turned and 
headed back towards the apartment. 
Scully followed, running a few steps to catch up, "Where 
are you going?" 
"To see Skase. I can't stop him from doing... whatever the 
hell it is he's doing... but I can certainly persuade him 
to leave you out of it." 
"Mulder..." Scully opted not to follow. There'd be no 
stopping him. 
  
  
Chevy Chase 
Maryland 
Nov 25, 9.35AM 
Mulder parked his car close enough to Skase's house to 
watch for a while from the driver's seat without being 
noticed. 
Skase was washing his car. In fact, he'd been washing it 
for almost 30 minutes already. Considering how cold it was 
outside, Mulder thought that alone the work of a madman. 
The water steamed as it flowed over the white Thunderbird, 
heated from an unknown source. The cooled water at the 
bottom of the drive formed ice particles. 
Shivering, Mulder thumped the car heater in disgust. The 
damn thing never worked. He breathed on his hands, trying 
to remove the numbness beginning to creep over his fingers. 
The evil streak in Mulder hoped for sleet, but when he 
checked the sky, it was clear. 
...And Skase kept on washing that car. Now and then the 
fat tabby cat would wander over to him and nuzzle up 
against his legs, and Skase would pause in his labors long 
enough to tickle it around the ears. Once, Mrs. Desmond put 
her head over the fence, and called Skase over to help her 
move some new shrubs from her car to where she wanted them 
planted. Skase seemed happy to help, the epitome of a 
dutiful neighbor. 
When it looked like Skase was about to start on his third 
pass over the car, Mulder decided he'd seen enough. He 
climbed from the car and headed for the house. 
Mulder trotted up the drive and waited for acknowledgment. 
Skase looked surprised at first, but that look was soon 
overtaken by a saccharine smile. He continued to wash his 
car, glancing over towards Mulder's disreputable Ford 
parked outside on the street. 
"Don't bother. She's not here." 
"Oh. That's disappointing." Skase tossed the sponge back 
into the bucket of soapy water. "It seems I misunderstood, 
Agent Mulder. I didn't realize I was muzzling into your 
territory." 
Mulder shook his head, "That's not your business. Who the 
hell do you think you are? Hanging around my apartment 
spying on us?" 
"Just doing my homework. May the best man win." 
"This isn't a competition." Mulder took a few steps 
towards the other man, "I'm telling you once only. Stay 
away from Scully." 
"Or what?" 
Mulder grabbed Skase by the shirt, shoved him against the 
car with such force it left a dent. 
Skase remain silent, stunned into submission. 
"I know what you are," Mulder hissed at him, "I know all 
those accidents were somehow your doing. I'm not letting 
you put Scully into the same danger." He shook Skase out of 
his stupor; there was a tearing sound, and a button flew 
off Skase's expensive shirt. 
Skase stared at the damage a moment, and then gave Mulder 
a look that could kill. 
A loud cracking sound reached Mulder's ears a split second 
later --the sound of the gun on his belt discharging. He 
dropped to the ground clutching at his wounded leg, 
muttering obscenities. Skase reached over casually and 
pulled the smoking gun from his holster. 
Skase handled the gun awkwardly, waving the muzzle in the 
direction of the back seat of the Thunderbird, but Mulder 
was in no position to offer much in the way of opposition. 
"Time you and I went for a little ride, Agent Mulder." 
Mulder wasn't listening, the pain in his leg was blocking 
out all other sensory information. He remembered seeing 
blue sky, white clouds and green grass. Then nothing. 
  
  
Washington D.C. 
Nov 25, 11:55AM 
The mid-morning traffic was in full force. Scully waited 
in her car at the traffic lights, drumming her fingers on 
the steering wheel as she watched pedestrians hurry past 
carrying brightly colored shopping bags. 
Her phone shrilled. She cursed as she realized she'd 
forgotten to turn it off, debated with herself over whether 
she should answer it. 
Then she remembered where Mulder had gone. She fumbled 
with one hand to answer as the traffic started to move 
forward. "Scully." 
"You're a difficult woman to catch, Dana. I was beginning 
to think you were ignoring me on purpose." 
There was something in Skase's voice that put Scully on 
edge. "I'm busy," was the most non-committal response she 
could muster. 
"I know. Agent Mulder is coming between us. So I'm doing 
something about it." 
