Kyrie Eleison 
By Xenith
xenitha@yahoo.com

Rating:  NC-17 for graphic subject matter:torture
Archiving:  Sure, just let me know first.
Category: SA MTA Rating: 10
Spoilers: Thru 6th season
Keywords: Mulder/Sc/Sk friendship;torture; Muldertorture
Summary:  Mulder faces death at the hands of a serial torturer-
murderer because of a mistake he made years ago as a young profiler.
Feedback: Yes! Yes! Please send me feedback!!!!!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X Files or any of its characters and make
no profit from this story.  The X Files are Chris Carter's. Any
resemblance between any character, organization or cheesy hotel cited
herein is purely coincidental and unintentional. If there really is a Reno
Hilton, I've never been there, much less the bridal suite. This hotel is

PART 1
 
"...Kyrie Eleison down that road that I must travel,
Kyrie Eleison through the darkness of the night..."
 
(Kyrie, Mr. Mister)
 
*note:  Kyrie Eleison means Lord, have mercy; Christe Eleison means,
Christ have mercy.  The words are spoken as part of the Catholic Mass, as
a prayer pleading for God's help and care for us in our sins.
 
February 20, Reno Hilton,
American Society of Law Enforcement Officers Yearly Conference
 
Mulder looked glumly up at the cloudy sky as he and Skinner removed the
suitcases from the back of the rental car.
 
"Sir, I still don't think it was necessary for Scully and I to attend this
conference.  We have a full case-load and we both have to testify at the
Miller trial next week."
 
Skinner hauled the last suitcase out of the trunk and set it on the
pavement. "As I said before, Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully have a
genius for avoiding professional training conferences and classes. The Law
Enforcement Conference promises to add to your store of knowledge
regarding current forensic techniques."  He picked up two suitcases
labeled "Skinner" and "Scully"  and began walking into the hotel. "Scully
should have the room keys by now.  For the time being, Mulder, just try to
enjoy yourself.  Consider that an order."
 
Mulder picked up his own suitcase and followed Skinner inside.
 
Inside the Reno Hilton, Agent Dana Scully tried to convince the clerk one
more time.  "No, you don't understand.  There are three of us and we have
confirmed reservations for three separate rooms. We can't possibly all
share one room."
 
"I'm truly sorry, ma'am, but the computer seems to have lost your
reservations.  The hotel is fully booked because of the conference, and
all we have left is the bridal suite, as I've already told you. That at
least has one bedroom with sitting room. That's the best I can do." Scully
noted that the clerk looked as harassed as Scully felt, facing both an
uncooperative computer and an angry Scully. Scully shook her head; this
went against all her sense of propriety, sharing the bridal suite (of all
things), with two men at this prestigious conference.
 
"Are we ready, Agent Scully?"  Scully turned to find Skinner with luggage
and a dejected looking Mulder trailing behind.
 
"I'm sorry, sir.  They lost our reservations and all they have left is the
bridal suite.  It has a bedroom and a sitting room, but only one
bathroom."
 
Mulder grinned. "Why Agent Scully, I do believe that you are blushing!
What's the problem?  The heart-shaped tub or the king-sized waterbed?"
 
Skinner forced himself to hide his own smile and turned to the clerk with
his best bulldog frown.  "Are you absolutely sure that you have no more
rooms?  Maybe something in the VIP accomodations? I'm an Assistant
Director for the FBI, this is Agent Dana Scully, a top pathologist at the
Bureau and Agent Fox Mulder, a senior field agent. We were assured that we
had confirmed reservations so that we could attend this conference."
 
The clerk looked visibly frightened.  "I'm very sorry sir.  But the VIP
suite has already been taken by the Keynote Speaker and his staff. The
bridal suite is the only space we have left."
 
Skinner shrugged.  "I think we'd better take the bridal suite then. Agent
Scully,   Agent Mulder and I can share the sitting room and you can have
the bedroom.  I can assure you that Mulder and I will be complete
gentlemen, and under the circumstances we don't have much choice."
Skinner motioned to the clerk.  "Let's have the room keys."
 
The clerk handed out the keys "Here you are, Agent Scully, Walter Skinner
and Fox Mulder"  The clerk motioned to a nearby bellhop and gestured for
him to take the bags from Skinner and Mulder.  The bellhop, a tall man in
his thirties with heavy muscles  picked up Skinner's two bags easily,
loading them onto a trolley.  He studied Mulder's face as Mulder handed
him the last bag.
 
"You weren't the agent involved in the Michael Bailey case, were you?" The
bellhop asked as he finished stacking the luggage and moved toward the
elevator.  The three agents followed him inside.
 
"Yes, I was. Are you familiar with it...Paul?"  Mulder eyed the bellhop's
nametag, then absently watched the floor numbers flash by.
 
"Yeah,  I knew some of the victims.  Bailey was from around here, you
know. I heard he died about a year ago."  The bellhop smiled.  "Well,
thanks to you Michael Bailey is dead and gone.  I never thought I'd ever
meet you in person; it's really made my day... this'll be your floor."
 
The bellhop smiled again and led the three to room 1013, opening the door
with a flourish.  He motioned the three agents into the room.
 
Mulder and Scully followed Skinner in, their mouths as agape as Skinner's
by the sheer effect of the decor.
 
The room was  a gilded fantasy with walls covered in scalloped red velvet
wallpaper, decorated with candelabra sconces held by golden cherubs. Two
red velvet love seats faced a brass and glass coffee table supported by
more cherubs, while an enormous entertainment center fought for corner
space near the window with an impossibly ornate carved table.
 
Skinner recovered first and tipped the bellhop, closing the door firmly
behind him.  He noted that Mulder and Scully had gone to explore the other
room.  He followed out of sheer morbid curiosity.
 
The bedroom was dominated by a giant round bed, adorned with curtains of
yet more red velvet encrusted with gold tassels. The bathroom door led off
the bedroom and did, indeed, contain a heart-shaped bathtub of decorative
red and white tile.  A supply of bubble bath and condoms were neatly
stacked beside the tub.
 
Mulder just grinned as Skinner cleared his throat. "We'll knock on your
door if we need to use the, er.., facilities."
 
"Thank you, sir.  I'm sure it'll be fine."  Scully was blushing an even
brighter red than she had downstairs.
 
"Well, at least we won't have to worry about explaining this on the
expense report."  Mulder flashed a grin at Skinner and went into the other
room to unpack his bags.
 
February 21, 9:00 p.m.
 
All three agents were soon taken up with the conference.  To Mulder's
surprise, he did begin to enjoy himself,  immersing himself in the
conference sessions offered.  On the second evening Mulder had returned to
the room while Scully  and Skinner attended a late seminar when there was
a knock at the door.
 
When Mulder opened the door, he found the bellhop with a cloth covered
tray which held a champagne bottle, glasses and a large box of chocolates.
 
"Oh, hello...Paul, wasn't it?"  Mulder looked expectantly at the bellhop.
 
"Hello.  The manager asked me to check to see that your stay has been
comfortable so far.  And, to apologize for the mix-up, I brought some
complimentary chocolates and champagne, and, well also to thank you for
your work on the Bailey case.  It isn't often that an ordinary citizen has
a chance to thank somebody like you.  I really hope you enjoy the candy." 
Paul set the tray down on the table and glanced around the room. "I
brought three glasses.  Are your co-workers here?"
 
"No, they're at a seminar.  But thank you very much." Mulder lifted the
cover of the chocolate box.
 
"Well, I hope you don't wait for them before you sample the chocolates.
They're Godiva, the best. I like the round ones, myself." The bellhop
watched with satisfaction as Mulder picked up a round chocolate and popped
it into his mouth.
 
"Hey, this is really good." Mulder took a second chocolate and bit into
it, then his  expression changed to one of dismay. "I don't feel that
great...  I think I need to sit down.  Too much sugar, I guess." Mulder
abruptly sat down on the loveseat.
 
"You don't look so good either.  Do you want me to get you a glass of
water? Mister Mulder?"
 
 Mulder started to get up but swayed and fell to the floor, unconscious.
The box fell from his hand onto the plush carpet, its contents rolling
over the floor.
 
The bellhop grinned and retrieved a baggage cart containing an oversized
steamer trunk from outside the door.  He quickly picked up the scattered
chocolates from the floor, piling them haphazardly into the box, and then
began to bundle Mulder into the trunk along with the champagne, candy and
tray.  The bellhop turned when he heard the door rattle behind him.
 
Skinner entered the room and took in the scene at a glance, "Hey, what do
you think you're doing?"  and rushed the bellhop. Skinner then felt a
sharp, electrical jolt and fell to the floor, as the bellhop put a taser
back into his pocket.
 
"Now, what am I going to do with you?"  The bellhop pulled a switchblade
knife from his pocked and cut Mulder's shirt off him. Then he began
tearing it into strips, binding and gagging a furious and incapacitated
Skinner. "I guess you have to come along.   You better not struggle too
much, you might hurt your friend." The bellhop said conversationally as he
squeezed Skinner into the trunk next to Mulder.
 
"But don't worry, there's plenty of air.  I drilled some good holes in the
top."  The bellhop locked the trunk securely, then covered it with padded
blankets, moved the trolley into the hallway, and calmly locked the room
behind him.
 
The bellhop took the service elevator to the basement, where he rolled the
luggage cart out a back entrance to a parked van, hidden behind some
dumpsters. Mulder was still unconscious when he was loaded into the back
of the van, Paul Bailey noted with satisfaction.  But he took the
precaution of tying Mulder and gagging him with materials waiting in the
van.  Skinner tried to struggle, but quieted down after Paul hit him on
the head.  Both were soon in the van, with Paul happily driving them all
toward his secret place.
 
February 21, 10:00 p.m.
 
Scully opened the room to find it empty.  Of course, Mulder could be out
running, but it was strange that Skinner hadn't returned.  Oh, well, they
probably were busy talking shop somewhere.  She shrugged and decided to
try out that heart-shaped tub.
 
Two hours later, Scully was worried.  There were no messages at the front
desk from either man.  She tried both cell phones, to discover Mulder's
ringing in the closet and Skinner's phone sitting on the television set.
 
By 1:00 a.m. she decided that something must have happened and telephoned
the front desk again.  No one had seen either man leave the hotel.  Scully
dressed and went downstairs.  She checked the bar, the restaurant, the gym
and, after a check of each of the seminar rooms, had to acknowledge that
they just weren't there.
 
Damn it, she muttered to herself, where the hell are they?  Mulder might
disappear on me, but Skinner wouldn't.  She tried the room again, but it
was empty.
 
She returned to the front desk and asked for the chief of hotel security.
She tapped her nails nervously on the desktop until a stocky, middle-aged
man approached her.
 
"Yes ma'am, I understand you want to see me?  I'm Bert Youngman, head of
security here."  He looked Scully up and down with blatant appreciation.
"Has somebody been bothering you?  I know it gets pretty rowdy during
conventions."
 
"No, that isn't the problem at all.  My colleagues and I are attending the
law enforcement conference here, and both my partner and my boss seem to
have disappeared."  Scully pulled out her badge and FBI identification.
"They didn't come back to the suite after the conferences ended for the
night."
 
Youngman smiled knowingly. "And it's now, what? 2 a.m. on a convention
night...Miss, they're grown men doing what grown men do when they're in a
strange town, during a convention in Reno. They'll be back tomorrow
morning, a little hung over and a lot broke, feeling ashamed of
themselves.  You just go back upstairs and go to bed. They'll be back!"
 
"But you don't understand, they aren't like that. Mulder might go out for
a run, or even ditch the conference for a case, but he wouldn't just go
carousing without leaving a message or a note. And Skinner.." Scully tried
to imagine Skinner tying one on. No, not on a business trip, and not
without leaving word for his agents.
 
"Just the same, trust the voice of experience.  And lady, I've had a lot.
If they haven't dragged their sorry asses back by tomorrow noon, give me a
call then.  But for now, just let boys be boys."  With that, Youngman
smiled at Scully and walked into an office behind the desk, shutting the
door behind him.
 
What he said was logical, but Scully couldn't fight a gut feeling that all
was not well with Mulder and Skinner.  They weren't just getting fleeced
at a blackjack table.
 
Somewhere in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, 2 a.m.
 
Skinner became fuzzily aware that he was sitting on a cold linoleum floor,
his wrists tied behind him to something pole-like and equally cold.  He
sat up straighter and bumped his head on the bottom of a ceramic sink,
discovering in the process that he had just made a splitting headache
worse. He tried to take stock of his surroundings.  A pipe, his hands were
tied to a pipe.  He struggled to focus his bleary eyes, grateful that his
glasses had somehow survived the trip, and saw that he was in a windowless
room with plain white walls.  He squinted up at the bare light bulb
dangling from the ceiling and his eyes widened as he saw what was
suspended next to it.
 
 A nude Mulder,  the rope tying his wrists neatly caught up by a hook in
the ceiling, hung there unconscious. His ankles were tied and the rope
fastened down to an eye-bolt embedded in the floor.
 
Skinner noted that he himself was still fully dressed in slacks and shirt,
shoes and socks but no tie. Skinner began to struggle with the ropes at
his wrists; at least his feet were free.   No weapon, though, damn it.
Left it in the room.  What the hell happened?  Must be another one of
Mulder's crazy cases.  That man attracts trouble like sugar brings ants.
Obviously Mulder is the primary target for this crazy, though. He kept
tugging at the ropes, although they showed no signs of loosening.
 
Skinner heard Mulder groan and cough as he began to regain consciousness.
 
"Mulder!  Wake up!  Come on, you're the only one who can figure out who
this wacko is and what we're doing here...Come on, snap out of it!"
Skinner tried to put a commanding snap into his voice.
 
Mulder lifted his head and focused on Skinner. "Wha....what happened?
Where are we?  God, my arms hurt."  He tensed and tried unsuccessfully to
move his body against the ropes. Then he looked down and realized that he
was unclothed and tied.
 
 "Must have been some party.  Did I have a good time? Or is it still going
on?" Mulder looked around the room, taking in the blank windowless walls,
the ceiling and floor restraints.  "Obviously some planning went into
this."
 
"Yeah, and I'd say you're the guest of honor." Skinner said dryly. "I'm
tied, but my feet are free.  So far no slack in the rope but I'm working
on it. See if you can get yourself free.  And while you're at it, are
there any crazies gunning for you that I should know about?"
 
"Too many, but none that spring to mind."  Mulder tried to pull himself up
but gave up abruptly with a yelp. "Ow, I think my left shoulder is coming
out of its socket."
 
Both men were silent when they heard a noise at the door to the room.  It
swung open, revealing the hotel bellhop, now casually dressed in jeans and
t-shirt.  He carried a large brown paper sack in one hand and a broom in
the other.  He laid the both objects on the floor several feet from
Mulder, and well away from Skinner.
 
"Well, I'm glad you're both awake.  Now we'll have some fun."
 
"What the hell is going on?"  Skinner barked.
 
"I'm sorry you had to come along, Mr. Skinner.  I'm really only interested
in Agent Fox Mulder."  Bailey began pulling a series of brown paper
parcels out of the sack.  "But you saw me kidnapping Agent Mulder, so I
had no choice but to bring you along."  Bailey paused.  "I could have
killed you there, of course, but that wouldn't have been smart."
 
"So why do you want me?" asked Mulder.  "What did I ever do to you?"
 
"I lost a brother because of you.  You remember the Bailey case?  My
brother Michael Bailey was found guilty of serial murder because of your
profile of the killer and was sentenced to death.  He committed suicide
while he was on death row.  He couldn't stand it any more."  Bailey
stepped over to Mulder and stared into his eyes. "Because of your
INCORRECT profile, my innocent  brother was put on death row and he killed
himself. Now you're going to be executed, slowly."
 
Bailey smiled and began unpacking the brown sack again.
 
"What did I do wrong?" Mulder was too startled to feel afraid. "How did I
make a mistake in the profile?"
 
"You said that the murderer was a physically strong man with a history of
torturing small animals, somebody who knew all the victims and someone who
had lots of friends.  You focused on Mike because he was a trainer at the
gym and all the victims were his clients.  But he had  been arrested as a
kid for torturing cats.  When that came out, you said that he must be the
murderer.  The Feds were all over him.  When  I saw you testify at his
trial you were so damned sure he was guilty." Bailey took the last package
out of the sack.
 
"But what you didn't consider, Mr. Smart-ass Oxford educated FBI-man,"
Bailey continued. "was that I was the one who tortured the cats. My
brother lied for me when I was twelve, to give me another chance."
Bailey's voice roughened.  "They couldn't even prove the juvenile charge
against him, so they dismissed it.  And the only friend I ever had in my
life was Mike.  You were just plain wrong! Did you even bother to make
sure they got the right guy?"
 
"If you knew that, why didn't you tell the police? Why did you let your
brother go to death row?" Mulder asked incredulously.
 
"Because I was the KILLER, damn it!  I wasn't going to finger myself for
this, but that's no reason to f*** up like you did and kill my brother!
For all the good it did Mike, you might as well have pulled the switch on
him yourself.  And Mike never told anyone it was really me. He died, still
protecting me."  Tears were streaming down Bailey's face. "I haven't hurt
anyone ever since Mike was arrested but I always promised myself I'd have
some serious fun if I ever met up with you. God, what a chance, you came
right to my hotel!"
 
"But how did you know the victims?"  Skinner pitched his voice low and
calm.
 
"I worked out at the same gym.  My brother always let me in for free. I
saw them all come and go from the gym."
 
Mulder was silent, stunned by the disclosure.  Skinner decided it was up
to him to try to talk their kidnapper down.
 
"You don't have to do this, you know.  They'll come looking for us. You
still have a chance to end this, make a run for it..  They'll be here
before long, and they won't stop looking for us. You know that."
 
Bailey began unwrapping the first package, removing a set of shiny
scalpels from the paper, setting them on the floor near Mulder's feet.
"They won't find you.  We're up in the mountains at the end of a private
road.  They didn't find this place during the first investigation, and
they won't find it now.  Nice and quiet, remote." He laughed. "No
neighbors to hear strange noises at night."  He pulled open the next
parcel and removed several packs of cigarettes and matches and a large
ceramic ashtray, then continued to the rest of the parcels.
 
Skinner was puzzled as he watched Bailey unwrap a variety of items, few of
them overtly threatening.  But Skinner also noted that Mulder looked
grimmer and paler as the contents of each package was exposed: spool of
black thread with a darning needle, broom, cigarettes, matches and
ashtray, brown plastic electrical extension cord and scalpels.
 
Bailey caught Skinner's expression and walked over to him.  "You never
heard the details of the case, did you?  Hey Mulder, you tell him what I
did to my other victims."  Bailey grabbed up a scalpel and held it against
Mulder's chest, poised to slice. "Tell him right now."
 
Mulder hesitated, then adopted his most clinical tone. "The bodies showed
evidence of extensive torture before death and mutilation after death.
Before death, the chest, back and legs showed incised wounds consistent
with a small sharp blade like a pocket knife or scalpel. Small circular
burns were found in the abdomen, buttocks and genital areas; clearly
cigarette burns.."  Mulder stopped and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
 
Skinner looked nauseated.
 
Bailey jabbed Mulder with the scalpel, drawing a thin line of blood down
his left breast.  "Go on.  You aren't finished."
 
"The victims also displayed injuries consistent with having been beaten
multiple times with a fine rope or electrical cord. Several of the male
victims had also been beaten with a heavy object like a bat, causing a
ruptured spleen in one, and extensive kidney damage in another.  All the
victims had abrasions at the wrists and ankles and swelling of the
extremities, indicating that they had been suspended by their wrists for a
long period of time, probably several days. After death they were
disemboweled, their eyes and mouths sewn shut with coarse thread, although
several were disemboweled before death." Mulder eyed the heavy darning
needle and spool of thread with distaste.
 
"Very good, Agent Mulder.  At least you got that right.  So, shall we
begin?" Bailey delicately continued the bloody line on Mulder's chest,
diagonally and down.  Mulder's gasp sounded loud in the silent room.
Skinner racked his brains, trying to find the words that would stop this
from happening. Mulder beat him to it.
 
"I'm sorry about your brother, I can't say how much. But you know I'm only
human.  I can only go on the information I'm presented with, and I don't
know how I would have known that you were the killer after all..." Mulder
stopped abruptly as the scalpel suddenly slashed across his abdomen.
 
"You just shut up.  You're trying to talk me down, aren't' you? I've heard
about you profiler types, you're trying to make me let you go. But you
aren't going anywhere, and you're going to pay for your mistake." With
that he ran the scalpel across Mulder's chest, more deeply.  Mulder bit
his lip and grimaced but couldn't restrain the grunt of pain. Before long,
he lost even that much control.
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
"...Kyrie Eleison, where I'm going will you follow?..."
(Kyrie, by Mr. Mister)
 
PART 2
 
Reno Hilton, February 22, 9 a.m.
 
Scully watched the digital clock on the table click
over to 9 a.m. and picked up the phone.  No Mulder or
Skinner.  Damn them, she considered. I'm calling the
police, and if they show up later after a drunk or a
night in the casinos, I'll kill them myself.
 
She dialed 911 to report the agents missing. The Reno
police department was gratifyingly responsive to
Scully's report, sending two detectives over within
ten minutes of her call.  They took a statement and
promised to send over a forensic team to dust the
suite for fingerprints and check for other trace
evidence.
 
She also telephoned the local field office, and at
their suggestion, put through a call to Washington to
report the situation.  To her dismay, she was referred
to A.D. Kersh.
 
"And so, Agent Scully, you are telling me that Mulder
has disappeared mysteriously again and taken Walter
Skinner with him this time?" Kersh drawled into the
line, his voice dripping tired skepticism calculated
to make Scully lose her cool.
 
Scully focused on her deep breathing.  "I wouldn't put
it that way, sir.  They haven't reported in since
about 10 p.m. last night.  This is very unusual
behavior for A.D. Skinner, I'm sure you'll agree.  I
want to begin a search for them here and have already
notified Reno P.D. and the local Field Office."
 
"Then you'll call the police department and tell them
that the F.B.I. will handle this as an internal matter
through the Reno Field Office.  No sense airing the
Bureau's dirty laundry when, in all likelihood, Mulder
is off on another one of his wild-alien chases.
Undoubtedly Walt Skinner is out looking for him, more
fool he. And agent, I want you to stay in that hotel
and attend the conference per the original plan.
Mulder has had too much influence on you and frankly,
I don't trust you not to run wild yourself, chasing
after him.  You will leave the investigation to the
local F.B.I. personnel and you will not interfere.  Is
that understood?"
 
Scully was silent for a moment, then collected herself
to reply, "I understand perfectly sir." She hung up
the phone.
 
In Washington D.C., Kersh made a quick call to the
Reno field office and stressed that he wanted this
investigation considered a low priority and Scully
sidelined.  "I know Mulder, and he's a wise-ass of the
first water.  Walter Skinner deserves what gets for
taking that pair back and giving them free rein again.
 Don't waste your agents' time on this one.  They'll
come back with E.T.'s corpse or something.  All right,
keep me posted.  Thanks."
 
Reno Hilton February 22, 4:00 p.m.
 
Scully removed her gun from the suitcase and checked
the clip; it was full.  She holstered it at her waist
and sat at the table to make a list of witnesses to
question.  Two agents from the Reno field office had
stopped by to take a statement from Scully, but it was
clear from their demeanor that this was just a chore
to be gotten through as quickly as possible.  They
simply did not intend to take the disappearance of
Mulder and Skinner seriously.  They hadn't even
bothered to search the hotel room for trace evidence.
Before they left her, the senior agent pulled Scully
aside and gave her a warning.
 
"Agent Scully, we have been given very clear orders
about you.  You are not to be involved in this
investigation in any capacity, and will have no access
to F.B.I. facilities, labs or personnel.  We don't
want to hear from you on this, is that clear?  And
please don't bother the local P.D., we don't want to
upset our relationship with them because of a rogue
agent or two."  Scully could only fume silently as the
two agents left the room.
 
It all felt so familiar.  Somebody in Washington
probably decided to shut this investigation down.
"Just like Missy's case, they're going to bury it.
Damn it!!"  Scully picked up one of the gorgeous
brocade throw pillows from the love seat and threw it
against the red velvet wall.  "And if I ever see red
velvet again after this, I think I'll vomit!"
 
Sierra Nevada Mountains, February 22, 4 p.m.
 
Not for the first time that day Skinner wished with
all his heart that his hands were free, so that he
could cover his ears and block out Mulder's screams.
Skinner's arms were tired and raw, as were his
shoulders .With every cry Mulder had let out, Skinner
had fought harder against his bonds, struggling to do
something to stop this.
 
A small puddle of blood pooled beneath Mulder's feet;
more of it covered Bailey and some had splattered
onto Skinner.  Mulder was unlucky enough to be still
conscious despite day-long torture, first cuts with
the scalpels on abdomen and back, then beaten with the
electrical cord, then body blows with the broomstick.
The thudding sound still rang in Skinner's mind.
Skinner could swear that he had heard ribs break with
one blow.  Mulder's voice had diminished in volume
until it reached its current dull rasp, his breathing
had grown harsh and labored.
 
At last Bailey seemed to be tired and dropped the
broomstick to the ground."Well, Agent Mulder, I think
I'll take a break.  But I'll be back later to finish
up, count on it."  Bailey removed a fluffy white
terrycloth bathtowel from the paper sack and began
toweling the blood off his own body then picked up the
broomstick and carefully wiped the blood off of it as
well.  He draped the towel around his neck then
returned the cigarettes, scalpels and other items to
the paper sack, picking it up with the other hand.
 
"Wait, please."  Skinner pleaded. "Excuse me, but
we've been here a while, could we have some water and
something to eat?" Skinner put a tight rein on his
temper and tried to sound friendly.  "And I need to
use the bathroom."
 
Paul stopped and considered.  It was unusual for him
to have more than one captive at a time, but he didn't
want the second one to die or get sick before his
time.  The other one wasn't going to last much longer
either unless he got some water.  Paul made his
decision and left the room, returning shortly with a
large empty plastic tumbler, and a long chain with a
locking manacle.
 
He walked across the room and opened a door, showing a
tiny bathroom. He left the tumbler on the floor and
returned to Skinner, pulling the taser from his
pocket.
 
"I'm going to chain your ankle.  It should be long
enough for you to get o the can.  But if you try
anything, you get this.." He gestured with the taser.
 
"I understand." said Skinner. Paul attached the
shackle to Skinner's right ankle, then began to untie
his wrists.  Paul backed away toward the entrance and
out of Skinner's reach and gave a sunny smile as
Skinner carefully moved his hands in front of his body
and began rubbing them, trying to restore feeling in
them.
 
"I have to go to work now.  I'll see you tonight. Oh,
and here's your lunch."  Paul left briefly and
returned with a loaf of bread.  He set it on the floor
between Mulder and Skinner.  "Bye, now."
 
Bailey went out the door and Skinner could hear him
lock it behind him. Skinner carefully got up and
shambled over to Mulder, who seemed to be finally
unconscious.  The chain was just long enough to reach
him.  Skinner was struggling with the ropes at
Mulder's wrists when he heard a hoarse whisper.
 
"So, now do you understand why I avoid training
opportunities?"
 
"Mulder, how are you doing?"  Skinner had never felt
more inadequate as an A.D. or an F.B.I. agent.
 
"I'm alive; but that's all I'm shooting for right
now."  Mulder's body shook convulsively with a shiver.
 "I'm pretty cold.  Think I'm going into shock.  Can't
do that; Scully would disapprove."  Mulder's voice
trailed off.  Skinner broke in anxiously.  "Stay with
me Mulder.  We've got to plan.   We're getting out of
this."  The knots were slippery with blood and
Skinner's fingers kept sliding across the rope.
 
Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe I f***ed up so
badly on this case.  An innocent person dead because
of my profile... I don't see a way out, unless Scully
arrives with a SWAT team...  God...I hurt...."
 
"Mulder, I'm still working on these ropes, I'll have
you free in a moment. Can you free your feet?"
 
"I'm trying but I don't have much leverage.  He's tied
them pretty tight."  Mulder struggled for a moment
then gave up, panting in exhaustion. "Sorry, just
can't."
 
"Well, keep trying.  Now, what can you tell me about
this guy?"  C'mon, Mulder, keep talking, Skinner urged
silently, you won't die on me if you keep talking.
 
"I think he's pretty close to the original profile.
Paul got part of it wrong. In the profile I said that
the killer was in contact with many people. That fit
Michael Bailey but also fits his brother Paul, since
he was a gym regular.  But I don't think Paul is open
to hearing that just now....God, I even knew Michael
had a brother but I discounted Paul because of
Michael's prior 'record'."  Mulder's voice trailed off
and his eyes closed.
 
"So why is he upset with you?  Paul is really the one
at fault, all he had to do was confess and his brother
would go free. Hey, Mulder, you still with me?"
Skinner pulled at the ropes again and pitched his
voice louder. "We still need to make a plan.  How can
we get to this guy?  You're the one with the psych
degree.  Tell me."
 
The ropes were finally loosening, thank God.
 
Mulder's head lolled on his chest.  He shook his head,
trying to clear it.  "Plan...Well, he won't be
receptive to anything I tell him.  His guilt is
driving him.  He's repressed all the guilt he feels at
not coming forward and made me his scapegoat,
especially since Michael committed suicide as a
result.  And it's even worse for Paul since Michael
apparently died still trying to protect his little
brother.  Michael never did name the real killer."
 
Mulder coughed, then winced and drew in a harsh
breath.  "If you have to negotiate with him, I think
you can get to him if he perceives you as an ally.
You have to convince him that you agree I'm at fault
and deserve to be punished.  You might be able to
distract him and get away."
 
"I can't leave you here with him." Skinner was
shocked. "I don't leave my people behind."
 
Mulder returned Skinner's look with his own level
stare. "I know that you don't want to, but there's no
way I can overpower this guy, and even if we both got
out, I'd be physically useless. I'd only hurt your
chances of getting help.  Besides, by the time you
talk him down I might not....be an issue.   You have
to try."
 
Skinner knew when he was outgunned.  "Okay, I'll try.
But you hang in there; don't you give up to this
bastard.  You aren't going to die on me, do you
understand Agent Mulder?  Besides, we haven't gone
over your most recent batch of expense reports yet."
 
The ropes finally came free and Mulder slumped
bonelessly forward to the floor.  Skinner caught him
and eased Mulder to the floor, where Mulder lay
shivering on the cold linoleum.
 
Skinner pulled off his dress shirt and undershirt,
wrapping as much of Mulder's body in the fabric as he
could.  He leaned Mulder into a sitting position
against him, then began working on the other set of
ropes at Mulder's ankles.  Mulder faded in and out of
consciousness and was unaware when Skinner succeeded
in untying the last of the ropes.  At that point,
Skinner had no choice but to stop and consider their
position.
 
Although Mulder was free, he was incapacitated and
Skinner was worried about him.  They had no clue about
their location, but the certain knowledge that this
killer had been so successful that he'd never been
caught.  Skinner pulled at the chain and found no give
in it.  He watched Mulder's troubled sleep and thought
to himself,  I can either negotiate with Bailey, or,
if he gets within range of this chain I can go for
him.  If he gets within range...Scully, I hope you can
do one of your miraculous rescues, because we can sure
use it now.
 
 
Reno Hilton, February 22, 7 p.m.
 
Scully sat in the hotel dining room and toyed with her
Caesar salad.  She had spent the rest of the afternoon
taking statements from the other guests sharing the
hallway with room 1013.  Nobody had heard suspicious
noises or noticed anything unusual.  Of course it
could simply mean that Skinner and Mulder were
abducted from somewhere else in the hotel.  She
grimaced: maybe it's aliens after all...Time to go
back to solid, boring detective work.  She needed a
list of the guests and the staff at this hotel.
 
Normally, she'd just serve a warrant and get the
information quickly, but the FBI and local police were
unavailable to her.  Scully dug at the salad again.
No luck with normal channels.  She'd tried to
sweet-talk
the desk clerk, but he politely refused to release any
information without a search warrant, citing privacy
laws protecting the guests  as well as personnel.
Well, if the usual channels were closed, it was  time
to get desperate.  She pushed her salad away, and
decided to make her phone call in the privacy of the
room.
 
Langley picked up the phone, but was soon joined by
Byers and Frohike  after Scully had explained the
emergency.
 
"Can we hack into the hotel computers?  Is the Pope,
Catholic?"  Langley  cracked.
 
"I'm accessing their database even as we speak"
Frohike added.  "Do you have your laptop with you?  We
can e-mail it."
 
"I've got it right here."  Scully flipped it open and
logged on.   "Good thing this isn't our usual rat-trap
hotel.  They have separate  lines for modems.  Ah,
here it is.." Scully opened her mail and found  the
document; she began scrolling through the list of
hotel employees until her eye stopped at one
name...Paul Bailey.
 
"A hotel bellhop named Paul was asking Mulder about
the 'Bailey'  case....can you find out what job title
Paul Bailey holds and whether  he was on duty the day
we checked in?  And get any personnel files  you
locate on him."  Shortly a second e-mail revealed that
Paul Bailey  was a bellhop at the hotel and had been
on duty February 20.   His next of kin was listed as
Michael Bailey, last known  address: San Quentin
Prison in California.
 
"I have to find out more about Michael Bailey.  I know
that Mulder keeps his  own files on the cases he's
handled, dating back to his days in the VCS.  Can you
guys go and see if Mulder has a file on Michael
Bailey?  It's either in his apartment or in the
basement office...but would you be able to get in?"
While Scully was pondering this, Byers interrupted.
 
"We can get into the Hoover building, no problem.
Remember, we got in before, when Mulder was in the
Bermuda Triangle.  We'll find the file for you and
have it Fed-X'd or faxed to you as fast as we can."
 
"Yeah, don't you worry Scully.  We'll help you any way
we can.  We'll get 'em back."  Frohike added.
 
Scully smiled a tired smile.  It was so good finally
to have allies in this. "Fine, I'll look forward to
hearing from you then."  She hung up the phone and
considered her next task: searching the room.
 
At her request, none of the hotel cleaning staff had
been allowed into the suite that day.  Scully borrowed
a vacuum cleaner with a fresh bag, and extra bags,
and had purchased a roll of clear plastic tape, a
fingerprint kit, a package of plastic baggies and
latex gloves. She proceeded to methodically search the
room.  While vacuuming the floor of the sitting room
she found a single chocolate candy which had
rolled under the love seat.   She carefully dropped it
into a ziplock and laid it on the table.  A survey of
the rest of the floor found nothing conspicuously
unusual, apart from some long white cotton strands.
She bagged these as well.
 
She did a similar search in the rest of the suite,
vacuuming the areas carefully, with fresh bags for
each.  She then examined the bag contents at the
table, covering her face to protect from dust.  More
white strands from the sitting room, some flakes of
red crushed rock and some leaves.  She sniffed, they
gave off an aromatic scent: eucalyptus.  No other
debris turned up in the bedroom or bathroom.  She had
lifted fingerprints; lots of  fingerprints.  There
were too many to match easily or quickly and she had a
feeling that time was running out.
 
She reviewed her three vacuum-cleaner bags and
assorted baggies.  They needed to go to an evidence
lab, but the FBI was closed to her.  She pulled out
the Reno phone book and found a private lab in the
yellow pages.  She carefully typed a cover letter with
complete instructions, including her credit card
number, then packaged it with  her evidence and
arranged for the hotel to hand carry it to the lab in
the morning.
 
Scully rubbed her eyes and looked at her watch:
midnight, and her body was still on East Coast time.
This evidence, if it was evidence, could lead to the
kidnapper. Or it could just prove sloppy housekeeping.
She began to feel despair.  Scully decided to go to
bed; she'd try again tomorrow, when she was fresh.
 
Before she got into bed she sat quietly and held her
gold cross in her hand. She knew that she worried too
much about Mulder's safety, although she'd never known
a more disaster-prone man in her life. But she
couldn't shake a sense of dread that somehow Mulder
was in deep trouble and needed her badly.  Words from
the Mass ran through her mind and she whispered them
aloud: "Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie
eleison."  She quietly said a heartfelt prayer for
Mulder's and Skinner's safety and, comforted, lay down
to sleep.
 
Reno Hilton, February 23, 3:10 a.m.
 
Scully tossed and turned in the palatial bed.  Every
time she dropped off to sleep she saw Mulder's
agonized face.  She felt him, in terrible pain,
calling out to her for help, for rescue, and she was
powerless to move. When her bedside phone woke her she
was grateful.
 
Scully groped blindly for the receiver.  "Scully." She
mumbld.
 
"Scully, it's me, Frohike."
 
Scully sat up.  "Frohike, do you know what time it is
here?"
 
"Yeah, I know it's early, but I had to tell you.  We
got the Bailey file and just put Byers on a plane to
get it to you.  You have to pick him up at the airport
at 9 a.m. your time."
 
"Wait a minute, I thought you were just going to
Federal Express it to me or something?  Why is Byers
coming out?" Scully grabbed her glasses from the side
table and slid them on.
 
"Well, we found the file in Mulder's apartment and
read it...and well...we thought Byers should bring it
out to you.  We thought maybe you could use some
backup."
 
"Frohike, I AM an F.B.I. agent and I'm armed.  I don't
need somebody to protect me."
 
"Well, it's too late.  He's on his way.  And he'll act
as a liaison to us as well.  Our lab and computers are
at your disposal.  We want to help, Scully."
 
"All right.  I guess you guys are involved.  What
flight is he coming in on?..."
 
Reno Hilton, February 23, 10:00 a.m.
 
Scully opened the door to room 1013 and paused to give
Byers a chance to recover from the decor.
 
"This isn't what we usually get.  They don't have any
rooms left because of the conference, so you'll be
sleeping in the sitting room.  The love seats unfold
into beds."  Byers set down his suitcase and continued
to look around the room owlishly.  He was clutching a
large manila envelope under his left arm, with every
sign that it hadn't left him since Washington.
 
"NOW will you stop all this mystery and let me read
the file?  I don't understand why you wouldn't give me
the damn thing until we got here.  Come on, give!"
Scully held out her empty hand for the folder.  Byers
gave her a look full of pity and handed the file to
her.
 
"While you're reading the file, Agent Scully, I'll set
up my computer and see what more information I can
find on Michael and Paul Bailey." Byers set up his
laptop on the coffee table and was soon absorbed in
his work.
 
Scully sat down at the table and unfolded the contents
of the file, reading carefully and looking closely at
several photographs.  After a few minutes she
stiffened and turned around to Byers.  "My God, what
kind of a monster was this man?  Is this why you flew
out instead of just sending the information?"
 
Byers pushed his laptop aside.  "We wondered if,
maybe, the younger brother was like the elder.
Michael Bailey's victims usually didn't last very
long..."
 
"And they died in agony." Scully said softly, laying
her hand gently on the folder. "It's been two days
since they were taken.  If Paul is anything like
Michael, they could last maybe three more days before
he finishes them off.  And he has reason to hold a
grudge against Mulder, his profile was the central
piece of evidence that put Michael on death row.
Mulder's file hasn't been updated since he left the
VCS.  I wonder what happened to Michael?  Paul said to
Mulder that Bailey was dead, thanks to Mulder's work."
 
"That's easy enough to find out.  I'll hack into the
San Quentin records and we'll see."  Within minutes
Byers had downloaded the information and called Scully
over to see.  "It looks like Michael Bailey died last
year, a suicide.  He left a note protesting his
innocence, said he couldn't take prison any more."
Scully read the screen over Byers' shoulder.
 
"Who was notified of Michael's death, and how?" She
asked.
 
"It says here that the only family member left was a
younger brother, Paul.  All Michael's effects were
sent to him, including the suicide note.  At that time
he had an address in Truckee, California.  Never heard
of it."  Byers watched Scully get up and run into the
other room, returning with a Nevada/California road
atlas.  She located Truckee, then Reno.
 
"The address is only an hour's drive or so from here.
Does it match the address for our Paul Bailey?" She
said.  Byers accessed the personnel records for
Bailey.  They matched.
 
"It's him, then.  I should call and get an arrest
warrant."  Scully picked up the phone and began
dialing, then stopped.  "They were very clear that I'm
not to be involved in the case, and they've done
everything
possible to keep me uninvolved.  I can call in the
Truckee P.D. for backup if I need to, but I don't want
to give them time to contact the Reno field office."
Scully put the phone down and went to the dresser,
removing Mulder's holstered weapon from the top
drawer.
 
"Byers, have you ever used a gun?"
 
Sierra Nevada Mountains, February 23, 10:00 a.m.
 
Skinner wondered whether it was day or night or how
much time had passed. His watch had broken in the
struggle and Mulder's was gone.  The light bulb
overhead never wavered or dimmed, and there were no
windows to let in light.  There was only the
occasional hum of a central heater, keeping the
temperature from dropping below chilly.  He and Mulder
huddled together for warmth, and, he supposed, for
human comfort.  For what felt like the thousandth time
Skinner pulled at the chain and felt nothing but
resistance.  His wrists felt better but now his ankle
was swelling.  No matter, this was unimportant next to
Mulder's problems.
 
Skinner listened to Mulder's troubled breathing, harsh
and uneven and getting worse.  Mulder's shivering,
constant for the last several hours, was increasing.
Skinner moved closer and wrapped his arms around
Mulder, trying to share what body heat he could.
Damn.  There had to be a way out of this.
 
"Hey, does this mean we're dating?"  Mulder rasped.
 
Skinner pulled his arms away in embarrassment then
frowned and put them back. "You're sick and you've
been shivering.  Better put up with it, since I plan
for you to repay the debt in mandatory overtime when
we're out of here.  When was the last time you
volunteered to lead the tour at the Hoover Building
for the tourists?"
 
Mulder was silent for a moment.  "Sorry.  It's a
knee-jerk reaction. Sometimes I don't know why Scully
puts up with me.  What time is it? For that matter,
what day is it?"
 
"Your guess is as good as mine.  You want some
breakfast?"  Skinner pulled the loaf of bread  and the
tumbler over, half filled with water. "And you ought
to have something to drink."
 
"Thanks, I'm not really hungry.." Mulder started, but
at Skinner's glare accepted a small piece of bread and
the water. "When he comes back you're going to try
negotiating, aren't you?" Mulder mumbled around the
bread.
 
"If that's the only option.   I just don't know if I'm
that good an actor."  Skinner chewed on his own piece
of bread. "The last time I tried to act, I was a tree
in the third grade Christmas pageant.  It was a
non-speaking role."
 
"So try method acting.  Remember all the times I've
screwed up and Scully has had to go to you for help."
Mulder sipped at the water but put down the rest of
the bread uneaten. "Getting into this guy's head is
our best chance." Mulder shakily pulled himself to his
feet.  Skinner got up and offered a hand, but Mulder
shook his head.
 
Holding onto the wall for balance he crept into the
bathroom and shut the door behind him.  Skinner heard
the sound of vomiting, but decided to give Mulder his
privacy.
 
After several minutes of quiet, Mulder came out of the
bathroom and made his way to the door, rather than
back to Skinner.  Mulder leaned against the doorjamb
and tried the knob.  It didn't budge.  He ran his
hands over the door frame and scrutinized the lock
carefully.
 
"The hinges are recessed and it looks like this door
is built to be airtight.  This door is made of metal,
not wood."  Mulder rapped his knuckles against it and
the door made a solid 'thunk'.  "It isn't hollow,
either."
 
Mulder carefully turned around and gingerly stood
leaning his weight against the door. "Have you heard
noises like a ventilation system?"
 
"Yes.  A heater comes on periodically and I can see
some air vents up in the corner."  Skinner pointed to
some small openings at the ceiling, too small to climb
through. "Why? Is that important?"
 
"I think we're in somebody's old bomb shelter." Mulder
said. "When I was a kid, the people next door had one,
built into the side of their hill. It was heavy
concrete with this kind of door and was completely
self-sustaining."  Mulder wrapped his arms against his
chest. "My dad said it was a stupid idea.  He said
that the human race would kill itself  slowly, by
corrupting itself, allowing evil to continue, he said,
not by something fast and clean like the bomb.  I
never understood what he meant by that."  He gave
Skinner a troubled look. "I guess I do now."
 
Mulder leaned hard against the door.  "I think I need
to sit down." He slid painfully down to a sitting
position and huddled there, folding his body into a
fetal position, breathing hard.
 
"What's wrong Mulder?"  Skinner asked anxiously.
 
"Just d-d-dizzy and c-c-cold."  Mulder closed his eyes
and rested his chin on his knees.  Skinner tried to go
to him but was caught short by the chain at his ankle.
 
"Mulder, can you make it back over here? I can't help
you from here." Skinner said calmly.
 
Mulder opened his eyes. "You can't help me if I'm over
there either.  I need to be mobile while I can, so we
can find a way out of here."  Mulder levered himself
onto his feet again and continued to follow the wall,
circling back around to Skinner and the porcelain
sink.
 
"No openings or weakness in the wall. If I had a piece
of wire I could try to pick the lock."  Mulder sat
down next to Skinner and looked around dispiritedly.
 
"Well, we do have a potential weapon." Skinner said,
forcing cheerfulness into his voice.
 
"What's that?"  Mulder asked suspiciously.
 
"Our minds."
 
They sat silently, each with his own thoughts until
first Mulder, then Skinner dozed off to sleep.
 
Some time later the door opened and Bailey appeared
holding his paper sack, a gun in his right hand.
 
"I wondered if you'd untie him.  All right Agent
Mulder, please move toward the center of the room and
away from your friend."
 
Skinner began to move in front of Mulder as if to
defend him.  Mulder muttered urgently to Skinner "No,
don't.  The act starts now.  You have to convince
him."
 
Skinner startled but didn't look back at Muldeer.
Trying to look unconcerned, he walked away from
Mulder, as far as the chain would reach.
 
"I can't say I mind keeping this f***-up away from me.
 He's been nothing but trouble since the day he walked
into my office." Skinner stated loudly.
 
Bailey gestured Mulder toward the opposite wall.
Mulder moved slowly across the room and Bailey pulled
a pair of open handcuffs out of the sack, throwing
them at Mulder's feet.  "Put them on."  Mulder
complied slowly, looking for an opening to lunge at
Bailey, but was offered no opportunity.
 
 "So, have you been shopping at "Sadists 'R Us" or
what?"  Mulder commented as he fastened the cuffs to
his wrists. "And that's a nice gun, too.  I imagine
you didn't wait the three day waiting period?"
 
"Y'know, Mulder, you really are a smart-ass, aren't
you?"  Was Bailey's only comment.  "You, Skinner, hang
him up.  I don't plan on being kicked in the head."
Bailey motioned Skinner toward Mulder with the gun.
Skinner obeyed and looped Mulder's wrists over the
ceiling hook.
 
"Now the feet."  Bailey tossed a pair of leather leg
cuffs linked by a short chain over at Mulder and
waited while Skinner threaded the chain through the
eyebolt in the floor and locked them.
 
"And now Mr. Skinner, here are your cuffs.  Please
handcuff yourself to the pipe over there."  Bailey
tossed the cuffs to Skinner and pointed the gun
meaningfully at Skinner.  Skinner reluctantly cuffed
his right hand to the pipe.  Another chance gone.
 
Bailey briefly left the room and returned without the
gun.  He opened the sack and removed only cigarettes,
matches and ashtray.  Mulder, behind Bailey, met
Skinner's eye and gestured with his chin.  "Play
along." He mouthed.
 
"I don't see why you have to lock me down like this."
Said Skinner.  Rage, thought Skinner, think of all the
incomprehensible reports, all the times Mulder hit you
and got away with it... "I never liked the bastard
anyway.  I don't give a damn what you do with him."
 
"So why did you untie him? And he's wearing some of
your clothes."  Bailey lit a cigarette and took a few
puffs before putting it carefully into the ashtray.
 
"He was bothering me, wanting to be untied, so I let
him down just to shut him up.  Then he started whining
that he was cold.  So what could I do?  Anything for
peace."  Remember all those disciplinary hearings,
Walt, all those meetings with the Director to save
Mulder's ass yet again...
 
"Oh, and here I thought he was the FBI's shining
star." Bailey casually pulled the cigarette from the
ashtray, took a puff and ground the lit end against
Mulder's abdomen where the shirt didn't cover.
Skinner closed his eyes as Mulder cried out.
 
"Well, he used to be."  Skinner spoke loudly, hoping
to distract Bailey. "But he started investigating
weird cases, ghosts, vampires, aliens, things like
that.  Who could take him seriously?  And he breaks
the rules all
the time.  Frankly, I'm not surprised he caused your
brother's death.  The man's a major screw-up and has
always been."  Bailey turned away from Mulder and
approached Skinner, the lit cigarette still in hand.
 
"You agree that Mulder caused Michael's death?"
Bailey couldn't believe he'd found an ally. "You're
just lying to get me to let you go."
 
"I'd be lying if I told you I like being locked up
like this."  Skinner said with complete sincerity.
"And knowing it's that idiot who caused this makes it
even more frustrating.  Yeah, I agree with you, based
on my experience as his boss."  That's it, Walt,
you're getting him...
 
Bailey was silent as he walked back to Mulder.  He
eyed the cigarette in his hand contemplatively then
grinned and pressed it into Mulder's hip.  Mulder
cried out again and jerked away.  The cigarette went
flying, to land glowing on the linoleum floor.
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
KYRIE ELEISON--PART 3
 
"Who can boast of being free?
Who has not got secret prisons,
invisible chains, all the more constricting
the less they are apparent?"
 
(Dom Helder Camara, Brazil; excerpted from Doubleday
Prayer Collection)
 
Reno Hilton, February 23, 11:00 a.m.
 
"Byers, will you hurry with that?  We've got to get going!"  Scully walked
over to the table where Byers sat hunched over his laptop.
 
"Just a second.  I'm sending Frohike an e-mail telling him where we're
going.  If we don't check in with him by this time tomorrow, I'm asking
him to call the cops."  Byers shut down the computer and closed the lid.
He grabbed his long sleeved wool sweater and pulled it on over the flannel
shirt he wore.
 
"You're asking FROHIKE to call the police?"  Scully couldn't control her
smile.  "That I'd like to see....But I hope I don't. Are you ready?"
 
"Yes"  Byers picked up his down jacket and followed Scully out the door.
 
"You know, I never thought I'd see you dressed in jeans.  I didn't know
you even owned casual clothes."  Scully punched the elevator button for
the ground floor.   The doors slid shut.
 
"Well, I have to wash my car in something, don't I?" Byers smiled.  As
they entered the lobby area Scully caught herself looking around for that
bellhop, but didn't see him.  You don't want to see him, she reminded
herself.  Don't want to scare him off or make him move Mulder and Skinner
to another location.  And you can't arrest him, no evidence and no
warrant.
 
Scully led Byers to the parking garage where her rented Taurus was parked.
As she pulled out onto the street she noticed that a cold rain was coming
down hard.  Well, she mused, why shouldn't the weather be as rotten as the
time I'm having?
 
Scully handed Byers the map.  "I guess you get to be navigator.  I don't
know how to get where we're going any more than you do."
 
Somewhere East of Truckee, Noon
 
"I think it's snowing harder."  Byers peered out the window anxiously.
"What happened to the rain?"
 
"It froze."  Scully said curtly, concentrating on keeping the car from
sliding off the road.  As soon as they had begun climbing into the
mountains, the rain had turned into snow, at first light and sparse, then
heavy. Now it was hard to see the road and Scully had the defroster and
wipers going full blast.
 
The car began to slide and Scully eased off the gas pedal.  They were
traveling on a narrow road with deep ditches on either side.  All other
road traffic had been left behind 20 minutes ago.  The last house was two
miles back.  She didn't dare travel any faster than a crawl or the car
would slide off the road.
 
"Don't you have chains in the car?"  Byers asked.
 
Scully gritted her teeth.  If she had ever thought of Mulder as an
annoying travel companion, he was a pleasure compared to Chatty-Cathy
here. But making it worse was a growing sense of urgency building inside
her.  She became more and more aware of a need to get there fast.  Mulder
needed her, and soon.  It was all she could do to keep from flooring the
gas pedal and letting the damn car slide wherever it wanted to.
 
"No chains.  It's a rental.  I didn't expect to drive anywhere but back to
the airport and maybe go shopping.  Are we near the turnoff?"
 
Byers checked his map again.  "The man at the gas station said that the
turnoff for Black Bear Road is about ten miles off the highway and that
it's marked by two redwood trees on either side.  It should be coming
up....there!" He shouted and pointed to the right. Scully abruptly swerved
the car, which went into a circular skid and slid onto the side road ,
barely missing the ditch.
 
Scully stopped the car and took a deep breath.  That was close.  Byers
smiled and made a 'thumbs up' gesture.  Scully nodded and put the car back
into gear, to slowly climb up the snowy hill.
 
21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 23 12:00 noon
 
"Goddammit! You burned me!" screamed Bailey, putting his fingers into his
mouth.  He picked the cigarette off the floor and put it into the ashtray,
then turned on Mulder.  He kneed the agent in the groin, then began
landing heavy punches on Mulder's abdomen.  Mulder tried to double over,
but wasn't able to protect himself because of his bonds.  Then he began
retching and emptied his stomach onto Bailey.
 
"Shit!!" Yelled Bailey and backed two paces.  He ran into the bathroom and
began wiping himself off with wads of toilet paper.
 
Skinner looked at Mulder with concern.  Mulder's head hung on his chest,
his eyes half open and glazed looking as he panted for breath. Bailey
glared at Mulder and raised a clenched fist, preparing to drive it into
Mulder's face.
 
"Hey, Mr. Bailey, Sir?"  Skinner called out loudly. "I have to go to the
bathroom really bad.  Could you undo my hands?"
 
"What?"  Bailey lowered his arm and turned in confusion to Skinner. "Can't
it wait?"
 
"No, I've got to go now or you'll have another mess on your floor.
Please?" Skinner tried to keep a friendly and sheepish expression on his
face, although inside he was boiling with a consuming desire to pound
Bailey's face in.
 
"Ok, ok..." Bailey went over to Skinner and fumbled the handcuff key out
of his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.
 
Skinner erupted into motion and, grabbing Bailey by the throat, wrestled
him to the floor.  Bailey tried to move out of Skinner's reach, but
Skinner had had enough and fought with a rage that caught Bailey off
guard. Against Bailey's struggles, Skinner moved to put him into a
headlock.
 
21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 23 12:00 noon
 
Scully stopped the car at the end of the road.  The snow was even thicker
now, if that were possible.  She could just see a cabin about 15 feet
ahead.  She and Byers got out of the car and began to walk as quietly as
possible to the front door.  Scully was glad she'd worn her heavy coat and
snow boots.  Who'd have thought that California could have weather like
this.
 
She stepped onto the wooden porch, on which two faded rocking chairs sat.
A broom had been dropped on the wooden floor in front of the door.  Scully
carefully picked it up and moved it aside.  She motioned Byers to stand to
one side and quietly drew her weapon, then saw that Byers had done the
same.  Although he looked nervous, he held the gun competently enough.
Scully felt a brief flash of longing for Mulder at her back, then squared
her shoulders and walked forward to rap at the door.
 
There was no answer, but she could see a light inside. She cautiously
turned the knob and found the door unlocked.  She opened the door slowly
and peered inside.  There was nobody in the large living room, although
she could see a fire burning through the glass-fronted wood stove.  She
stepped inside, Byers following her, and saw that the room was sparsely
furnished and painfully neat, with couch and several chairs, a few floor
lamps.  A hallway led off the main room into the kitchen.
 
"You check those rooms, while I look into the kitchen. Yell if you need
me." Scully whispered to Byers.  Byers nodded and walked through the other
doorway.
 
Byers found a small bedroom beyond the doorway, empty except for a bed.
The bedroom, like the living room was incredibly clean and looked well
kept, even though the window was cracked and had been boarded over.  Byers
noted a complete absence of dust or clutter and had to admire the owner's
housekeeping ability.  Nobody was hiding in the closet or under the bed
either, and no dust mice.  Byers lowered his gun and went to check on
Scully.
 
He found her in the kitchen standing next to the kitchen table holding a
once-white terrycloth bath towel, which was covered in long streaks of
dried blood.
 
"Dana?"  Byers said softly.
 
Scully looked up and Byers had to look away from the pain in her eyes.
"They're here." She said in a trembling voice, then cleared her throat.
"Or they were.  Did you find anything?"
 
"No.  No other rooms either."  Byers looked through an open door into a
small bathroom.  "Anything in there?  Any...clues?"
 
Scully shook her head.  "No, everything's incredibly clean, except this."
She ran her hand over the towel and picked off a long strand of dark hair.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. "We should check outside.  There
may be a storm cellar or a shed."
 
They opened the back door and went down the back steps into a world
covered in white.  After circling the house they found no other entrances
or buildings, but did see a large, battered van parked under some trees.
Scully broke into a near run and was pulling the back door open when Byers
got there.
 
The van was empty except for strips of shredded white cloth and a watch,
wedged in a corner.  Scully pried it out and looked at it closely. She'd
seen it a hundred times on Mulder's wrist.  She was close.
 
There had to be another structure here.  The house hadn't been empty long.
She walked to the front of the van and felt the hood, still warm.
Wherever they were, it was nearby.
 
Scully looked around at the terrain surrounding the house.  There was
nothing obvious and the snow didn't help.  Then she saw some shallow
depressions, rapidly filling with snow.  Footprints!
 
"Come on, Byers."  Scully started toward the footprints, determined to
follow them before they disappeared.  The footprints made a winding narrow
path up the hillside, and the house was soon out of sight.  Scully rounded
a corner and found to her dismay that the footprints had vanished.
 
"Damn.  That snow is covering everything."  She kicked the snow in
disgust. Then her eyes widened and she reached down to her feet and
brushed the snow away from the ground.  Byers leaned over and picked up a
pinch of red rock particles, then scraped away more snow from either side.
 
"This looks like ground pumice stone.  That isn't native to this area.
This path must have originally been marked with it. See, the dirt on
either side is a dull yellow.  This is what you found on the hotel room
floor wasn't it?" Byers held out his hand for Scully to see.
 
"Yes.  It looks very similar.  We need to follow this path, but how to
scrape the snow away..." Scully looked back over her shoulder. "I have an
idea."
 
She led Byers back to the front porch of the house. As expected, the
structure was still empty.  She picked up the broom and led Byers back up
the hill to where the trail had ended.  Using the broom she methodically
swept away patches of snow until she had found the path again.  Soon the
path reappeared when they found themselves under cover of a stand of pine
trees at the base of a hill.  Suddenly Scully stopped.
 
"Shhh.  Did you hear that noise?"  She asked Byers.
 
Byers shook his head but was quiet, listening.  Then, faintly they heard a
scream that seemed to be coming through the rock face.
 
"That's Mulder's voice." Scully's eyes grew wide. "Where is he?"  She
looked around her but could see no structures and the sounds seemed to be
coming from thin air.  God, he isn't...haunting me, is he?  No, she told
herself firmly, he's still alive and there is a rational explanation for
this.
 
She found her explanation when Byers noted a slit cut into the rock.
Scully peered into it and pulled Byers away.
 
"I think that's some kind of ventilation hole.  There has to be an old
mine or silo down there.  That's where they are."  She told him.
 
The cry came again, louder and more anguished this time.  Then they heard
a second voice, shouting.  Skinner! That was Skinner. Scully looked
around, frantic to find the entrance somehow.  Wait a minute, there were
eucalyptus leaves on the carpet too.  They must grow near the doorway,
please God, let them grow near the doorway...
 
"Look for eucalyptus trees. They mark the doorway." She said shortly and
hoped she was right.
 
Byers climbed up the hillside a few feet. "Over there!"  He pointed and
Scully could make out two tall trees with long skinny leaves inside a
small ravine ahead.
 
The two moved as fast as the snow would let them and were soon standing
under the eucalyptus trees.  A weather-beaten wooden door sat flush
against a rock wall.  Scully moved to open it to discover that she was
still clutching the broom.  She set it against the rock wall and pulled
the door open.  She walked in and Byers followed.
 
They found themselves in a cavern, obviously an old mine working. To
Scully's surprise, the mine was lit by electric lights spaced evenly along
the ceiling.  She drew her gun again and Byers did the same, walking
cautiously forward into the dimness.
 
She stopped abruptly when the cavern ended at a concrete wall, with a door
at its center.  She could dimly hear noises coming from inside, but
couldn't identify voices or words.  She slowly turned the doorknob with
her left hand and held her gun with her right, then pushed the door open
wide and yelled "Freeze!  Federal Agent!"
 
All action inside the room stopped.  She saw Skinner with the bellhop in a
headlock, obviously struggling to subdue the man. And then she saw Mulder.
 
"Oh my...God...."  She couldn't take her eyes off of him, nor could she
move.  Byers shouldered past her and his eyes widened when he saw Mulder.
 
Skinner recovered first. "Scully, thank God you're here.  Help Mulder."
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
Kyrie Eleison, part 4
 
"...through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.
In my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done,
and in what I have failed to do..."
 
Excerpt from the Confiteor, a prayer of repentance.
 
"Byers, go through this guy's pockets and take out any keys he's got."
Skinner held Bailey down while Byers extracted a small key ring from
Bailey's pants pocket.  Byers ran back and unlocked the cuffs on Mulder's
wrists, then gently supported Mulder's body as he dropped to the floor.
Byers handed the key ring into Scully's waiting hands and she unlocked
Mulder's ankles, then tossed the key ring to Skinner.
 
Scully laid her coat onto the floor and had Byers ease Mulder down onto
it.   Mulder's eyes were closed and his skin was pale and clammy. He could
have passed for a dead man but for his labored breathing and Scully was
jarred to note how much he looked like the photographs she'd seen of
Bailey's victims.  He was dressed only in the stained remains of a cotton
undershirt and dress shirt and was a mass of bruises and dried blood from
his torso to his knees.
 
Scully gently rolled him onto his side and noted that his back was as bad.
 
After getting the key ring Skinner freed himself from the ankle cuff and
quickly relocked it around Bailey's ankle instead with a sense of
satisfaction. Skinner pocketed the key and made his way over to where
Scully and Byers huddled over Mulder.
 
Scully knelt at Mulder's side, studying him with a fierce intensity belied
by her trembling hands as she felt for a pulse at his throat. She
carefully pulled the sides of the coat around to cover him.
 
"What was done to him?"  Scully turned her burning gaze onto Skinner.
 
Skinner tried to come up with a way to describe what had happened without
causing her any more pain.  He knew miserably that this was impossible.
"He's been beaten repeatedly, especially in the abdominal area, and has
lost some blood because of lacerations and incised wounds. The burns you
saw.  He hasn't been able to keep anything down since yesterday, and has
been chilled and feverish for the past day."
 
Skinner stopped and cleared his throat.  Scully's face was still and
unreadable.  Byers had turned away and Skinner could see him convulsively
swallowing.
 
"What...he means to say is... that I got my ass kicked..." Mulder
whispered.
 
 
Scully tried to smile at him, but couldn't hide her worry. "Mulder, how
are you feeling?"
 
"About what you'd expect..." Mulder's eyes closed and he forced them open
again. "This means... more health insurance forms...doesn't it?"
 
Mulder began to retch and vomited over Scully's coat.
 
"God, we need an ambulance." Scully pulled out her cell phone then looked
at the concrete walls surrounding them. "Byers, can you go outside and
call the paramedics?  I'll stay with Mulder."
 
Byers took the phone and left.  Scully pulled a kleenex from her pocket
and wiped the fluid from Mulder's face.
 
Mulder gave a weak smile. "Sorry.  That was...your new coat, too..."
 
"Not a problem." Said Scully. "You have credit cards and I'll get a new
and more expensive coat out of you."  Mulder nodded and closed his eyes.
 
"Mulder, I need to examine you.  Tell me if anything hurts."  Mulder
opened his eyes and nodded again, then closed them. Scully lifted Mulder's
shirt and gently ran her hands over his ribcage.  She could see deep
crimson and purple bruises running across his chest and down to the
abdomen.  Mulder winced and gasped as she pressed against his chest.
 
"Looks like you have two broken ribs.."  Scully noted the fine lacerations
running over Mulder's body, partially covered with dried blood. She moved
her hands down to his abdomen and palpated it gently. Mulder cried out and
all but sat up in reaction. Scully frowned, then wrapped the coat more
securely around Mulder and gave him her best reassuring smile.  "Ok, you
rest now.  I'm going to look Skinner over."
 
 
Scully pulled Skinner to the other side of the room and began gently
examining the bump on his head. "How about you? It looks like you got hit
on the head."  Scully said loudly then went on "I don't want Mulder to
hear this, he's been through enough already."
 
"What is his condition?"  Skinner asked with concern.
 
"I think he may some internal injuries, his abdomen is distended and
tender. You said he took some heavy blows to the abdominal area?"  Scully
picked up Skinner's left wrist and began examining the abrasions left by
the rope.
 
"Yes.  Bailey punched him hard several times in the abdomen and kneed him
in the groin about 30 minutes before you got here. You've seen the
evidence of the other beatings."
 
"We need to get him to a hospital, soon." Scully said.
 
Just then Byers returned to the room, brushing snow off his shoulders and
shaking his head.  "We're too far out.  The cell phone doesn't reach. I
went down to the house and both the power and the phone are out."
 
"Damn, then we need to load Mulder into the car and get him to a
hospital." Scully started, then stopped when she saw Byers shaking his
head.
 
"You should come out and see, Agent Scully.  It's snowing so heavily that
the car is buried.  I don't think that the roads are passable. I managed
to get back here from the house, but I don't think we're going anywhere
for a while."
 
"You can't be serious." Scully said and ran out the door. Outside she saw
a world muffled in a blanket of snow. They'd have to get him to the house
at least. They could rig a stretcher for him somehow.  She spotted the
broom she'd dropped at the doorway; that would be a good stretcher handle.
She picked it up on her way back inside.
 
She found Skinner and Byers talking quietly.  Byers had peeled off his
sweater and loaned it to Skinner, leaving Byers in shirt and down jacket
 
"We can make a stretcher out of my coat and Byers'jacket and get him back
to the house." She told Byers and Skinner. "This will make a good
stretcher handle, but we need to get another length of wood or a tree
branch." She held out the broom and was surprised when Skinner recoiled.
 
"That damned thing isn't touching Mulder, and he isn't going to see it if
I have anything to say about it."  Skinner said angrily.
 
Scully was perplexed.  "What's wrong?"
 
"The last...time...I saw that thing was when Bailey was wiping Mulder's
blood off of it."  Skinner was surprised to find himself near tears. "We
aren't using it, even if it's the last damned hunk of wood on the planet."
 
Scully looked down at the broomstick she still held and quickly ran with
it out the door.  She threw the broom to the floor and found herself
irrationally wiping her hands on her pants legs, trying to hold down her
nausea.  She gave herself a mental shake and returned to the room.
 
"Well, we have to get him out of here somehow." Byers turned to Skinner.
"Should we carry him?"
 
"I'll carry him out." Skinner offered. "I learned a fireman's carry in
'Nam."
 
"No, that won't work." said Scully. "If he's got internal injuries, a
fireman's carry would put pressure on the abdominal area. It might cause
more damage.  And we can't just drag him in the snow, he'd freeze."
 
Scully looked around the concrete room, stained with Mulder's blood, and
shivered. "And he can't stay here."
 
"As I said, I'll carry him. Like this."  Skinner knelt and wrapped
Scully's coat more tightly around Mulder, then gently lifted Mulder like
an infant into his arms.  "Now let's get the hell out of here."
 
"What about him?" Byers pointed to Bailey, who crouched silently against
the wall.
 
"He can stay here.  There's heat, light, water, food and a toilet. He
isn't going anywhere." Skinner, carrying Mulder easily, moved through the
open door.
 
Scully followed.  Byers was the last, giving Bailey one final troubled
look before he closed the door behind him.
 
They made their way back to the cabin, Byers and Scully stamping snow down
and clearing obstacles for Skinner and Mulder.  Although the snow had
stopped for the time being, the clouds overhead were dark and threatening.
 
They arrived gratefully at the cabin to find the fire still alight in the
stove, but dying down.  Scully held the door for Skinner and motioned for
him to lay Mulder on the couch. "This is the warmest room, so let's put
him here."
 
Skinner deposited Mulder on the couch, while Scully built up the fire in
the wood stove.  Byers found some kerosene lamps and began lighting them.
Soon the room took on a warm glow.
 
"The wood's low.  Why don't I cut some more?  I saw a woodpile behind the
house."  Skinner picked up the axe from the corner behind the stove.
 
Scully was hesitant. "Are you sure you should? You've had a head injury
yourself. Maybe you ought to rest."
 
Skinner gave Scully a solemn look.  "Dana, after the past 24 hours, I NEED
to cut some wood.  A lot of wood." Scully nodded and frowned as she
watched him go out the back door.
 
"Agent Scully, maybe we should find some more blankets." Byers looked
meaningfully in Mulder's direction.  Damn, she thought, he's shivering
again.
 
"Yes, bring all the blankets and pillows you can find. I think we may all
be camping out in here tonight.  I'm going outside to check on the car."
Scully  wrapped herself in one of the blankets and went outside again.
 
She couldn't find the car.  For that matter, she couldn't find the road.
>From the porch all she could see was a featureless field of white, that
stood as tall as the porch's top step.  She considered, the private road
was about five miles long.  Somebody could hike down and find a neighbor,
maybe be able to use a phone or get a four wheel drive vehicle in.  But the 

sky looked threatening, it would be dangerous to try it today.
 
Mulder.  What about Mulder?  She frowned and crossed her arms, clutching
the blanket closer to her.  She could hear the sharp sounds of Skinner
cutting firewood, loudly and at furious speed.  She went back inside the
cabin.
 
Byers sat on a rag rug near Mulder's couch, a cup of coffee at his elbow
and a small transistor radio in his hands.  "I made some coffee, there's
more on the wood stove." He said without looking up.
 
Scully gratefully got herself a cup and sat down on the rug next to Byers.
She took a sip, grateful for the heat and flavor of the coffee.
 
"I found this in the closet as well as the batteries. Let's see if it
works."  Byers turned the radio on and was cheered to hear static come
out. "Maybe I can find a weather report."
 
Byers adjusted the dial until he found an AM news station.  The weather
was the top item of news.  A major storm had blown in and was causing
whiteout conditions in the mountains.  Both Highways 50 and 80 were closed
by landslides and entire mountain communities were cut off without power
or telephone. The storm was expected to last for several more days and
local roads weren't expected to reopen for some time after that.
 
"The road's completely covered." Scully said. "I couldn't even find the
car! Somebody will have to hike out when the snow stops."
 
Skinner walked in from the kitchen with an armload of wood, dumping it
into the woodbox next to the stove.  "That should do it for a while. There
are some smaller logs ready to use stacked outside the back door, as well
as some kindling."  Skinner got a coffee mug and poured himself a cup,
taking a seat in the armchair. "Agent Scully, in all the confusion I
forgot to ask you.  Where are the rest of the FBI agents? Surely you
aren't the only one they sent out after us."
 
Scully flushed.  "It's a long story, sir, and you won't like it much. But
this is what happened..."
 
Scully recounted the substance of her conversation with Kersh and the
reaction of the local field office and police department. "And so, sir, I
knew that time was of the essence. Since I had no other support, I
recruited my own."  Scully smiled at Byers.
 
"And I couldn't have asked for better backup."
 
Byers blushed.  "It was our pleasure, Agent Scully."
 
Skinner stared thoughtfully into his coffee mug.  "I always thought Kersh
was a dumb-ass; just not this dumb...." He looked up and met Scully's
troubled eyes.
 
"Sir, I have no proof that this situation resulted from anything more than
Kersh's spite."
 
"No." Skinner said.  "And you probably never will. Well, what now?"
 
"I've been thinking, sir.  Somebody could walk out and get help.  The road
is about five miles and the nearest house on the way in was about two
miles beyond that.  We might be able to use the cellular down there, or
borrow a phone at a neighbor's house." Scully took another sip.  "But I
think it would be risky today.  It looks like the storm isn't over."
 
"I agree.  But can Mulder wait that long?" Skinner's eyes wandered back to
Mulder, motionless on the couch.
 
"Truthfully, I don't know." Scully sighed. "But I think the person hiking
out has the best chance if he waits until the storm is over. "
 
"Well, then I'll leave when the storm subsides." Skinner sipped his
coffee, missing Scully's telltale frown.
 
"Are you sure that you should be the one to go, sir? After the events of
the past few days, you aren't in peak physical condition.  It might be
better for Byers to go."  Scully looked meaningfully at Byers and he
nodded vigorously.
 
"I think she's right, Mr. Skinner.  Besides, I'm dressed for hiking."
 
"Well, I disagree.  If it's clear tomorrow I'll borrow some clothing from
Mr. Bailey and go for help."
 
"Sir, I don't think you're being reasonable...." A moan from the couch
silenced Scully and all three turned to see Mulder's eyes open. Scully got
up and went over to him.
 
"Hi sleepyhead." She brushed his hair out of his eyes. "How ya doin'?"
 
"Okay." Mulder whispered.  "But I'd really like some water."
 
"Sure, I'll get you some."  Scully went into the kitchen.  After she left,
Mulder gestured for Skinner to come over, close by. Skinner got up and
went over to Mulder's couch.
 
"Sir..."
 
"What, Mulder? I can't hear you." Skinner leaned closer to catch Mulder's
whisper.
 
"Sir, you can't leave here.  Please let Byers go."
 
"Why not, Mulder?  Despite everything, I'm in better physical shape than
Byers. And I have a thing or two to say to Kersh when I get him on the
phone."  Skinner spoke softly, looking anxiously at Mulder.
 
"Bailey is still here.  If he gets loose.." Mulder stopped at Skinner's
vehement head shake then started again, "If he gets loose, Byers can't
protect Scully.....and...Bailey......"
 
"Here's your water. I only gave you  a little.  I don't want you to drink
too many fluids just yet."  Scully reached behind Mulder's head and
stacked pillows to prop him up. Mulder said nothing more but met Skinner's
eyes with clear anguish as he took the glass from Scully's hand and
carefully began to sip it.
 
Skinner nodded at Mulder and returned to his chair, slumping into it with
apparent exhaustion.  "You know, Agent Scully, you may have a point.  I've
been fighting a splitting headache all day. Now that the adrenaline is
wearing off, I don't feel very well."
 
"Are you feeling nauseated sir?  How's your vision?" Scully quickly left
Mulder's side and went over to Skinner.
 
"No, no, I think I just need to rest and take it easy." Skinner said
hastily. "But you're right, Byers is in better shape than I am right now."
 
"How did Bailey abduct you two, anyway?" Byers asked.
 
"I don't know what he did to Mulder, but when I got back to the room he
was loading Mulder into a big steamer trunk.  I tried to stop him and he
got me with a taser, then knocked me out.  When I woke up, we were in that
room."  Skinner peered down into his coffee, looking uncomfortable. "He
said he wanted to kidnap Mulder because of a profile Mulder did in the
VCS.  It seems Mr. Bailey's brother Michael was convicted of a series of
murders that Paul actually committed. Mulder's testimony put Michael
Bailey on death row."
 
"Where he committed suicide".  Byers finished. "So then, the real serial
killer was..is...Paul."
 
Scully blanched. "Then Paul Bailey planned to follow his pattern, with
Mulder as his victim?"
 
"Yes." Skinner said, and then was silent.  After a moment he got up and
walked through the kitchen, going out the back door.  Scully followed and
found Skinner standing on the back deck, staring out at the snow.
 
"It's kind of cold out here, don't you think?"  Scully began.
 
"I couldn't do anything." Skinner said.  "Have you ever felt utterly,
completely helpless and you couldn't do a thing about it?"
 
"Since teaming with Mulder?  On a regular basis". Scully smiled quietly.
"It isn't surprising that this...experience...has upset you. It would be
cause for worry if it didn't."
 
"You don't understand.  I'm responsible for Mulder, I'm his superior. It
was my job to see to it that we both got out of there safely. Do you know
what I did while that wacko was...hurting...Mulder?" Skinner turned to
Scully and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I closed my eyes
and wished I were a thousand miles away. And... deep in my soul..."Skinner
stopped and took a ragged breath then forced the words out. "I was... glad
it wasn't me."
 
Scully leaned toward Skinner and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. She
could feel him tensing, fighting back the emotions. "It's ok....it's
ok...." she murmured.
 
Skinner pulled back and took off his glasses, wiping them and his eyes on
his sleeve.
 
"But you did do something." Scully said.  "When we got there you had
Bailey in a headlock."
 
Skinner gave her a hesitant smile. "The only reason I was able to get to
Bailey was because of Mulder's plan to talk him down.  Mulder gave me the
strategy and forced me to try it."
 
"Well, you didn't get these just sitting passively." Scully took Skinner's
wrists in both her hands and pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. "You
tried to get free, didn't you?  You just couldn't. It's no sin to try and
fail."
 
"I tried.  Every time he screamed, I tried.  Every blow I heard...I tried.
But I just couldn't do anything...." Skinner did break down, then, and
Scully found herself holding him while he cried.
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
Kyrie Eleison--Part 5
 
"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of
God...." Romans 3:23
 
21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 23 4:00 p.m.
 
Scully had left Skinner alone outside on the rear deck, still concerned
about him.  She returned gratefully to the warm cabin and found Mulder
still asleep and Byers in the armchair deep in a novel.  She peered at the
title: "War and Peace."
 
"Now where did you find that?" she asked.
 
Byers lowered the book and looked inside the cover. "It belonged to
Michael Bailey.  I found it on the shelf over there." He pointed to a
small bookcase standing against the far wall. "It's been a while since I
read this book, it's good to re-read it again." Byers lost himself in the
book again.
 
Scully wandered over to the book case and studied the titles.  She found
classic literature, poetry, history-both ancient and modern, and several
favorites of her own. Each of the books she removed from the shelf had
Michael Bailey's name inside.  I wonder what kind of man he was? Scully
pondered as she thumbed through a dog-eared copy of Milton.
 
As she put the book back onto the shelf, she notice a battered cardboard
box on the floor.  She knelt down and saw that it was filled with the
mementos of a life.
 
"What'cha lookin' at?"  Mulder called from across the room.
 
Scully picked up the box and carried over to the couch. "I don't know. It
looks like a box of keepsakes." Scully lifted out a small trophy and read
the inscription "Speech and Debate Club, First Place, presented to Michael
Bailey March 12, 1978."  Mulder took the trophy and handled it carefully
before giving it back to Scully.
 
Mulder reached into the box and found a small photo album.  The first
picture showed two young boys sitting under a tree, the elder with his arm
protectively around the younger one.  Both wore broad grins. The label on
the back read "Mikey and Paul, June 1973."  Later pictures showed the two
boys, grown older but always together. The last picture was labeled
"Michael at graduation, 1979" and showed a proud young man in cap and gown
flanked by his equally proud little brother.  Mulder looked troubled and
thoughtful as he handed the book back to Scully.
 
Scully found a newsprint obituary dated August 1979. "It looks like their
parents died together in an auto accident.  There were no other
relatives."
 
"Somehow when you do this kind of work, you stop thinking of suspects as
people.." Scully said, closing the album and replacing it in the box. She
put the box on the floor next to the couch and focused on Mulder.
 
"It must be serious, you have your 'professional' face on."  Mulder
commented.
 
"Mulder, I wanted to let you rest a bit before I took a close look at your
injuries.  There was always a chance we could get you to a hospital so
that your wounds could be cleaned in a sterile environment."
 
"Not gonna happen, huh?"  Mulder lay back against the pillows.  "Is it
going to hurt?  How much?"
 
"I don't know.  That's the problem.  I don't really know what your
condition is, except that you may have some internal injuries, you are
feverish, probably shocky and developing some type of infection."
 
"What if you just leave me as I am?"  Mulder looked troubled. "I...I'd
rather not have anybody touch me just now."
 
Scully looked at him with compassion. "We could leave you as you are, but
I don't think it would help your wounds any.  It will be a few days before
we can get out of here.  Do you trust me to help you?"
 
"Scully, I trust you with everything.... except maybe my video
collection."
 
"Hey, it was an accident, that copy of the Sound of Music showing up in
your video cabinet." Scully grinned.
 
"Yeah, inside the jacket that said 'Debbie Does Dallas'?" Mulder snorted
then winced and paled.  He lay back again and said nothing for a moment.
"Ok, you're the doctor.  But, I'd like some privacy. I haven't had much of
that lately."
 
"Okay.  Let me take a look and see what medical supplies we have on hand."
Scully got up and went over to Byers and motioned for him to follow her to
the kitchen.
 
"Byers, could you read in the kitchen?  I'll need the living room for a
while."
 
Byers nodded. "I heard.  Anything I can do to help, just ask." Scully
nodded and went outside.  Skinner was chopping wood again, but not as
ferociously as before.  Well, she thought, at least he's keeping warm.
Skinner noticed Scully and put down the axe.
 
"That's a good sized woodpile.  You feeling better?" She sat down on a
weathered bench against the wall.
 
"A little.  But it still bothers me." Skinner eyed Scully.  "And you don't
look too happy yourself.  How's Mulder?"
 
"I need to dress his wounds if I can.  He's asked for some privacy, so I'd
like us to have the living room for a bit.  I need to check the cupboards
to see if Bailey has anything stronger than soap and water. I'd give my
eye-teeth for a quart of Betadine and an IV."  Scully looked up. "In his
condition I may cause as much pain cleaning his wounds as Bailey did
causing them."
 
Skinner stiffened.  "If there's anything, anything I can do to help......"
 
"I'll be sure to ask." Scully met Skinner's eyes. "Remember,  Mulder isn't
Bailey's only victim here.  Your scars just don't show."
 
Skinner nodded "Or yours."
 
Skinner followed Scully into the kitchen and joined Byers at the kitchen
table.  Byers had found a deck of cards and was playing solitaire. As
Scully went into the bathroom she heard Skinner ask him whether he'd ever
played poker before.
 
Scully opened the medicine cabinet and removed a bottle of hydrogen
peroxide, one of aspirin, some cotton balls and a roll of gauze. She
didn't find anything else she considered useful except for some clean
towels and a fresh bar of soap.  She tried to run hot water from the tap,
but got only icy water.  She moved to the kitchen and happily found some
anti-bacterial dish soap.  She stopped and surveyed the large iron stove.
 
"I think it's an old fashioned wood-stove.  Bailey isn't much for
luxuries, is he?" Byers commented. "That's why I made the coffee on the
stove in the living room, it, at least was already hot."
 
Scully sighed in resignation and went to get wood but found herself
meeting Skinner at the doorway.  "I'll get that.  You just fill a pan with
water. I've used this type of stove before.  I'll set it up for you."
Scully found a large pot and filled it with the icy water, then set it
onto the stove. She found Skinner lighting a fire in the stove; she could
hear the flames roaring inside and the beginning of heat radiating from
it. Skinner shut the iron door with  a clang and stepped back, dusting off
his hands.
 
"I've put extra wood in the pile next to the stove. Just add it as
needed." Skinner turned and went back to the table without further
comment.  Scully was collecting her supplies together when she heard a
loud 'thud' from the living room.  She raced into the living room,
followed closely by Skinner and Byers, to find Mulder, wrapped in a
blanket, laying on the floor breathing hard.  He looked up, his face
twisted with pain. "I'm...sorry.  Had... to go... to the bathroom."
 
Skinner and Scully helped him up and back over to the couch.  Mulder was
pale and sweating and seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes open.
"Mulder, I'll rig up some kind of bedpan for you. I'm so sorry..." Scully
began.
 
"No, don't want a bedpan.  I can do this... if someone can help me to the
bathroom." Mulder pleaded.
 
"I can help him." Said Skinner.  Mulder nodded assent.
 