Scully pulled her car over, ignoring the horns blaring 
behind her, intent on hearing every word. "Quentin? Where's 
Agent Mulder?" Scully did her best to ignore the sound of 
her thumping heart, determined to hear anything in the 
background --anything, no matter how faint, that might give 
her a clue as to Mulder's whereabouts. 
Skase wasn't going to make her play guessing games. 
"There's a junkyard out I-95. Johnson's Scrap. You know it?" 
Scully frowned to herself as she thought, "Yes... I think 
so. It's near the carnival grounds?" 
"Yes. Meet me there." 
"Quentin... I want to talk to Agent Mulder." 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder can't come to the phone." 
"Why not?" She waited for an answer, but none came. 
"Quentin?" 
"Unfortunately, Agent Mulder had an accident." 
"What kind of accident!? ...Hello?" 
The line went silent. 
Scully gritted her teeth, pushed away the fear pooling in 
the pit of her stomach, and pulled back into the traffic, 
forcing a minivan off onto the shoulder in her haste. 
  
  
Johnson's Scrap Metal 
Bethesda 
Nov 25, 12:00PM 
The world spun, accompanied by eerie carnival music. It 
took Mulder a few seconds to realize the sound was real. 
His head ached and he fought the urge to vomit. 
When he opened his eyes, he was face down in the dirt. His 
wrists ached, but attempting to move them only caused more 
pain. After a few seconds of useless struggling, he finally 
realized they were bound behind him. The burning pain in 
his leg had subsided somewhat, leaving a sticky, cold wet 
sensation. He rolled over and attempted to get to his feet, 
but his legs remained uncooperative. 
The sun was high in the sky, and the glare blinded him. He 
squinted into the bright light and looked around. 
It looked like some kind of junkyard. Wrecked cars 
teetered in precarious piles as far as the eye could see. 
He noticed the Thunderbird parked ominously behind him. 
Although its owner was nowhere to be seen, Mulder guessed 
he wouldn't be far away. 
The sound of footsteps in the dirt made him spin around to 
face the noise. The scenery whirled for a moment, until his 
gaze rested on Skase. 
"OK Skase... Was nice of you to take me for a spin in the 
T-Bird. I'm suitably impressed. You can untie me now." 
Skase laughed. He looked down at the gun in his hands, got 
a proper grip on it before pointing it at Mulder. The music 
from the nearby circus rose and fell with the wind. 
Mulder suddenly felt uneasy, as if he'd been dropped into 
some kind of macabre Rohl Dahl hell. He'd had guns pointed 
at him before, but that was generally by people who knew 
what they were doing with them. 
Skase pointed the weapon haphazardly as he spoke. "Maybe 
you're right. Maybe all those accidents were my fault... 
but if I'm happy, there'll be no more accidents. Dana can 
make me happy. It's her duty to make me happy." 
Closing his eyes, Mulder sank back against the car. His 
mind raced, frantically trying to think of anything to keep 
Skase occupied in the hope that Scully would turn up. 
"No..." he grimaced through the pain, "No... If I'm right, 
the best thing you can do for Agent Scully is to stay away 
from her..." 
Mulder watched Skase fight himself over the issue. He 
glanced around hopefully. If Skase was frustrated, maybe 
some of that bad karma would come back to haunt him. 
But nothing happened. No one-ton anvils fell from the sky, 
no elephants marched in to trample him. The gun didn't even 
misfire again. Mulder groaned. Of all times to be wrong. 
Another idea struck him as he studied the dent in the 
fender his altercation with Skase left behind - it had 
happened only seconds before his gun had discharged without 
warning. Slowly he pulled his feet under himself, ready to 
make a move. 
Mulder jumped to his feet, and deliberately ran behind the 
car for cover, pain screaming up his injured leg. Skase 
fired after him, missing, only to pepper the smooth skin of 
the white Thunderbird with bullet holes. 
As Scully climbed from her car, she heard the shots. With 
her heart in her mouth, she pulled her weapon, and ran in 
the direction from which they had come as fast as she could. 
She hit the open space running, first seeing the 
Thunderbird, then Skase, still training the gun on Mulder. 
"Freeze! FBI! Drop your weapon!" 
Skase kept his position, still holding the gun on Mulder, 
"Dana. Don't be angry. I'm doing this for you." 