"I can help too." Scully was puzzled as Mulder vehemently shook his head
'no'.   "Why not me?" she asked.
 
"You're a girl!" said Mulder scornfully.
 
Scully smiled. "I think I just lost that battle.  Ok, go ahead and give
Mulder a hand, but will you do me a favor..." she pulled Skinner away
"tell me if he passes any blood in his urine.  It could look red or dark
colored."
 
"You think he's bleeding inside?" Skinner asked.
 
"Possibly, and I don't think Mulder will volunteer the information, since
I'd only worry about him and I can't do anything about it."
 
Skinner grinned. "He's right, you will."
 
Scully smiled back. "Just a normal hazard of the job."
 
Skinner went back and, supporting Mulder under his shoulders, walked him
into the bathroom and shut the door.
 
Twenty minutes later Skinner helped Mulder back to the couch and settled
him in, then he went into the kitchen to wash his hands.  Scully was
ladling out hot water into a smaller bucket half filled with cold water.
She turned when she heard Skinner come in.
 
"Well?" she said.
 
"Nothing that I could see. But if I do notice anything, I'll tell you."
Skinner said.
 
Scully felt relieved, although she knew it was premature.  Mulder could
still have internal injuries with blood loss on a microscopic level. This
just meant that it wasn't immediately life-threatening.  Still, feeling
lighter, she picked up her bucket and towels and went into the living
room.
 
Mulder was lying quietly when Scully pulled a chair next to the couch.
"So, how are you doing?" she asked. "You want to get started?" Mulder gave
Scully a nervous look and nodded. Scully set the bucket of warm water next
to the couch, along with soap, towels and gauze bandages. She smiled
reassuringly and unwrapped the blankets from around him. She helped Mulder
lean forward and covered the couch with towels, then helped him lay back.
 
"I'll need to get this shirt off.  It'll probably be sticking to you in
some places.  Let me know if you need me to stop..." Scully began to clean
his injuries with the soap and water.  At first Mulder flinched with every
touch, then, clenching his jaw, his face became impassive.  After she had
been working for a few minutes, Mulder spoke.
 
"Scully, have you ever thought about evil?"
 
"Huh?" She asked.  "What about evil?  It exists. We've both seen it. What
more is there to think about?"
 
"Have you ever defined it for yourself?  Wondered whether, with the best
of intentions, you're actually doing an evil thing to somebody else?" At
Scully's stare, Mulder added. "Hypothetically, of course."
 
"Well, I don't think you can ever see all the consequences of your
actions. If you tried, you'd go crazy.  I guess for myself, when I
question an action I'm about to take, I just pray and ask for the grace to
make the right decision."  Scully smiled.  "I know you're allergic to
religion, but that's the way I do it."  She worked a little longer, then
stopped and met Mulder's eyes. "You're thinking about Michael Bailey
aren't you?"
 
"Yeah.  Nothing much to do here on the couch but think.  Scully, when I
wrote that profile I arrogantly assumed that he had to be the killer. But
I was so confident in my own judgment, I didn't check all the evidence
thoroughly.  It simply never occurred to me that somebody else might be
the killer."  He looked thoughtfully at the box, which still sat next to
the couch.  "And I understand Michael's reasons for not reporting his
brother to the police."
 
Scully sat back and watched Mulder's face with concern.  "Mulder, I know
that Bailey's love for his little brother reminds you of your relationship
with Samantha, but don't forget: Paul Bailey is a serial torturer-
murderer, responsible for at least 10 deaths, if not more."  She looked
down and tugged gently at a corner of Mulder's shirt, which was sticking
to his ribs.
 
"Ow! Easy there....I'm not saying that Paul Bailey isn't a sick SOB or
that he's a choir angel.  What I'm trying to say is that I think he has an
honest complaint against me."  Scully glared at Mulder. Mulder went on.
"When I was hanging there and Paul told me about my mistake, the only
thing I could think to say was that I'm only human and I depended on the
evidence. Was that a feeble excuse, or what?  I should have looked more
closely at the 'evidence'. I made a snap judgment and made it stick.  No
wonder Paul beat the crap out of me. I can't say I blame him...."
 
"Such that he's justified in torturing you half to death?  That's
ridiculous! Are you sure you don't have a head injury on top of everything
else?" Scully's glare became, if possible, even more indignant.  She
stopped, to choose her words carefully, and went on.
 
"Mulder, you asked about my definition of evil.  Well, here it is. Evil is
deliberately causing pain to another person or persons for your own
enjoyment, without regard for the consequences of your actions.  Has it
occurred to you that what Paul Bailey did to you has repercussions beyond
Fox Mulder?"
 
Mulder looked puzzled and Scully went on.  "Skinner is eating his heart
out because of what Bailey did to you.  He thinks he could have stopped it
from happening and that he is responsible because he couldn't.  And, while
we're at it, I don't enjoy having to see you like this.  I'm a doctor but
we're miles from anywhere and there's very little I can do for you here.
That causes me pain." As Scully finished, she could hear her voice start
to tremble.  She quietly continued cleaning Mulder's wounds, then felt his
hand at her chin.  Mulder lifted her face and met her eyes.
 
"I'm sorry Scully, if anything I've done or said has caused you pain." He
said softly.  "I don't like you to worry about me, but I'd be lying if I
didn't admit that I'm glad you're here."  Scully grabbed Mulder's hand and
squeezed it, then continued treating him.
 
Mulder went on. "I'm surprised that Skinner feels that way, though.  I
wouldn't have made it without him.  While it was going on, I could look
over and see Skinner, full of rage and determination, trying to get free
of the ropes.  Just looking at his face helped. I knew I could count on
him not to give up.  After the first...session...I felt like I wanted to
die.  Bailey left and put Skinner on a long chain. Skinner got me down,
kept me warm, gave me water and forced me to think about getting out, not
giving up. He made me stop wallowing in pain and analyze Bailey's
psychology to come up with a plan to talk him down.  I owe him a lot."
Mulder pondered a bit, then continued.
 
"Ok, how about life after death?"
 
Scully sighed.  She hated it when Mulder was in this kind of mood. "So
what about it? Are you asking if I believe in heaven and hell?"
 
"Well, yeah.  What do you think happens after you die? Is all your life
geared toward earning your way into heaven?" Mulder grinned at her
challengingly, then winced as she hit a tender spot.
 
"Mulder, unlike you I have a religious faith that I believe in.  I believe
that if I lead a good life and trust God, I'll go to heaven.  Who knows?"
Scully smiled. "If I'm there to speak for you, he might even let you in."
 
Mulder looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.  "I've never really believed
in life after death.  I mean, it's a great idea, but I just could never
really believe in it.  I'm glad I don't believe in hell, although having
to try to make amends for your sins while you're still alive is even
worse. I suppose that the most I've ever hoped for from my life is to
spend it in a great cause.." He paused and went on. "Or give it up for a
great cause."
 
"The Truth?" Scully asked quietly.  "Just be sure that the truth you die
for is really worth it, not more lies."
 
Scully stopped cleaning and picked up the peroxide. "Ok, Mulder.  I've
finished cleaning the blood and dirt off your chest, now here's the hard
part. The best cleanser I could find was this.  I'm going to apply it, and
it's going to hurt, a lot.  Ready?"
 
Mulder grinned weakly. "Boy, Agent Scully, you really know how to show a
guy a good time. Ok, go." Scully saturated a washcloth with peroxide and
began swabbing Mulder down.  He heroically grit his teeth and held back
his yelp. But when Scully had finished, he said whitely "You really don't
exaggerate about these things, do you?"
 
"Never." Scully said calmly and picked up the soapy water.  "I'm going to
change this for new water and I'll do the rest of you."
 
As she entered the kitchen she smiled to hear Mulder's reply "Don't I
wish!"
 
Scully entered the kitchen to find Skinner and Byers deeply involved in a
poker game.  "Who's winning?" She asked curiously.
 
Skinner glumly pointed to Byers. "He said it was his first game ever, but
I owe him half a year's pay by now."
 
Byers just smiled quietly.  "How's Mulder doing?" He asked.
 
"Pretty good.  I think I'll be done in about thirty minutes, so try to
leave A.D. Skinner something to live on for the rest of the year." Scully
checked her watch. "It's about 7 p.m. and I'm getting hungry. Which one of
you gentlemen would like to cook dinner?"
 
Skinner got up. "I'll do it.  This way I might be able to have at least
one paycheck to call my own.  I'll check the cupboards and see what Bailey
has on hand."
 
Scully returned to the living room with more warm water to find Mulder
reading a packet of papers from the box.
 
"What's that?"  she asked as she sat down.
 
"Letters Michael wrote to Paul from prison.  They're very interesting. It
looks like Michael made Paul promise never to hurt people again, and in
exchange Michael promised not to report Paul to the police.  OUCH..."
Scully had reached Mulder's abdomen, heavily bruised and still distended
looking.
 
"Is that tender?" Scully asked and Mulder nodded his head.  Scully said
nothing but continued her work. After another wash of peroxide on his
lower body and extremities.. "Ow, Scully, take it easy there, will ya?"
...she helped him sit up and cleaned his back, applying the same
treatment. Then she wrapped the gauze bandage around his torso, where the
worst of the lacerations were.  Some of them had started bleeding again,
but not heavily. She had scrounged some shorts from Bailey's dresser and
primly averted her eyes while Mulder painfully slipped them on. Finally
she wrapped Mulder securely in his blanket and sat back.
 
"Ok, I'm done." Scully paused.  "Mulder, are you really sure you want to
dig into Michael Bailey's past?  It's over and done with, after all."
 
"Not while Paul is still out there.  Speaking of which, what did you do
with him."  Mulder looked around a bit nervously.
 
"He's out in the bunker.  We'll probably keep him there until the
authorities can take charge of him.  Skinner has volunteered to take him
his meals. He's been restrained, don't worry. He won't get out."
 
"Good." Said Mulder with barely hidden relief.  "By the way, did you bring
my weapon with you? If you did I'd...like to have it back."
 
Scully looked at him curiously.  "Yes, we did bring it.  I'll get it for
you." Scully got up and returned with Mulder's gun.  He took it and put it
under one of the couch cushions.
 
The smell of food wafted through the room.  Scully went into the kitchen
to find Byers stirring a pot of soup while Skinner made sandwiches.  He
looked up as Scully came in.  "Everything ok?"
 
"Fine, sir." Scully washed her hands at the sink.  "I think we can move
back into the living room now.  "Mulder's a little groggy, but ready for
company."
 
Scully looked into the pot of soup, chicken noodle, good choice.  She
spooned some broth into a mug, and broth plus noodles into a second. She
gave the first mug out to Mulder, who looked at it suspiciously.
 
"What's in it?"  He sniffed at it.
 
"Chicken soup.  Try a little and see if you can keep that down.  If not,
we'll put you back on water." Scully began eating her mug of soup.
Encouraged, Mulder took a sip, then slowly finished the mug.  By then
Skinner and Byers had joined them in the living room.
 
February 23, 10:00 p.m.
 
By common consent they decided to spend the night in the living room.
Nobody wanted to sleep in Bailey's bed.  Scully made a pallet for herself
next to Mulder's couch, although he had generously offered to share.
Scully had just laughed and said "In your dreams!"
 
Skinner and Byers made their beds closer to the kitchen doorway.  Before
retiring for the night, Skinner locked and bolted all the doors and
windows, then made sure that the weapon he'd taken from Bailey was loaded
and near to hand.  Then he lay down to rest.
 
Scully quietly followed Skinner on his rounds, double-checking the locks.
She felt silly sleeping with her gun under her pillow, but did it anyway
because it made her feel better.
 
February 24, 3:00 a.m.
 
Scully's dreams were haunted by a voice, pleading for rescue, then she
gradually realized that this wasn't a dream, at least, not hers. She
blinked in the dim firelight.  Skinner and Byers were asleep, but she
could hear Mulder. "Please, no...no, I haven't done anything
wrong...no...God it hurts!"
 
Scully got up and went to Mulder.  "Mulder, it's okay, it's just a dream."
She stroked his forehead until his eyes opened.
 
"What..?" Mulder's eyes were blank with terror, then he recognized Scully
and relaxed. "Oh. Scully...I was having a nightmare wasn't I? I'm sorry to
wake you." Mulder looked very tired and frightened.
 
"You were dreaming about Bailey, weren't you?" Scully asked gently.
 
"I was back in that room, but I was alone with Bailey this time, and I
wasn't coming out again."  Mulder shivered and Scully wrapped the blanket
around him more tightly. "I suppose I should expect this for a while, post
traumatic stress reaction."  Mulder looked bleakly around the room.
"Think I'll sit up for a while..."
 
"You want to talk about it?" Scully wrapped her blanket around herself and
sat closer to the couch.
 
Mulder's eyes anxiously scanned the room. "I guess I feel like
my...well... personal security is violated, for lack of a better term.  I
don't feel safe, even though I know I'm surrounded by friends." He
grinned. "With guns." He looked troubled and couldn't meet Scully's eyes.
"I wonder what I'd do if  I met Bailey again; whether I'd
just...collapse....with terror. I see him in every shadow,  I jump with
every strange noise."
 
Mulder looked down at the floor. "And I'm afraid that I won't be able to
do my job as an FBI agent because I'll be starting at shadows, for fear of
getting hurt again." Mulder took a breath and went on. "And even being
touched...I can't stand it.  Just having you dress my wounds was awful.
I...wanted to run just so that you wouldn't touch me, and I had to keep
reminding myself that it was you...Scully...my friend."
 
"I don't think that there's anything unusual in the way you're feeling."
Scully said calmly. "You've been through a trauma. And your personal
security WAS violated, in a terrible way." Scully gently cupped Mulder's
cheek with her hand, forcing Mulder to meet her gaze. "I felt that way
after Duane Barry.  I knew that my body wasn't the same as it had been
before, that I had been changed forever."
 
"Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?" Mulder said in a hurt tone.
 
"What could you have done?  Any more than you were already doing?  Mulder,
every time I turned around you were there, watching over me protectively.
I couldn't get rid of you!" Scully grabbed Mulder's hand and held it. "The
important thing is that you were there.  I knew I could trust you, and I
knew you would be there for me if I needed you. That's what kept me going;
that and the work.  It gets better after a while. If you ever need to talk
about anything, remember that I'm here." Mulder relaxed back against the
pillows, his hand still in Scully's, but some of the haunted look had
drained from his eyes.
 
"Mulder, you need to rest." Scully pondered.  "Would it help if I climbed
in there with you?"
 
"Why, Agent Scully, I believe that my dreams are coming true after all..."
Mulder tried to smirk but couldn't hide the longing in his face.
 
Scully snorted. "Agent Mulder, I am confident that, in your present
condition, my virtue is safe from you.  C'mon, scoot over."  Scully
snuggled against Mulder on the couch, tucking her head under his chin, and
listened to his heart as she dozed off.
 
Mulder stayed awake a little longer, watching the patterns of firelight on
the ceiling.  Then he, too, went to sleep and had no more dreams.
 
February 24,  7:00 a.m.
 
Scully got out of bed to find that Skinner and Byers were already up.  She
left Mulder sleeping and sat down at the kitchen table with the coffee cup
that Byers handed her.
 
"Where's Skinner?" She asked. "And how's the weather?"
 
"He took some food to Bailey.  He should be back soon. It stopped snowing
and the weather report says it's expected to be clear today but he roads
are still blocked. I'd planned to start out pretty soon."
 
Scully nodded. "I hope you made yourself a lunch. It'll be a long walk."
 
Byers picked up a small knapsack.  "Already packed." He put on his down
jacket and shouldered the knapsack. "Well, I'll be on my way.  Good luck!"
 
"You too.  Be careful." Scully called after him. Scully finished her
coffee then decided to find out what was keeping Skinner.  She grabbed a
jacket (Bailey's) and holstered her gun, just in case, she told herself.
She looked in on Mulder and found him still asleep. She quickly penned a
note: "Skinner and I checking on Bailey. Byers has gone for help. Back
soon."  Lacking a better place to leave it, she pinned it to the couch
next to Mulder's cheek.
 
Scully walked quickly to the bunker, following the tracks of Skinner's
footprints in the snow.  When she got to the wooden doorway to the mine,
she paused.  There were loud scuffling sounds coming from inside, as
though a struggle were going on.  When she heard a loud "oof!" in
Skinner's voice, she drew her gun and ran inside.  For the second time in
24 hours she flung open the bunker door and was shocked at what she saw.
 
Bailey lay on the floor, chained by his ankle to the pipe, with a bleeding
nose and a black eye.  Skinner had turned around when the door opened and
looked guiltily at Scully as he rubbed the knuckles of his right hand. "I
can explain..." He began nervously.
 
Scully stared coldly at Skinner and silently turned around and walked out
the door, marching fast for the cabin.  Skinner had to run to catch up
with her, and she fought him as he grabbed her arm.  She stopped and
turned on him.
 
"Just what do you think you were doing in there?" She demanded furiously.
 
"He mouthed off at me!  He deserves it, it isn't half of what he did to
Mulder."  Skinner's voice trailed away when he saw the rage in Scully's
face.
 
"So that's it then, an eye for an eye?  A torture for a torture?  That's
what you were doing, you know.  Causing pain to somebody for your own
satisfaction."  Scully gave Skinner a long, scornful look and continued
walking to the cabin.  "I'd have thought better of you." She said to the
air in front of her.
 
"I don't understand why you're defending him.  That man is a monster!"
Skinner shouted at Scully's tense back.
 
Scully turned and stopped dead.  "That's right, he IS a monster.  But you
aren't.  Don't you see that when you behave like that you're no better
than a Paul Bailey.  I'm going back to the cabin and get some first aid
supplies and give that monster some medical treatment, because while I do
have a grudge against Bailey, I am not a monster."  Scully turned around
and began to run for the cabin.  Skinner followed more slowly.
 
Inside, Scully furiously packed the gauze, soap, a washcloth and peroxide
into a paper sack.  Ignoring Mulder's sleepy questions, and Skinner's
pleas, she marched back out of the cabin and down to the bunker.  Skinner
followed her at a slower pace, hoping to give her time to calm down, and
conscious of a nagging sense of guilt.
 
When Skinner arrived at the bunker he found the door open and Scully
kneeling near the pipe which had restrained Bailey.  The pipe had been
twisted from the wall and Bailey was gone, as were the various sets of
restraints that had littered the room.  Scully turned a calm face to
Skinner.
 
"I think you weakened the pipe enough that Bailey was able to break away,
finally."
 
Skinner knelt next to her and examined the pipe. "I worked on the damned
thing for 12 hours, I guess I was making more headway than I thought."
Skinner paused, then met Scully's eyes as the truth dawned on them both.
 
"Oh my God..."Scully whispered.
 
"Mulder.." Skinner got up and ran out the door, Scully running close
behind.
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
KYRIE ELEISON
PART 6
 
Skinner quickly outdistanced Scully and ran as fast as he could make his
body go.  The cabin looked quiet enough, but he drew his gun as he
approached and barreled in through the back door.  He ran into the living
room to find himself staring into the nose of Mulder's gun, held by a
trembling and pale looking Mulder.
 
Mulder sighed with relief and put the gun down, then sat abruptly on the
couch. He looked cold, dressed only in shorts and bandages.  Skinner
holstered his gun and draped him with a blanket.
 
"What the hell is going on?" Asked Mulder.  "First Scully freaks out, now
you come running in."
 
"Bailey's loose." Skinner looked nervously around the room . "He broke the
pipe and got away.  We thought he'd come here after you. Scully was right
behind me..." Skinner turned around and looked out the back door.  "She
should be here by now."
 
Just then, they both saw Scully, a man's arm around her neck, being pushed
through the back door.  Bailey held her in an headlock and pointed
Scully's gun at her right temple.  He pushed her forward into the living
room, as Skinner backed away.  Mulder stood up and drew his gun, the
blanket dropping to the floor.
 
"Ok, put your guns down on the floor and kick them over to me." said
Bailey. "Or she dies."
 
First Mulder, then Skinner helplessly obeyed.  Bailey picked up Skinner's
gun, then Mulder's and stuffed them into his belt.
 
"Now, let's finish what we started." Said Bailey with a smile.
 
Mulder broke the silence first.  "Hello, Paul.  I expected you."
 
"Yeah, well you'll be seeing a lot more of me." Bailey sneered. "Thought
you could get away from what's coming to you, huh?"
 
Mulder's face still.  "No, Paul, I don't expect that at all. I knew you'd
have to finish what you started.  You always do finish what you begin,
don't you?  You like things to be neat, tidy."
 
"You got that right."  Bailey said, gesturing with the gun. "And I'm not
finished with you."
 
"I understand." Said Mulder.  "And I understand your reasons. I read
Michael's letters to you and I know about your promise to him."  Mulder
looked into Bailey's eyes. "I know that he agreed not to turn you in to
police if you promised never to hurt anyone again."
 
"You don't count!  You killed Michael; it's your fault he's dead." Bailey
gripped Scully more tightly and she began to choke.
 
"You're right." Mulder said quickly. "I don't count. I caused Michael's
death with my mistaken testimony.  You have a real grievance against me. I
acknowledge that.  But you don't have any complaint against her, do you?
If you hurt her, you'll be breaking your promise to Michael."
 
Bailey paused and seemed to be thinking. Scully stared at Mulder and gave
her head a little shake. Mulder gave her a sad smile and went on.
 
"If you let her go, you can finish your business with me and still keep
your promise to Michael."  Mulder held his arms out, wrists together.
"They don't have guns any more, you have them all. Just lock them both up
and we can be on our way.  You have all the power here."
 
Bailey paused again, then pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pants
pocket. They had rusty brown stains on them, and Mulder knew them too
well. Bailey tossed them to Mulder. "It's a deal.  Put them on."
 
Mulder quickly fastened his wrists together and began moving slowly toward
Bailey.  "I'm ready to go with you now.  Just let her go, and we can
leave."
 
Bailey gestured for Skinner to go into the bedroom, holding the gun
against Scully's temple again.  Skinner moved forward slowly, looking over
his shoulder at Mulder as he passed. Bailey pushed Scully into the bedroom
and slammed the door shut, then jammed a chair under the doorknob.   Then
he threw a punch at Mulder, knocking him to the floor.  Mulder landed flat
and stayed down, watching Bailey warily.  A loud pounding sound began to
come from the bedroom door.
 
"I wasn't kidding, about finishing our business." Bailey said.
 
"And I still agree that you have a justified complaint against me. I was
arrogant and hasty.  Now I know the kind of man your brother was." Mulder
sat up and pointed toward the box of mementos. "He would do anything for
you."
 
"Yeah." Said Bailey sadly. "He would.  He did." Bailey eyed Mulder. "That
doesn't change what has to happen now." He said flatly. "I have to
finish."
 
"I know." Mulder said. "But at least it doesn't involve anybody else, does
it?" Bailey nodded and grabbed Mulder by the handcuffs, dragging him to
his feet. "Let's go." Bailey said, grabbing up a pair of tennis shoes from
the floor, he gestured to Mulder. "Put them on."
 
Mulder slipped the shoes on his feet and shivered at the thought of the
snow outside, then shivered harder at the prospect of what came after.
Well, at least Scully was safe.
 
Inside the bedroom Skinner flung himself against the door again.  The door
rattled but didn't move.  Scully applied herself to trying to tear the
boards from the window.
 
"Of all the damn...fool...things to do." Skinner threw himself against the
door again.  "When I see him again, I'll kill him myself..."
 
"That's just....Mulder." Scully pulled at a board and found it coming
loose.  "Where do you think he'll take him? Back to the bunker?" Scully
looked around the scrubbed floor for something to use as a lever, and
found nothing.  She went back to tearing at the boards with hands and
fingernails.
 
"No.." Skinner threw himself at the door again. "He knows we'll look
there. He probably has some other bolthole.  These mountains are riddled
with old gold mines."  He threw himself again at the door.  It didn't
budge.
 
"Over here, I think we can pry some boards off." Scully tore at a loose
board.
 
Skinner joined her at the window and soon they had cleared enough of the
boards to climb out.  Skinner carefully broke the glass out of the window
and went through.  He paused to help Scully, but she waved him on.
 
"Go! Go! I'll follow!"
 
So Skinner crawled out the window and cautiously went around the corner of
the house.  There he found a new set of tracks in the snow, heading away
from the cabin.  He went to the wood pile and grabbed the axe, then
followed.
 
The tracks led into a stand of trees, then stopped. Skinner stood quietly
and tried to use all of his senses to detect any movement, any noise.
Heard nothing, then swung around when Scully came running up.
 
"Do you see them?" She whispered anxiously.
 
"No.  There's no sign of them." Skinner said briefly, peering through the
trees. "I've failed him again." He muttered under his breath.
 
"Lets check the area methodically.  Maybe we'll find some clues." Scully
bent down and scrutinized the ground, but found nothing.
 
"It's as though, the earth had swallowed them up." She said to the cold
wind.
 
Mulder was having trouble catching his breath.  Bailey had been running
and pulling him along for what felt like hours.  He didn't remember ever
feeling so tired and sick.  And scared, he reminded himself, oh yeah,
scared.
 
Bailey tugged on the handcuffs again, almost pulling Mulder off his feet.
Mulder stumbled forward, barely preventing a fall, only to be tugged
forward again.  They were running through a dark cavern, an old mine
Mulder thought. Bailey had run through a thicket of pine trees, knowing
that the needles would prevent footprints, then pulled Mulder through a
narrow opening in the hillside.
 
Mulder panted for air and wished they could stop.  No, he didn't wish they
could stop.  God only knew what would happen when they stopped. Got to
plan...Glad Scully's safe. That's the important thing, Scully's safe from
this man...
 
"I think we're here, Agent Mulder." Bailey stopped and Mulder saw a
cigarette lighter flare in the darkness.  Bailey had stopped before a
small opening in the wall, fitted with a battered wooden door. Bailey
pushed it open and shoved Mulder inside.
 
Mulder stepped onto something that rolled under his feet and fell to the
floor, then scooted back as fast as he could when he discovered what he
had fallen over: a pile of human bones.  He sat up and peered through the
darkness at Bailey, who was calmly lighting a candle stuck to the wall.
 
"This is my other place.  I don't like to clutter my secret place with the
leftovers, so I bring them here.  I keep the special ones, the best ones. 
These are the only ones I have left." Bailey lit a second candle and swung
it around the room.  Mulder could see four, no five piles of bones
scattered around the room.
 
"I clean them up first, of course, so they don't smell." Bailey continued
conversationally. "Even Michael didn't know about this place." Bailey went
to the corner and pulled a rusty chain and shackle away from the wall. The
end was fastened to a bolt, driven into the rock.
 
Mulder got up and tried to run but was knocked down by Bailey's flying
tackle.  The fall sent a bolt of pure agony through Mulder's gut, and by
the time he had recovered his senses, his ankle had been shackled to the
wall.
 
"You wait here, I'll be right back."  said Bailey.  He left, taking one
candle with him.  The only light was provided by the candle on the wall.
Mulder could see that it was short and wouldn't last long.
 
He looked around the room.  Now that he was used to them, the bones didn't
seem so frightening.  They almost might be considered fellow travelers. I
wonder how he defines 'the best ones' that he keeps? Do I qualify? Or will
Scully have to autopsy my dead, mutilated corpse? God...gotta stop
that...It was so cold in here.  Mulder shivered and pulled his arms around
his knees. Well, at least the waiting was over.
 
He hadn't told Scully everything on his mind.  Lying on the couch he had
gone over his original profile sentence by sentence.  He knew where the
mistake had lain, and it really was his fault. And it was then that he had
known that Bailey wouldn't rest until he had finished off his latest
victim.
 
Patterson had been on a tear.  The "Tahoe Ripper" case was high profile,
capable of making the FBI look very good or very bad. The Tahoe area had
been plagued with a prolific murderer and bodies seemed to turn up
monthly.  So naturally the Bureau had volunteered the services of its star
profiler, a young and eager Fox Mulder.
 
Mulder shook his head in disgust.  He had been so proud to be part of the
task force that would take this monster down. This child-killer...He
remembered the photograph of Erica Wisely, a small boned ten year old with
brown eyes.  He grimaced, remembering.  Her body had been found, neatly
disemboweled, then bathed and left for her family to find. When he had
seen the body, he knew he had to catch the killer.
 
Patterson had been in a hurry, but so was Mulder. Catch him quick before
more people died.  And after Michael Bailey was arrested, the murders
stopped.  Arrested by Patterson, for a crowd of cameras. Mulder recalled
having been irritated by Patterson's grandstanding at the time.
 
Mulder had had initial misgivings about the profile and the arrest, but in
the six months between arrest and trial, the killings had stopped. So he
had to be the right one.  Everyone had been full of praise for the
brilliant Fox Mulder, whose near-genius had brought the monster down.  By
the time trial came Mulder was already hard at work profiling four more
high-visibility cases, and was certain Bailey had to be the right man. And
Mulder was a star profiler, wasn't he?"
 
Mulder snorted and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. He
looked around the gloom. The room was roughly cut from the rock and braced
with large beams.  He tilted his head back and found the detail he was
looking for, a hook projecting from one of the ceiling beams. He turned
around and saw a matching eye-bolt in the floor next to him. He stared at
it absently and tried to fight down the panic.
 
21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 24 10:00 a.m.
 
"I just don't know what else we can do." Scully said around her third cup
of coffee. "We've looked all through the woods.  The bunker is untouched.
But they're out there...somewhere."
 
Skinner slumped at the kitchen table, staring into space.  "I can't
believe that Bailey got out because of that damned pipe.  And Mulder..."
Skinner's eyes closed. "What he must be going through right now..." He
paused when he saw Scully's pinched face.
 
"It's ok." She said. "Don't try to protect me; I've read the case file. I
know what Bailey's victims look like when he's 'finished' with them." She
said bitterly. "Maybe Byers can get to help before..."Scully abruptly got
up and, wrapping her arms around herself, walked out the back door onto
the deck.
 
Skinner waited a few minutes, then followed her onto the deck.  He found
Scully standing with her eyes closed, tears running down her cheeks and
her lips moving silently.  Skinner looked out over the snowy landscape and
considered, well, when everything else has failed, why not? He said a
prayer of his own.
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
KYRIE ELEISON
Part 7
 
"Lord, if I have to die 

Let me die;
But please, take away this fear."
 
(Ken Walsh)
 
Black Bear Road, February 24, 12:00 noon
 
Not for the first time in the three hours he'd been walking, Byers
wondered what he was doing here.  He considered his prior experiences with
snow, mostly skiing and sitting at home watching it fall outside. He'd
never in his life thought of slogging through it for hours at a time.
 
His feet were wet.  His nose was cold.  And it was running. He
surreptitiously ran his sleeve across his nose, glad that nobody was there
to see him.  Langly and Frohike would never let him forget such a loss of
standards.
 
Of course, neither Frohike nor Langly could ever picture the dapper Byers
stumping through snow in jeans that he'd worn the day before, sent on a
mission to save a life....
 
The world took on a rosy glow for a moment, until some snow filtered down
from a branch overhead and down the back of his collar.  Byers sighed.  He
supposed that he just wasn't the stuff of which heroes were made.  He
didn't think Mulder ever lost his cool, or got embarrassed, or did
something really stupid...wait a minute.  Let's get real, here.
 
Byers pondered a few of the truly stupid things Mulder had done and
concluded that he wasn't doing too badly after all.  Trouble was, on a
hike this long there wasn't much to do but worry, and think about your
life. I wonder if I could cut across country and make better time? He
pondered. In the distance he thought he could just see a barn. If there's
a barn, there are bound to be people. Byers took a last, wistful look at
the road and made up his mind.
 
The footing was easy at first, but then Byers began to discover things
about snow he hadn't really considered before. For example, it hid
obstacles.  After he turned his ankle for the second time on hidden rocks,
he went more slowly. And then there was snow's tendency to pile up in
deceptively deep pockets.  Soon his jeans were wet to the thighs and he
was getting progressively colder.
 
But there was the barn, just ahead.  He scrambled up a
 
and looked for the doors.  They were closed, and no house nearby. Byers
circled the barn and still didn't see a house. Oh, well, he could rest
under cover and dry off, then resume his trip down the driveway from the
barn.
 
With difficulty Byers forced the sticky barn door open and walked into a
sweet, and somehow familiar-smelling, interior. He sniffed the air.  No
animals in here, but there were bales and bales of...hay?  He walked
closer and pulled some of the vegetable matter out of the bale and sniffed
it again. Langley sometimes smelled a bit like this....his eyes widened,
marijuana.  The barn was stacked high with marijuana.
 
"Oh shit." Byers said quietly to himself and began to back out of the
barn. As he went out the door, a huge four-wheel drive all terrain vehicle
climbed the hill and pulled to a stop in front of Byers.  Two long-haired
men in flannel shirts got out, each with a shotgun trained on Byers.
 
Byers nervously put his hands up and cleared his throat. "Uh, hello.  I
was walking through and I thought I'd stop to rest.I'm sorry if I'm
trespassing on your property."
 
Neither lowered his shotgun.
 
"What's your name?" Said the blonde one.
 
Byers gulped. "Byers. Really, I'm looking for medical help.  My friend is
staying down at the Bailey cabin on Black Bear Road and he needs a
hospital.  Mulder's really in bad shape, and we were hoping..."
 
"Wait a minute." Said the dark haired one, still holding his shotgun
pointed at Byers' navel. "This wouldn't involve Paul Bailey, would it?" he
asked.
 
Byers paused, suddenly wondering if Bailey had friends. "Well, we do know
him and we're staying at the farm..."
 
The dark haired one saw Byers' nervousness and said flatly "Paul's nuts.
He's been violent for years but nobody ever did anything about it except
his brother, and he got hauled off for murder. Did Paul do something to
your friend?"
 
Byers nodded his head. "Yeah, Agent Mulder's pretty badly injured. Agent
Scully's been treating him, but..." Byers stopped, noting the stillness in
the mens' demeanor, then realized what he'd just said. "Hey, I didn't see
anything in your barn, and my friends aren't nosy. You don't have to worry
about them." Byers eyed the two men, neither of whom seemed motivated to
put their guns down.
 
The dark haired one asked "Agent? Like in Federal Agent?"
 
"Damn," said Byers under his breath "I knew we should have sent
Langley...He could handle this." Byers stopped talking before he said
anything else he'd regret later and glumly waited to be shot.
 
The blonde one stared at Byers.  "Langley? That wouldn't be Ringo Langley
who publishes Lone Gunman Magazine would it? What did you say your name
was?"
 
Byers was sure he was about to die. "John Fitzgerald Byers. Do you know
Langley?"
 
The blonde laughed. "Do I know him? We were at Berkeley together. Man, are
you a long way from home!  Langley still sends me copies of the Lone
Gunman for old times sake.  We were in the... agricultural business
together for a while. You must be the Byers who does the column! I love
your stuff!"  He grew sober again. "We'd love to help any friends of
Ringo's...but you're friends are cops.  We try to avoid law enforcement."
 
The blonde one turned to the dark haired one and asked "Well, what do you
think?"
 
The dark one shrugged and said. "I think I owe Paul Bailey anyway. If they
find the crop, they find it. Besides, I wouldn't feel right not helping
somebody injured, even if I lose my license."
 
The blonde nodded and put his gun down  "I'm Bob Peterson, and this is my
brother Jim.  He's training to be an EMT.  Anything bad on his record and
he'll never be licensed.  We've been neighbors to the Bailey's all our
lives.  And lived to regret it."
 
"Yeah." Jim added. "Paul tortured my dog to death when we were eleven and
nobody in the neighborhood has ever been able to keep a cat.  They keep
turning up dead."
 
Jim gestured over to the barn.  "You aren't going to rat on us about that
to your cop friends, are you?"
 
"Don't worry."Byers said soothingly."The subject will never come up."
 
"Well, we'll help you, but only if you promise not to involve us with the
police.  We don't want anybody on our property." Byers nodded
reassuringly.
 
"Ok, lets get into the truck.  I want to get my bag." said Jim.
 
Byers climbed into the truck and hung on for dear life as Bob wrestled it
into a U-turn and gunned it down the hill. The ride was mercifully short. 
The house was just out of sight at the foot of the hill, near the road.
Jim hopped out and quickly returned with a medical bag.  Then Bob gunned
the engine again, and they sped up Black Bear Road.
 
21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 24 11:00 a.m.
 
Scully stood out on the deck until her cheeks red with
 
cold.  Skinner, silently watching her from the doorway, could stand it no
more.
 
"Come inside, Scully.  You can't do him any good out here." He said.
 
"At least I can watch for him." Scully kept looking at the distance.
 
"Let's be logical about this." Said Skinner. "I know some facts about this
case that you don't, and you've read the file.  Let's do something
constructive and get a fuller picture of the evidence. Maybe there's
something we've missed."
 
Scully reluctantly turned around and followed Skinner back to the kitchen
table.
 
"Now, tell me everything that you remember from that file, including
Mulder's assessments." While Scully recounted details from the file,
Skinner took notes and asked occasional questions.
 
Finally he said "Scully, I'm sorry but I have to ask this.  From what
you've said, not all Bailey's victims died immediately or from their
wounds.  What did the rest die of?"
 
Scully's lowered her eyes and said "The two victims who were killed
outright were tortured, then disemboweled while still living. Bailey
completed his ritual with them as well, suturing their eyes and mouths
closed. The team could make no correlation between victim and means of
demise.  It was Agent Mulder's view that those who survived beyond a
certain point were simply executed because the killer had achieved his
objectives."  She looked up, her face pained. "Do you have any more
questions?"  Skinner shook his head.
 
Now it was Skinner's turn to recount everything he could recall about his
encounter with Bailey.  Although Skinner tried to gloss over details of
Mulder's torture, Scully kept questioning until she had every detail.
Finally she stopped and looked at Skinner ruefully.
 
"I know you're trying to protect me, sir.  But it won't work. The one
detail you leave out will be the one that saves Mulder's life. I have to
know everything you recall, because we don't know yet what we're missing."
 
Finally when they both had finished, feeling tired and ill, Scully leaned
back in her chair and tapped her pencil thoughtfully on the table.
 
"Mulder said that Bailey needs things to be neat, that he needs to
'finish' his business with Mulder.  He seems to have a set ritual with his
victims, which he follows, in exact order." She leaned forward. "When I
got there, he had lit cigarettes out, and I noticed a few burns on
Mulder."
 
Skinner thought back. "Yes, that's what he was doing when I was able to
grab him. But he hadn't burned him much at that point. What's the
significance?"
 
"We can't see Bailey, but we can certainly smell him, if we're close
enough or near a ventilation shaft.  That's how Byers and I knew we were
near the bunker.  We heard your voice and Mulder's.  We can do the same
here." Scully looked thoughtfully at her notes. "Bailey is compulsive
about following his ritual, in order. Burning is the next step, and if
Mulder is still alive when that part is done.." She stopped but didn't
need to refer to her notes for the rest.
 
"The next step is to finish the ritual by executing the victim, if he's
still alive." Skinner finished."And Mulder knew this when he went with
Bailey?"
 
"Sir, he wrote the profile." Scully stood up. "We need to get out there
and look some more...What's that noise?"
 
Both Skinner and Scully went out to the front porch, where a large SUV was
plowing through the snow in front of the house. It parked next to the pile
of snow that was the Taurus, and Byers got out, followed by two men.
 
Somewhere in the dark, February 24, 12:00 noon
 
Mulder had explored the limits of his chain to find nothing interesting in
the cave room but more bones.  He counted five total skeletons, including
at least one child.  He had also been keeping a tense watch on the now
guttering candle.  How much longer the light could last, he wasn't sure.
God, he was cold.  He shivered. Think the fever's back. Great, just what I
need..Maybe I'll get lucky and the fever or whatever it is that's wrong
with my gut will kill me, before Bailey does.
 
Mulder crouched unsteadily down in the center of the room.  Nothing to use
for a weapon but more bones.  He hefted the heavy femur bone he'd picked
up; well, at least it was solid.  But Mulder had no illusions about his
ability to fight off Bailey.  He outweighs me by twenty pounds and he's
fast...Mulder shook himself.  Got to stay positive.  I'm getting out of
this...I'm positive I'm getting out of this...I'm positive that they're
coming right now to rescue me....I'm positive that I'm in a shitload of
trouble...
 
Scully will come; she always does.  Like the cavalry, she always gets here
and rescues me.  C'mon, Scully, think you can make it before the candle
goes?
 
Mulder's thoughts returned to the subject of Michael Bailey. Like a sore
tooth, he couldn't leave it alone.  Ok, he considered, I was hasty.. and
arrogant, he added, don't forget arrogant..God, what a little shit I was
back then.  He grinned. Still am.  When the killings stopped I was so sure
I was right.  And when I'm sure I'm right the whole world stops because
Mulder has spoken.  My arrogance killed a man... I was so involved in the
glory,  being Patterson's bright haired boy, I let...no, I encouraged...a
jury to put an innocent man on death row. And now...I get the
consequences.  Not punishment, just consequences....or maybe divine
justice....
 
The light flickered and Mulder quickly looked up.  The candle wasn't gone
yet, but it was close. "God, please, please let that light last." He
stopped and realized that what he'd just said was the closest he'd come to
a prayer since Samantha was taken. That shook him, ol' Mulder the atheist
(who nevertheless believed in everything else, from leprechauns to sea
monsters) praying to an invisible god-figure...must really be getting
desperate.  He looked around the room again, still no answers.
 
The candle guttered and went out.
 
Mulder felt the solid darkness close around him. Calm, he thought, calm,
take deep breaths, the earth isn't closing in.  He closed his eyes, then
opened them again. No difference. The fear was building, like a wave
inside. Control, he meditated, nothing to be afraid of...Plenty to be
afraid of...just STOP this...
 
He gulped in a deep breath.  The air is fresh in here, must be a vent to
the surface.  If I yell, will anybody hear me?  If I yell, what will
Bailey do? Kill me? He grinned, hell, got nothing to lose.
 
"Help! Help! Scully! I'm in here!!!" Mulder yelled at the top of his lungs
then stopped to listen for reply.  Nothing. He tried again, and kept on
trying until his voice returned to the rasp of the day before. Where was
Bailey? Where was everyone? How long had he been sitting in the dark? God,
his gut hurt....nerves?  It hadn't felt right since Bailey....no, don't
think about that....don't think about Bailey and his ritual...
 
He considered a new thought. Had Bailey just left him here to die in the
dark?  Didn't fit the pattern, but did it fit the man? Could be. There
were parallels with Michael's situation, left to die in prison. Still, it
wasn't...neat...enough for Paul. Paul liked to be, Mulder grimaced, hands-
on. But the anxiety remained until Mulder found himself longing for Paul's
return because he'd bring light with him, forget what had to come after.
 
Mulder sat, staring with wide eyes into the dark, alone but for the dead.
 
21 Black Bear Road, February 24, 12:30 p.m.
 
Byers introduced Jim and Bob Peterson.  Both Byers and the Petersons grew
serious when told of the events since Byers had left the house.
 
"Paul's always been crazy." Jim said. "We lost a dog to him when I was
eleven; found it gutted with it's throat cut.  They said later that
Michael did it, but I knew it was Paul. Your friend is in big trouble."
 
He stared thoughtfully at the table where they all sat."So he was using
his old man's bomb shelter for a dungeon? Doesn't surprise me. When we
were kids nobody was allowed in there.  But Paul would always sneak in and
hide.  He won't go back there now, since you know about it. Paul is pretty
smart."
 
"Are there any other places around here that Paul is likely to use as a
hideout?" Skinner asked, beginning to feel desperate. It had been hours
since Mulder was taken, and they were no closer to finding him. God only
knew what that bastard...Skinner cleared his throat and sat up straight.
Can't do that, Walt.  Gotta think clearly, now. Can't afford rage, look
where it's got you already.
 
"Well, there's the rest of the mine..."Jim said hesitantly. "The bomb
shelter is actually the old entrance to the Black Bear Mine.  The rest of
it is considered unsafe, nobody goes in.  But there are other entrances.
Bob and I used to explore it as kids."
 
"Yeah." Said Bob. "But we never let the adults know, 'cause it was
dangerous.  That mine honeycombs the entire hill."
 
"Could you draw us a map?" asked Scully. "We don't have much time."
 
"Sure." said Bob. "But we'll do you one better, Jim and I can lead you
through it."
 
While Bob prepared a map, Jim went back to his house and returned with
makeshift caving equipment: ropes, chalk and flashlights.  He also brought
a small arsenal in handguns, enough to supply each member of the party
with a revolver.
 
Skinner hefted the .357 Magnum he'd been given and raised one eyebrow at
the Petersons.
 
"We collect firearms." said Bob Peterson. Byers froze, anticipating the
next question from the ever-suspicious Skinner.
 
"Everyone should have a hobby." Skinner replied blandly, then was silent.
 
The group armed themselves and Jim carried both his EMT bag and a portable
stretcher.  Scully had gone through the bag and while she didn't consider
it complete, there were at least some basic supplies.
 
The Petersons led them to a small cave in the hillside, narrow enough that
Skinner found it a tight squeeze.  Once inside, the cave opened out and
they could stand upright.
 
Jim and Skinner took the lead, with Scully in the middle, Byers and Bob
following. All were listening for unusual noises or the smell of cigarette
smoke.
 
To Skinner, the air just smelled damp and moldy.  He listened hard, but
heard nothing but their footsteps.  He moved as softly as he could,
straining every fiber to hear anything that would guide them to Mulder and
that sadistic bastard who had him.  Skinner had to work hard to keep his
rage and worry in check.  He had always known that he had a temper.
Sometimes it was hard to keep emotions from coloring his judgment, but he
was an old hand at squashing down uncomfortable feelings. Discipline,
that's what they called it...so why did it hurt so much?
 
 
Somewhere in the Dark, February 24, whenever....
 
Mulder kept staring into the darkness, waiting for light.  How long had it
been?  Too long.  He closed his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts, but
they kept returning to Paul Bailey.  Mulder tried to decide which was
worse, a slow death from thirst in the dark, or a quicker death at
Bailey's hands.  And the means of the dying...he shuddered, remembering
yesterday, his eidetic memory a torture.
 
It had been hard hiding from Scully and Skinner just how terrified he had
been after they got him away from Bailey. Mulder closed his eyes and tried
the deep breathing again. That afternoon, they'd thought he was sleeping. 
Mulder grimaced.  He'd been fighting down panic attacks.  But there was no
sense worrying Scully. She couldn't do anything about them anyway.
 
Scully.  At least she was safe.  Bailey didn't have her, and wouldn't get
her.  Skinner would see to that.  No matter what happened, Scully was
safe.  If ever there were a truth in Mulder's life, she was it.  He could
always count on her honesty, her courage.. he grinned, her anger.  At
least she hadn't become one of Bailey's many victims.
 
Mulder flashed on the pages of his original profile, setting out Bailey's
ritual in excruciating and exacting detail.  He'd known back at the cabin
what Bailey needed to do.  Knew in his gut that Bailey was coming back,
and what Bailey needed to have happen. Mulder folded his arms against his
chest and feared his future.
 
To be in Bailey's hands again, and next was fire.
 
Mulder hated fire, still hated it.  He hadn't told Scully that he was
still phobic about fire, a fear of flames that paralyzed him, made him
panic...Deep breath, boy, breathe in, out, in... Now to be killed with
fire.  What an irony. Can't let Bailey see that I'm scared of this, he
reminded himself. Bailey'll take advantage of that, use it to take me
down.  That's what he really wants... my soul, my spirit. Well, he can't
have it. Mulder clenched his fists against his knees.  He can take my life
but he can't take ME.
 
Mulder considered the conversation he'd had with Scully the day before,
about death.  I wish I'd made more of my life, he thought.  I never did
find the aliens, or Sam. So much for great causes. But at least Scully's
safe. That's something I did.  That's everything. Maybe there is life
after death...hope I don't have to find out.
 
God, when will Scully get here?
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 
KYRIE ELEISON--PART 8
 
"...Tortured alone in the creeping loathsome dark
And dragged along a labyrinthic maze,
I still believe your healing sun
Will bring the birth of some new day
To break the iron gates of pain,
To bring again life where hopes, broken, lie
Crippled among her ancient battlements;
Lord, I believe that there will surely be
Light, after the midnight burns to death."
 
(Randle Manwaring)
 
February 24, Somewhere in the dark, some time..
 
Mulder heard a scraping noise and realized that Bailey was finally back.
He grabbed his makeshift club and unsteadily made his way to his feet,
holding it like a bat.  A brilliant light seared his eyes and he ducked
his head, trying to shield his face.  He swung blindly with the club, but
it was too late. Bailey avoided it easily and, grabbing Mulder's ankles,
shackled them together to the bolt in the floor before he could defend
himself.
 
Then, with practiced ease Bailey hung Mulder from the ceiling hook as
before. Bailey pointed the lantern away from Mulder, and soon brought in
another two propane lanterns, then a crumpled paper sack.
 
Bailey pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket and happily removed
Mulder's bandages and shorts. Bailey examined Scully's first aid job with
interest then pulled a pack of cigarettes from the sack and lit first one,
then another, laying both to rest in the ceramic ashtray, humming a little
tune to himself.
 
"Do you have to hum?" Asked Mulder. "And you really should give up
smoking."
 
"Why? Does my voice bother you?" Bailey smiled up at Mulder.  Bailey swung
the cigarette under Mulder's nose and was surprised at Mulder's
exaggerated flinch away."Or is it the smoke?"
 
Bailey held the cigarette close to his own face and studied its glowing
tip.  "No, I don't think it's the smoke."  He put the cigarette into the
ashtray, then pulled a lighter from his pocket.  He thrust it at Mulder's
chest and watched with delight as Mulder gasped and violently tried to
swing away.
 
Bailey grinned. "You don't like fire, do you?"
 
Mulder tried to gather his thoughts, distract Bailey, but all he could see
was the flame.  Bailey picked up his paper sack and twisted it into a long
roll of paper.  He lit the end and approached Mulder with it, his eyes
glowing in the flames.
 
February 24, Black Bear Mine 1:00
 
"Did you hear that?" Scully said quietly.  They all stood still and
listened. Faintly, very faintly, they could hear a sobbing sound in the
distance.
 
"Could just be the wind." Said Skinner doubtfully.
 
"No, I don't think so...that's Mulder, I know it." Scully began to run,
stopping periodically to listen.  The noise grew louder.
 
"Do you smell something burning?" Asked Byers. "It isn't cigarettes, it's
more like woodsmoke." They stopped at a fork in the passageway. Scully
looked both directions, desperate to be moving, but not knowing where to
go.
 
"It's stronger in this direction." Byers began, then they all heard a loud
cry.
 
"My God, that is Mulder." Skinner ran up the left hand fork in the
passageway, leaving the others trailing behind.
 
February 24, Black Bear Mine, Room of Bones
 
Mulder was conscious of only three things, terror and pain and endless
time.  He had been here forever, in this eternal moment. The terror was so
strong it took his breath away; as strong as the night Samantha was taken,
but more poisonous because he knew that someone nearby was enjoying his
agony.
 
He closed his eyes and shrank away, trying to hide in the darkness. But
flames came anyway, the universe was engulfed in them, and with them a
pain like he'd never experienced before.  He could smell burning, and knew
it wasn't wood that was being consumed. He heard someone crying..someone's
voice..his own? He focused on one more thing, one last thought...
 
Scully didn't make it.... They aren't coming.... Oh, God, they aren't
coming...ever.  Please let it stop....let me die....let it be soon....oh
please..
 
February 24, Black Bear Mine, 1:13
 
The sound grew louder, then dropped to a low moaning cry.  Skinner could
smell woodsmoke much more strongly.  He found himself standing in front of
a battered wooden door.  He pushed it open and aimed his gun point blank
at Paul Bailey's back.
 
Bailey turned around.  In his right hand he held a homemade torch
constructed of a piece of wood with fabric wound around it.  It was
flaming brightly. Skinner couldn't see much of Mulder; Bailey was in the
way.
 
Skinner called out "Drop it, and move over there!" He motioned Bailey to
stand aside from Mulder. Bailey turned and raised his hands, then dropped
his torch to the floor, but didn't move away from Mulder.
 
"Dammit, get away from him!" Skinner snarled, his voice breaking.  Bailey
reluctantly moved to the wall.
 
Just then Scully and the others came pounding up behind him.  They rushed
over to Mulder and began unshackling him. Skinner, focusing his attention
on Bailey, was distracted by Scully's muttered curse.
 
"No...Mulder, don't do this to me.  Please, don't do this..." He looked at
Mulder, crumpled on the floor, Scully frantically performing CPR on him.
 
Skinner helplessly watched Scully for a second, then walked up to Bailey
and stood nose to nose with him, jamming the gun against Bailey's ribs.
"No more." He said to Bailey. "You don't do this any more. To anyone." He
cocked the gun and prepared to fire, then paused.
 
He looked deep into Bailey's eyes and studied the man and considered all
that Bailey had done and been responsible for. Then Skinner considered
Scully and Mulder. Skinner could hear Scully behind him, alternately
praying and pleading with Mulder not to die.
 
Skinner pronounced his judgment of Bailey. "Mulder's worth ten of you; and
he needs me more than I need your ass in a sling."
 
Skinner backed up, never losing eye contact with Bailey and called to
Byers.
 
"Byers, come here." Skinner handed the gun to Byers."If he moves, shoot
him. You ok with that?"
 
"Oh yes." Said Byers steadily. "I'm just fine with that."
 
Skinner hurried over to Scully just as Mulder began to breathe again. Jim
had just finished rigging an IV and they were moving Mulder to the
stretcher.
 
"How's he doing?" Skinner asked anxiously.
 
Scully brushed away a hair from her face and watched Mulder with a worried
frown.  "He isn't out of the woods by a long shot. He was already fighting
infection and shock. Now he has second and third degree burns, vasogenic
shock, more infection..." Her voice trailed off. "We have to get him out
of here, NOW."  She motioned to Bailey.  "Jim, Bob and I can get Mulder."
 
She searched Skinner's eyes. "Can you take charge of Bailey?"
 
Skinner smiled a little. "Yes, Dana, I can. Don't worry about me, or
Bailey. You just focus on keeping Mulder alive."
 
Scully smiled back, then went back to help transport Mulder out.
 
They moved swiftly, and all piled into the SUV for the trip to town.  Bob
had a C.B. radio and called ahead for an ambulance. It met them at the
highway, where the road crews had cleared the snow. Scully, Mulder and Jim
left in the ambulance.  The rest of the group travelled more slowly to the
local police station.
 
Mulder regained consciousness in the ambulance, his eyes tired and pain-
filled.
 
"Hey, partner.."Scully said gently.
 
"Hey.." Mulder replied. "So...did I choose...the right truth?"
 
Scully's puzzled look gave way to panic when she realized that blood was
pouring from Mulder's mouth and he had stopped breathing again.
 
Skinner sat in the back seat of the SUV, a securely restrained Bailey
sitting between Skinner and Byers.  Skinner held a gun on Bailey, while
Byers kept his in his pocket.  Byers had promised to shoot Bailey if it
looked like he'd get away again.  From the grim look on Byers' normally
pleasant face, Skinner was sure he'd keep the promise.
 
Bob had offered to drive them to the local county sheriff's office. "But
I'd rather not come inside, if it's all the same to you." Skinner had
agreed readily, and now they were bouncing down a snowy country road.
 
The vehicle hit a pothole and jerked violently. Skinner noticed a clear
plastic package, containing some leafy, green substance, slide out from
under the driver's seat of the SUV.  He thoughtfully nudged it back with
his toe and turned to the window, watching the scenery go by.
 
Soon they were at the sheriff's office.  Skinner slogged through the
necessary booking paperwork, but eventually lost his patience with it.  He
put the stack of completed forms on the desk, and pushed the remainder off
to one side.
 
"I have an agent in the hospital.  I need to check on him.  If you need me
you can call me there.  Oh, and do you know of any good places to stay
near there?  It looks like we'll be here a while."  Skinner gratefully
took the information given him and went with Byers back to the SUV.
 
At the hospital, Jim was waiting in the doorway, his jeans covered in
blood.
 
"How is he?" Asked Skinner, eyeing Jim's clothing.
 
"He began hemhorraging just as we arrived at the hospital.  They've got
him in surgery now. I'm sorry, that's all I know." Jim looked at Skinner
with compassion.
 
Skinner and Byers thanked them both fervently, then quickly made their way
to the waiting room.  Scully was pacing, her clothing as bloodstained as
Jim's had been.  She looked up as Skinner strode into the room.
 
"He's in surgery." She began.
 
"I know.  We ran into Jim at the entrance.  Is there any prognosis?"
Skinner led Scully to a couch and sat her firmly down. Skinner sat at her
side, while Byers pulled up a chair facing them.
 
"Not yet." Scully said. "He's been in there an hour, but they haven't said
anything."
 
They sat quietly for a few moments, when Byers excused himself to call the
other Lone Gunmen.  "They don't know anything about what's been
happening." He explained as he left.
 
Skinner shifted in his seat.  Why did hospitals always have these
uncomfortable couches?  He got up and walked to the window, watching the
snow begin to fall again.  He mentally took a tally of his own behavior
over the past 48 hours, and didn't like the score.  He shook his head. No,
not good at all.
 
He noted that Scully had come up beside him.
 
"Penny for your thoughts." she said quietly.
 
"Oh, nothing much..."Skinner said. "Thinking about the past few days, and
feeling ashamed."
 
Scully turned her face up to his. "Why? Your...incident...with Bailey this
morning? I'm sorry.  I overreacted. You've been under strain, and it's
understandable that you'd react."
 
Skinner sighed. "I feel responsible for Mulder."  He tried to explain.
"Every step of the way, this situation was worsened because of a decision
I made, because of things I did or failed to do." At Scully's incredulous
look, Skinner began counting on his fingers.
 
"First, I couldn't prevent Bailey from kidnapping Mulder from the hotel; I
just got kidnapped myself. Then I couldn't prevent Bailey from torturing
Mulder because I couldn't muster the skill or courage to talk the bastard
down, until Mulder formulated a plan and made me follow it. When I finally
got free, I chained Bailey down to the same pipe he had me restrained at,
but I DIDN'T CHECK IT FIRST. I didn't check that it was still solid and
would hold. And then, and then..."Skinner trailed off, then began again,
slowly.
 
"This morning, Bailey as much as told me he could get away any time he
wanted to, but I ignored him." Skinner clenched his fists and couldn't
meet Scully's eyes.  "He smarted off to me that he knew something I didn't
and that he'd be free real soon, and that Mulder was a goner in the end,
anyway.  Said he was destined to 'finish' the job and there was nothing I
could do about it."
 
Skinner shut his eyes tight, his entire body tensed. "And I didn't check
to see that he was still securely cuffed, that the pipe was still strong,
that he really was just blowing smoke.  That's when I hit
him.....instead."
 
Skinner turned tortured eyes at Scully. "Every single step of the way I
have made decisions that have been dead wrong. And Bailey has taken
advantage of each and every mistake I made.  And destroyed Mulder with
them."
 
Scully was silent, watching Skinner, her eyes wide. She gently took his
arm and walked him back to the couch, then sat him down.
 
"Sir, you aren't God, and you aren't superhuman. You're just a man, doing
your best under trying circumstances.  You didn't put Mulder there, and
Bailey's the one who hurt him."
 
She looked into Skinner's shuttered face, trying to see if she was getting
through, then continued. "Would it help to know that to Mulder you're a
hero?  He told me that it was the determination in your face that kept him
going. You are the one who kept him from 'wallowing in pain' as he put it.
You made him focus on solutions, that ultimately got the two of you out of
there. In Mulder's view, you saved his life by refusing to give up."
 
Scully heard a quiet sound and looked up to see a nurse in stained
surgical scrubs, exiting the operating room.  As the nurse walked through
the waiting area, Scully quickly ran over to her and stopped her, followed
closely by Skinner.
 
"Excuse me, ma'am?" said Scully. "But can you tell us how Agent Mulder is
doing?"
 
The nurse looked uncomfortable and stared back at the operating room door.
"I...You really should wait for the doctor..." she started.
 
"Please.." said Skinner. "We need to know."
 
"I'm very sorry, but the doctor was just calling it as I left." the nurse
said and excused herself, walking quickly out the exit door.
 
Scully crumpled in on herself and felt Skinner's arm around her shoulder.
She looked up at him through blurry eyes, to see a terrible expression in
his face, two tears running down his cheeks. She buried her face in his
shirt and sobbed quietly.
 
Byers walked into the room and saw Skinner and Scully, with the doctor
standing quietly to one side.  "Mulder?" he asked.
 
Scully turned to Byers, her eyes red and shook her head.  Byers collapsed
onto the couch, his head in his hands.
 
February 24, Somewhere Else, Somewhen Else
 
Mulder sat at his desk and looked around the office. Something wasn't
right here.  He looked down at himself.  He was wearing his favorite black
suit with the tie that Scully hated.  Where was Scully, anyway? Didn't
they have work to do?  And what was wrong with the office? It seemed too
neat somehow.
 
Mulder looked up to see a familiar looking young man standing in front of
his desk, wearing an FBI ID badge.  Mulder read the name: Michael Bailey.
He didn't recall an Agent Bailey, but there were new people coming out of
Quantico all the time.
 
Agent Bailey held out his hand. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Agent
Mulder."
 
Mulder stared at him, something niggling at the back of his mind. "I've
seen you before, but not at the Hoover Building...where...?" Then he
remembered. All of it.
 
He looked frantically around the office. "I was in an ambulance, and I
hurt, God, how I hurt...How did I get here?" He finally tracked the name.
"Wait a minute, you're dead!" Mulder slowly began to add two and two, then
patted his body to make sure it was still solid.
 
"Am I dead too?" Mulder asked.
 
"I'm sorry that this is so abrupt, Agent Mulder.  Or should I call you
Fox?" Bailey asked kindly.
 
Mulder grimaced. "Mulder. Call me Mulder." Geez, I die and they still
can't get the name right...he muttered to himself.  Then caught himself up
short.
 
"If I'm dead, how come I'm HERE?" He asked accusingly. "So where are the
angels with harps and all that?"
 
"We thought you'd feel more comfortable someplace familiar.  Although I am
dead, you aren't yet, exactly."
 
Mulder leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "And
just what is that supposed to mean?"
 
"Well, first, you and I have some unresolved issues." Michael said.
 
Mulder considered Michael's words and replied."You're right.  I owe you an
apology, and any amends I can make for my mistake." Mulder said sincerely.
"I caused your death.  I was an arrogant fool and I hope you can forgive
the pain I caused you."
 
"You're already forgiven." Said Michael. "You only played a minor part in
my passing, anyway.  I was an idiot to think that Paul could live in
society. He's sick and needs to be cared for. I couldn't see that he
needed more help than I could give him, and that protecting him was the
worst thing I could do. I just wanted to be sure that you understood that.
I caused my own death, not you.  Your actions were part of the
circumstances, but I made my own choices in life."
 
Michael got up and opened the office door."Oh, and you can call me Mike,
all my friends do.  And speaking of choices, you have one to make."
 
Mulder followed him out the door.  But instead of a dingy hallway, they
stood on a hill of green grass overlooking a vista of mountains, crystal
streams and blue sky with a glowing city in the distance.
 
"Heaven, huh?" Mulder asked calmly.
 
"Yeah.  Pretty, isn't it?" Mike replied, equally deadpan.
 
They both started laughing simultaneously.  Mulder became aware that Mike
Bailey was somebody he could call a friend.
 
"So what's all this about choices? Are you going to ask me whether I want
to move on or not?  And hey, I missed the tunnel of light part.." Mulder
bent down to pick a flower and sniffed at it. It smelled like vanilla and
honeysuckle.
 
"Actually, that's it, exactly.  You can choose to stay, or go back to your
old life.  Down there.." Mike Bailey pointed. "are the answers to all your
questions. No door will be closed to you. And nobody will dismiss your
opinions as preposterous." Mulder looked longingly where Bailey pointed.
To finally have the answers...
 
"And if I go back?" He asked solemnly, facing away from the valley he
looked deep into Mike Bailey's eyes. Mike's face took on a look of
compassion.
 
"If you go back, you will find pain. The mental scars will be as bad as
the physical, and you will still be Spooky Mulder, whom nobody believes.
But there will be compensations..."
 
Mulder smiled "Scully?"
 
Mike smiled back. "And Skinner, who's a better friend than you know, and
Byers, Langley and Frohike, to name a few."
 
Mulder looked longingly at the valley, and sniffed at the flower in his
hand, wishing he could share it with Scully.  She wasn't here. She
wouldn't be here, for a long time. He sighed.
 
"Heaven isn't heaven if she's not here." He said simply. "It wouldn't be
any fun discovering things without Scully trying to convince me I'm
wrong."
 
"You're sure?" Mike asked.
 
Mulder nodded.  "Ok, then." Michael said. "You're going back.  But I'll be
keeping my eye on you; I'll be seeing you." Mike shook Mulder's hand again
then stood back.
 
Mulder watched the world begin to fade around him, then he frantically
called to Michael "Hey Mike! This doesn't make you my guardian angel, does
it?"
 
Mike yelled back "What do you think? You don't believe in angels!"
 
February 24, General Hospital, South Lake Tahoe
 
Scully pulled away from Skinner and wiped at her eyes. There were things
to be done, now.  She walked back to the operating room door, which had
opened and produced Dr. Gateley, Mulder's surgeon.
 
Scully walked leadenly across the room to him.  She needed to make
arrangements for the autopsy and Bailey was going to find the very best
forensic evidence facing him at trial. She'd fight anybody who tried to
keep her off THIS case...and..and..the funeral...She blinked, hard, and
approached the doctor. She found herself accompanied by Skinner and Byers,
walking closely on either side of her, supporting her.
 
"Dr. Gately," Scully said in a wavering voice "This is Assistant Director
Skinner, Mulder's supervisor, and John Byers, a friend of Mulder's.  We
need to make...arrangements...for Mulder's body.."
 
The doctor looked at Scully in perplexity. "I don't understand, Agent
Scully. Agent Mulder is still very much alive. Did someone tell you
anything different?"
 
"The nurse said that you'd 'called it' and were declaring him dead, just
as she left..." Scully began, hope dawning in her eyes. "Do you mean he's
alive?"
 
"Yes.  His heart stopped and it took some doing to resuscitate him, but we
found a pulse just after the nurse left the operating room.  I'm so very
sorry that this happened to you.. He's in recovery now, and should be
conscious in a few hours."
 
Scully found herself caught up in a mammoth bear hug as Skinner grabbed
her around her shoulders and Byers clapped her on the back.  She still
couldn't take it in, and was grateful when Skinner let go and held her at
arms' length.
 
"Agent Scully," He said joyously "I need some of that bad hospital coffee.
Would you join me?"  Scully smiled hesitantly, then with more force.
 
"I'd like that sir, a lot."
 
February 25, General Hospital, ICU 4:25 a.m.
 
Mulder slowly became aware of a heaviness and pain, such pain.  He felt
muzzy and guessed that he had been given drugs. He tried to move under the
covers and immediately regretted it.  He blearily pried open his eyes and
found himself in a relatively dim room crowded with people and equipment. 
He noted with distaste the various tubes that occupied the orifices of his
body. Then he affectionately identified the people.
 
Chair, to the side of the bed, with Skinner sprawled asleep.  Looks like
he's coming off a two day drunk, unshaven, wrinkled clothing, not the
neatly attired A.D. at all.
 
Byers on a cot, looking not as bad as Skinner, but bad for Byers. Dark
circles under his eyes, snoring a bit.
 
And on the other side of the bed, he felt small warm hands holding his
left arm, with fingers twined in his. He focused his eyes with difficulty
and saw Scully curled up on the bed next to him, her red hair spread on
his pillow.  He felt his face relax into a smile, the only part of him
that didn't hurt.
 
He tried to talk, but no sound came out, so he squeezed her hand. She
immediately jerked and sat up, shaking her hair out of her eyes.
 
"Mulder." she said joyously. "You're awake! No, don't try to talk.  They
just took you off the respirator, you'll be hoarse for a while. Here, have
some ice chips." She tilted a cup into his mouth. "You're recovering from
abdominal surgery. I was right, you did have some internal injuries. You
hemhorraged on the ride over, and they got you into surgery just in time."
Her face clouded. "There was a moment when we thought we'd lost you."
 
Mulder flashed glances at Byers and Skinner.  Scully smiled. "Oh, don't
worry about them.  They'll wake up when they're ready. Dr. Gateley was
nice enough to break the rules and let us all sit with you." Scully
shifted her position on the bed, and Mulder couldn't control his wince.
 
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Scully said contritely. "Are you in pain? Do you need
some more pain meds?"
 
"Scully..." Mulder whispered "You came, you found me in that place." His
face took on a frightened look. "Bailey?"
 
"In jail, and he's going to stay there." Scully said calmly. "Skinner got
there first and restrained Bailey, personally escorted him to the local
jail and saw him locked up." Mulder closed his eyes and nodded with
relief.
 
Mulder nodded then asked, "My..injuries? When do I get out?...Burns?"
 
Scully controlled her features. "Yes, you have second and third degree
burns on your torso and thighs. You're on pain meds now.  When you're more
recovered from the surgery you'll be transferred to the burn unit for
therapy. There may be some permanent scarring and you may need surgery for
scar revision."
 
Mulder asked, suddenly anxious. "Will I look bad?"
 
Scully smiled into Mulder's eyes, pouring as much love into her glance as
she could. "Mulder,  I'm no judge because you could never look bad to me.
I don't think anyone gets through life without some scarring, inside or
out.  Your wounds were honorably received and I think you should accept
them that way." She stroked his hair and added. "Besides, he never touched
your pretty face." Mulder grinned.
 
"How'd you find me?" Mulder's face grew still as he recalled the room of
bones.
 
"Skinner made us go over the data in detail, both from your file and from
his experiences with Bailey. We realized that we would be able to hear
Bailey's activities or smell a burning smell if he was near.."Scully
stopped when Mulder flinched and waited until he had calmed, then
continued gently. "We found two locals who were familiar with the tunnels
under the hill, and they guided us in."
 
Scully was quiet a moment then said "I never answered your question."
 
"What question?" Mulder asked.
 
"In the ambulance, you asked me if you'd chosen the right truth." Scully
laid her hand against Mulder's cheek. "When you volunteered to go back to
Bailey so that he'd let me go, I knew you were giving yourself to your
truth...I...have no words to say how I feel about that, except that I'm
proud to be your friend and partner."
 
"Think I picked right...both times." Mulder's eyes closed and he smiled a
little.
 
Skinner opened a bleary eye and was gratified to see his two agents
snuggled on Mulder's bed.  Or at least, he noted critically, as snuggly as
you can get when one party is 50% bandages and tubes.
 
He creaked out of the chair and made his way over to Mulder's bedside.
Mulder smiled up at him. Skinner cleared his throat uncomfortably.
 
"How are you feeling, Agent?"
 
"Much better, sir." Mulder whispered. "I'm looking forward to getting out
of here." Mulder paused then motioned Skinner to pull his chair to the
bedside.  Skinner perched uncomfortably where he'd formerly been fast
asleep.
 
"I'd like to thank you, sir, for all you did to help me keep going. I
don't think I'd have survived if not for your example." Mulder said
earnestly.
 
Skinner was flabbergasted. "I don't know what you mean." He said. "I
didn't do anything unusual; in fact, I think you should be up for a
commendation for your professionalism in desperate circumstances."
 
"No, sir." Said Mulder firmly. "Every time I thought about giving up, you
were there pushing me to keep thinking and planning ways to get out.
Bailey was a tough opponent, and I am grateful that you were there too.
If you hadn't been, Bailey would have killed me in the first day."
 
Skinner shook his head. "If I hadn't loosened the damned pipe, Bailey
would never have had a second chance at you. I didn't restrain him
properly and I underestimated him.  I'm sorry Agent Mulder."
 
Mulder grinned at Skinner. "If we're assigning blame here, let's go back
to my first bad decision, when I did the profile that named Michael Bailey
the killer.  None of us would be here if not for that." He shook his head.
"At a certain point, you can't look at it as blame, just consequences. And
accept it as the price for living."
 
Skinner looked like a load had eased. "You have a point, Agent Mulder."
 
Epilogue
 
Report of Agent Scully, case number X-039564
 
After preliminary treatment, Agent Mulder was transferred to a hospital in
the Washington D.C. area and continues to receive therapy for the injuries
he received at the hands of Paul Bailey.  He is expected to continue on
leave for several months more and anticipates some surgeries for scar
revision before resuming active duty.
 
A.D. Skinner and this Agent have drafted a letter commending James
Peterson for his actions in assisting in Agent Mulder's rescue and have
conveyed our recommendations to the State of California that he be
licensed as an EMT immediately upon passing his boards. It is my further
recommendation that Peterson be actively recruited into the Bureau, since
his level-headedness and judgment would make him an excellent field agent.
 
Analysis of the piece of chocolate candy found on the hotel room floor,
found that it had been laced with chloral hydrate, a drug with which this
Agent is familar.  Based on Agent Mulder's account of his abduction and
the lab analysis, this Agent concludes that Bailey drugged the entire box
of candy, hoping to subdue and kidnap agent Mulder thereby. Given Bailey's
actions vis-a-vis A.D. Skinner, it is likely that Bailey sought to render
all three agents unconscious, then simply abduct Agent Mulder.  A.D.
Skinner's interruption of Bailey's plan resulted in the Assistant Director
being abducted as well as Agent Mulder.
 
Fibers found on the carpet were found to be a match to the shirt Agent
Mulder was wearing on the night he was abducted. Fragments of vegetation
were genetically matched to eucalyptus leaves surrounding the opening to
the bunker used by Bailey.  Samples of red pumice dust were also found to
be consistent with samples from the pathway leading to the mine from the
Bailey cabin.
 
Paul Bailey is currently awaiting trial in Federal District Court. He has
been sent to Atascadero State Hospital for the Criminally Insane
 
As a result of this investigation, five additional victims have been added
to Paul Bailey's toll, bringing the number to 15.  So far, only three of 
the bodies found have been identified, although the forensic work continues.


June 1, Atascadero Mental Hospital, Violent Ward

Psych Tech Grace Phelan showed the drawings to the attending psychiatrist,
Dr. William Morse.

"As you can see, he has considerable artistic ability, especially
in his depiction of animals.  You can see the bright colors he uses
to portray the fox, which seems to be restrained with chains."

She paused thoughtfully then continued. "And he seems to have an obsession
with fire.  You see how he has surrounded the figure with flames? Or 
perhaps it has religious significance?"

She laughed. "When you ask him about it, he just smiles and says that
this represents a job he needs to finish when he gets out.  Do you 
suppose he was a trapper, up there in the hills?"
-------------------------------------------------

Kyrie Eleison II, Christe Eleison 
By Xenith 
xenitha@yahoo.com

Rating:  PG
Archiving:  Sure, just let me know first.
Category: SA
Spoilers: Thru 6th season
Keywords: Mulder/Sc/Sk friendship;
Note:  This is a sequel to an earlier story called Kyrie Eleison.
I highly recommend that you read Kyrie first, to understand this
story.  It is archived at the Muldertorture website:
www.muldertorture.com and at Xemplary: www.xemplary.com.  I have
included many song quotes in this story, not because I intended to
write a song-fic, but rather because the imagery from the songs
painted the pictures in my mind that became the story.  So it is
fitting that I quote them here.
  
Summary:  Mulder's torturer goes on trial, but Mulder, suffering
from the emotional after-effects of Bailey's torture begins to
doubt his own sanity as he sees and hears things that nobody else
experiences.  But he doesn't suspect what only Skinner knows, that
the consortium is behind it.  And then Bailey gets loose...
  
Feedback:  Yes! Yes! Please send feedback!!!!!
  
Notes of Appreciation:  Many thanks to my beta reader, Vickie
Moseley, and to the people who e-mailed and asked for more.
  
Disclaimer:  The characters of Mulder/Scully/Skinner etc are
owned by 1013 productions and Chris Carter. All I get is the
serial killer.  And none of the hotels, motels, bars, racetracks
or any other business who could sue me are in any way affiliated
with this story or are intended to be mentioned in a derogatory
way.  In fact, I hear that the Westin is a pretty nice place to
stay....
  
  
  
  "The wind blows hard against this mountainside
  Across the sea, into my soul--
  It reaches in, to where I cannot hide;
  Setting my feet upon the road....
  
  (Kyrie, Mr. Mister; punctuation added for emphasis)
  
  
  "Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison..."
  "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have
  mercy.."
  
  (A Catholic prayer asking for God's help and care for us, recited
 at Mass).
  
  
  May 2, 12:00
  Somewhere in Washington D.C.
  
  
  "You're late" The older man picked a cigarette out of the ashtray
 and took a luxuriant drag.  "I've been waiting for half an hour."
  
  The younger man, dark haired and wearing a black leather jacket,
 wandered to the office chair and dropped into it.
  
  "Yeah, well, the traffic across town was a bitch. And it's not
 like you gave me much warning of this meeting.  So what is it you
 want?  Our current projects are going as planned."  Alex Krycek
 eyed the smoker carefully.  It wouldn't do to underestimate this
 man, ever.
  
  "I called you because I have an errand for you. You've read the
 file I sent?"   Krycek nodded, and the smoker lifted a folder and
 handed it to Krycek. "Here are more details.  Agent Mulder will be
 released from the hospital tomorrow and will be returning to the X
 Files this week."
  
  Krycek began flipping through the folder.  "I thought he was
 going to be incapacitated for several months more."
  
  The smoker took another puff of his cigarette, breathing deeply. 
 "His body may require further treatment, but I am concerned about
 his intellect and the directions to which it might be turned."
  
  Krycek studied the file, pausing at the photographs within.  He
 winced. He pulled his eyes away from the photographs and looked up
 at the smoker.  "So what's the errand?"
  
  The smoker lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
 "As you know, one of our more important projects is reaching a
 sensitive point .  It is imperative that Agent Mulder
 be...unavailable...to interfere with the results of this project.
 Originally, when Agent Mulder and Assistant Director Skinner
 disappeared,  it was my intention to take advantage of this
 fortuitous event and allow the unknown felon to remove Agent
 Mulder without hindrance."
  
  "I thought that you didn't want Mulder dead?" said Krycek
 blandly.  He'd always wondered just what the relationship was
 between Mulder and  C.G. B Spender .
  
  "Oh, I don't.  And I want you to preserve his life unless the
 success of this project depends on it. In any case, Mulder isn't
 dead, and he doesn't need to be killed at this juncture.  No, I
 need him...broken...
  
  He must be made unable to function for an extended period of
 time, unable to interfere in this project.
  
  And it must happen soon."  The Smoker pointed to the file in
 Krycek's hands.
  
  "Review the file and you will see that Agent Mulder has suffered
 serious physical injuries, but more importantly, appears to be
 showing the inevitable psychological results of having been
 tortured.  He has refused all counseling."
  
  The smoker leaned forward in his chair, and met Krycek's eyes.
  
 "You are to ensure that Agent Mulder breaks under the strain, and
 remains broken for the foreseeable future. I have already
 instituted the first phase of our activities.  Paul Bailey has
 been found competent to stand trial for his crimes and has
 received an anonymous donation of money;  enough  to retain a very
 skilled attorney.  And he has been removed from the mental
 hospital, into different accommodations.." The Smoker took another
 puff and smiled.  "I understand that justice, usually rather slow,
 is moving more swiftly for Mr. Bailey.  He has a trial date
 shortly in Federal District Court.    I am confident that Agent
 Mulder's courtroom experience will be a memorable one."
  
  "I have also initiated a small campaign to prepare Agent Mulder
 for what lies ahead."  The smoker leaned back again and smiled
 reminiscently.  "Have you ever seen an Ingrid Bergman movie called
 'Gaslight'?"
  
  Krycek shook his head.  "No.  I don't go in for old movies much."
  
  The smoker shook his head sadly at Krycek.  "In the movie, a
 murderous husband tries to convince his wife that she is insane
 by...adjusting...her reality in ways that only she apparently can
 perceive.  Rent the movie and watch it."  The smoker handed Krycek
 a business card.  "Here is the person already at work on this
 project.  Please contact him and make further arrangements as you
 see fit."
  
  Krycek held the card and the file. "It would be kinder just to
 kill him."
  
  The smoker's face took on a sad look.  "Yes, it would be kinder. 
 But any mysterious accidents happening to Agent Mulder at this
 time would lead to a suspicion of foul play.  And that could lead
 to us, causing the very disruption to the project that we need to
 avoid." He took another drag on the cigarette.  "No, this is the
 best way."
  
  
  
  May 3, Arlington Manor Rehabilitation Center
  9:00 a.m.
  
  "I'm telling you, Scully, that I don't need a wheelchair!"
 Mulder awkwardly turned in the hospital bed and faced his partner
 across  the offending piece of hospital equipment.  "I'm walking
 out of here.  A little slow, maybe, but on my own feet."
  
  Scully sighed.  Another day, another argument with Mulder about
 what he could and couldn't do.  The doctors and nurses were
 unanimously relieved to see Mulder leave the rehab center.
  
  "Mulder, it's a rule here.  You ride to the car. Besides, if you
 trip and fall BEFORE you get to the parking lot, you could sue
 them.  So give their lawyers a break and cooperate."
  
  Mulder glared at Scully, to be countered by her best Scullyglare.
 His eyes dropped first.  Damn! She was always winning these
 things..
  
  "All right...Whatever gets me out of here fastest." Mulder
 carefully levered himself into the chair, and Scully began pushing
 him down the hallway.  She considered the past 5 weeks, first
 hospitalization and then rehab, and shuddered to remember it all.
 Mulder's  injuries from torture at the hands of serial murderer
 Paul Bailey, had been extensive and severe, including internal
 injuries, broken ribs and 3rd degree burns on his chest and torso.
 The treatment, then physical therapy to get Mulder moving again
 hadn't been pleasant for either Mulder or the friends trying to
 support him.
  
  Still, at least he could go to a non-hospital environment now,
 and be able to care for himself minimally.  The physical problems
 were under control. She wished she could say the same for the
 psychological ones.  Mulder had refused the services of the Bureau
 psychologist, even though Scully knew for a fact that he had vivid
 nightmares every night.
  
  "Penny for your thoughts..." Said Mulder.
  
  "Oh, just thinkin'.  Life has been boring on the X Files since
 you've been gone. Just the same old crop circles and cattle
 mutilations." Scully pushed the chair out the front entrance into
 the bright sunshine. "It will be good to have you back."  She
 rolled the wheelchair over to the gold Taurus with government
 plates.
  
  "Well, if you'd snuck those files into the hospital for me to
 help you with, it wouldn't have been so tedious."  Mulder helped
 himself out of the wheelchair, shaking off Scully's hands, and
 waited by the car while she returned the chair to the hospital
 entrance.
  
  Scully came over to the passenger's side door and opened it.
 "Mulder, you know what Skinner would have done to me if he knew I
 was sneaking work out to you. He said you were to rest while you
 could.  And he was right!"  Scully tried to help Mulder into the
 car, but he refused vehemently.  He climbed unsteadily into a seat
 in the car and, refusing all assistance, buckled himself in
 loosely.
  
  "You'd think I was 4 years old the way you're behaving." Mulder
 muttered.  "I'm well, I'm fit, I'm going back to work, ok?"
  
  Scully took her seat next to him and lifted her hands in
 surrender. "Ok, ok, you're fine, just fine."
  
  Mulder glared at her, but otherwise said nothing.
  
  Scully started up the car and began the drive to Mulder's
 apartment, and, ignoring Mulder's protests,
  
  unloaded his bags, then carried them upstairs..
  
  "Hey, you cleaned the apartment!" Mulder said when he got a good
 look at the living room. "And what did you do to my fish?"
  