"The only thing you can do for me now is to put down the 
gun." 
There was a tense moment as Skase considered. Much to 
Scully's relief, he lowered the weapon, and left it on the 
ground at his feet. 
At first she thought she imagined it; a low growl emitted 
from behind a pile of scrap metal. A split second later, 
she gasped as a large animal sprung from its hiding place. 
Scully stared in horror. A tiger -- A goddamned tiger 
loose in the middle of Bethesda, Maryland. It swatted Skase 
with one swipe of a mighty paw, and pounced on him in a 
flurry of white teeth and razor claws. 
She heard Mulder yell in shock, saw him skitter backwards 
in an attempt to get as far away as he could. Scully aimed 
her gun, but the precious seconds dragged out, and she was 
unable to squeeze off a reliable shot. A wounded tiger was 
not an option she was prepared to consider. She opted to 
fire a few shots into the ground, hoping to scare it off. 
The tiger leapt from its victim, and headed for cover 
behind a teetering pile of junk. Scully fired after it, 
unsure if she hit it. She paused for a split second to tend 
to Skase, but the sight of his clawed heart lying on the 
outside of his chest deterred her. 
Scully didn't have time to be stunned. Instead she made a 
beeline for Mulder, and removed the wire binding his hands. 
Mulder opened his eyes, "Scully... am I hallucinating, or 
did Skase just get... mauled by a... tiger?" 
"If you are, we're having the same hallucination." She 
tore his trouser leg open to get a better look at his 
wound, still looking over her shoulder, mindful that the 
tiger might make another appearance. She pulled a pen knife 
from her pocket and cut a piece of Mulder's suit coat, 
folded it into a square. 
"Aw, Scully, this was my favorite suit..." 
"They're all your favorite suit, Mulder." She placed the 
folded cloth over the wound on his leg. 
Three men burst into the area, armed with rifles. One 
leaned over and studied Skase, another younger man stayed 
at the back, ashen-faced at the sight of Skase's body. "Did 
you see which way the animal went?" 
Scully nodded, and pointed over towards the row of cars, 
"It could be anywhere." 
"Don't worry... we'll find it." 
Scully turned her attention back to Mulder's wounded leg, 
tearing his trousers open a little further so she could 
have a closer look at the damage. 
"Scully... Shouldn't we get a room first?" Mulder managed 
a weak grin. 
Scully pressed the makeshift compress against the wound a 
little harder. 
"Ow!" 
"Hold that tight..." Scully put his hand over the compress 
she'd just placed, then reached for her phone and dialed. 
"This is Agent Dana Scully. I have an agent down. Ambulance 
required, Johnson's Scrap on the I95. I repeat, agent 
down." Scully rattled off her badge number and waited for 
the dispatcher to repeat back the directions. 
She finished the call and tucked her phone away, then 
settled on the ground, maneuvering Mulder's head to rest on 
her lap, "They're on the way. Won't be long." She scanned 
the surrounding area carefully, still clutching her gun, 
panting heavily with relief. "Don't worry. Your leg doesn't 
look too serious." 
Mulder closed his eyes a moment, comforted by the fingers 
running through his hair. "I'm OK." He paused, and gave a 
weak laugh, "If this happens again I'll make a perfect 
sieve." 
"What happened, Mulder?" 
"I think he knew, Scully... about the accidents. When I 
confirmed it, it just pushed him over the edge." Mulder 
sighed. "Maybe Skase's frustrations had a way of 
manifesting themselves into the physical... influencing 
odds... causing freakish accidents... or maybe..." 
"Maybe, what?" 
The sound of sirens reached their ears. "Maybe he should 
have called that car Christine." 
  
  
Epilogue. 
Johnson's Scrap Metal 
Bethesda 
Nov 27, 4:00PM 
In the back of the yard, a young man admired a white T- 
Bird hardtop. To be sure, she looked a wreck now, with a 
dented fender, and mysterious puncture holes marring one 
side, but he could see the potential. A little work from 
him and she would quickly be back to her former glory. 
He studied her smooth curves, glossy paintwork and 
gleaming chrome and congratulated himself on an astute 
purchase. He didn't know why, but he decided to call her 
Zelda. She looked like a Zelda: pale, curvy and sleek. 
Zelda. 
Yep, she really was captivating.