  "I didn't do anything to your fish, I just cleaned the tank
 occasionally."  Scully said calmly, and moved into the kitchen.
 "I'm making coffee, want some?"
  
  "Hell yes!" Said Mulder. "They wouldn't let me have caffeine and
 I've been longing for a decent cup of coffee for ages."  Mulder
 sat down on his couch and felt, after a very long time, relaxed
 and at home. He shook his head.  How long it had been since he'd
 felt safe? Since before that blasted  conference in Reno...and
 Paul Bailey.  No, can't think of that. Don't want to have a panic
 attack in front of Scully...she'll just whisk me back to the
 hospital...don't do it....
  
  Mulder's fists were clenched and he was breathing deeply when
 Scully brought the coffee in.  She looked at him curiously, but
 said nothing as she put his mug on the coffee table.
  
  "Mulder? Are you ok?"  She said softly.
  
  "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok." Mulder said tightly, and carefully picked
 up the mug, as if afraid it (or he) would burst into a thousand
 pieces.  He took a  sip and was relieved to feel the panic slowly
 begin to drain out of him.  "So, what's on the agenda for
 tomorrow?"
  
  Scully lifted her own mug and tried to decide how best to give
 Mulder the news.  There is no good way, she decided.
  
  "Mulder, tomorrow we meet with prosecutor to discuss our
 testimony at the Paul Bailey trial on the charges of his attempted
 murder and assault on you.  We will be flying out to California at
 the end of the week."
  
  
 Mulder's cup sloshed coffee as he set it down quickly. "So soon?"
 he asked nervously.  "I thought the case wasn't going to go to
 trial for months yet...I thought I'd have more time to..get
 ready..."  Scully had to look away from the panic in Mulder's
 eyes.
  
  "The prosecutor still hasn't charged him with the serial murders
 yet.  He's waiting for the forensics to be completed.  And Bailey
 has somehow retained a very expensive and high-powered lawyer
 who's hot to try the assault case right now.  He managed to get
 the trial date moved up and the location changed, San Francisco of
 all places.  I just found out about this yesterday and hadn't had
 a chance to tell you.  The prosecutor is busy planning for a
 trial, now.  But you've testified in court before, Mulder."
 Scully watched his hands on the coffee mug.  Mulder clutched the
 mug more tightly, trying to control his trembling.  He began to
 feel increasingly short of air, his breath coming in little pants.
  
  "Yes, I have testified many times...But not like this." Mulder
 shakily picked up the coffee, then set it down again.  "I'll have
 to..to face  him again. I haven't seen him since you and Skinner
 rescued me." Mulder looked down at the coffee table, ashamed. "
 I..don't know if I can.  You know about the nightmares, ...and
 flashbacks...I'm sure that the nurses have been tattling on me."
  
  "Yes" Said Scully. "They've told me.  I know this is hard for
 you, Mulder.  But you won't be alone.  I'll be there, and Skinner.
 And you know that Bailey will be restrained.  He can't hurt you
 any more."
  
  Mulder gave a short laugh.  "Huh, like he was restrained before?"
 He stared ahead into space then went on with resignation.  "Well,
 I suppose I can stand it as long as I have my gun on me."
  
  Scully was quiet for a moment, then picked up her car keys.
 "Mulder, I have to go back to the office.  I have a meeting with
 Skinner.  Will you be ok?  I'll come back around 6:00 and cook you
 dinner."
  
  Mulder was about to protest that he didn't need somebody cooking
 for him and that he could perfectly well take care of himself,
 when he realized that this was Scully offering a home-cooked meal.
 Self interest won over pride.
  
  "All right.  I'll see you this evening , then.  But Scully," He
 called as she opened the door,  "Don't go after any sewer monsters
 without me, huh?"
  
  "I promise." Scully said with a grin, and closed the door.
 Mulder let out a breath and flopped back onto the couch, savoring
 the familiar feel of the leather upholstery.  He stared up at the
 ceiling.
  
  The last months had been bad; the worst he could remember since
 the period after Samantha was taken. The physical pain had been
 indescribable, but ultimately, endurable.  He stretched, then
 winced a bit.  The body was still healing.  He sat up.  So was the
 soul
  
  Yeah, treatment for burns and the surgery on his gut had been
 terrible.  But  the rest of it...the dreams, the
 panic...flashbacks...he'd never been so affected by the evil of a
 suspect before.  Or maybe he'd never been so up-close-and-personal
 with it before.
  
  He cradled his head in his hands.  God, the dreams. Not just
 dreams of what had happened in the past...but also something in
 the future.  He was sure of it. He saw Paul Bailey, free and
 unfettered, and himself alone in a place he'd never seen before.
 And Bailey was free...And then there was a huge, hungry black
 void, trying to devour all that was Fox Mulder. Almost as though
 something were eating his soul....That dream came every night; and
 every night Mulder woke abruptly, trying to stifle his screams of
 terror.
  
  He drew a ragged breath and got up.  He wandered into the
 kitchen, admiring the sparkling clean floor, then pulled some
 orange juice from the fully-stocked refrigerator.  Man, I ought to
 get hurt more often, if Scully will come out and clean house like
 this, he mused as he poured the juice into the *clean* glass.
  
  He sat down at his desk and saw that there were messages on the
 answering machine.  He pressed 'play' and listened.
  
  "Agent Mulder, I'm looking forward to meeting you again soon.  I
 have some very special plans for us, as we finish what we started.
 I hope you've thought about me as much as I'm thinking about you!"
 The rest of the messages on the machine faded into the screaming
 terror that flooded Mulder's being.  Paul Bailey!  What was he
 doing near a telephone?  Mulder hung onto the desk with both hands
 and, as he had done so often recently, focused on breathing
 deeply.  He hoped this panic attack would pass quickly....can't
 wait for that.   He saw that the glass had tipped over, spilling
 juice across his desk.  He didn't know when, but he must have
 knocked it over...
  
  He went to the dresser and removed the holstered gun that he kept
 there and strapped it on.  Then he double-checked every lock on
 every window and door in the apartment.  He made sure that his
 weapon was loaded and strapped the holster on at his waist, for
 the first time in many months.  Then he made sure that his backup
 gun was in its accustomed place at his ankle.  Then he phoned
 Scully at the office.
  
  
  August 2, Hoover Building- Office of A.D. Skinner
  11:00 a.m.
  
  Scully seated herself in her usual chair, very conscious that the
 second chair facing Skinner's desk was empty.
  
  A.D. Skinner closed a file as she sat and looked at her solemnly.
  
  "Good afternoon, Agent Scully.  I'm glad that you were available
 to meet with me today."  He picked up the file he'd just closed.
 "I called you in here to discuss Agent Mulder."
  
  "What about Agent Mulder, sir?  I picked him up at the hospital
 this morning and he'll be coming back to work tomorrow.  He's
 ready to go." Scully smiled anxiously at Skinner, who merely
 looked solemn.
  
  "But is he really ready?  Dana, I've been reading his medical
 file." Skinner flipped through the folder, his voice warm with
 concern.  "Although his physical injuries have been treated to his
 doctors' satisfaction, Mulder has consistently refused any
 counseling.  And he is showing some severe effects of his...
 experience."  Skinner's face took on a look of distaste as he and
 Scully both recalled their own 'experience' of Paul Bailey.
  
  "Yes, sir.  I am aware of some of the problems. I've conferred
 with Mulder's doctor, but there's no way to force him to accept
 treatment.  He suffers from regular nightmares, and I've seen him
 have panic attacks, although he does his best not to draw
 attention to them.  He seems to be looking for privacy right now. 
 And time to heal."
  
  Skinner clasped his hands together on top of the file and met
 Scully's eyes, his face creased with worry. "Well, that's the one
 thing he won't get.  I had a meeting with the prosecutor for the
 Bailey case.  As you know, it's been moved to a different venue:
 San Francisco.  It seems that Bailey's new attorney argued
 successfully that the case would be tried with less bias in a
 different jurisdiction, one without the prior publicity about the
 "Tahoe Ripper".  And, in addition, the matter has been assigned to
 a judge known for his dislike of Federal law enforcement,
 especially the F.B.I."  Skinner sighed and took off his glasses,
 rubbing his eyes with the other hand. "I'm afraid that Mulder
 isn't in for an easy time of it."
  
  "Is there anything I can do to help?" Scully asked with concern.
  
  "You will be a witness in the case, as will I.  The best we can
 hope for is for both of us to keep an eye on him and try to help
 him if he needs it.  He won't be alone in this, if I can help it."
  
  The office door opened and Skinner's secretary, Kim stepped in.
 "Excuse me, but Agent Mulder is on the line for Agent Scully."
 Skinner pointed Scully to his phone, and Scully picked up.  As she
 listened to Mulder, Skinner could see her expression change to one
 of alarm.
  
  "Paul Bailey called you?  I'd understood that he doesn't get
 phone privileges.  I'll follow up here and find out what
 happened....No...no.....Mulder, I'm sure he isn't out of jail.
 I'm sure he wouldn't be released on bail, with these charges
 pending against him.  Ok, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
 Scully hung up the phone and turned to Skinner.
  
  "Paul Bailey left a phone message for Mulder on his answering
 machine.  I'm going to Mulder's apartment to get the tape for
 analysis.  Would it be possible..?"
  
  "I'm on it." Said Skinner.  "I'll call the jail and find out how
 this was allowed to happen, the prosecutor should be able to
 follow up.  You go and check on Mulder.  I'll call you when I hear
 anything." He reached for the phone. "And Scully?"  She turned.
 "Be sure your gun is loaded."
  
  
  May 3, 12:30 p.m.
  Mulder's Apartment
  
  When Scully knocked at the apartment door, Mulder answered with
 gun in hand.  Seeing that it was Scully, he sighed with relief and
 let her in.
  
  "Are you sure it was Paul Bailey on the machine?"
  
  "It was definitely Paul Bailey, promising that we'd meet again
 soon. ...Oh, he never left his name, but it was his voice."
 Mulder fell silent.
  
  "Well, he'll live to regret it." Said Scully angrily. "Voiceprint
 analysis will establish that it's him and it'll just be another
 nail on his coffin!"
  
  Scully finished as Mulder pulled the tape from the machine.  He
 put it into a cassette recorder, rewound and played it.  It was
 blank.
  
  "I don't understand...it was here."  Mulder muttered and rewound
 the tape.  "I never left the living room, except to go to the
 kitchen and get some paper towels."
  
  "Why don't we take it to the lab and see if they can tell us
 anything about the tape.  Maybe they can recover something.
 Mulder, what are you doing?"
  
  Mulder had pulled his gun and was searching the apartment.  "I'm
 checking to see if anybody has been here since I left."  He stood
 up, and ran his finger over a spiderweb that ran across his desk. 
 "This was here this morning, and it hasn't been disturbed."
  
  Mulder holstered his gun and sat down on the couch. "Scully, I
 swear Paul Bailey called me and left a message!  It was there..."
  
  "It's ok, Mulder.  We'll examine the tape and see what we can
 find out." Scully spoke soothingly.  She could hear an edge of
 panic to Mulder's voice that had developed since Paul Bailey.
 "Let's go get some lunch."
  
  "Dammit, Scully, don't baby me!  I know what I heard..." Now
 Mulder could hear the hysteria in his own voice, and stopped
 talking.  Then he forced himself to adopt a calmer tone.  "I don't
 want to wait til tomorrow to go back to the office.  I'm coming
 with you today."
  
  They both jumped when Scully's phone chirped. Scully pulled it
 out of her jacket and opened it. "Scully." She began.
  
  "He's still in jail?  And he hasn't had access to a phone since
 his transfer there a week ago.. did what? No, the tape needs to be
 analyzed...we may not have much in the way of proof.  Yes sir,
 we'll both be in later." Scully closed the phone and debated the
 calmest way to break this news.
  
  "Mulder, Bailey's been in his jail cell for the past week and
 hasn't made any telephone calls.   Staff there swear that he has
 no access to a phone. Whoever it was, it wasn't him."
  
  Mulder jerked.  "It was him, Scully.  I'd know his voice
 anywhere, under any circumstances.  They're lying!"  Mulder
 stopped, seeing the look of worry mixed with pity on Scully's
 face.
  
  "Mulder, in any case, he's a continent away..." Scully began.
  
  "I wish I believed that." Said Mulder, simply.
  
  The two agents quickly gathered their things and left for the
 Hoover Building.  After the apartment door closed behind them, a
 darkly clad figure stepped out of the hall closet, and, clutching
 a tape in his hand, let himself out of the apartment.
  
 *****************************
  "He can feel his skin like a prison
  Like a dying cage he struggles to live inside
  He tries to call out but nobody hears him..."
  
  (Sunday Morning Yellow Sky by October Project)
  
  Hoover Building August 2, 1:30 p.m.
  Basement
  
  At Scully's insistence, Mulder rode in to the office with her.
 She worried that, in his current state of mind, he shouldn't be
 behind the wheel of a car. Mulder gave in reluctantly when he
 realized that she was probably right.  While they rode the
 elevator down, Scully noticed how Mulder tapped his hand nervously
 on the wall, and seemed uncomfortable in the small space.  She was
 as relieved as he was when the elevator door opened.
  
  Scully offered to take the tape to the lab, and left Mulder alone
 in the office.
  
  Mulder relaxed back into his desk.  He hadn't seen the place in
 months and, like his apartment, it looked neater.  Even his desk
 was more organized.  He rummaged through the stack of new files,
 almost caressing them in his pleasure at being back where he
 belonged.  He found a new plastic sack of sunflower seeds in the
 desk drawer and popped one into his mouth.  He noticed that his
 pencil-cup was full. Scully had sharpened at least 20 new pencils
 to a fine point.  He picked up a neatly sharpened pencil and
 tossed it up to the ceiling, bullseye!  Haven't lost the touch...
  
  "So, has it changed much?" Scully asked from the doorway.  She
 stifled a laugh as the pencil detached from the ceiling and landed
 on Mulder's head.
  
  Mulder grinned.  It was so good to be back home. "Not so much.  A
 few of the dust bunnies have left, though, and I detect a faint
 whiff of cleanser about my desk."
  
  "Well, I always thought of this as a 'bachelor' office.  There
 wasn't much happening on the Files while you were gone (since I
 was saving all the swamp monsters and mutants for you).  So I
 thought I'd indulge a fantasy..."  Scully's face took on a leer
 and she leaned forward and met Mulder's eyes.  "I got out the
 Lysol and had an orgy... of cleaning!  It was
 very.....satisfying."
  
  "Well, as long as you're...satisfied." Mulder drawled back.  "So,
 is the lab working on the tape?"
  
  "Yes.  They'll tell us when they find something."
  
  The rest of the day was uneventful.  Scully kept her promise and
 made a beef stroganoff that made Mulder's mouth water.  She stayed
 and watched a movie with Mulder, and was grateful that all was
 quiet.  No mysterious phone calls.  When it grew late, Scully
 hesitated.  She felt uncomfortable leaving Mulder all alone when
 he was feeling this way.  She knew that Mulder was safe from a
 thoroughly jailed Paul Bailey, but still..
  
  "Mulder, since this is your first night out of the hospital, why
 don't I crash on your couch in case you need anything."  Scully
 suggested as lightly as she could.
  
  Mulder grinned. "Just my luck, the first and only time she asks
 to spend the night with me, it's so she can fetch me hot milk if I
 can't sleep!  Go home, Scully! I'm a grown man and I'm armed.  I'm
 tired of being fussed over, and I'm looking forward to sleeping in
 my own apartment...alone!"  Scully started to argue, but caught
 the stubborn expression on Mulder's face.
  
  "Ok, but if you do need anything, you'll call, right?" She
 gathered her car keys and began moving toward the door.
 "Anything!"  She added as Mulder closed the door behind her.
 Scully walked down to her car, intellectually sure that Mulder was
 in no danger, but equally sure in her gut that she shouldn't have
 left him.
  
  May 4, 3:10 a.m.
  Mulder's apartment
  
  Mulder felt pain, terrible pain and the flames wouldn't go away. 
 They were surrounding him, brushing against his chest and his gut,
 scorching everything in their path.  He screamed and nobody heard
 him, but Paul.  He could just see Paul, his eyes glowing in the
 flames and his face twisted into a grin of unholy glee.  He could
 hear Bailey giggling happily as he held the flaming torch against
 Mulder's protesting body...Mulder felt like he would burst with
 terror, couldn't get away...couldn't call for help...couldn't
 breathe....
  
  Mulder sat up in his bed panting for air, sweat streaming down
 his body.  He could almost swear he still heard Paul Bailey,
 faintly giggling and smell the stench of smoke in the air.  No,
 just another nightmare...Mulder grabbed his knees and huddled in
 the bed, trying to clear his mind of the images that wouldn't go
 away.  He wondered how many times he would have to relive each and
 every moment of that captivity, in vivid, colorful, excruciating
 detail.
  
  The phone rang.  Mulder, hoping it was Scully, picked up.  The
 voice was familiar, but not Scully's. "Hello, Agent Mulder.
 Sleeping well?  Just remember, I'm keeping the home fires burning
 for you..." Mulder never heard the rest, because he suddenly found
 himself crouched on the other side of the room, as far from the
 telephone as he could manage.
  
  Hoover Building, May 4, 8:00 a.m.
  Office of A.D. Skinner
  
  Skinner arrived at his office early, as usual, but was unable to
 clear any of the paperwork off his desk as he had planned.
 Instead, he swung his chair around to look out the window,
 remembering events of five weeks ago.  He shivered.  Even now he
 had nightmares about Paul Bailey, and he didn't want to think
 about what Mulder's dreams must be like.  Skinner still felt
 twinges of guilt remembering how his own errors in judgment had
 nearly killed Mulder.
  
  He knew that Scully was worried about Mulder, but as usual she
 was giving nothing away.  Mulder, being Mulder, had refused help
 for his obvious post traumatic stress disorder.  Skinner shook his
 head. Even he, the ex-Marine, had  seen the Bureau psychologist.
 Those first few weeks after the kidnapping, he'd had continuous
 nightmares of being forced to watch Mulder in pain, without being
 able to do anything to prevent or alleviate it.  He still felt
 ashamed that Bailey had gotten loose because of his own oversight,
 in failing to make sure that Bailey was securely chained down.
  
 Regardless of what Mulder said, Skinner owed him. Well,  this was
 Skinner's chance to try to make it up to Mulder.  If Mulder was
 afraid that Bailey was coming back for him, Mulder'd have a
 personal bodyguard if Skinner himself had to sit outside his door.
  
  
  9:00 am
  
 Mulder and Scully arrived on time for the meeting with Skinner
 and the Federal Prosecutor.  He was introduced to the them as
 Herbert Laney.  He was an older man, in his fifties,  with a lean
 build and a fringe of wispy gray hair.  When the group was seated
 around Skinner's conference table, Laney began without preamble.
  
  "Good morning, Agents, Assistant Director..  As you know, I will
 be prosecuting the upcoming trial of the charges against Paul
 Bailey for his assaults on Agent Mulder and A.D. Skinner.  Before
 this week, it was relatively simple, since Bailey's trial was
 originally set for several months from now, allowing all the
 murder charges as well as the kidnap/assault charges to be tried
 together.  Unfortunately, these charges have been severed into a
 separate trial, to be heard in San Francisco, and the trial date
 advanced." Laney gave a dry little smile and went on.
  
  "As a result, we can count on having a trial very soon.  I
 understand that A.D. Skinner has already told you about the change
 of venue?  We will be in Federal Court in San Francisco, because
 of the excessive pre-trial publicity this case has had in the
 Tahoe area.  I wanted to meet with you three today, since you are
 the chief witnesses to Bailey's actions. I'd like to hear from
 each of you, in a general way, what you witnessed and experienced.
 As trial draws nearer, I will interview you individually to be
 sure that I understand all the details of your testimony.  Since
 you are all Federal law enforcement officers, I assume that you
 have been through this process before..." Laney paused and Mulder,
 Scully and Skinner all nodded.  They had done this many times.
  
  "Very well.  Let's start at the beginning.  You arrived in Reno
 for a conference..."
  
  Skillfully, Laney drew the details of the events from each of
 them, occasionally raising an eyebrow or jotting a note down on
 his yellow pad.  Finally, after the account ended with Mulder's
 arrival at the hospital and Bailey's incarceration at the local
 Sheriffs office, Laney paused.
  
  "Agent Scully, I'd like to ask you a few more questions about the
 investigation that led you to Bailey's cabin.  First, as I
 understand it, you identified Paul Bailey as a suspect when you
 reviewed the list of employees at the hotel, correct?"
  
  "Yes, that's right.  I saw the name on the list and remembered
 that we'd had a bellhop called  Paul who was familiar with the
 Michael Bailey case, one of Mulder's profiles."
  
  Laney went on. "And I assume that you obtained that electronic
 document with a search warrant?  Who issued it?  Do you still have
 it?"
  
  Scully  suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Sir, we were running
 out of time.  I...wasn't given access to local FBI resources and
 had to call in some non-law enforcement assistance for help.
 We...weren't able to get a warrant."
  
  "And just who is this 'non-law enforcement assistance' you called
 on?"
  
  Scully stayed silent, her face blazing red and her eyes trained
 on the table in front of her.
  
  Skinner broke in.  "These are friends of Mulder's who publish a
 local...uh..magazine.  They are quite technically proficient and
 were quite a help to Agent Scully .  John Fitzgerald Byers was the
 specific gentleman who helped her obtain the documents."
  
  Laney steepled his fingers and looked pained. "He's a magazine
 publisher?  You mean he's a hacker.  When I read Agent Scully's
 report I did some research on Mr. Byers and Lone Gunmen Magazine. 
 He has no connection with law enforcement and no professional
 qualifications to speak of."  Laney  turned and addressed Scully.
  
  "Agent Scully, you have been an F.B.I. agent for what, over 7
 years? You have had the standard training in evidentiary
 foundations as well as search and seizure, I presume?"
  
  Scully nodded dumbly.
  
  "Have you ever heard of a doctrine called 'Fruit of the Poison
 Tree'?  What it says is that evidence gathered as a result of a
 violation of the defendant's civil rights will be suppressed at
 trial.  ALL evidence so gathered.  You accessed Paul Bailey's
 personnel records without a warrant or any official sanction."
  
  Laney paused to be sure that Scully was listening, then went on.
  
  "Therefore, the fact that you identified Bailey as a suspect,
 located his home from his records, found that home and all that
 you saw and did thereafter, becomes inadmissible at trial, because
 it flows from your illegal and warrantless search of Mr. Bailey's
 records.  That would also include any testimony by Mr. Byers,
 since he was acting on your orders at the time. In fact, I'm
 surprised he's not up on Federal charges for his illegal access
 into the San Quentin Prison Records as well as Reno Hilton
 records.  By your actions, you have made it that much harder for
 me to put Mr. Bailey away as long and as far as he deserves to
 be."
  
  Mulder could see that Scully was near tears.  He burst out
 angrily.  "But she saved our lives!  The local Field Office wasn't
 giving her jack-shit!  She had no support and nobody was looking
 for us!  If not for Scully's work, we would both have died there."
 Mulder found himself shouting and waving his fists by the end of
 his last statement.  Feeling mildly embarrassed, he sat down.
  
  Laney eyed Mulder and Scully with something like compassion.
 "That's true, she did.  And if I were in the same straits as you
 were, I'd want Agent Scully leading the search for me.  But the
 fact remains that the defense attorney has already filed a motion
 to suppress Agent Scully's evidence.  I believe that he will win
 it.  Therefore, the bulk of the testimony will rest on you, A.D.
 Skinner, and on you, Agent Mulder."
  
  Laney turned to Mulder and eyed Mulder's hands, stilled balled
 into fists on the table.  "Agent Mulder, A.D. Skinner, the
 testimony you give in this trial is especially important, since
 you will also be witnesses in the murder trials of the rest of
 Paul Bailey's victims, including those for which Michael Bailey
 was erroneously convicted.  As you know, testimony you give here
 can be used to impeach your credibility later in the murder trial.
 So it is very important that you give testimony that is clear,
 lucid and unemotional."
  
  
  May 4,  12:00
  Basement Office
  
  Still shaken from the meeting with the prosecutor, Scully hadn't
 said much.  Mulder also said nothing, but watched her anxiously.
 He'd never seen capable, competent Scully called on the carpet for
 what amounted to incompetence, at least not unless it was
 something that Mulder had dragged her into.
  
  He cleared his throat.  "Scully...I think that prosecutor was way
 out of line to talk to you like that..."
  
  Scully smiled sadly.  "I don't know, Mulder.  He had a point.  At
 the time, all I could think about was getting to you as fast as
 possible, and Byers seemed the quickest resource.  But I'm a
 Federal Agent, and what I do has to be within the bounds of the
 law. When I start taking the law into my own hands, where does it
 stop?  This time, I was saving lives and I know I was justified.
 But the next time?"  She swallowed and went on.
  
  "In the cabin, you asked me about the nature of evil, and whether
 it's possible to do an evil thing without realizing it, and for
 the best of intentions.  I just never considered how possible it
 really can be. Where do you draw the line?"  Scully's voice
 trailed off.
  
  "Scully, you told me yourself, that you rely on your own
 conscience for that guidance.  Sometimes that's all we have.
 Besides, Kersh had taken you off the case and was ignoring the
 investigation.  But for you, we'd be dead now.  What else could
 you have done?" Mulder  got up from his desk and pulled his chair
 next to Scully.
  
  "I could have gone over Kersh's head,"  Scully stated. " to the
 Director, or to Jana Cassidy, or to someone within the Bureau
 willing to listen.  I worry, Mulder, that we've gone so far beyond
 Bureau mainstream, that we could lose ourselves."
  
  Mulder shook his head.  "I think you should consider what you
 already know about the way things operate in the Bureau,
 especially when Spender, the elder, is involved.  Bureau protocol
 isn't always the best way."
  
  
  Scully stood up.  "I think I'll take a walk and get some lunch.."
 Mulder started to get up and join her, but she shook her head.  "I
 need to think."
  
  Mulder nodded reassuringly, and settled back down at his desk and
 began reading through the stack of files Scully had left there for
 him.  The phone rang, and he picked it up.
  
  "Mulder." he said crisply.
  
  "Agent Mulder!  I thought I'd call and tell you how much I'm
 thinking about you and how I'm burning to see you, very very
 soon."  And the caller hung up.
  
  Mulder held the receiver and blinked at it.  At the sound of Paul
 Bailey's voice his stomach had clenched inside him.  By the time
 he'd recovered enough to yell into the receiver the caller was
 gone.
  
  Trembling, Mulder dialed '0'
  
  "Switchboard, Holly speaking..." came the voice.
  
  "Holly, this is Agent Mulder.  I just got a call and it cut off. 
 Can you tell me anything about the caller?"
  
  "Agent Mulder!  I'm so glad to know that you're back. I hope
 you're feeling better.  I'll check and see what I can find out.
 Hold please..."
  
  Mulder listened to canned music for what felt like an eternity.
 Then Holly was back on the line.
  
  "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder.  I've triple checked the equipment
 logs, but there's no indication that a call has gone to your line
 within the last half hour.
  
  Mulder blinked.  "Oh...ok, thanks anyway Holly. Bye." He put the
 receiver in its cradle and sat staring at the phone.  That had
 been Bailey's voice.  He knew it like his own skin.  Hell, he
 heard it every night when he closed his eyes, couldn't get away
 from it.  He drew a ragged breath.  Tell Scully?  Not unless the
 tape panned out, and he had a feeling it wouldn't. She would only
 start to worry about his sanity, just as he was now...
  
  Cautiously, keeping one eye on the phone, Mulder resumed reading
 the file.
  
  May 4, 2:00 p.m.
  Basement Office
  
  Scully had returned to find Mulder absorbed in his stack of
 files.  She smiled, glad to have him back to normalcy at last; at
 any rate, what passed for normal with Mulder.  She caught his eye,
 nodded and smiled.
  
  He smiled back and went back to his file.
  
  Scully sat down and began working through her own pile of files. 
 The phone rang in the silence.  Mulder jumped like he'd been shot,
 but made no move to pick up the receiver; rather he looked at it
 as though it were a dangerous animal.  Scully shot him a look full
 of puzzlement, and answered it herself.
  
  "Scully.  Yes sir, I'll come right away."  She hung up the phone.
 Mulder was watching her strangely.
  
  "Skinner wants to see me in his office, to discuss what the
 prosecutor brought up this morning." Scully sighed.  "Damned if
 you do, damned if you don't..."
  
  Mulder gave her his best reassuring smile. "Well, I'm damned glad
 you did, Agent Scully, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
 Do you want me to come along as a character witness?"
  
  Scully smiled back; thank God for Mulder.  "No, I'll be ok.  It's
 not like this is the first time I've been called on the carpet.
 I'll be back later, bloody but unbowed."
  
  "Give 'em Hell!"  Mulder called after her and picked up his file
 again.  It was bad enough that they picked on him, but when they
 focused on Scully...it just made his blood boil.
  
  The phone rang.
  
  Mulder looked at it with apprehension, then cautiously answered
 it.
  
  "Mulder."  There was nothing but silence, then the line cut off. 
 Mulder sat and stared at the receiver in his hand, he could feel a
 panic attack building. Oh no, not now, please not now...
  
  He put the phone down, and closed his eyes to ride it out.  I'm
 actually getting good at this, he thought, before the biggest wave
 hit him.  No, I'm not good at this, not at all...He hung on to the
 desk and waited grimly for it to pass.  When it did, an eternity
 and five minutes later, he wiped sweat from his forehead with a
 trembling hand.
  
  Maybe Scully was right.  Maybe it was stupid to turn down the
 Bureau shrink's offer of treatment.  Scully goes to her sometimes,
 she trusts her.  Why not me? But he knew why he wasn't going to
 go.  Trust.  He couldn't stand the thought of his secret thoughts
 and feelings going to a stranger.  Besides, They could be
 listening, and God only knew what they would do if they knew his
 weaknesses...his dreams...his hopes. No, gotta keep gutting it
 out.  It has to get better some time....
  
  The phone rang again....and again...and again...
  
  
  Office of A.D. Skinner
  
  Scully was ushered into Skinner's office, to find Skinner in
 discussion with Laney at the conference table.  She took a seat
 across from them, and prepared herself to be chewed out.
  
  "Agent Scully, first I want to apologize for my behavior
 earlier."  Laney began  "I needed to know how you all would react
 under stress, and especially Agent Mulder."  At Scully's look, he
 added. "Oh, I was serious about the evidentiary problems we have, 
 but now is the time to deal with them."
  
  Laney picked up a familiar looking file, which Scully could see
 was labeled with Mulder's name.  His medical chart.
  
  "Agent, I don't think that you will be offering much testimony in
 the trial, but I still need your help. A.D. Skinner has been
 apprising me of Agent Mulder's medical condition, in particular,
 his state of mind." Laney's face took on a look of concern.  "This
 trial will be very...difficult...for him.  I anticipate a hard,
 no-holds-barred fight, and I'd like your feedback as to how Agent
 Mulder will react."
  
  Scully drew a deep breath.  Trying to project a confidence she
 didn't feel, she replied. "Sirs, Agent Mulder is the strongest
 person I know.  If anyone can handle a tough situation, he is the
 one."
  
  Skinner looked at Scully with something like pity. "Agent, we
 both know how resilient Mulder is.  But there will be additional
 problems.  Mr. Laney has advised me that he believes that the
 defense attorney will try to put the Bureau itself on trial, by
 focusing on Mulder's mistakes in the Michael Bailey case.  We both
 know how Mulder feels about his actions regarding Michael Bailey."
  
  Scully turned to Laney. "Do you really think so?"
  
  Laney nodded.  "Absolutely.  I know that this is a kidnapping
 case, with some special circumstances, but in its presentation
 it's more like a rape trial. Mulder, as victim, will be
 scrutinized thoroughly, since Bailey's motivations are at issue.
 Defense will try to make it seem that Bailey's actions, while
 terrible, were justified in a sense, by Mulder's role in Michael's
 death."
  
  Scully flared.  "But this isn't a rape trial.  There can be no
 issue of consent, here.  Mulder was kidnapped, and tortured
 against his will.  What Bailey did to Mulder HAS no justification.
 God...." Scully fell silent, unable to put any more of her outrage
 into words.
  
  Laney sighed. "I know that this is hard to take, but I need to
 know.  Another aspect of Mulder's life which Defense will
 undoubtedly bring up and use to hurt Mulder's testimony are
 his...er...out of the mainstream activities.  His known interest
 in the paranormal, his stated belief in UFOs and aliens. The
 attorney will use this to diminish Mulder in the eyes of the jury,
 and to break down his credibility.  How will Mulder survive this
 experience?  Can he take the verbal beating he's likely to get on
 the stand?  If he can't be used as a witness here, or if he the
 defense attorney is able to damage his credibility, the other
 murder prosecutions are also jeopardized.  Under those
 circumstances, our only remaining percipient witness is A. D.
 Skinner.  That raises the odds that we will be unsuccessful, and
 that, ultimately, Bailey will go free."
  
  "Well, you have me, without question."  Said Skinner bluntly.
 "I'm looking forward to staring that bastard straight in the eyes
 and sending him away for a long, long time."
  
  Laney paused and addressed Agent Scully and A.D. Skinner.
  
  "What I would suggest is this.  While I suspect I may not be
 using Agent Scully's testimony, the possibility remains that she
 could be called as a witness.  I want her to testify if I can get
 her on the stand.  And I understand that she and Agent Mulder are
 close friends.  Agent Scully,"  He leaned across the table. "Would
 you come along, even if you don't testify?  I have a feeling that
 Agent Mulder will feel better having you there, even if you have
 no formal role in the trial."
  
  Scully and Skinner both sighed with relief.  "I'd be happy to,
 sir.  Provided my Supervisor agrees?"  She looked expectantly at
 Skinner and he nodded.
  
  "Yes.  That's an excellent idea.  She certainly has my approval
 to go."
  
  When Scully entered the basement office, she found Mulder
 connecting recording and tracing equipment to the telephone.
  
  "What are you doing?"  she asked.
  
  Mulder, his eyes fixed on the telephone's innards, reached
 blindly for the pliers on his desktop. Scully handed it to him and
 waited expectantly for his answer.
  
  "After you left, several questionable phone calls came in."  He
 said, connecting several wires.  "At least five were just silence,
 when I picked it up.  The other was Michael Bailey again."  Mulder
 set the phone down and looked into Scully's eyes, willing her to
 believe him.  "I called Holly, at the switchboard, and none of the
 calls registered with them.  I am not imagining things, so I
 decided to gather a little evidence of my own."
  
  "I never said you were."  Said Scully steadily.  "I just want to
 find hard and fast proof..."
  
  "That will stand up in court...yeah...I know." Mulder replied
 sadly.  "So how was the meeting?"
  
  "Oh...not as bad as I expected.  Laney thinks I might be able to
 testify after all, but he isn't sure.  As a precaution, I'll be
 going along with you and Skinner to San Francisco."  Scully found
 that she couldn't meet Mulder's eyes, so she turned to the file
 cabinet and pretended to look for a file.  She missed Mulder's
 look of profound relief at the news.
  
  Scully was coming along after all.  Thank God, somebody he could
 trust without question to guard his back.  Somebody who was a good
 shot, and quick on the draw in case Paul.....No, don't go there.
 Don't go there at all.  Mulder got up and picked up a file with a
 suddenly shaking hand.
  
  "I'm going to go make some photocopies.  Be back soon.." He said,
 and went out into the hallway to have his panic attack in peace.
  
 *****************************
  Christe Eleison part 3
  
  "Hush, close your eyes,
  And I'll keep you safe
  Allow you to weep
  Sing you to sleep...
  
  ...When the soft eyes of mercy
  Are blinded by the dark
  I will stay with eyes open
  Stay here with eyes open
  To watch over you
  And take away the sadness and the fear
  I'll be here."
  
  (Eyes of Mercy, October Project)
  
  
  
  The rest of the week was nightmarish for both Scully and Mulder. 
 First, he completely refused to answer the office phone, and even
 when Scully told him that the call was for him, took the receiver
 gingerly as though he expected it to bite him.
  
  And she suspected he wasn't sleeping.  Mulder, normally an
 insomniac, had always been able to look fresh and rested on
 minimal sleep.  But in the past few days he looked wearier and
 wearier, his eyes red and his general appearance progressively
 more rumpled. He began staring into space at odd times, and seemed
 preoccupied.  But whenever Scully asked him what was wrong, he
 wouldn't discuss it.  She thought about renewing her offer to stay
 with him, but knew he'd refuse, so she simply worried.
  
  May 7, 9:00 a.m.
  Basement Office
  
  Scully arrived to find the office closed and locked.
  
  She opened the door, surprised that Mulder hadn't made it in
 ahead of her, as he usually did.  She called his apartment and was
 concerned to find that the phone rang, without being picked up by
 either Mulder or his answering machine.  She tried his cell phone,
 but it was turned off.  Alarmed, she quickly grabbed her car keys,
 checked her gun and ran out to the car.
  
  She arrived at Mulder's apartment house and saw his car, parked
 in its usual spot.  She took the elevator upstairs,then called and
 knocked on Mulder's door. No answer.  The door was locked, so she
 used her key and let herself in.  The living room was empty, but
 Mulder's phone had been unplugged from the wall. She tapped on his
 bedroom door.
  
  "Mulder?"  On hearing no answer, she carefully opened his bedroom
 door wondering what she'd find inside.
  
  Mulder lay on the bed, curled up into a fetal ball, his gun held
 loosely in his right hand.  The cell phone lay smashed on the
 floor, next to Mulder's unplugged bedside telephone.  He was
 dressed in a sweat-stained undershirt and shorts.
  
  Scully holstered her gun and stopped a few feet from him, bending
 down toward him.
  
  "Mulder?  Mulder! Wake up!"  She called loudly.
  
  Mulder shot bolt upright, fumbling wildly for his gun. At last
 Mulder recognized Scully, his wide open eyes bloodshot and puffy.
  
  "Wha...Scully?  What's the matter? Why are you here?
  
  What time is it?"
  
  "Mulder, it's after 9:00.  When you didn't show up at the office
 I tried to call, but all your telephones are either unplugged or
 broken..."  Scully eyed the cell phone on the floor.  She moved
 over to the bed and sat down beside Mulder.
  
  "Mulder, you've been on edge all week.  What's wrong?" Her voice
 was so full of concern, that Mulder just couldn't hold it in any
 longer. He sat up and put his gun on the nightstand.
  
  "Scully, I haven't slept all week."  He rubbed his eyes wearily
 and continued.  "Every night... each and every night without fail
 this week, the phone has rung..sometimes once, sometimes twice or
 more.  And each time I hear the voice of Paul Bailey, telling me
 how much he's looking forward to finishing what he started.  I've
 tapped the line: nothing.  I've traced the calls, both through the
 Bureau and with the guys' help: nothing.  I can't even get a
 recording of the damned call!  I can't  prove to...to anybody that
 these calls even exist, that they aren't my overactive
 imagination, or some hallucination..."
  
  His voice broke with frustration and,  swallowing hard, he began
 again.  "Last night, he called after 2 a.m. and started describing
 just what he was going to do to me when we meet again.  Instead of
 trying to find out how the bastard is doing this, I unplugged
 every phone in the house.  So he called ten minutes later on the
 cell phone ..." Mulder gestured at the broken cell phone.
  
  "I lost it.  I lost it big time.  I would have called you, or
 someone, for help...but that would mean I'd have to use the damned
 phone..."  His laugh hovered close to a sob.  "So, instead I
 double-checked the locks, got my gun and sat up to wait for him.
 I guess I fell asleep."
  
  Scully had never seen Mulder look so defeated.  She made up her
 mind quickly. "Ok, Mulder, here's the plan.  You have a new
 houseguest: me.  We're flying out to California tomorrow anyway,
 so I'll pack a bag and stay with you until we leave for the
 airport.  I can sleep on the couch."
  
  Mulder started to protest, but had to admit that Scully's offer
 gave him the first hope he'd felt all week.
  
  "Scully, I couldn't let you sleep on the couch, at least take the
 bed.  We could share..."  He leered suggestively.
  
  "No thanks." Scully laughed, glad to have things on a more
 familiar footing.  "If the couch was good enough for you for five
 years, I can manage for a night." She added.  "And, I'll be here
 to listen for the phone with you.  If Bailey calls, I'll witness
 it with you."
  
  She got up and started for the bedroom door.  "Why don't I make
 you breakfast while you shower and dress. I'll drive you in to
 work today; we can stop at my place and get my things."
  
  Mulder was grateful for the homey sounds coming from the kitchen
 while he showered.  With Scully there he didn't suffer from the
 fantasy that had plagued him all week: Bailey sneaking quietly
 into the apartment while Mulder was showering or asleep and
 overpowering him again...
  
  Scully served him a plate with scrambled eggs and toast.  Mulder
 dug in hungrily, which made Scully wonder guiltily whether he had
 been eating at all since she'd stopped cooking for him a few days
 ago. She noticed that the cuffs of his shirt were dangling around
 bony wrists, and that Mulder, never fat, had lost weight.
  
  "Scully..." Mulder put his fork down. "Thank you for coming over
 today.  It...helps..knowing that you're there...even though I know
 you think I really am hallucinating all this..."  He gulped some
 orange juice and went on. "Who knows, maybe I am.  After all,
 Bailey is  still safe in his jail cell."
  
  "He's still there, and he's no danger to you. Besides," said
 Scully with complete seriousness "If he shows up here, I'll shoot
 him.  And I won't miss."
  
  
  The rest of the day passed quietly.  Scully answered any phone
 calls, and Mulder received no threatening messages.  At five
 o'clock, they packed up their briefcases and went to Mulder's
 apartment.  At Scully's insistence, they stopped for Chinese
 takeout (At least I know you're eating vegetables!) and to rent
 some movies (What do you mean you don't want to see War of the
 Worlds again? It's a great movie!).
  
  When they arrived at the apartment, Mulder nervously watched
 while Scully checked the answering machine. She shook her head.
 No messages.  Mulder heaved a sigh of relief and set the Chinese
 food down on the kitchen table.
  
  The evening was uneventful, except that Scully made Mulder sit
 through Thelma and Louise, before they watched Alien.
  
  At midnight, Scully made a bed for herself on the couch.  She
 could see Mulder going through what was obviously his new evening
 routine.  He checked the front door locks, locked the windows in
 the kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath, then re-checked them.
  
  He brushed his teeth.  Then he checked the locks. He flossed his
 teeth, then he checked the locks.  He double-checked that his gun
 was loaded and on his nightstand, then checked the second gun
 under his pillow.  Then he checked the locks.  Scully just lay on
 the couch and watched him, amazed that he didn't see how
 obsessive-compulsive his behavior had become. Lastly Mulder went
 to unplug the telephone
  
  "No." Said Scully. "Leave it plugged in.  If it rings, go ahead
 and pick up.  I'll be listening on the other phone."  Mulder
 looked at her doubtfully, but left the phone plugged in.
  
  "Scully..."  Mulder said nervously. "Are you sure you don't want
 the bed?  I mean..alone.  It doesn't seem right to make you sleep
 on the couch."
  
  Scully smiled up at Mulder from her nest on the couch. "No,
 really, Mulder.  I'm fine.  Your couch is very comfortable.  Good
 night."
  
  "Ok, good night."  Mulder went into the bedroom and closed the
 door.  Scully turned out the light and settled herself to sleep.
  
  To her dismay, this turned out to be harder than anticipated.
 She kept waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it would ring so
 that Mulder would finally have proof of all he'd been saying this
 week.  The silence ticked on.  Scully tossed and turned on the
 couch. It really was comfortable, she just couldn't sleep. Too
 much Mu Shu Pork, she thought.  She finally drifted off, still
 listening for the phone.
  
  May 8, 3:13 a.m.
  Mulder's Apartment
  
  Scully was jolted out of sleep by a loud cry.  She sat up and
 listened, then heard it again.  Mulder!  She scooped up her gun
 from the floor beside the couch and ran into the bedroom.  Mulder
 was curled up on the bed, fast asleep but thrashing and flailing,
 obviously caught up in a nightmare.
  
  "Mulder!  Mulder wake up! You're having a nightmare!!" Scully
 called and caught at Mulder's hands. Mulder's eyes popped open at
 the touch, and his gaze found Scully's.  He sat up, reached out
 and hugged her tight.  Scully found herself kneeling by the
 bedside, holding a shaking Mulder in her arms.
  
  "Thank God it wasn't true...it was just a dream..." Scully held
 Mulder close and waited for him to go on. When he said nothing
 more, she moved back and looked at him.
  
  "What did you dream, Mulder?  Bailey?"
  
  "Yes." Mulder said, his breath slowing.  "I was in a strange
 place, one I've never seen before.  It was dark and dusty, and
 Bailey was there and free.  He comes towards me with this..this
 grin and I know that something terrible is about to happen, but I
 can't move, I can't run... and this void swallows me up; it's like
 it's destroying my soul, devouring what makes me..me.  That's when
 I panic and wake up, usually screaming..."
  
  "Is this the dream you've been having all week?" Scully asked
 softly.
  
  "I've had it every night, even in the hospital. It's gotten worse
 lately, more...detailed somehow.  I'm afraid to close my eyes
 because I'll dream it again.
  
  And when I don't dream about the..the future, I dream that I'm
 back there, in the cave with Bailey.  When that happens, it's like
 I'm there, in every single, relentless detail..  And why is it
 that I can never dream about anything happy, like getting
 rescued?" Mulder tried to laugh but to Scully he looked incredibly
 tired and weary.  The bloodshot look in his eyes was back and she
 could see lines on his face that weren't there before.
  
  "Do you want me to sit up with you for a while?  I'm having
 trouble sleeping too."  Scully sat down on the bed next to Mulder
 and sat up leaning against the headboard.  Mulder relaxed against
 her breast, while Scully wrapped one arm protectively around him.
 Mulder felt her gently running her fingers through his hair and
 her soft whisper. "It's ok, go to sleep. I'll keep watch.  You're
 safe..."  Before long, he had drifted off to sleep, feeling safe
 at last.
  
  Scully watched him rest and decided that she could sleep on the
 plane.  She held him close and thought about the past two months,
 and how she had almost lost him.  She tightened her arms around
 him and dared Bailey to hurt this man again.  Bailey couldn't have
 him; and if he tried, he'd have to walk through her gun to get
 there.
  
  
  May 8, 6:30 a.m.
  Mulder's Apartment
  
  Mulder woke to hear footsteps in the apartment.  He grabbed his
 gun from under the pillow, and decided that he wasn't mobile
 enough to run out and confront him, so he held it under the
 blanket, waiting for the intruder to find him.
  
  "Good morning, Mulder."  Scully said cheerfully from his bedroom
 doorway, dressed in her blue silk pajamas. "Is that a gun under
 the blanket or are you glad to see me?"
  
  Mulder blushed a brighter shade of red than he could ever recall
 being this side of seventh grade.  He pulled the gun out and put
 it back under his pillow.
  
  "Scully...Oh yeah, my house guest."
  
  Scully put her hand against Mulder's forehead.  "No fever, guess
 you are blushing after all.  I'm making breakfast.  It'll be ready
 by the time you're showered."
  
  She  walked into the kitchen.  Mulder could only silently admire
 her style (and the pajamas).  He crawled out of bed  and padded
 into the bathroom, absentmindedly peeling off his tee-shirt as he
 went.
  
  After Mulder had dressed, they ate a companionable breakfast.
 Then Scully went to shower while Mulder started washing the
 dishes.  As he stacked the frying pan in the drain dish, he heard
 the doorbell ring. He dried his hands and went to the front door. 
 When he opened it, nobody was there, so he stepped out into the
 hallway, and caught a glimpse of Paul Bailey. "Hey! You!"  Mulder
 shouted and ran after the man. The man jumped into the elevator
 and the doors closed on him just as Mulder arrived.
  
  Mulder hit the elevator button, then decided to try the stairs.
 As he ran down the multiple flights, he developed a stitch in his
 side and was panting for air by the time he got to the bottom.
 Gotta get more exercise, I've been laid up too long....
  
  At the lobby, the man was just running outside. Mulder could hear
 a faint laugh as the door closed. Mulder raced after him, to see
 nothing and nobody on the street.  He stood there breathing hard
 for a few minutes, before he turned back to the elevator.
  
  He found his apartment door still open, and a worried Scully in
 the hallway.  She looked relieved when Mulder approached.
  
  "Mulder, what happened?  Where were you?"
  
  Mulder went inside the apartment and Scully followed. "When you
 were in the shower, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I
 saw Bailey in the hallway.  I ran after him but he got away."
  
  Scully looked skeptical.  "Are you sure it was Bailey? Did you
 see him full-face?"
  
  "No, I just caught a glimpse of him before he ran. But who else
 could it be?"  Mulder sat down on the couch, still winded from his
 run.
  
  "Well, how about a practical joking teenaged neighbor, for one?
 Mulder, Bailey is in jail, in California! Do you have any physical
 evidence that it was him?" Scully sat down next to Mulder on the
 couch.
  
  Mulder stared at Scully.  "What do you think?  I don't have
 physical evidence of anything that's happened this week.  I'm
 sorry, I guess the next time Bailey decides to harass me I'll stop
 and ask him politely for proof."  Mulder got up and walked into
 the bedroom.  He opened an empty suitcase and began throwing
 clothing into it.  Then he began checking his guns and holstering
 them, making sure that extra ammunition was packed in his bag..
 Scully sighed and sat to wait for him to finish packing so that
 they could drive to the airport.
  
  
  May 8,  7 pm
  San Francisco, Westin Hotel
  
  Scully was grateful for the long flight.  Mulder had appropriated
 two seats, a blanket and pillow and proceeded to sleep without
 apparent nightmares for the entire six hours.  At least here he
 didn't have to fear the telephone with its messages from Bailey.
  
  They arrived at the hotel to find that their reservations had not
 been lost.  Skinner hastily turned down the services of a bellhop
 and carried the bags himself.  To Scully's surprise, she and
 Mulder had been given a suite with two bedrooms, each with private
 bath.  The suite had a large, central sitting room.  She turned to
 Skinner to ask for an explanation but he shook his head slightly
 and she bit back her questions.
  
  "Wow, this is some place.  We do seem to draw palatial
 accommodations, don't we?"  said Mulder eyeing the sitting room.
 "Think it has a heart-shaped tub or flying cows?"
  
  Skinner set Scully's bag down on the floor.  "We were able to
 justify a suite in the budget because they plan to use the sitting
 room for trial preparation and conferences.  Flying cows?"
 Skinner looked at Scully, who shrugged.  Kroner Kansas was not
 something Skinner would know about.  Just as well...
  
  Skinner, realizing that Scully wasn't talking, went on.  "So,
 which room do you want, Agent Scully?  The blue one or the gold
 one?"
  
  "Oh, either is fine with me." Scully said and Skinner put her
 case down in the gold room.  .
  
  Mulder set his own suitcase down in the blue room. Skinner and
 Scully watched as Mulder carefully searched the room, checking
 under the bed, inside the closet, unscrewing the telephone for
 bugs.  Skinner caught Scully's eye and pulled her aside.
  
  "Is he always like this?" he asked.
  
  "No, sir.  Just recently."  Scully bit her lip, wondering if she
 should tell Skinner about the phone calls.  Mulder had expressly
 asked her not to, since there was no 'proof' to back them up.  But
 still...
  
  "Sir, could you help me move this bag over to the corner?  It's
 rather heavy."  As Skinner carried Scully's suitcase to a far
 corner of her room, she spoke in a low tone.
  
  "Sir, Mulder believes that he's been getting more harassing calls
 from Bailey.  Sometimes the phone rings, then there's nobody on
 the line.  Other times he hears Bailey's voice, threatening him.
 He's barely slept this week, and the flight was probably the
 longest sustained rest he's had."
  
  "Do you have any proof?  I know that the tape never panned
 out..." Skinner glanced toward the sitting room, his face
 concerned.
  
  "No."  Said Scully.  "And I've never been there when any of the
 calls came in.  Mulder has tried tapping and tracing his own
 phone, both at the office and at home.  Nothing."
  
  Skinner folded his arms and bowed his head.  "Do you think that
 he's hallucinating, then?"
  
  "If he is, this is some variant of the flashbacks victims of post
 traumatic stress disorder have.  He seems to be reliving his
 experience to some extent; although he is convinced that he's been
 having a nightmare that foretells that he'll be captured by Bailey
 again some time in the future."  Scully frowned, then looked up at
 Skinner.  "I just wish I knew what to do for him."
  
  "No wonder the poor bastard can't sleep."  Skinner commented
 wearily.  "Well, it's no coincidence that you and Mulder are
 sharing a suite.  He trusts you; keep an eye on him and yell for
 help if you need it.
  
  I'm just across the hall."  Skinner and Scully went back into the
 sitting room to find Mulder with the television remote control in
 hand, channel surfing.
  
  "Are you done conferring about me?"  He asked calmly. "I'm not
 blind and deaf, you know.  And I'm not crazy, either.  Bailey's
 out and he's stalking me.  I don't know who they have in that
 jail, but it isn't Paul Bailey."
  
  "Agent Mulder," Skinner sat down in the chair opposite. "We are
 concerned about your welfare, and your
 apparent...disconnection...with reality.  I have been assured by
 local law enforcement, by the Federal prosecutor's office and by
 the director of the local jail that is being held there, and has
 neither left nor made any telephone calls in the last two weeks.."
  
  
  Skinner leaned forward, his voice deepening. "Mulder, I've seen
 people react to stress like this.  They just can't get away from
 their terrible experiences, and their minds force them to relive
 it.  What you're going through is the natural result of Bailey's
 abuse, and there are treatments for it, if you'll only accept
 them."
  
  "So, I'm a poor victim of PTSD, huh?" sneered Mulder. "Well,
 y'know, I'm tired of being a victim..."  He stood up.  "I know
 what I heard, and you should know by now that I'm not in the habit
 of hallucinating, despite the strange things Scully and I have
 witnessed.  Sir, I understand you being skeptical....."  Mulder
 turned to Scully, anger and frustration exuding from every pore.
  
  "But Scully, why can't you believe me, just once?" Scully was
 left speechless as Mulder turned away from her and walked out the
 door of the suite.
  
 ***************************
  Christe Eleison, Part 4
  
  "If I could
  I would be the place you turn
  When you're feeling lonely
  Or afraid
  I would shine
  Like a lantern in the dark
  Take you inside
  Into my heart."
  
  (If I Could, October Project)
  
  May 8, 10:00 p.m.
  Westin Hotel
  
  Scully sat tensely in the sitting room of the suite.
  
  She had refused Skinner's suggestion that they eat downstairs and
 ordered room service instead. Skinner had sighed and left her to
 wait for Mulder.
  
  For the umpteenth time Scully looked at her watch. Damn him and
 his temper.  Didn't he realize that he wasn't the only one with
 flashbacks?  She could recall her own despair when Mulder and
 Skinner had disappeared from just such a hotel as this, her
 desperate attempts to locate them before it was too late...
  
  She got up and began to pace the floor.  What if Mulder was
 right, and Bailey was free somehow? Mulder could already be God-
 knew-where..or already dead, no, not dead yet.  It would be worse,
 even worse than last time.  Scully remembered her first sight of
 Mulder in Bailey's underground bunker, and later after Bailey'd
 had a second chance at him....No, that isn't possible. We know
 absolutely that Bailey is in custody......but if he doesn't get
 back here in the next half hour I'm calling the cops.
  
  The door opened and Scully jerked around to see Mulder walk in.
 His expression was a combination of contrition and defiance.
  
  Scully held onto her temper with every ounce of willpower she
 possessed, but folded her arms across her chest and just looked at
 him.
  
  Mulder gave her a hangdog look.  "Scully...I...I'm sorry I yelled
 at you.  It was uncalled for."
  
  Scully took a deep breath, unsure whether to hit him or to kiss
 him.  She decided to tread the middle path. "Mulder, do you know
 what ran through my mind after you'd been gone two hours?  And I
 didn't know where you were?  Or who had you?"
  
  Mulder looked up from the floor and saw the anxiety in Scully's
 face.  "You mean, you believed me?  You were worried about me?"
  
  Scully was a picture of relief, exasperation and affection.
 "Mulder, haven't you figured out yet that I generally take you
 seriously, even while I'm demanding proof?  As for Bailey being
 out of jail...I just don't know.  I know you well enough to trust
 your instincts, even if I don't understand them.  Yes, I was
 worried.  I spent the entire evening picturing you in Bailey's
 hands, just like last time.  And just like last time, I felt
 trapped in a hotel room with no information...Don't ever do that
 to me again, Mulder!"
  
  
  "Scully, I'm so sorry.  I...just don't know what to believe any
 more...Those damned phone calls...I swear somebody is stalking me,
 even if it isn't Bailey. But I can't prove it, to you or to
 myself.  Every time I close my eyes I'm facing Bailey again, and
 when I wake up it isn't any better.  Everything
 is..confused...lately"  Mulder wrapped his arms around himself and
 bowed his head.  Scully moved to hug him, and she held him very
 close for a minute before releasing him.
  
  "Mulder," Scully said "I don't think you're crazy, but I do think
 you need counseling for this.  You're under stress, you can't
 sleep and it's getting worse."
  
  Mulder's face closed again, though he said nothing. Scully knew
 that the discussion was over for the time being.
  
  "Why don't I go over and tell Skinner you're back. I know that he
 was as concerned as I was."  Scully said.
  
  Mulder nodded and watched her go through the door. He went into
 his room and lay down on his bed, arms folded behind his head, to
 think about what Scully had just told him.
  
  "She really does believe in you, you know."  A voice from the end
 of his bed startled him.  Mulder sat up to find Michael Bailey,
 looking disconcertingly solid, sitting on the end of the bed.
  
  Mulder blinked.  "I didn't think you guys made housecalls."
  
  Mike smiled.  "Well, I do, occasionally.  Especially when
 somebody I'm concerned with is acting like an ass.  You know,
 there is a difference between her believing IN you and just
 believing you.  She  finds it hard to believe all the crazy things
 you tell her. Just like you find it hard to believe in things like
 God, or angels."
  
  "Yeah, well, present company excepted, I haven't had much
 experience of the brighter side of life. Demons, now those I
 believe in..."  Mulder's eyes grew haunted.  "Is that why you're
 here?  To check on Paul? And how come I can see you?  Don't I have
 to be dead first?"
  
  Mike shook his head sadly.  "I'm not here to check on Paul.  He's
 way out of my jurisdiction.  No, it's you I'm worried about.  You
 really ought to let your friends help you."
  
  Mulder snorted.  "Right, and get them killed when my personal
 black cloud of doom sets in.  Anybody I get close to dies or
 disappears.  No thanks...." Mulder eyed the bedspread, which
 should have indented under Mike's posterior (but didn't).
  
  "So, can you tell the future and stuff?  Tell me how to handle
 this..this..problem I've got?  I'm not sleeping too well, and
 there's other things.." Mulder rubbed at his eyes, conscious that
 they still felt gritty.
  
  "I'm sorry Mulder, but I'm not a gypsy fortune teller. You, and
 those around you, make your own futures. And I've already told you
 what you should do; you just keep refusing to do it."  Mike got
 up, still not denting the bedspread, Mulder noticed.  "But I'll be
 around, if you ever want somebody to listen or gratuitous advice."
  
  "Well, Mike Bailey, angel, ghost or whatever you are, I'll take
 any help I can get, be it ghostly or earthly.  This...this is Hell
 on earth, and I'm not doing anybody any good.  Skinner's worried
 about me, I'm driving Scully frantic...And...and..."  Mulder
 gulped and went on more softly "And I just don't know how much
 more of this I can take."
  
  
  8 p.m.  Skinner's room
  
  Skinner lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Mulder seemed
 to be falling apart and Skinner was powerless to stop it, unless
 he ordered Mulder locked in a straitjacket.  He smiled.  If he
 did, it wouldn't be the first time.
  
  No, that wouldn't work.  Mulder had enough problems after Bailey,
 without adding a straitjacket and padded cell to it.  Damn, you'd
 think a man with Mulder's psych training would be more comfortable
 with psychiatric treatment.  Well, he'd check on Scully in a few
 hours.  Hopefully Mulder would come back later, when he'd cooled
 off.  But, Skinner promised himself, stressed or not, sick or not,
 Mulder was going to get his ass chewed for this.
  
  Skinner heard a knock at the door and thought, with relief, that
 Mulder must be back, and Scully was stopping by to tell him.  He
 opened the door to find no Scully, but rather the smirking form of
 Alex Krycek.
  
  "What's wrong?" said Krycek, sauntering into the room. "Expecting
 somebody else?"  Krycek looked around the room before seating
 himself at the table.  "No greeting?  You aren't very polite
 tonight."
  
  Skinner pulled himself together and stared angrily down at
 Krycek.  "Why the hell are you here.  What do you want?"
  
  Krycek smiled.  "Oh, a favor or two.  Have a seat.." Krycek
 patted the chair next to him.. Skinner sat down grudgingly,
 conscious that he hated this man more than any other being on the
 planet, except for a certain smoker he knew.
  
  "I wouldn't try anything violent, Skinner. "Said Krycek calmly.
 "I still have that little box we both know about.  You could
 become very dead, very fast."
  
  "Get to the point; what do you want from me?" Skinner growled.
  
  Krycek relaxed against the chair and smiled. "You're visiting
 beautiful San Francisco to testify at a trial---Paul Bailey isn't
 it?  Now there's a violent man."  Krycek shook his head.  "Put
 simply, you are not going to testify at the trial.  Not so very
 difficult a job, is it?"
  
  Skinner was puzzled.  "Why do you care whether I testify at
 trial?  You don't care about Paul Bailey.."
  
  Krycek replied.  "You're right, we don't.  But we do have an
 interest in Agent Mulder and his state of mind."  Krycek stopped,
 then continued speaking, his voice deeper and oozing compassion.
 "And Mulder is already in a very fragile state of mind, isn't he?
 Nightmares, panic attacks, that's the downside of a photographic
 memory: you can't ever forget the pain and the terror.....and
 then, hearing things that nobody else hears and not knowing
 whether you are really hallucinating or not.."
  
  Krycek's face grew solemn.  "  And then, testifying at trial:
 the terror of facing one's torturer.  And should Mulder become the
 lone witness, all that stress....After all he's been through,  the
 question of Bailey's freedom, his torturer's freedom, rests on
 Mulder's shoulders.  And the very real possibility that Paul
 Bailey will go free as all the cases against him crumble into
 little pieces...And Bailey isn't 'finished' yet, is he?"  Krycek's
 voice dropped to a whisper as he savored his words.
  
  Skinner's eyes widened.  "The phone calls from Bailey... the
 threats..it's been you all along. What are you trying to do to
 Mulder?"
  
  "He's an annoyance to certain parties, but he isn't worth a
 bullet just now.  He needs to be made unable to interfere with us
 for as long as possible; a lengthy stay at a sanitarium fits our
 needs."
  
  "You are asking me to betray him, to help you finish what Bailey
 started.  "  Skinner looked at Krycek in horror.
  
  Krycek nodded in assent. "Betrayal is a harsh word, but accurate.
 But think of it this way, cooperate with us and you'll save his
 life, although maybe not his peace of mind."  Krycek met Skinner's
 eyes and added  "You'll also save your own ass.  But then, Walter
 Skinner, that's what you're best at, isn't it?"
  
  Krycek got up and headed for the door.  "Remember, we'll be
 watching."  He opened the door and walked through it, leaving a
 shell-shocked Skinner behind, still seated at the table.
  
  Skinner sat and didn't move to turn on the lights as the room
 darkened into night.  He had cooperated with Krycek in the past;
 had no choice.  But the tasks, while distasteful, hadn't actively
 hurt Mulder or Scully.  But now Krycek was asking, no-telling him
 to cooperate in a plan to destroy Mulder's soul, his sense of
 self.
  
  Skinner got up and began to pace.  If he didn't, he was dead.
 And they'd get Mulder anyway, with a gun.
  
  What could he do?  What choice could he make?  He owed Mulder,
 owed them both.  He knew what choice Mulder would make, were the
 situations reversed.  But Skinner just wasn't sure that he was
 strong enough to do the right thing, and damn all the
 consequences.
  
  He sat on the bed and remembered his anguish when Bailey had them
 both, and his own determination to protect Mulder and get him out
 alive somehow.  And now, Krycek.  Bailey's evil seemed clean by
 comparison.  Skinner took off his glasses and went into the
 bathroom.  He ran the tap as cold as it would go and bathed his
 face with chill water, then buried his face in the towel.  No
 good, Walt, can't hide forever.  You've got to make a decision.
 But what do I choose?  How do I choose?
  
  10:15  p.m.
  
  Scully tapped on Skinner's door and was surprised to find it
 answered by a haggard looking Skinner, apparently sitting alone in
 a dark room.
  
  "Sir, I just wanted to let you know that Mulder's back.  He took
 a long walk.  We've discussed things and he's feeling better now."
  
  Skinner nodded tiredly, then turned on the light switch inside
 the room.  "Agent Scully, could you step inside for a moment?  I
 need to talk to you."
  
  Puzzled, Scully walked inside and sat in the chair that Krycek
 had recently vacated.  Skinner sat down in his own chair.
  
  "Agent Scully, I have some news and I thought I'd tell you first.
 I will not be testifying at the trial." There, he'd said it.  It
 was done.  It was out.
  
  "But why is that, sir?  Did the prosecutor call you?
  
  Are there evidentiary problems with your testimony too?"
  
  "No, nothing like that."  Said Skinner.  "I..can't explain the
 reasons.  I haven't called the prosecutor yet, the decision was
 just made."
  
  "Well, then why can't you testify?  Without you, it's just Mulder
 alone.  He can't manage that much stress; he's falling apart as it
 is!  Why can't you testify?
  
  Surely there's some way around it?"  Scully looked at Skinner
 with dismay, as Skinner restlessly paced the room.
  
  "Agent Scully, I am sorry, but I'm...not at liberty to give you
 the reasons.  Suffice it to say that there are reasons, good ones.
 I'm very sorry about Agent Mulder, but he's a grown man and an FBI
 agent.  I'm confident that he can handle this on his own." Skinner
 kept trying to meet her eyes, but failing. He could feel his own
 sense of guilt and shame, almost overpowering him.
  
  "But, that wasn't your position this afternoon!  You know what
 his state of mind is!  You were there with Bailey, you know what's
 caused this.  How can you betray Mulder like that?  How can you?" 
 Scully got up and backed out of the room, rushing blindly across
 the hall to her own.
  
  Skinner couldn't remember the last time he'd hated himself so
 much.
  
  10:45 p.m.  Mulder and Scully's Suite
  
  Scully opened the door quietly and stepped inside the suite.  She
 could hear noise coming from Mulder's room..voices?   No, one
 voice, Mulder's and he was talking to somebody.
  
  She drew closer, not wanting to interfere but unsure whether she
 should draw her gun either.  She listened for a bit, and her eyes
 widened as she heard who Mulder was addressing, and what he was
 saying.
  
  Scully paused, torn with indecision, then crept away quietly and
 went to her room. And how was he going to react to Skinner's
 desertion?
  
  May 9, Westin Hotel
  3:30 a.m.
  
  Mulder sat on his bed.  He had spent the past hours channel
 surfing in the sitting room, but had decided to try reading for a
 while.  He rummaged in his sack of sunflower seeds and munched
 pensively on them. He wondered how long he could go without having
 to sleep. He knew that if he slept, he'd dream.  And when he
 dreamed, he didn't know what would happen.  So, the obvious
 solution: don't sleep.  Kind of shortsighted, he knew, but it
 worked for tonight.
  
  He sighed and put his book down.  He wished he had the guts to
 ask Scully to share the room with him; oh, nothing sexual...at

 least he didn't think so...Well, anyway, her presence would be
 comforting.  He could relax when she was there.
  
  He yawned and stretched, then turned back to his book and was
 soon absorbed in it.
  
  A few minutes later he was conscious of a flickering in the
 corner of his eye, and a crackling sound. Startled, he looked up,
 and found his entire bedroom wreathed in flames, the walls, the
 furniture, the drapes, and a loud crackling sound throughout.
  
  No, this can't be happening!  Mulder stood up, terror flooding
 him, knowing that he needed to run, but unable to move a muscle.
 He stood and huddled into himself, and tried to scream, but no
 sound would come. There was no air in his lungs, he couldn't
 breathe, couldn't make a noise louder than a whisper.  He kept
 trying, and finally forced a scream out, and kept screaming with
 all his strength.
  
  Scully, asleep in her bed, heard Mulder's cries and immediately
 scrambled for her bedroom door, grabbing up her gun as she ran.
 She sprinted through the sitting room and into Mulder's room.
  
  Once inside, she saw Mulder's bedroom, fully lit. Mulder stood in
 the middle of the bedroom floor, covering his face and head with
 his hands, screaming. As she moved over to him, he crumpled to his
 knees, then onto all fours, trying to huddle into the smallest
 space possible.  His cries died down to a wild keening, then to
 sobs.  Scully moved over to Mulder and slowly knelt beside him.
  
  Scully heard a noise behind her and Skinner stormed in, dressed
 in shorts and a Sig Sauer.  He stopped at the doorway and took in
 the scene, looking around the room for intruders.
  
  "What happened?"  He asked anxiously.  "What's wrong with
 Mulder?"
  
  "I don't know."  Scully said softly.  "Mulder?  Can you hear me? 
 Mulder?"
  
  Mulder raised his head and looked at Scully's face with an
 expression of torment. "I...I...was..reading and I looked up and
 there was..was..fire everywhere, everything was alight, the
 drapes, the furniture, everything.   And I heard it
 crackle..as..as it b-burned...And I couldn't move, I tried to call
 out..but I c-couldn't BREATHE...and I couldn't make a sound....." 
 Mulder trailed off and shuddered, burying his face in his hands.
  
  Skinner pulled a blanket off the bed and helped Scully wrap it
 around him. "Let's move him out of this room.  I want to take a
 look at it."  He said quietly, setting his gun down on a side
 table.  "Should we call the paramedics?"
  
  Scully frowned at Mulder, but Mulder began shaking his head
 violently.  "No, I don't want to be alone.  NO, stay here with me,
 please, I don't want to be alone..."
  
  Scully nodded.  "I think he'll be ok here with us. I wish I could
 give him a sedative, though.  I'll get some hot tea from room
 service, with lots of sugar it should help some.  C'mon Mulder,
 let's go sit on the couch..."  She gently helped Mulder to his
 feet and led him into the sitting room.  Skinner watched them go,
 enduring his own agony.
  
  He knew who had done this, and knew that Mulder hadn't been
 imagining anything.  Those bastards were technically savvy enough
 to hide a holographic projector in this room...Skinner carefully
 inspected the room for electronics, but even his trained eye could
 see nothing.  He stopped, frustrated.  At least, if he could
 arrange for Scully to "find" a device, he could lead her to deduce
 the truth.  He didn't dare tell her about Krycek's visit.  He
 rubbed his chest, remembering his prior bout with nano technology,
 coming close to dying from the invisible machines clogging his
 bloodstream.
  
  Mulder was in bad shape, and getting worse by Scully's estimate. 
 Skinner shook his head and kept searching. And he, Skinner, was
 helping in that disintegration by keeping his silence, both by not
 telling all he knew and by withdrawing his testimony at
 trial....God, there had to be another way...Hadn't he told Mulder
 that once?  There's always another way.  He suspected he'd better
 find it, or there was no telling what would happen to Mulder.
  
  He picked up his gun and went into the other room to find Scully
 on the couch, sitting next to a blanket wrapped Mulder, her left
 arm around his shoulders and her right holding a mug of tea to his
 lips.  She looked up hopefully as Skinner entered.
  
  "Anything?" she asked.
  
  "No evidence of an intruder or any electronic equipment that I
 can see."  Skinner squatted down in front of Mulder and looked him
 over.  Mulder's face was rigid and his eyes were glassy, still
 seeing the flames.  He seemed barely conscious.   "How's he
 doing?"  Skinner asked.
  
  Scully was silent and looked at Mulder.  "I don't want to leave
 him alone if he's having hallucinations. I..think we need to
 talk."  She put the mug into Mulder's hands and moved to the other
 side of the room with Skinner.
  
  "I'm very concerned about him."  She began, watching as Mulder
 sat numbly with the mug in his hands, making no attempt to drink. 
 "This afternoon I overheard him talking to Michael Bailey, or his
 ghost.  And at the end of the conversation, he sounded like he
 might be having suicidal ideation. He said he didn't know how much
 more of this he could take.  In the present circumstances, this
 could be a very real danger." She looked up at Skinner
 imploringly.  "I haven't told him your news yet.  And I don't want
 to."  Scully sighed.  "Maybe we should take him to the hospital."
  
  Skinner reflected.  Mulder in a hospital was just what Krycek
 wanted, but for the long term, not just temporarily.  Allow Mulder
 to be committed?  No, he wouldn't go voluntarily, and an
 involuntary hold was temporary unless the patient were violent or
 actively suicidal.  Hospital would end the torment, but wouldn't
 put Bailey behind bars, and Mulder would be left in as much threat
 as before.  And he doubted that Krycek would re-think his
 prohibition on Skinner's testimony even if Mulder were
 hospitalized temporarily.  No, Krycek had been clear, they wanted
 Mulder incapacitated for a long time.  Skinner looked around the
 walls of the room, confident that it was riddled with surveillance
 devices.  He couldn't even offer Mulder the support of knowing
 that somebody believed him.  Ok Walt, got to play both sides of
 the game, somehow.
  
  "No, no hospital.  Unless you think he's in immediate danger?
 Mulder was pretty clear that he doesn't want to go, and I think we
 should respect that, under the circumstances."
  
   Scully gave Skinner a doubtful look.  "  Then maybe I should
 take the bullets out of his guns, just in case..."
  
  "No, don't do that!"  Skinner said hastily.  "I mean, if there's
 a danger that Bailey really is out of jail, Mulder needs all the
 personal protection he can get.
  
  And we don't have any real proof that he's contemplating
 suicide."
  
  Scully frowned, "Sir, I disagree.  Mulder needs professional
 help."  She went over to Mulder and took the untouched mug from
 his hands.
  
  "Mulder?  Look at me, Mulder."  Mulder turned and looked at
 Scully.  "Mulder, I think you need to see a doctor.  I'd like to
 take you to the hospital to get help, how about it?"  Mulder
 flinched away from Scully, his face terrified.
  
  "No, Scully, please, no doctors...no hospitals. You're the only
 one I trust.  I feel...good...now. I'll be ok.  And I need to see
 this trial through. Just...don't go anywhere, ok?"  Mulder looked
 pleadingly at Scully and her resistance collapsed.
  
  "All right, Mulder." She wrapped the blanket more tightly around
 him. "Why don't you sleep in my room tonight.  I'll stay with
 you."  Mulder gave her a look of such naked gratitude, that
 Skinner, watching, turned away, embarrassed and more than a little
 ashamed of himself.
  
  Scully led Mulder into the other bedroom and helped him into the
 bed.  She left the door open and walked over to Skinner.
  
  "I guess that's all for tonight, sir."
  
  Skinner nodded.  "All right, then.  I'll meet you both downstairs
 for breakfast at, say, 8:30.  Laney will be here at 10:00 for the
 meeting."  Scully said nothing, but turned to go back into her
 room.  "And Dana" she turned "Call me if you need
 anything...please."
  
  Scully began making a pallet on the floor, but Mulder's imploring
 eyes watching her every move decided her.  She gathered up her
 blankets and pillow, climbed onto the bed and curled up next to
 him.  He was shivering when she lay down, but he calmed when she
 snuggled up close.
  
  "Scully...?" He whispered tentatively.
  
  "Yeah, Mulder?" She answered sleepily.
  
  "You think I was seeing things, don't you?"  Mulder tensed,
 waiting for her answer.
  
  Scully propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him.
 "Mulder, I know that your room is intact and there's no evidence
 of fire.  Therefore, there has to be another explanation.  Maybe
 you really did drop off to sleep and just dreamed it, a very vivid
 dream, but still just a nightmare.  It doesn't really matter. What
 matters to me is its effect on you."
  
  "Oh.  So, would you say that you don't always believe me, but you
 always believe IN me?"
  
  "Mulder, that's what I've been trying to tell you for years.  Now
 go to sleep.  We have a long day tomorrow."
  
  Mulder smiled a little and closed his eyes.  Then he opened them.
 "Scully, do you realize that we are sharing a bed?  And we're not
 even married...does that mean we're living in sin?"
  
  "Don't you wish!...." Scully muttered and, snuggling closer to
 Mulder, drifted off to sleep.  Mulder gave her an affectionate
 look and brushed a lock of hair off her face, then fell asleep
 himself.
  
 **********************
  
  "We work in the dark.  We do what we can to battle the evil that
 would otherwise destroy us.  But if a man's character is his fate,
 this fight is not a choice but a calling.
  
  Yet sometimes, the weight of this burden causes us to falter,
 breaching the fragile fortress of our mind, allowing the monsters
 without to turn within, and we are left alone...staring into the
 abyss into the laughing face of madness."
  
  (Fox Mulder)
  
  
  May 9, 7:00 a.m.
  
  Scully woke to find that Mulder was already up.  She wearily
 pulled herself out of bed and stretched tense muscles.  Too little
 sleep and too much worry...situation normal as Mulder's partner.
 She walked over to the closet and was selecting her outfit for the
 day, when she realized that she didn't hear Mulder moving around
 in the suite.  She quietly grabbed her gun and tiptoed through the
 empty sitting room and into Mulder's room.
  
  Mulder, fully dressed,  sat on the floor quietly studying the
 walls, ceiling, his entire surroundings. Scully inadvertently made
 a noise and Mulder jumped violently, then turned around abruptly. 
 His face cleared when he saw that it was Scully.
  
  "Oh, it's you, Scully...Don't DO that..."  He panted, catching
 his breath.
  
  "I'm sorry Mulder, but I knew you were up and I couldn't hear
 you.  I was concerned.  So..."  She made her voice as casual as
 she could. "Just what *are* you doing?  Or have you taken up
 yoga?"
  
  Mulder looked embarrassed.  "I wanted to see this room again,
 convince myself that it, the fire and everything, wasn't real.  I
 can't start jumping at shadows because of a bad dream or two.  I
 examined the drapes and carpet, no burns.  I looked over the
 entire room and found no evidence of fire.  So, I think you were
 right, I must have fallen asleep and dreamed." His eyes grew
 pained.  "Or hallucinated the whole thing..."  He climbed to his
 feet.  Scully could see that his hands were trembling and he
 seemed to be breathing heavily.  She reached for his wrist and
 felt his pulse.
  
  "Mulder, your heart is racing...Are you sure you're ok?"
  
  Mulder shook off her hand.  "I'm fine.  Nothing that a padded
 cell or a quart of valium couldn't cure."
  
  Scully followed silently, but when Mulder sat down before the
 television set and began surfing, she gave up and went to get her
 own shower.
  
  They were downstairs by 8:00 and gave orders for coffee to the
 waiter.  It's now or never, Scully thought, better break the news
 to him now.  She cleared her throat.
  
  "Mulder, there is some additional news I heard from Skinner last
 night.  It seems that he won't be able to testify at Bailey's
 trial either.  He...couldn't or wouldn't give me a reason.  He
 just said that he wouldn't be participating."  Scully paused and
 waited for the storm.  To her surprise, there was none.
  
  "Well, that leaves just me, then, huh?"  Mulder asked calmly.
 "He must have had his reasons."
  
  "Mulder, aren't you the least bit angry that Skinner has dumped
 you and the case like this?"  Scully was surprised to find that
 she was as irritated with Mulder for NOT being upset, as she was
 at Skinner for causing the situation in the first place.
  
  Mulder looked at her mildly.  "Why should I be?  I know that he
 wouldn't back out like this if there weren't a compelling reason
 to do so.  He's been there in the past, the recent past, when I
 needed him. He'll be there now if he can."
  
 Scully drew a breath.  "But Mulder, what about you, now?  This
 whole thing is tearing you apart.  Last night...was terrible."
  
  Mulder's facade cracked a bit.  "Yeah, it was terrible.  But
 there just isn't much I can do about it right now.  If I go to a
 hospital now, Bailey walks on the assault and kidnapping charges
 and might go free of the murders.  I HAVE to be there and I HAVE
 to be together for this, even if I collapse into little pieces
 afterward.  He can't be allowed to do this again, to anyone else."
  
  Scully, her voice very low, said. "Mulder, even if this breaks
 you more thoroughly and surely than anything Bailey has done to
 you?"
  
  Mulder looked into her eyes and said nothing, then focused his
 eyes intently on the tablecloth.
  
  Scully looked up to see Skinner approaching the table, wearing a
 peculiar frown on his face--guilt?  She was suddenly sure that he
 had heard the entire conversation.  She tried to paste a cheerful
 expression onto her face, but knew that she was failing.
  
  "Good morning, sir."
  
  "Good morning, agents.  Agent Scully, have you told Agent Mulder
 about the change in trial testimony?"
  
  Scully nodded, feeling depressed.  "Yes sir, I have.
  
 We were just discussing it.  Are you sure that you won't be able
 to testify?"
  
  Skinner shook his head.  "No, I'm afraid that circumstances I am
 not at liberty to disclose have made it impossible."  He watched
 Mulder closely for reaction, but Mulder sat poker faced.
  
 The rest of breakfast was very quiet.  Scully gave monosyllabic
 answers to Skinner's attempts at conversation and Mulder spoke not
 at all, seemingly shut away in his own world.  Skinner's guilt
 feelings, already spiking, jerked up another notch.
  
  At last, 10:00 a.m. approached and Skinner led the agents back to
 the suite.  Laney arrived early and, sitting the agents down
 around the table, began the meeting.  Skinner promptly gave Laney
 his news and the meeting disintegrated.
  
  "What do you mean you won't be testifying?" Asked Laney
 incredulously.  "And why not?  You've traveled all this way..."
  
  "I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say why....:" Skinner began
 but was cut off by Laney.
  
  "You'll give me a damned good reason or I'll know why!"  Laney
 stopped, looking into Skinner's stony face, and realized that this
 was going to take some time.  "Agents Mulder, Scully,  there's no
 reason for you to be here.  It looks like Assistant Director
 Skinner and I have some things to discuss, so  why don't we plan
 to meet here tomorrow at 10:00 and go over your part of the
 trial?"  Laney looked at Skinner, who nodded permission .
  
  Skinner then added. "Agents, you might as well enjoy yourselves. 
 Get out of the hotel and see San Francisco  Take some time and
 relax.."  He looked meaningfully at Scully.  Getting Mulder out of
 this damned hotel was probably the safest thing for him. Skinner
 was sure that this room had more electronic hardware than CIA
 central.  At least on a cablecar packed with tourists, Krycek
 would find it harder to get at him.
  
  "Thank you sir." Said Mulder.  He and Scully withdrew to their
 rooms to change into jeans and soon left. Skinner was left to face
 Laney and  to explain himself.
  
  Scully coaxed Mulder onto the San Francisco public transit
 system.  Although he looked nervous surrounded by the crowds at
 first, she was encouraged to find that he soon relaxed and began
 joking with her.
  
  At Scully's suggestion they toured the Exploratorium, then
 lunched in Chinatown.  By the time they got to Fisherman's Wharf,
 Mulder was less jumpy and more like his normal self.  Mulder
 spotted a marquee and pointed to it.
  
  "Come on, Scully, you've got to see this!  It's Ripley's Believe
 it or Not!"  He dragged a laughing Scully to the door where they
 bought tickets and went in.  Scully soon found herself critiquing
 many of the exhibits professionally, to Mulder's obvious delight.
  
  "Mulder, those aren't real human heads!  Those are fakes if I
 ever saw any!"  She scoffed, examining the shrunken head exhibit.
  
  Mulder shook his head and read the card.  "No, it says that
 Ripley gathered these himself in the wilds of Africa.  Can't beat
 that for provenance."
  
  "Yeah, and I'm the queen of Sheba...."  Scully muttered just loud
 enough for Mulder to hear.  It was so good to see him having fun
 again, not nervous or anxious like he'd been of late.  She moved
 over to the next exhibit and was leaning to examine it closely
 when she heard Mulder yell  "Hey!"
  
  She turned to see Mulder run into the crowd.  Oh, no! She
 thought.  Not now, everything was going so well...She took off
 after him, only to find Mulder skid to a stop in the middle of the
 crowd, looking blindly around.
  
  "Mulder?  What's going on?"  Scully panted up to him.
  
  "I saw him.  I saw Bailey!  I was looking at the case, and I saw
 his face reflected in the glass; he was just smiling at me..."
 Mulder continued to look around the room, desperately trying to
 find his quarry.  "I turned to face him, and he ran.  But he
 just...disappeared...."  Mulder's shoulders sagged as he
 continued.  "If he was ever really there."
  
  Scully could have cried for him.  Forcing herself to sound
 collected she only said "Well, the lights are dim in here.  It's
 easy to be mistaken.  Come on Mulder, they have some real 'live'
 footage of Bigfoot you'll want to see."
  
  Mulder allowed Scully to pull him away, and dutifully argued with
 her about whether the Bigfoot exhibit was real or a fake, but it
 was clear that the joy had gone from the day.
  
  Scully insisted that they finish the tour of the City, so Mulder
 helped her pick out a variety of gifts for various relatives,
 purchase a small pile of chocolate bars in Ghirardelli Square and
 watch the sun set from the top of the Hyatt Regency.  Scully was
 conscious that although she kept trying to distract Mulder from
 his fear and depression, he was preoccupied.  He continued to scan
 the crowds of people around them, searching nervously for Paul
 Bailey.
  
  Finally, over dinner at Alioto's, Mulder broke into what they
 both had come to recognize as Scully's chatter.
  
  "Scully,"  Mulder interrupted Scully's story about Bill and
 Tara's youngest.  "Scully, it's no good.  I just can't forget
 about Bailey, and I can't relax. We both know I've been jumpy ever
 since I saw him this afternoon, and I don't...trust...that I won't
 find him around the next corner.  I've been ready to draw my gun
 at least twice this afternoon, when something startled me.  We
 need to go back to the hotel. I'm..."  Mulder searched for a word 
 "...tired."
  
  Scully nodded and followed Mulder downstairs to hail a cab.  They
 were deposited at the hotel shortly and rode the elevator to the
 suite quietly.  The sitting room was empty, Scully mused, so the
 confrontation between Skinner and Laney couldn't have been too
 violent.
  
  She was taking off her jacket when she heard a noise from
 Mulder's room.  She turned around, but Mulder rushed into her room
 and stopped in the doorway, his eyes wild.
  
  "Scully, did the maid leave a mint or chocolate or something on
 your pillow?"
  
   Scully was puzzled, but moved to her bed and picked up the mints
 that the maid had left behind when she turned the bed down.
 "Just these, Mulder.  What's wrong?"
  
  Mulder gave a ironic smile.  "Mine left a little box of Godiva
 chocolates; the round kind."
  
  He led Scully back to his room, only to find the same mints on
 his pillow as on Scully's.   No Godiva chocolates anywhere.
 Scully looked up at Mulder; he closed his eyes and shook his head.
  
  "No, those weren't there just a minute ago.  I don't know why I'm
 not surprised..."  He said nothing more, but wandered back into
 the sitting room and sat in a dark corner, facing the window.  Any
 attempts Scully made to talk to Mulder were met with silence.
 Finally, she got a book from the bedroom and curled up on a corner
 of the couch in a puddle of light cast by a table lamp, quietly
 watching him.
  
  At last she looked at her watch.  Midnight, another late night.
 Mulder hadn't moved or spoken in hours.
  
  Scully cleared her throat.
  
  "Mulder, I'm sleepy and I thought I'd go to bed now.
  
  Would you like to share my room again tonight? Yours doesn't seem
 very..comfortable somehow."  Mulder still didn't move, so Scully
 walked over to stand next to him.  "Mulder, there's a reasonable
 explanation for all of this.  And we'll find it.  You just have to
 believe that we will, somehow.  C'mon, partner. When was the last
 time I offered to share a bed with you?
  
  Better take advantage while you can!"
  
  Mulder finally turned to look at her, his eyes distant, but he
 nodded and got up.  Scully followed him into his room while he got
 some clothes and quietly stood outside his bathroom door while he
 brushed his teeth, although she managed to be in the next room by
 the time he opened the door again.
  
  As she settled in next to Mulder, Scully wondered nervously what
 the next day would bring and whether they both would survive it
 intact.
  
  May 10, 7 am
  
  Mulder woke to find Scully curled up next to him, sleeping
 quietly.  He watched her sleep for a few minutes, experiencing a
 rare feeling of peace, even though he knew that the fear hovered
 just outside the little bubble of sanity that she represented.
 He'd had the dreams last night, of course.  At least when he'd
 woken up, he hadn't disturbed Scully.  Thank God for small favors.
  
  He thought back, painfully, over the past days. Nothing, nothing
 of what he'd seen, heard, experienced had been witnessed by
 anybody else.  He might be inhabiting a planet all his own, or a
 reality. Mulder smiled grimly.  Yeah, that was it, reality.  Maybe
 all those people were right over the years, and he really was a
 couple fries short of a happy meal after all. But he couldn't give
 up yet.  Got to see this trial thing through.  Then what?  Mulder
 eyed the ceiling and thought of rest, somewhere.  He found himself
 regretting the decision he'd made in that other place, to give up
 heaven to take up his life again.  Mike had warned him that if he
 chose life it would hurt.  He just hadn't realized it would hurt
 this much.  He could feel a tear trailing down his cheek and wiped
 it away swiftly.  No, it wouldn't do to have Scully see that.  It
 would only worry her more.  And after this trial was over...this
 pain would stop, one way or another.
  
  He got out of bed gently and covered Scully with the covers, then
 moved to go take a shower  in Scully's bathroom.  He'd heard her
 outside his bathroom door, and knew that she was guarding him.
  
  Mulder had just finished dressing when Scully woke. She looked at
 the clock and gasped at the time.
  
  "Mulder, why didn't you wake me?  It's almost 8:30! We're
 supposed to meet Skinner downstairs for breakfast!"  In the
 meantime, Scully was rummaging in her suitcase and closet for her
 clothing.
  
  "Scully, you needed the rest.  You've barely slept at all this
 trip, probably less than I have, and that's saying something.
 I'll go downstairs and make your excuses to Skinner.  Just come
 down when you're ready. Don't worry about it."  Mulder finished
 tying his tie, flashed her a grin and left the suite.  Scully
 shook her head at Mulder, then dashed for the shower.
  
  Mulder took the elevator to the ground floor, conscious of the
 weight that never seemed to leave his soul these days.  As had
 become his habit, he scanned the people in the lobby area for Paul
 Bailey, then walked towards the restaurant.  He could see Skinner
 at the front desk, looking through a copy of the Chronicle, so
 Mulder began to walk towards him.  But as he approached Skinner,
 he saw a man out of the corner of his eye pull a shiny lighter
 from his pocket and a tall flame shoot out of the top.  Mulder
 watched, unable to look away, as he lit his cigarette, then held
 it out for his companion to light up.  The man with the lighter
 turned, then Paul Bailey faced Mulder full-face, and smiled.  And
 smiled.  And smiled... holding the lighter with the fire flaring
 out the top.
  
  Mulder felt his stomach clench inside and, with a feeling of
 inevitability, everything began to feel...distant...somehow.  It
 would always be this way, until Bailey finally caught him and
 killed him.
  
  The sounds of the lobby came from further and further away.  Then
 he realized that he couldn't breathe, and gasped harder and harder
 for air and his body swayed. His throat was closing up, he was
 sure.  And Bailey still smiled...Mulder could feel sweat springing
 out all over his body.  He reached up and tried to claw his tie
 loose, but it didn't help.  As the dizziness hit him, he could see
 Skinner running toward him. Mulder began to crumple toward the
 floor, fighting for breath and conscious of a tightness in his
 chest. He felt scattered, confused by the voices, the noise, the
 people now crowding around him.  And he couldn't breathe...he kept
 struggling for air and felt Skinner's hands on him, removing his
 tie and unbuttoning his collar.
  
  "Mulder, what's wrong?  Are you having trouble breathing?"
 Skinner asked anxiously.
  
  "Can't catch my breath...chest feels tight...dizzy.." Mulder
 struggled to get the words out as the room felt even more distant.
 "Is this a heart attack?"
  
  "Somebody call Agent Dana Scully!  She's in room 1031; and call
 911!"  Skinner shouted, trying to feel for Mulder's pulse.
  
 Scully had just finished her makeup when she got the call.
 Without further ado, she slid on her shoes and ran out of the
 room, waited impatiently for the elevator, and finally got in.
 When the doors opened on the lobby, she saw a crowd of people and
 paramedics surrounding Mulder.  Skinner knelt by his side, holding
 Mulder's tie absently, while he watched the paramedics work on
 him.  Scully fought her way through the crowd of gawkers to kneel
 next to Skinner.
  
  "What's happened?"  She gasped.  They had an EKG and oxygen mask
 on Mulder and seemed to be treating him for heart attack.
  
  Skinner turned to her, visibly shaken.  "He was walking from the
 elevator towards me, when he seemed to stop for a moment and look
 at something across the lobby.  Then he grabbed his throat and
 chest, began gasping for air, and just collapsed."
  
  Scully ran over to the nearest paramedic.  They had Mulder loaded
 on a gurney with oxygen mask and were preparing to remove him to a
 hospital.  "Where are you taking him?" She asked.
  
  "UCSF Medical Center!" Called the paramedic as they rushed Mulder
 out of the lobby.
  
  Skinner pulled Scully aside.  "Let's ride to the hospital
 together.  I'll call a cab."
  
  Scully looked at Skinner coldly.  "I'm going with Mulder in the
 ambulance."
  
  Skinner gave Scully his best A.D. stare.  "No, we have things to
 discuss."
  
  Skinner left Scully at the hotel doorway, while he hailed a cab,
 carefully choosing one at random. When they were both seated in
 the cab, Skinner paused, uncertain how to begin.  He eyed Scully's
 grim face and knew that she was as close to her limit as Mulder
 was.  As he himself was.  It was no good, there was no middle
 ground here; he couldn't protect himself and Mulder too, and it
 was time to choose.
  
  "Scully, I owe you an explanation for my behavior since we
 arrived in San Francisco."
  
  Scully looked out the window and said levelly. "No, sir, you
 don't owe it to me.  That man in the ambulance is the one you owe
 it to.  And I hope he's in a state of mind to hear it from you.
 I'm not really interested in anything you have to say."
  
  "Scully.." Skinner said painfully. "You have to listen to me.
 They threatened my life if I testified in this case.
 He..Krycek...has had a hold on me since that blood disorder, or
 whatever you want to call it.  He caused it.  He controls it, and
 me."
  
  Scully turned and faced Skinner. "Do you mean to tell me that all
 of this was Their doing?  The phone calls, the 'fire' in Mulder's
 room?  Everything?"
  
  Skinner nodded.  "Mulder hasn't been seeing things, other than
 what they've managed to project at him. The phone calls were
 rigged and only happen when Mulder is alone.  And Bailey?  I'd bet
 money that the man who's incarcerated under Bailey's name isn't
 Bailey.  I don't know why they're doing this to Mulder, but it's
 all them."
  
  Scully searched Skinner's face.  "But why tell now? Why not
 before?"
  
  Skinner shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. "I always
 hoped I could tread middle ground: protect myself and Mulder too,
 somehow.  But as they continued their...activities...I could see
 what it was doing to Mulder.   But this morning...."
  
  Skinner's face turned grim. "I saw Mulder's face as he fell.  He
 was completely without hope, he'd reached the end of his tether.
 I've seen men look like that just before they let themselves die
 in action.  I can't allow this to continue any more, no matter
 what. What happened to Mulder before, I was powerless to stop it
 or help him.  But this time, from this... I have a choice and I
 can stop it.  And if I don't, I'm no better than a Krycek or a
 Paul Bailey."
  
  Skinner turned toward Scully.  "They can't know that I've told
 you or Mulder any of this, or they'll kill me and maybe him.  You
 may have to be the one to tell Mulder, in the best way you can,
 that everything he's seen, everything he's experienced is real,
 and that we both believe him.  Between us we may be able to pull
 him through this and I won't lose the best agent I've ever
 supervised."
  
  Scully nodded.  "I'll tell him."
  
  May 9, 10:00 a.m.
  
  Scully sat in the waiting room while Skinner paced. Scully had
 cornered the doctor and given him a complete history of Mulder's
 recent medical difficulties, physical and mental.  Then she sat
 down to wait.  This all felt so familiar, except that there was no
 snow falling outside the windows.  Finally the doctor appeared in
 the doorway.  Scully and Skinner moved to meet him.
  
  "Are you Mr. Mulder's next of kin?"  He asked. Scully stepped
 forward.
  
  "I am.  I'm his partner.  How is he?"  She asked, then added.
 "This is Walter Skinner, our supervisor."
  
  The doctor consulted his chart.  "Mr. Mulder has not had a heart
 attack; his heart appears to be fine. It looks like he's had a
 very severe and very unpleasant panic attack.  His prior physical
 injuries seem to be healing well, but he appears to be very
 anxious and depressed.  I understand that he's been under some
 extreme stress recently?"
  
  "Yes, he has."  Scully indicated.  "Things have been...difficult
 for him lately, since he got out of rehab."
  
  "Well, he needs less stress in his life.  Obviously he isn't
 dealing with it well.  I tried to recommend to him that he either
 get counseling or possibly drug therapy, but he refused out of
 hand.  I'd strongly recommend  that you discuss it with him.
 He'll be discharged shortly, he's dressing now.
  
  "Don't worry," Said Skinner. "We'll be discussing the situation
 with him, at length."
  
  They met a shaken looking Mulder at the front desk. He signed a
 few papers and turned, palely, to face Skinner and Scully.
  
  "I'm sorry I caused all this...trouble."  He began, hesitant with
 embarrassment.  "Now I really know this is all in my head.  Maybe
 I should be looking for that nice padded cell, huh?"
  
  Skinner took his arm.  "No, a padded cell is not what you need.
 I think a nice walk in the park would be relaxing.  Let's go."
 Skinner led them out of the building and hailed a cab,again
 carefully at random.
  
  The cab let them out at Golden Gate Park, and it was only then
 that Skinner began to speak.
  
  "Mulder, I owe you an apology."  Skinner began to explain about
 Krycek and the concerted attempt on Mulder's sanity.
  
  "And so, I told Agent Scully in the cab on the way to the
 hospital.  But Krycek and our cigarette smoking friend can't know
 that I've told you any of this, or you'll be getting a new boss." 
 Skinner finished. Mulder sat on a park bench, Scully next to him.
 Skinner stood.  "Oh, yeah.."  Skinner reached into his blazer
 pocket and pulled out Mulder's tie, neatly rolled up.  "Here's
 your tie."  He handed it to Mulder.
  
  Mulder looked pensive and better than Skinner had seen him in
 days.  "So, the phone calls, the Bailey sightings were all real,
 they were just exquisitely timed so that I would be the only
 witness.  And the flames in my room?"
  
  "I'm pretty sure they hid a holographic projector somewhere in
 the room."  Skinner replied.  "I didn't find it when I searched,
 but I'm confident that it's there."
  
  Mulder looked up at Skinner.  "So now what?"
  
  Skinner smiled wryly.  "Well, I guess it's your turn to try
 method acting, at least until the trial is over.  Scully will be
 her usual skeptical self, and I will be professionally unhelpful. 
 Just make it good, ok?  I want to live to collect my pension
 benefits. And remember, despite all the play-acting, it's all real
 and Scully and I agree that it is real.  None of this is your
 imagination."
  
  Mulder let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
 "Thank you sir.  I appreciate it.  Well," He said, getting up.
 "Maybe we should get this show on the road."
  
 **********************
 Christe Eleison, part 6
  
 "...I am here, calling the wind
 I am here, calling your name
 I am here calling you back
 Return to me..."
  
 (Return to Me, October Project)
  
 May 10, noon
  
 They returned to the hotel to find that Laney had left a message
 for them.  He had been informed by the desk clerk about Mulder's
 attack, and asked Skinner to call when they got in.
  
 "He is probably wondering whether to dismiss the case entirely."
 Scully commented when she saw the message.
  
 "Well, he doesn't need to.  I'll be there if they have to wheel me
 in on a gurney."  Mulder replied.  Both Scully and Skinner shot
 him a look, then glanced around for listeners.  Skinner borrowed a
 desk telephone and called Laney, making an appointment for Laney
 to come by later that afternoon.
  
 They parted in the hallway outside their rooms, and agreed to meet
 for lunch in thirty minutes.
  
 Scully followed Mulder into the suite.  Now that she knew the
 place was bugged, she felt nervous and conspicuous, wondering what
 kind of cameras and recording devices might be in place.  She
 caught Mulder grinning at her evilly.  He turned the volume up on
 the television set and pulled her close enough to whisper in her
 ear.  "Don't worry, Scully, I'm sure it's MY bathroom they've got
 surveillance cameras in, not yours."  Scully punched him in the
 arm and walked into her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
  
 She went into the bathroom to fix her makeup.  In all the emotion
 of getting Mulder to the hospital, she knew her mascara had
 run...yup, raccoon eyes.  She cleaned her face and began
 reapplying makeup.  What a relief to have it all out in the open. 
 Thank God Mulder was sane, at least as sane as he usually was.
  
 A thought occurred to her, do we have to keep up this charade
 through a three week trial?   Mulder had been having nightly
 crises since they had arrived, usually ending up sharing Scully's
 bed.  So tonight would have to be no different...Oh no...Her eyes
 widened....Sharing a bed with Mulder when he WASN'T
 sick...Scully's face took on a grim set.  Well, if he tries
 anything, he'll know the true meaning of pain.
  
 Scully met Mulder at the doorway and they went to Skinner's room. 
 At his suggestion, they decided to get lunch "outside this damned
 hotel."  As they walked to the Italian deli Skinner had spotted,
 Scully couldn't help noticing Mulder's continued nervousness. He
 constantly scanned the street ahead and around them, looking for a
 familiar face.  She sighed as she realized that, although they all
 knew that Mulder wasn't imagining things, things had only become
 abruptly worse.  Now the threat was real, and out there waiting
 somewhere.
  
 Lunch was a nervous meal for all three.  Skinner had reached the
 same conclusion Scully had, and the waiter was soon casting odd
 looks at the strange people who couldn't seem to sit still.
 Finally Mulder broke the tension with a laugh.
  
 "Y'know, I'm sure they have suites in the local mental hospitals. 
 Maybe all three of us could get a rate." Skinner and Scully stared
 at Mulder as though he'd sprouted horns.  "It isn't likely that
 Bailey will do anything obvious.  All his activities this past
 week have been directed at me when I was alone, not where you
 could corroborate my story.  I think we're as safe here as we're
 likely to be anywhere."  He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. 
 "At least I think so."
  
 "You have a point." Scully said, digging into her arugula and
 goatcheese salad.  "But it still makes me uncomfortable to know
 that he's out there.
  
 "Nothing we can do about it, but stay alert." Commented Skinner,
 picking at his lasagna.
  
 "Well, it still beats the hospital.  I may be in danger, but at
 least the food's good."  Said Mulder, happily munching a piece of
 pizza.
  
 The afternoon meeting with Laney went amazingly well, from
 Scully's perspective.  She could see that he was pleased with
 Mulder's business-like manner and straightforward account of the
 events at the Bailey cabin.  Mulder grew white-faced and tense
 from time to time, while recounting some of the more gruesome
 details of his captivity, but over all she could see that the
 prosecutor was relieved at Mulder's presentation.  Mulder even
 fielded questions about UFO's and his general credibility with
 even-tempered aplomb.
  
 Laney asked Scully for only a few details and confirmed that she
 would not be testifying.  "No," He shook his head.  "I'm afraid I
 lost on that motion. But since you won't be called as a witness,
 you will be allowed to attend the proceedings in the courtroom
 itself.  Usually we exclude witnesses until it's their turn to
 testify."
  
 "Well, I'll plan on being there, then."  Scully said.
  
 "Just don't make faces at me from the front row, huh?" Mulder
 added.  "I'll crack up for sure."
  
 Scully smiled.  "No, I'll bring the popcorn but I won't share
 any."
  
 "Well, trial begins tomorrow, with jury selection. I'll be going
 first and plan on calling Agent Mulder to the stand as my first
 witness, probably late in the afternoon.  I'll meet you at the
 courthouse tomorrow at noon, and we can go over any last minute
 details."
  
 "I'll be there; count on it."  Said Mulder.
  
 At Mulder's suggestion, he and Scully went out that evening.
 Although invited along, Skinner begged off, having privately
 decided that he'd feel like a third wheel.
  
 At Mulder's suggestion, they went to Enrico's for Italian food,
 "And dessert, "  Said Mulder.  "They do dessert really well."
 Scully was quietly surprised at the way in which Mulder, normally
 attentive, became positively chivalrous, rushing to open doors for
 her and generally being more than usually well-behaved. When they
 arrived and found a table reserved for them, Scully's plate
 crowned with a single white rose, she began to realize that
 something was going on here.
  
 Scully sat down and picked up her rose, inhaled its fragrance,
 then met Mulder's eyes.  "Ok, out with it. Why the star
 treatment?"
  
 Mulder's face took on a mischievous look.  "Why Agent Scully, what
 can you mean?"
  
 "I mean, that this isn't the usual chili-burger joint we end up
 at, and you never give me flowers.  What's going on?"  She looked
 around.  "Not that this isn't nice.  And I love Italian food..."
  
 "Precisely."  Mulder signaled the waiter, who brought a bottle of
 champagne.  Mulder sampled it, nodded approval, and the waiter
 began pouring.  When the waiter was out of earshot, Mulder began. 
 "You didn't need to come along on this trip, but you did anyway.
 And you didn't have to spend all the time sitting with me in the
 hospital, then in rehab, and now here.  But you've been there
 every step of the way.  I just thought that you deserved some
 acknowledgment for that.  Scully, I don't know what I'd have done
 through all this without you.  I'm just glad I didn't have to. I
 just thought that after all the crises, you deserved to have a
 little fun in San Francisco."
  
 Scully was touched.  "Mulder, that's sweet."
  
 "And besides, "  Mulder continued, deadpan.  "Skinner said he was
 tired of Italian food."
  
 After dinner, at Mulder's insistence, they spent the evening at
 Finocchio's.  Scully was ashamed to admit that she had a good time
 being scandalized by the female impersonators.
  
 "How do you know about these places?"  Asked Scully, sipping her
 wine as the Cher impersonator gyrated across the stage.  Then she
 realized what a silly question this was.  She started giggling,
 too much wine, this isn't dignified, Dana...she reminded herself. 
 Then just giggled more.
  
 Mulder started laughing with her, and soon the bouncer came by
 asking them to please be more quiet; they were disrupting the
 show.  They elected to take their laughter outside.
  
 As they wandered outside, looking into the windows, Scully found
 herself sighing.
  
 "What's wrong, Scully?"  Mulder asked.  "Aren't you having a good
 time?"
  
 "No, I'm having a great time."  Scully reassured him. "I just wish
 we could do this more often...be normal." She gestured around
 them.  "There's an entire city full of people who have never heard
 of sewer monsters, have no interest in shadowy government
 conspiracies and are not on first name basis with any serial
 killers!"  Oh, oh, Starbuck, don't get too deep here, too much
 wine, too much champagne..damn it....
  
 Mulder looked pensive.  "I'm sorry Scully, but I can't change the
 past.  If I could give you that life, I'd move heaven and earth to
 do it.  But the choices we make... that we've made, have pretty
 much determined our options.  We know what we know and we can't go
 back to what we were before the X Files, no matter how much we
 wish we could."
  
 Scully nodded.  "Yeah.  And you did warn me on that first case in
 Oregon, that there was no going back. Oh well."  She smiled.  "At
 least I'm never bored!" She took Mulder's arm, glad that he was so
 steady when she felt a little tipsy.
  
 They wandered back to the hotel at midnight, having seen as many
 of the sights of San Francisco as they could pile into one cab
 ride.  "I don't care how much it costs, Scully, you are going to
 see the City."
  
 Like the gentleman Scully had to admit he was, he escorted her to
 her bedroom door, smiled and retired to his own room.  When she
 sat on her bed, she wasn't sure whether she was glad, or sorry.
  
 May 10, 3:30 a.m.
  
 Mulder woke to a crackling noise and flickering light. Oh, no...he
 thought to himself, not again.  But at least I know that it isn't
 real this time.  Then he was sure he smelled something burning.
 He opened an eye and saw flames shooting out of the wing chair
 next to his bed.  "Hey!!"  He yelled and ran for the water pitcher
 in the sitting room.  He ran back to his room and was dousing the
 flames as the smoke alarm in his room went off.
  
 Scully bolted out of her bedroom and found Mulder with blanket in
 hand putting out the last of the flames. Mulder was pale and
 sweating, but finished snuffing the last spark.  Over the smoke
 alarm, Scully heard the door to the suite open.  Skinner ran in,
 followed closely by hotel staff.
  
 Skinner quickly put his gun out of sight on a dresser and moved
 over to the chair.  Mulder was already bending over it, sniffing.
  
 "It smells like a chemical accelerant, but I can't identify it."
 Mulder said.  Skinner shooed away the hotel staff, promising to
 telephone for an arson investigator himself.  He went to the
 telephone and called the San Francisco Fire Department.
  
 Scully disappeared into her room and returned with two pairs of
 latex gloves.  Mulder's eyebrows rose. "Scully, I always thought
 you packed latex with you wherever you went, just in case..."
 Scully shot him a dirty look and looked at the chair more closely.
  
 "Mulder, look at this..."  She gently nudged a half-burnt book of
 matches from under the chair cushion, the label clearly read 'Reno
 Hilton'.
  
 "I think that now the gloves are off."  Mulder said quietly.
  
 May 11, 12:00 noon
 Federal District Courthouse
  
 Scully and Skinner arrived with Mulder at noon.  While Mulder
 conferred with Laney, Scully took a seat in the front of the
 viewer's section.  Skinner chose to sit in the back, to keep an
 eye out for Krycek.  He had privately decided that if Krycek
 didn't show up, Laney was going to find himself with another
 witness, and the consequences be damned.
  
 People began filing into the room.  Laney moved to his place at
 the front table, Mulder moving to take a seat beside him.  A few
 minutes later Skinner saw Krycek move into the room and take the
 seat across the aisle from Scully.  Scully glanced to one side,
 then did a double-take as she recognized him.  Krycek smiled at
 her and gave her a little wave.  She was too surprised to react,
 as the bailiff called the court to order.
  
 Lastly, the defense attorney entered the courtroom, with his
 client.  Paul Bailey was dressed in a smart gray suit and
 conservative blue tie.  Mulder and Laney turned in their chairs to
 watch them enter.  When Mulder caught sight of Krycek, he started
 and moved as though to stand up, but thought better of it.  Then
 Mulder saw Bailey.  Bailey beamed Mulder a sunny smile and mouthed
 the words "Just wait.." as he seated himself at the defendant's
 counsel table.  Mulder jerked as though he'd been struck, then
 caught himself..  Scully could see Mulder clenching his fists
 under the table, although his face remained impassive.
  
 The trial began, with both attorneys making statements to the
 jury.  As anticipated, the defense attorney had harsh words for
 Mulder, both for his abilities as a profiler and and FBI agent.
 Scully watched Mulder anxiously to see how he was taking it, but
 wasn't surprised to see him looking calm and collected.  She
 reminded herself that he was used to ridicule by now.
  
 The prosecutor moved to call his first witness, Mulder.  Mulder
 moved to the stand, took the oath and began his testimony.  As
 soon as he sat down, Scully could see Bailey's smile broaden, as
 he purposely caught Mulder's gaze.  Then Bailey surreptitiously
 reached into his pocket for a shiny gold cigarette lighter and
 began flicking it on and off.  Mulder's eyes were riveted on
 Bailey, and although his testimony was coherent enough, Scully
 could see that his breathing had quickened and his face had gone
 pale.
  
 Scully could see that neither Laney nor the judge had noticed
 Bailey's antics.  She thought fast and purposely emptied her
 purse, with all its contents, loudly onto the floor in front of
 her.  The sudden disruption, broke Mulder's concentration on
 Bailey, and drew eyes to Bailey's side of the courtroom.  The
 judge noted the lighter in Bailey's hand and conferred with the
 bailiff.  The bailiff then had a quiet word with defense counsel. 
 Bailey put the lighter away.
  
 Then the bailiff went over to Scully as she frantically cleaned up
 the mess on the floor in front of her.
  
 "Excuse me, Miss?  But the judge says, one more interruption like
 that and he'll find you in contempt of court."  Scully nodded and
 put her purse on the floor.
  
 Mulder continued testifying, more confident now, his eyes focused
 on Laney.  Scully sat back to listen to the rest of the account.
 Then she heard a low rumbling sound.  Odd, they were on the top
 floor, too high to hear traffic noise.    She had just decided
 that it was a jet flying overhead when she felt the room begin to
 shake, first quivering lightly, then more violently with a rolling
 motion.  Scully stood up when she heard a juror cry  "Earthquake!"
  
 Then began a mad scramble.  People began running for the doors,
 some diving under tables, many simply panicking.  Scully saw
 Mulder rise from his chair, looking for cover and then saw Bailey,
 run from around his table, heading straight for Mulder.  Scully
 had just started after Bailey when the world caved in.
  
 The next thing Scully knew, the sun was shining in her eyes and
 she had a desperate need to cough.  She coughed what felt like a
 quart of dust from her lungs, then tried to move.  She discovered
 that she lay on the outskirts of a large mountain of rubble and
 was mostly covered with loose dust and plaster.  And her body
 hurt.  She moved gingerly and pushed the debris away, having to
 dig herself out.  She felt bruises all along her body, but nothing
 seemed broken.  She sat up, trying to remember what had happened. 
 The earth trembled, not as much as before, but still an
 earthquake.  Aftershock, she thought to herself, this is an
 aftershock.  My God, there's been an earthquake...but where's the
 building?
  
 Shakily she stood up and discovered that she was standing on what
 remained of the Federal Courthouse, now a multi-storied pile of
 rubble.
  
 "Scully!"  She heard a voice and saw Skinner climbing frantically
 over to her.  "Scully, are you all right?"
  
 Skinner's face was bruised and his clothing was covered with dust.
 And, she noted, his glasses were cracked.  "I'm ok, I think..."
  
 Skinner grabbed her arms and looked at her, before waving off the
 paramedics who approached with a stretcher.  Scully could see dust
 still rising from the building, and other workers helping people
 away from the rubble.  She saw covered stretchers and body bags
 also being removed..  Then she noted that this was not the only
 collapsed building.
  
 "What happened?  How long have I been out?"  She sat down abruptly
 onto the rubble, the enormity of it all overtaking her.  "Where's
 Mulder?"
  
 "The courthouse collapsed.  I was in the hallway when the ceiling
 went, and I was trapped in there for about thirty minutes until we
 were able to dig ourselves out.  The building did something they
 call "pancaking".  Each story collapsed onto the one below. We
 only survived because we were on the top of the building.  I've
 been helping them recover survivors...and bodies... for the past
 two hours."
  
 Scully noted how tired Skinner looked.  "Mulder?"
  
 "We haven't found him, or Bailey for that matter.  The judge is
 dead, and so is the bailiff.  But the rest of that corner of the
 courtroom is covered in rubble.  We haven't been able to get down
 to that level."  Skinner took off his glasses and tried absently,
 but without success, to clean off the dust that clung to the
 lenses.  He put them back on the bridge of his nose. "I don't
 think he could have survived."
  
 "Sir, we don't know that."  Scully said in outrage, then stopped
 when she saw Skinner's face.
  
 "Scully, you haven't seen the rubble.  We're still trying to find
 people in there, and they're bringing in search dogs.  I'm not
 giving up on him yet, by a long shot.  But at this point...we just
 don't know." Skinner helped Scully up.  "Why don't we go down to
 the Red Cross van?  I'll get you some water and let you get some
 first aid."
  
 "Then I'm coming back to help."  Scully said firmly.
  
 Skinner smiled.  "I never expected anything else."
  
 Mulder was first aware of the silence, thick, dull and cloying.
 He'd never heard such a lack of echo.  He opened his eyes and
 tried to remember how he'd gotten there.  Bermuda?  No...San
 Francisco.  Oh yeah, finally got to find out about that true
 California experience, the major earthquake.  He saw nothing but
 darkness ahead of him.  He sniffed, the air smelled relatively
 fresh.  Now the hard part: moving.  He was able to move his hands
 and arms, neck was ok, waist all right.  Then he tried to get up
 and found that his right leg was pinned by what felt like a big
 pile of drywall.  He tried to clear it away one-handed but it
 wouldn't move.  He could hear himself panting in short gasps and
 tried to call for help, but heard his own voice absorbed by the
 soundless rubble.  Then he heard a snapping sound and saw a little
 flicker of flame take light in front of him.
  
 Paul Bailey, covered in dust, held a lighter, crouched in the low
 clearing of wreckage.  Mulder could see the ceiling three feet
 over his head, and the total space perhaps ten feet by ten feet.
 Bailey's face lit into a smile when he recognized Mulder.
  
 "Well now, this is a surprise."  Bailey scuttled over to Mulder
 and held the lighter close to Mulder's face. Mulder shrank back as
 far as he could, looking into Bailey's happy eyes.  Mulder grimly
 realized that he recognized this room, and the dust.  This was the
 dream he'd been having for months, only now it wasn't a dream and
 he wasn't going to wake up safe in his bed.
  
 Bailey's intent stare was broken by the sound of coughing from the
 far corner of the space.  Both Bailey and Mulder watched as a pile
 of dust moved itself and sat up.  Alex Krycek shook the dust from
 his jacket and clothing, then moved over to Mulder's corner of the
 room.
  
 "Well, it looks like the gang's all here."  Mulder commented
 drily.
  
 Krycek, continuing to slap dust from his clothing nodded.  "Good
 to see you again, Mulder."
  
 "Wish I could say that I felt the same.  So, are you two an item?"
 Mulder asked scornfully.  "Somehow, he doesn't seem to be your
 type."
  
 Krycek smiled calmly.  "Paul and I have been working together, as
 I'm sure you've noticed by now.  Paul still plans to collect on
 the rest of his reward for cooperating with us."
  
 Mulder began to regret his facetious remark.  "And that would be?"
  
 "His freedom, first of all, on all charges.  And then, you."
 Krycek nodded toward Bailey.  "He was quite specific about that."
  
 "And what do you gain from all this?  Or have your hobbies
 changed?"  Mulder asked Krycek, keeping one part of his attention
 focused on Bailey.
  
 "Oh, I find his propensities deplorable.  But we needed you
 otherwise occupied for an extended period of time, and after all,
 a deal's a deal."  Krycek sat down on a pile of rubble next to
 Mulder, but out of arms' reach.
  
 "They'll find us soon.  And your neck will be as far in the noose
 as his is!"  Mulder began to struggle desperately against the
 rubble pinning him.  Damn it, he'd worn the ankle holster alone
 today, on his right leg.
  
 "When we're found, I'll just be another bystander, trapped by the
 earthquake with a heinous killer, who unfortunately was obsessed
 with the now-deceased Agent Mulder."  Krycek yawned.  "And you
 will be dead, since Paul doesn't want to go back to prison on your
 testimony.  Sorry Mulder, it was a good run, but you lose.  I
 really won't enjoy what he's going to do to you, please understand
 that.  But the needs of the Consortium have to come first.  You
 understand."
  
 Bailey held up the lighter and began to move on Mulder.
  
 Mulder reached for a chunk of drywall and threw it at Bailey.
 Bailey grinned and ducked away, then began approaching him again. 
 Mulder desperately slapped at Bailey's hand, knocking the lighter
 across the room. The light went away, then Mulder heard Bailey
 scrabbling for the lighter on the far side of the room.  Then he
 heard a rumbling noise and felt dust trickle down onto his face
 from overhead.  He heard Krycek say  "Oh shit.."  then heard
 nothing at all for a long time.
  
 May 10, 6:00 p.m.
 Federal Courthouse
  
 Scully stood in front of the Red Cross van.  After minimal first
 aid, and a drink of water, she had moved in to help medical
 personnel treat and triage victims as they were brought in.  She
 kept hoping, and fearing, to find Mulder among those brought in.
 But she hadn't seen him yet.  Skinner had joined the National
 Guard personnel and other volunteers trying to locate and dig out
 survivors.  She hadn't seen him in hours, but she knew he'd come
 get her if he found Mulder.  Even if he was..gone.
  
 She had wanted to join the teams on the rubble but Skinner had
 convinced her that she was more useful here, and that she would be
 shirking her duty if she dropped her medical responsibility in
 favor of searching for Mulder.  He was right, damn it.  And it
 would be night soon, the temperature was dropping with the fog
 rolling in.  They even said it might rain. Dangers of hypothermia
 to anybody already trapped...No, don't think about that.  Just
 focus on the work at hand.  Scully moved over to the next gurney
 brought it and checked the victim's face...no, not him.  She began
 to administer first aid, still listening for Mulder's voice.
  
 Scully had stretched out for a catnap on a gurney when she heard
 Skinner's voice.  It was dark now, must be late, she thought.
 Then she realized that there were no lights shining in San
 Francisco at all.  Not one streetlight, no buildings, nothing but
 the stars overhead.  She moved toward the floodlit area where
 medical personnel were still working.
  
 Skinner was dragging in a man who was struggling against his grip.
 Under the dust, she recognized Paul Bailey.  She ran over.
  
 "Mulder?  Did you find him?"  She asked anxiously as Skinner
 forcibly seated Paul Bailey on a gurney.
  
 Skinner shook his head.  "No, we found a clear area where the
 courtroom used to be, but Bailey was the only one there.  And he
 won't talk."  Skinner nudged Bailey's foot with his toe, clearly
 anxious to do more to convince him to speak.  Bailey just looked
 resentfully up at Skinner.
  
 "We did find this."  Skinner reached into his pocket and removed a
 small gun in an ankle holster.  "It's Mulder's, isn't it?"
  
 Scully nodded dumbly.  "He's still there, somewhere, then.  Are
 you sure he wasn't there?  Did you hear anything?  Anything at
 all?"
  
 Skinner looked at her with compassion.  "Scully, it's darker than
 Hades out there.  You're as likely to be brought back on a
 stretcher yourself as rescue anyone else the way it is right now. 
 We'll both go back at first light and comb the area."
  
 Mulder became gradually aware that he was being dragged through
 what felt like gravel.  He could hear another voice coughing and
 choking, then felt the dust sifting past him as he was pulled then
 pushed away from the dirt.  He felt fresh air on his face and
 breathed it in gratefully.  Then he felt hands unbuckling the
 ankle holster and heard it drop to the ground.
  
 Then an arm went under his shoulders and he felt himself being
 dragged over rough ground.  He opened his eyes and saw the stars
 overhead, but no other light.  He couldn't think why, but that was
 significant somehow.  But what had happened?  He couldn't
 remember.  His head hurt.  It was too hard to think.
  
 He thought he heard Skinner's voice calling  "Mulder! Mulder, are
 you there?  Mulder!"  He thought that he must be in a lot of
 trouble if Skinner was that worried about him, but he couldn't
 muster the breath or energy to answer.  And the person carrying
 him seemed to be moving much faster now, so it was harder to keep
 up.
  
 A local volunteer looked up from his campstove and saw two figures
 making their way across what used to be the Federal Courthouse.
 He called to them.  "Hey, you need some help?  I've got a first
 aid kit here."
  
 The taller figure waved back.  "No, we're ok.  I'll just take my
 friend home.  He's fine, just a little bruised is all."  The
 taller figure dragged the other one to the street until he found a
 parked car. Leaning against the car, Krycek pulled a bit of wire
 from his pocket and skillfully opened the car door. Krycek pushed
 Mulder into the back seat, then fished in his pocket for the vial
 and hypodermic he had left there.  He quickly measured a dose and
 injected it into Mulder's arm.  No reason for Mulder to regain
 consciousness too soon.  Krycek carefully hotwired the car's
 ignition.  These American cars make it too easy, he thought as he
 started the engine and began to drive.
  
 The car drove away into the quiet night, carefully skirting piles
 of rubble and holes in the street.  A few minutes later it stopped
 in front of a modern building with a small, tasteful sign in
 front: Harrison Research Foundation.  Unlike many of the other
 buildings on the block, it was well lit.  Good thing we got
 generators, Krycek considered.  He hauled Mulder out of the back
 seat and used a card-key to open the glass door.
  
 He dragged Mulder to the front desk and greeted a red-haired woman
 in a white lab coat who sat there.
  
 "Hi, Natalya.  I've brought you a new lab rat."
  
 **********************
  Christe Eleison,  Part 7
  
  "...At the broken heart of the city
  Where the hollow light of day never reaches in
  A man can break down and fall into pieces.
  He will fall asleep like a baby
  And the unforgiving arms of the cradle
  Rock
  As hard as the face of the city pavement..."
  
  (Sunday Morning Yellow Sky, October Project)
  
  May 13, Westin Hotel
  Room 1031
  8:00 p.m.
  
  
  Scully hunched alone in the armchair in the useless sitting room
 of an empty suite.  In the days since the earthquake she had seen
 many injuries and more dead than she cared to count.  But none of
 them was Mulder. Today the decision had been made that no
 survivors could remain under the heap of concrete and steel that
 was once a Federal building.  Skinner had found her at her
 accustomed post, at the Red Cross van near the rubble, and had
 told her the news personally, knowing how she'd take it.
  
  "You aren't just going to give up!"  Scully had yelled at
 Skinner.  "He's not dead, he's still alive out there.  I know it!"
  
  "Agent Scully, the fact remains that no bodies, dead or alive,
 have been recovered in the past 24 hours. Even if Mulder is out
 there in that wreck, he isn't alive any more."  Skinner looked
 like he'd had no more sleep in the past three days than Scully
 had.  She knew he'd been active on the rescue teams, both
 organizing and helping unearth survivors.
  
  "What do you mean, even if?"  Scully felt a dim hope. "Where else
 would he be?"
  
  "We both know that Alex Krycek was there, in that courtroom, and
 his body hasn't been accounted for either.  I was in the hallway
 when the building went, so I know he didn't get out."
  
  "You think Krycek has Mulder?"  Scully didn't know whether to
 feel hopeful or worried.
  
  "Mulder's ankle holster didn't come unbuckled by itself."
 Skinner said flatly.  "I've tried to question Bailey, but his
 lawyer won't let me near him. Maybe I'm coming down with a case of
 Mulder's wild theories, but I don't think Mulder's dead.  I don't
 think he's even in the rubble."
  
  Skinner sat wearily down next to Scully on a chunk of concrete.
 "I have to go back to Washington.  My desk won't wait any longer."
 When Scully began to protest, Skinner held up a hand.  "You, on
 the other hand, have just been assigned several X Files for the
 general California area, which will take you, oh, at least several
 weeks to investigate...if not longer.  I suggest you make the
 Westin your current base of operations and coordinate with the San
 Francisco Field Office for any support or facilities you may need.
 They have been notified of Mulder's disappearance, but your local
 support will probably be minimal because the powers that be
 consider him lost in the earthquake and we have no solid proof
 otherwise."  Skinner gave Scully a solemn look.  "Call on me if I
 can help; but find him."
  
  "Thank you sir."  Scully had shaken his hand.  Later this evening
 she had driven him to the airport and watched him board a plane
 for D.C.  She couldn't help feeling alone and bereft.  She had
 started the real business at hand.  She had had  the ankle holster
 fingerprinted, and the prints were run through the law enforcement
 databases.  In addition to Mulder's prints, a finger and
 thumbprint belonging to Alex Krycek had been uncovered.
  
  Scully had left word at local shelters, hospitals and jails to
 notify her of any John Does answering Mulder's description.  And,
 oh yes...she'd left the same instructions at the county morgue.
 The obvious place to start was Bailey.  But how to get information
 out of him?
  
  Scully thought hard about Bailey.  He was cunning, with a very
 good instinct for self preservation that had kept him out of the
 hands of police for ten years. He had no reason to volunteer
 information that would bring Mulder to light, since Mulder was the
 chief witness against him.  Threats wouldn't work.  Scully had no
 illusions about her ability to project menace, at a height of 5
 foot 3, she had trouble enough getting respect, much less fear.
  
  Only one thing left to do.  Scully had tremendous respect for the
 law, but had come to see its limitations, especially when dealing
 with the Consortium.  She knew that she wasn't allowed to see
 Bailey without his lawyer present, but at this point she didn't
 much care about Bailey's civil rights, and that should have
 bothered her.  Scully decided that it didn't and she'd bear the
 consequences for her actions...after Mulder was safe.  She looked
 around the suite and made a second decision.  Skinner had said he
 thought this place was bugged.  Well, why telegraph her moves?
 She'd get a single room tomorrow.
  
  Having made up her mind, she quickly dressed and, leaving the
 suite, closed the door firmly behind her.
  
  San Francisco County Jail  9:00 p.m.
  
  Scully had bluffed her way in to see Bailey, flashing her badge
 and her personality vigorously.  Through flattery and persuasion,
 she had managed to get an interrogation room alone with Bailey.
 She was gratified to see that Bailey was cuffed and shackled when
 he was led in.
  
  Scully waited until the guard had left before she approached
 Bailey.  "You know who I am."  She stated flatly.
  
  Bailey looked up at her.  "Yeah, I know you're Mulder's partner. 
 And you get mad at everybody."
  
  Scully hid her smile.  So he remembered her tantrum at Skinner
 when she'd caught him hitting Bailey.  Good.
  
  "Yes, I do get mad when I see bad things happening. That's why
 I'm here.  I need to know what happened after the earthquake."
  
  Bailey shook his head.  "I'm obliged to you for getting that
 bald-headed ape away from me, but I can't.  It's more than my life
 is worth if I do."
  
  Scully leaned closer to Bailey.  "But how much do you really know
 about Alex Krycek and his people? Didn't he tell you about me?"
  
  Bailey looked puzzled.  "What about you?  You work with Mulder.
 I'm going to kill him."
  
  "Of course."  Scully pulled a pack of Morley cigarettes from her
 purse and lit one up, handing it to Bailey.  Then she lit one for
 herself.  Taking a puff, she went on.  "You know, Alex's people
 arranged for me to be assigned to Mulder.  I was helping Alex try
 to get  you out of jail.  Who do you think engineered most of the
 stunts?"  She shook her head.
  
  "But since the earthquake I've lost touch with him, and he was my
 only contact.  I'd like to help you, but Alex is the one with all
 the government friends, the ones who can get you released."  She
 took another puff.  "The same ones who made it possible for you
 to, oh...hire that lawyer, and stay out of jail until the trial." 
 Scully leaned close to Bailey and smiled her nicest smile.  "And I
 hate to think of you in jail and Mulder out there somewhere.  So
 where did you last see Alex?  I need to contact him."
  
  Bailey examined her skeptically.  "Wait a minute, you 're the one
 that broke into my special place and rescued Mulder."
  
  "Yes, I was.  Like I told you, I am assigned to be Mulder's
 partner, but I take my orders from Alex Krycek.  I didn't have
 orders about you, then.  So I went on pretending to be Mulder's
 loyal partner." Scully took a puff of her cigarette.  "So, don't
 you think Mulder is an irritating smart-ass?  I sure do.
  
  He's got a mouthy reply to everything."
  
  Bailey looked into her guileless blue eyes and grinned.  "Alex
 told me that there were other people helping on this, but he never
 said who.  We were trapped together, covered by cement and drywall
 and stuff.  Then there was another quake, an aftershock, and the
 wall came down in my part of the room.  But afterward, I could see
 Alex digging Mulder out, and pulling him out of the building.
 Right afterwards, that asshole Skinner dug me out and dragged me
 here.
  
  I know Alex was gonna come back for me, but Skinner got in the
 way."  Bailey drew a deep breath of smoke into his lungs.  "I sure
 appreciate you bringing me some smokes.  They don't allow tobacco
 here."
  
  Scully handed him the pack.  "Keep it."  She said. "So, where did
 Alex have you staying this week?  Not that ugly house down in
 North Beach, was it?"
  
  Bailey tucked the pack into his pocket.  "No, nothing like that. 
 It was a medical center...I forget the name.  It was like a mental
 hospital, all these weird people screaming all the time.  It
 sounded like the name for one of the Beatles...McCarthey?
 No...Harrison, that was it, Harrison Research..something."
  
  Scully got up and prepared to go.  Bailey leaned forward and
 shook Scully's hand.  "I'm really glad you came to see me, Ms.
 Scully.  And thank you for the cigarettes.  I hope you find Alex
 right away."
  
  "Oh, don't worry."  Scully said.  "I'll try my hardest to find
 him just as soon as I can."
  
  She signalled to the jailer to let her out and made her way to
 the lobby area of the building.  She went into the ladies'
 restroom and spent ten minutes scrubbing her right hand with
 surgical precision until no trace of Bailey's touch remained.
 Then she brushed and flossed her teeth thoroughly, removing any
 cigarette taste or smell.  As she left the building, feeling only
 a little cleaner, she muttered to herself.. "A lie to find the
 truth, huh, Mulder?"
  
  
  
  May 13, 9:30 p.m.
  Harrison Research Foundation
  
  Everything was hazy.  That was the one thing Mulder was sure of. 
 His mind was hazy, his vision was hazy, mostly.  He couldn't
 remember much of what happened before he came here, whatever here
 was.
  
  Mulder rolled over on his bed, trying not to fall asleep again.
 He felt like he'd spent days sleeping. Every time he'd wake up a
 little, the orderly would come in and make him take some pills.
 Then the world would go all hazy again, and he'd sleep.
  
  But sometimes he was awake, he knew that he had been awake a few
 times.  But he couldn't remember what had happened
 then....Just...bright lights, and loud noises, somebody
 screaming...and men with their faces covered in surgical masks,
 peering closely at him. And it hurt.  And it was cold.  He could
 remember that.  Then more sleep.
  
  He knew he could remember more if he could just stop sleeping.
 Maybe the next time the orderly brought the pills he...would
 refuse to take them!  Yes!...No. The orderly would make him take
 the pills.  No, that wouldn't work.  Ok, pretend to take them, and
 pretend to sleep.  Then, get outside and see where this place was.
 He didn't like it here anyway.  This place scared him, somewhere,
 deep inside, he knew he was very afraid.  He just couldn't
 remember why, but he knew that there was something terrible
 happening here. And he needed to get away.  Mulder lay down and
 concentrated on not sleeping until the orderly should come in.
  
  
  
  In an office two doors away, Krycek was having a difficult
 telephone conversation.
  
  "Yes, sir, Agent Mulder did survive the earthquake. Yes, and
 Bailey did too.  Knowing that you'd want Mulder made unavailable,
 I arranged to bring him here. Bailey?  He's back in jail.  How did
 Mulder find out about us?  Yes, sir, I agree, that does pose a
 danger to our project, but it was unavoidable.  He and I were
 trapped with Bailey in the same section of courtroom. He couldn't
 help but realize that I was involved. Yes, that's why I pulled him
 out of the rubble and brought him here.  No, don't worry, after
 he's been a test subject in this project for a while, he won't
 remember his own name, much less be concerned with our activities.
 He's already showing effects of the treatments.  Oh, and I
 understand that preliminary findings are promising, especially in
 Mulder's case.
  
  The director has said that Mulder's the best test subject she's
 had in a long time; she wants to complete the series with him.  I
 think that would solve our Mulder problem permanently. Yes sir,
 thank you sir, the director will be pleased.  I'll stay here for
 the rest of the week to make sure that Mulder settles in, then
 I'll be back in New York on the 20th."
  
  
  
  Mulder waited and began to feel a bit more awake. This was
 usually the time when the orderly came and brought the drink.
 Yes, there he was...The door opened and a flat-faced, stocky young
 man brought a cup of water and two small pills.
  
  "Here you go, your medicine, Mr. Smith."  The attendant handed it
 to Mulder.  Mulder took the cup and began to drink from it, then
 began to cough violently.  He leaned into the cough and palmed the
 pills, then gulped the water.
  
  He handed the cup back to the orderly, then yawned. "I don't know
 why I feel so sleepy all the time." Mulder said drowsily. The
 orderly grinned.  "Must be the fresh air."  He said.  "Nighty,
 night." and closed the door.
  
  Mulder waited until the room had grown quite dark. As the hours
 went on, he felt more and more alert, although he still couldn't
 remember things.  He didn't think his memory had always been like
 this.  In fact, he was sure he normally had a much better memory.
 He tried harder to remember the past few days, and although the
 treatments seemed clearer in his mind, few details arose.  But he
 was sure of one thing, he had to get out of here.
  
  Mulder checked the door.  It was locked, but he found himself
 searching the room for a bit of wire, something to pick the lock
 with.  Nothing.  This place was clean.  He decided to sit up and
 wait for the next orderly to come in.  He thought he could
 overpower the man and get out somehow.
  
  Despite himself, Mulder fell asleep.  He woke abruptly when the
 door to his room opened and two men came in, pulling a gurney.
 Oh, yeah, they did that in the mornings.  He still felt fuzzy, but
 he could remember that this meant they were going to take him for
 more treatments.  He started to struggle, but the second man
 injected something into his arm, and Mulder slumped back onto the
 gurney, unable to move.  They strapped him down and wheeled him
 into the hallway and into a brightly lit room, filled with people
 wearing surgical masks and gowns.
  
  A redheaded woman, her face covered with a mask, looked closely
 into Mulder's face.  "He doesn't look sedated.  Did he have his
 meds last night?"
  
  "Yes, ma'am, and some more just now.  Like usual. He won't be
 going anywhere."
  
  The woman squinted at Mulder, tiny wrinkles showing around her
 brown eyes.  She shrugged.  "All right then.  We can proceed."
 She turned away from Mulder to a tray of instruments.  Mulder
 didn't recall ever seeing her before, but there was
 something...comforting...about a red-headed woman. He didn't feel
 so afraid.
  
  At her direction, they attached an IV to Mulder's arm, then a
 liquid began flowing into him.  Mulder felt strange; this was the
 awakest he'd ever been during a treatment.  The liquid began to
 sting, then to burn its way into his veins.  He caught his breath
 but couldn't move.  It seared into his system, flooding his body
 with fire.
  
  The woman gestured to an assistant and a strange machine was
 rolled over to Mulder's side.  A strange, drill-like appliance was
 focused dead center.  He could feel every vein in his body
 burning, burning as the liquid circulated through him.  His
 tearing eyes watched the machine's blade gradually lowering itself
 toward his forehead.  He could see the odd green light it emitted,
 and when it flared the chemical in his veins flared too.  Gasping
 painfully for air he tried to struggle against the straps.  When
 the light intensified, and with it, the pain, he screamed then
 gratefully lost consciousness.
  
  
  He awoke a few minutes later, as they were removing the strange
 machine from his bedside.   He still couldn't move, but the pain
 had subsided.  He could feel himself trembling with weariness, all
 energy gone.  What had they done to him?  Who were these people?
 He had to get out somehow, keep fighting. He kept trying to
 remember, but the memories slipped away as he grabbed for them.
 Mulder closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness, and tried to
 hear everything they said to each other.  He had to know!
  
  The woman moved aside and removed her mask, then nodded to a dark
 haired man standing in the corner. Unlike the rest, he wore no
 gown or mask.  Rather he wore  a black leather jacket and looked
 younger than the other workers here.
  
  "So, do you think the treatment was successful?" The young man
 asked the woman.
  
  "The preliminary tests are favorable.  Of course, this only
 finishes the first round in the series.  The programming will be
 permanently affixed when we start the next series.  For now,
 though, he is doing quite well and I have every reason to believe
 they will be successful.  You said that he was suffering from
 depression and stress before you brought him here, Alexei?  That
 explains his excellent response.  The psychological trauma
 predisposed him to be malleable to the treatments....it, how do
 you say?  Softened him up.  Yes, I think that we will have an
 excellent result."
  
  Alex Krycek eyed Mulder with a mix of satisfaction and pity.  "I
 understand that the treatments will leave his intellect intact, as
 well as his general abilities?"
  
  "Oh yes."  The woman replied. "When completed, the will is
 eradicated, along with the memory.  But the subject's intellect
 and overall disposition remain the same, along with an increased
 capacity for learning.
  
  If, for example, he had a talent for music before the treatment,
 he would retain that but forget how to play the piano.  However,
 he would relearn his skill in short order.  It is only the
 personality, and the will,  which are destroyed, and then replaced
 with the personality which we will provide."  She walked over to
 Mulder and studied him.  "It is a pity that the treatments are so
 dangerous and time-consuming." She waved to the orderlies, and
 they began wheeling Mulder away from the room.
  
  Shortly after Mulder was returned to his room, the orderly
 arrived with the morning pills.  As he had the evening before,
 Mulder palmed the medicine and pretended to sleep.  He wondered
 vaguely why it was that he did this so well, as though he had
 fooled other medical personnel in the past.  Well, that was a
 strange, but useful, talent now.
  
  He waited for more of the haze to clear, but to his dismay, none
 of his memory came back.  He was left with vague feelings of
 anxiety and foreboding.  He knew somehow that these people weren't
 to be trusted, especially the red-haired woman.  She had hurt him,
 he knew that.
  
  While he waited for the orderly to come in with lunch, the door
 opened early and without warning.  The orderly was there, with a
 gurney.  Mulder yawned and stretched, looking sleepily at the man.
  
  "Hi."  He said pleasantly. "Are we going somewhere?"
  
  "Yeah."  Said the orderly.  "You're taking a trip, in a hurry.
 Come on, we gotta get you ready, quick!" He advanced on Mulder,
 clearly intending to tie him to the gurney.  Mulder made up his
 mind fast; this was his chance.  He ran at the orderly and tackled
 him to the floor, then pounded his fist into the man's head until
 he was unconscious.  Then Mulder dragged him to the other side of
 the bed, and stripped the white smock and slacks off him.  They
 weren't a bad fit, although the shoes were tight.  He clipped the
 man's badge onto the waistband of his pants, half hidden by the
 smock.
  
  Mulder opened the door and peeked out at the hallway. It was full
 of people, moving patients, carrying boxes, clearly evacuating the
 building.  Mulder stood up straight and walked confidently into
 the hallway, blending with the people.  He made his way to a side
 door, following two other people out into the sunlight.  He walked
 quickly away from the building, then heard a familiar voice yell
 behind him.
  
  "Hey!  He's not supposed to be out!  Get him!!"  It was the man
 called 'Alexei', the friend of that woman. Mulder knew he didn't
 want to be caught and returned to that place.  He ran as fast as
 he could, dodging into an alley behind a tall office building.  He
 spotted a dumpster filled with paper, and jumped into it, pulling
 the lid closed behind him.  He waited quietly, controlling his
 panting, until the footsteps died away.  Then he burrowed into the
 shredded and crumpled paper, grateful that he was safe for now.
  
 **********************
  
  May 14, noon
  Harrison Research Foundation
  
  Dana Scully stood inside the empty building and mentally recited
 every cuss word she'd ever learned from a family of sailors.  Then
 she wandered through the deserted rooms and added a few she'd
 picked up from Mulder.
  
  After she got the information from Bailey, she'd promptly called
 the San Francisco Field Office about getting a search warrant for
 the premesis.  It had taken all night to get the warrant, but the
 raid was set for 11:30 today.  Scully had arrived, leading a team
 of agents, only to find the place empty, and cleaned out.  All the
 trash cans in the building were loaded with ash and melted floppy
 disks, the remnants of the file system.  Computers with wiped hard
 drives...nothing and nobody.  Damn!  Somebody tipped them off.
  
  "Agent Scully?"  Agent Stanis came up, carrying a plastic
 evidence bag.  "Still no sign of Agent Mulder, but we got lucky.
 Somebody left a trashcan burning, but the fire died.  There's a
 fairly complete medical file in here, but I can't make heads or
 tails of it.
  
  I understand you have medical training.  Can you make out whether
 they were building bombs here?  Was this a drug lab, or what?"
 Stanis shrugged his shoulders. "They sure weren't manufacturing
 cosmetics here, like they told the public."
  
  Scully opened up the sack and took the file carefully in gloved
 fingers.  She sat down at the table in the room, a conference
 room, she noted idly.  She opened the file and began to feel
 sicker and sicker as she read through it.  "You're right, Agent.
 They weren't making cosmetics here.  They were experimenting on
 human beings, changing their brain chemistry somehow, but it's
 hard to tell exactly what they were doing. Have you found any labs
 here?"
  
  "Yes, several.  Do you want to see them?"  Stanis led the way and
 showed Scully to the treatment room. Scully looked at the
 operating table and spotted a vaguely familiar machine in the
 corner.  She approached it and saw that it had been smashed, but
 she could still recognize the drill tip.  "What have they been
 doing here?"  She whispered to herself. "Be sure the place is
 printed, and I want samples of any chemicals stored here as well
 as any traces in the sinks or drains.  They probably dumped the
 more illegal chemicals before leaving."  Scully, still holding the
 evidence bag, walked out to the front of the building.
  
  Damn, damn, damn.  The last clue to Mulder's whereabouts was
 lost, if he was ever here.  Scully scanned the crowds gathered
 behind the police lines.
  
  Mulder, where are you?  The she saw him.  A dark haired man
 dressed in white pants and top, standing at the back of the crowd.
 Mulder?
  
  "Mulder!"  Scully yelled and ran toward him joyfully. When Scully
 got to within five feet of Mulder, she was sure it was him.  He
 met her eyes with a terrified look.  Then, to her amazement,
 Mulder turned and ran from her, into an alley.  Scully ran
 desperately after him, but he outpaced her and climbed over a
 fence. By the time she'd scaled the fence, he was gone..
  
  Scully walked back to the Harrison building, stunned that Mulder
 would run from her.  Her cell phone chirped and she put it to her
 ear.
  
  "Scully."  She answered.  It was Skinner.
  
  "Agent, I hope I'm not reaching you at a bad time." Scully
 resisted the urge to laugh hysterically.
  
  "No, sir.  I need to update you  anyway."  Scully found herself
 scanning the crowds, hoping that maybe Mulder would come back...
  
  "I just had word, Bailey was released from jail this morning.  It
 looks like a paperwork error.  By the time they found the problem,
 he had disappeared." Skinner's voice sounded disgusted.
  
  Scully found a cement planter in front of the Harrison building
 and sat down.  Bailey loose, and Mulder obviously wasn't himself. 
 It only got worse.
  
  "How is your investigation going?  Any leads on Mulder?"  Skinner
 continued.  Scully took a deep breath and told Skinner about her
 meeting with Bailey, the search warrant and the empty building.
 "I haven't read over the file we found with any thoroughness. The
 most I can tell is that they are making permanent changes in the
 brain chemistry of their test subjects. And I saw a machine that I
 recognize, from my own abduction.  And sir, there's more..."
 Miserably, she told Skinner about her brief encounter with Mulder.
  
  "I don't know why he'd run from me, unless he's been conditioned
 somehow.  He looked so frightened...not like the Mulder we know at
 all."  Scully finished. "And now he's out there alone and I have
 no idea how to find him."
  
  Skinner was silent a moment.  "Dana, are you sure it was Mulder
 you saw?  This whole business has been harder on you than anyone
 else, since you've been the glue holding Mulder together."
  
  "No sir, it was him.  I'm positive."  Scully felt defeated.
  
  "Well, then I'm flying back out.  The desk can go hang and I've
 got vacation time coming to me.  In the meantime, Agent, don't
 forget the value of detective work.  You have a picture of Mulder?
 Circulate it among law enforcement, go door to door if you have
 to. San Francisco isn't that big a town.  Somebody will see him.
 I'll take the next flight out and I'll call you from the airport
 when I get in."
  
  Scully suddenly felt more hopeful.  "I'll do that, sir."
  
  
  May 14, 7 p.m.
  San Francisco
  
  Mulder huddled in what he had come to regard as 'his' dumpster.
 That woman with the red hair, she looked like the one who'd hurt
 him.  He shivered.  And then, she'd run after him.  He'd been
 certain she was going to drag him back to that place, so that they
 could hurt him again.  And what was it she'd called him? 'Mulder'.
 I wonder what that is?  A name?  My name?
  
  Not a bad name, but is it my first or my last? Doesn't matter.
 I've got to stay away from those people, or they'll take me back
 there.  And now he felt so tired, truly tired, without the drugs. 
 He was also hungry, but decided to stay here where he was safe and
 hidden for the time being.  He curled into the shredded paper and
 slept.
  
  He woke a few hours later, hearing a clanking sound.
  
  He looked blearily up to see the lid of the dumpster lifted and a
 man holding a trash can, poised to pour.
  
  
  "Hey, what you doin' in here!!  This is a trash bin, not Motel
 6!"  The man yelled and grabbed Mulder's arm, pulling him out of
 the dumpster.  Mulder dumbly allowed himself to be removed from
 the dumpster as the man, obviously a janitor, went on.  "You can't
 stay in there.  What you do in the morning when the truck comes,
 huh?  They take you to the landfill, and then where would you be?"
 The janitor eyed Mulder, who just stood there.  "You loco in the
 head, aren't you? Probably too much Night Train."  The janitor
 emptied his trash can into the dumpster and turned to Mulder.
  
  "Well, you don't look violent.  You hungry?"  Mulder nodded. "Ok,
 I guess I can share my lunch with you. Do my good deed for the
 day."
  
  The janitor led Mulder into the building's basement and sat him
 down at a table in a small storage room.
  
  "My name's Jaime, Jaime Rodriguez.  How do you do?" The janitor
 reached out and shook Mulder's hand. Mulder opened his mouth to
 introduce himself and stopped, embarrassed to discover that he
 really had no idea what his name was.
  
  "I..I'm sorry but I really don't know my name...." Mulder's face
 took on a look of panic.  He didn't want to use the names he'd
 been called by the people who hurt him.
  
  "Ok, I understand if you don't want to spread it around."  The
 janitor opened up a metal lunch bucket and handed Mulder a baloney
 sandwich, picking one up for himself.  "So what should I call
 you?"
  
  Mulder desperately dredged his memory for a name, any name..."How
 about Marty?"  Mulder took a bite of his sandwich.  He hadn't
 realized how hungry he was until he tasted that sandwich.  He
 devoured it quickly.
  
  "Marty---good enough.  Glad to meet you Marty." Jaime looked at
 Mulder over his sandwich and slid a sack of chips over to him.
 "You don't look like most of the street people I see.  You haven't
 been on the streets long, have you?  You got family?"
  
  Mulder shook his head.  He had no idea whether he had family or
 friends, but even though this man seemed friendly, he just didn't
 feel he could trust anyone, not yet.
  
  "Well, you can sleep in my dumpster any time you want, but just
 remember, the truck comes at 5:00 a.m. to empty it.  You need to
 be out of it by then.  I'd take you home with me, but we got my
 uncle's family staying with us right now and no room at all."
 Jaime eyed Mulder's bewildered expression and had a feeling of
 foreboding.  This one didn't look like he'd survive long on the
 streets, obviously he had some mental problems, and he didn't look
 crafty enough or strong enough to defend himself.  "Well, the
 least I can do is make sure you're dressed for the outdoors.  What
 you're wearing is ok, but it isn't much protection. Come on."
  
  Jaime led Mulder to a storage closet.  "Here, let's check the
 lost and found box."  Jaime pulled a cardboard box over and pulled
 a sweatshirt out. "This looks like it'll fit you.  And here's a
 jacket, try that on."
  
  Mulder put on the sweatshirt, then the jacket.  He looked at
 himself in the mirror in the men's room and felt like laughing.
 He had the feeling that this wasn't the way he normally dressed.
 Still, Jaime was right, they were warmer than his other clothes.
  
  "Thanks, Jaime.  These do feel warmer.  I really appreciate it." 
 Mulder looked around anxiously.  He had a feeling that he'd stayed
 here too long already. They were probably looking for him and he
 felt restless.
  
  Jaime looked at Mulder sharply.  "Ok, Marty.  Well, if you get
 hungry, drop by.  I work from 3:00 to midnight, but the best time
 to find me is after 6:00 when all the suits have gone home."
 Jaime escorted Mulder out the back door and watched him stumble
 into the dark alleyway behind the building.  Jaime shook his head,
 unable to shake the feeling that this man wasn't going to survive
 very long on the streets.
  
 **********************
  Christe Eleison, part 8
  
  "..At the ragged edge of the silence
  In the calm that only comes with the violent
  Sleep
  Inside the heart and the hope of redemption..."
  
  (Sunday Morning Yellow Sky, October Project)
  
  May 15
  8:00 a.m.
  
  Scully followed Skinner to his single room at the Westin.  She
 had succeeded in obtaining a room for him across the hall from her
 single room.  She had also reluctantly packed Mulder's belongings
 back into his suitcase and stored it in the corner of her own
 room, vacating the suite that was just too empty.
  
  "How was your flight?"  She asked as Skinner put his suitcase on
 the floor.  "Do you need to sleep before I can update you?"
  
  Skinner turned to Scully.  "No, I took a red-eye flight on
 purpose, I slept on the plane.  I didn't want to lose any time on
 this.  Have you read over the files you recovered?"
  
  Scully sighed and sat down at the table.  "Yes, but it doesn't
 make much more sense to me.  It looks like a combination of drug
 and radiation therapy designed to make permanent changes in the
 brain chemistry.  The test subjects are given a course of
 treatments, but the patient documented in this file died before
 the treatments were completed."  Scully's lips compressed.
 "Apparently the tests were conducted without anesthesia.  This
 subject managed to hang himself in his room because he couldn't
 endure the thought of another treatment."
  
  Skinner sat down across from Scully.  "Do you have any idea at
 all of the purpose for these tests?  What happens if a subject
 gets away before the sequence is complete?  What are the effects?"
  
  "I wish I knew.  I think it's a fair guess that the memory is
 affected.  It may also induce a state of paranoia...."  Scully
 stared into space, remembering Mulder's reaction to her the day
 before.  "I just can't believe he RAN from me.  It doesn't make
 sense."
  
  Skinner gave her a compassionate look and changed the subject.
 "How about Bailey?  Any word on him?"
  
  Scully shook her head. "No.  Local law enforcement has begun
 looking for him but are avoiding publicizing it for fear of
 causing a panic.  Bailey's picture has been circulated, but
 nobody's spotted him yet.  And nobody has seen Mulder, either.
 I've warned law enforcement that Mulder may not be in his right
 mind, and to transport him to a hospital if they do encounter
 him."
  
  "We need to start canvassing the streets.  If Mulder's on foot,
 he's probably still in that neighborhood." Skinner began, when
 Scully's cell phone rang.  He watched hopefully as she answered
 it, but it soon became clear that this was not a happy phone call.
  
  "How the HELL did you get this number?  What do you want?"
 Scully paused, her eyes snapping with rage. "And why should I
 trust you after all you've done?" She listened a bit then
 reluctantly said.  "All right, the hotel coffee shop in one hour."
 She pushed the 'power' button and sat staring at the phone in her
 hand.
  
  "Scully?  Who was it?"  Skinner asked.
  
  Scully gave him a bleak look.  "It was our cigarette smoking
 friend.  He says he wants to help find Mulder."  She rotated her
 head, trying to unkink muscles gone suddenly tense.  "He said that
 if we don't find Mulder in five days, Mulder will die. We're
 meeting him in an hour."
  
  9:00
  Westin Hotel Coffee Shop
  
  Scully and Skinner sat tensely in the booth.  Both had ordered
 coffee, but neither touched it.
  
  "Well, good morning Agent Scully, A.D. Skinner."  A tall,
 weatherbeaten man in a gray suit smiled pleasantly and slid into
 the booth.  He carried a large envelope which he laid on the
 table.  He raised his hand and called the waiter over, ordering
 coffee for himself, then reached into his suitcoat for a pack of
 cigarettes.  He put one into his mouth and was about to light it,
 when Skinner interrupted.
  
  "You can't smoke in restaurants.  California has outlawed it."
 Skinner grinned fiercely at the smoker. "So what is it you want?"
  
  The smoker put his cigarettes away.  "Why, the same thing you
 want.  I want to locate Agent Mulder, before it's too late."
  
  "What do you mean, too late?"  Scully interrupted. "On the phone
 you said we only had five days to find Mulder.  Why is that?"
  
  The man handed the manila folder to Scully.  "As you've probably
 guessed by now, Agent Mulder was a participant in one of our
 research projects.  He received the first in a series of
 treatments, before your raid interrupted them.  We were forced to
 change locations abruptly, and ...misplaced...Mulder in the
 process."
  
  "You mean Mulder got away."  Skinner said with satisfaction.
  
  The smoker smiled tiredly.  "Yes, he did.  But now you have to
 find him and he has to complete the treatments, or he'll die,
 slowly and painfully, I might add."
  
  "What did you do to him, you bastard?"  Skinner hung onto his
 temper with all his strength.  "What were those 'treatments' for?"
  
  Scully had been reading through the documents contained in the
 folder.  She looked up, here eyes wide and her face pale.  "They
 were destroying his memory, his personality...re-making him into
 someone else."
  
  "A very good description, Agent Scully.  We were creating the
 perfect operative, guaranteed loyal to the project.  And Mulder
 was responding well to the process, the best test subject we've
 had to date, in fact."  The smoker leaned forward, meeting
 Scully's eyes.  "The trouble is, that once the process begins, it
 must be completed, or the subject goes into a decline, resulting
 in death.  The degeneration begins 24 hours after the last
 treatment, but the subject can survive up to five days before
 succumbing."
  
  He gestured toward the file.  "You'll find corroboration for
 everything I've told you in there, including Mulder's charts from
 his short stay with us."
  
  "I don't understand."  Said Scully.  "Why do you care if Mulder
 dies?"
  
  "Three reasons.  First, it has never been my intention to take
 Mulder's life, despite his interference in my work.  He's the son
 of an old friend, and I value that.  Second, Mulder appears to be
 the best test subject we've had on this particular project, and
 I'd like to see it completed successfully.  Last, I have always
 had an interest in...recruiting...Mulder to work for the
 consortium.  This offers an excellent opportunity, one which I
 would like to follow up actively.  So, if Mulder is found, I win
 on all counts."
  
  "Wait a minute.  Your people engineered Paul Bailey's release
 from jail.  He's looking for Mulder as well.
  
  Why do that if you want Mulder alive?"  Scully asked.
  
  The smoker looked pained.  "That wasn't engineered by my people. 
 That really was a paperwork mistake at the jail.  We've been
 trying to find Bailey since he got out, without success.  Just the
 same, I'd recommend you work fast.  The last time I met with Paul,
 he was very determined to, how did he put it? 'Finish' his
 'business' with Mulder.  That result doesn't serve either of our
 parties."
  
  "These treatments of yours...Why should we hand him over to you,
 even if we do find him?"  Skinner asked curtly.  "I wouldn't give
 my worst enemy into your hands."
  
  "You'll hand him over to me, because you have no other option."
 The smoker said coldly.  "There is no antidote for the chemicals
 in his system.  Your only other choice for him is death.  At least
 with us he'll have a productive life.  The end stages of the
 degeneration aren't pretty.  Within 24 hours of the last
 treatment, Mulder will become increasingly disoriented. He will
 lose his appetite and will refuse food, causing a rapid weight-
 loss and will become increasingly paranoid and delusional and will
 be unable to care for himself."
  
  The smoker looked into Scully's eyes and added solemnly  "Towards
 the end, Mulder will experience increasingly severe seizures,
 ending ultimately in coma, then death.  Recovery is possible
 through the final stages, but only if the next treatment is
 initiated.  You can't let him die like that.  Not if you care
 about him."
  
  The smoker got up.  "Read over the file.  You'll agree with me
 that ours is the kindest way.  Oh, and be advised that I have
 people looking for Mulder too. If we find him first, we will save
 his life by giving him the treatments.  But if you need our
 assistance in your search, my resources are at your disposal.  If
 you need to reach me, call this number."  He laid a business card
 on the table.  Before he could walk away, Scully stopped him.
  
  "Wait...please.  If you find Mulder first, will you tell me?  I
 want to be there ...to say goodbye." Scully finished stiffly, but
 with a pleading expression on her face.  The smoker gave her a
 look of unaccustomed compassion.
  
  "If we find him first, I'll let you know."  He said gently and
 left the restaurant.
  
  The smoker left a stunned silence behind him. Skinner picked up
 the business card and examined it.  It was blank except for a
 local number printed on it in pencil.  He turned to Scully, who
 had begun reading over the files intently.   She looked up at
 Skinner.
  
  "This is Mulder's file; it shows what they did to him."  Her eyes
 closed and she said quietly  "The bastards, may they rot in Hell."
 Skinner leaned over and began reading the file over Scully's
 shoulder.
  
  "We have to find Mulder, and we have to find him first.  They
 can't be telling us everything.  There must be an antidote for
 this, and we can't just hand him over."  He said firmly.
  
  "But what if we can't find a way to reverse it?  If the only
 other choice is Mulder's death?  What do we do then?"  Scully
 looked intently at Skinner.
  
  "If we give Mulder to them, to complete this hellish process, do
 you think that the man we know would be any less dead?  You know
 him best, Scully.  What do you think he would choose?  His soul?
 Or this kind of a life?"  Skinner gestured at the file open on the
 table.
  
  Scully paused thoughtfully.  "We need a research scientist to
 analyze this data, but we don't dare go through Bureau channels.
 It should be someone we trust.  But I think I know where to find a
 referral." She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and put
 through a call.
  
  
  Scully explained the emergency and could hear the anger in
 Frohike's voice when he was told about Mulder's plight.
  
  "I just wish I could punch that bastard's lights out! Is there
 anything we can do to help?"  Scully explained about her need for
 a research scientist and lab to work intensively, but quietly, on
 an antidote for the drugs.
  
  Frohike gladly provided the name of an acquaintance of the Lone
 Gunmen.  Joe Dietzel was a research scientist at a local genetics
 lab in Silicon Valley.  "And he's got a bunch of friends over at
 Stanford in the medical school there.  If anybody can come through
 for you, it's him.  So, Scully, when do you want us to fly out?
 You're gonna need more help than you've got, you know."
  
  "I don't think you should, Frohike.  Local law enforcement is
 already looking for Mulder, and so will we.  But you could help by
 duplicating the research on your end."  Scully said.
  
  "Fine.  Send us copies of everything you've got and we'll get to
 work.  And if you need us there in Frisco, just call.."
  
  "Thanks Frohike.  I'll send it right out."  Scully telephoned a
 local copy shop and arranged for the files to be digitized so that
 she could e-mail them to Frohike.  She knew that they would start
 on the data immediately.  She hoped that all this would be enough.
 She sighed and smiled at Skinner, who looked at her questioningly.
  
  "Frohike gave me the name of a local geneticist who can help.
 And I'll be sending the Lone Gunmen copies of the data so that
 they can try to research it as well."
  
  "Yes, it could work."  Skinner said thoughtfully. "I have another
 idea that might help, too.."  Skinner got up and, leaving a
 crumpled five dollar bill on the table,  borrowed a telephone book
 from the clerk in the lobby of the hotel
  
  "What are you doing?"  Scully watched as Skinner thumbed through
 the white pages of the book, and stopped when he found what he
 wanted.
  
  "What do you do when you need something fast? Advertise."
 Skinner grinned as he dialed his cell phone.
  
  Skinner contacted both local newspapers and made arrangements for
 an article to run, describing Mulder as a missing man in dire need
 of medical care, including a photograph of Mulder and the number
 for Skinner's hotel room.  The article would run in the next day's
 paper if they could provide the photo by noon.  "We're on our
 way."  Skinner finished.  "I'm going to take Mulder's picture to
 the newspaper offices."
  
  Scully nodded.  "That's fine.  I'll make contact with Dr.
 Dietzel."
  
  After Skinner left, Scully telephoned Dr. Dietzel and, on
 mentioning Frohike's name, got an immediate invitation to visit
 Dietzel's lab in Palo Alto.  "I run a gene research company,
 Genetrix.  We're very small, but very cutting-edge.  Come on out
 and bring all the data and samples you have and we'll see what we
 can make of it."  Scully felt better, doing something constructive
 at last.  She left the hotel to pick up lab results and chemical
 samples from the forensics lab, then to drive to Palo Alto.
  
  
  
  May 15, Day 1
  noon
  
  Mulder crouched in the entryway to the vacant building.  He could
 see other homeless people huddling along the street, asking people
 for money when they passed.  He hadn't tried that yet; wasn't
 hungry and didn't need booze, like the two guys on the corner. No,
 he just needed to be left alone.  He closed his eyes, feeling the
 warmth of the sun on his face. He'd slept comfortably in the
 dumpster last night, but had to get up before the sun rose so he'd
 avoid the garbage men.
  
  He found himself shaking in the cold, trying to find a warm spot
 to sit, without luck.  He'd finally settled in this doorway, but
 was surprised at the looks of scorn and unfriendliness he got from
 passersby. Well, he didn't want close contact with any of those
 people anyway.  They might be from the red-haired woman. He
 shivered, remembering the pain of the last treatment, and the
 terror of escaping from the hospital.  Then to see her again...at
 least he thought it must be her. She had chased him and called him
 that funny name, what was it?  Oh yeah, 'Mulder'.  Got to hide
 from these people or they'd kill him for sure.  Mulder moved
 backward into the dimness of the entryway, concealing himself from
 casual view.
  
  He'd had dreams about the red-headed woman. Strangely, they
 hadn't all been nightmares.  He'd dreamed last night that she sang
 for him, a silly song about a bullfrog, in a funny off-key voice. 
 Then he'd dreamed of terrible pain, and fire, and somebody
 torturing him, and then he'd seen her face, the red-headed woman,
 bending over him and she seemed to be comforting him.  Then the
 dream changed and a red-headed woman wearing a mask was torturing
 him. Mulder shivered again, then decided to cross the street and
 sit where the sun was brighter and it wasn't so cold.
  
  He got up and began shuffling across the avenue.  He looked up
 dimly when he heard brakes squeal, then felt the impact as the car
 hit him.
  
  May 15, Day 1
  Westin Hotel 1:30 p.m.
  
  Skinner had returned to the hotel to find Scully's note that she
 was driving out to Palo Alto.  She had also left photocopies of
 the data given to them by Krycek.  Skinner sat down at his table
 and reached for the phone to call the Field Office to organize a
 task force to search for Mulder.  Before he could reach it, the
 phone rang and Skinner picked it up.  To his joy it was a local
 hospital calling.  A transient without ID, but answering Mulder's
 description had been hit by a car and was being treated in the
 emergency room. Was he interested?
  
  Was he interested?  Skinner could have whooped for joy.  He all
 but ran downstairs and grabbed a cab, tipping the cabbie an extra
 $20.00 if he could get there faster.  They must have broken the
 sound barrier, Skinner thought, because they screeched up to the
 hospital steps in record time.  Skinner happily paid the cabbie
 and ran inside.
  
  He stopped at the nurse's station and asked for Dr. Anderson, the
 man who'd called him.  The doctor himself came out shortly and
 introduced himself to Skinner apologetically.
  
  "I'm very sorry to have dragged you down here, Mr. Skinner.  The
 John Doe we were seeing refused any help and left the hospital
 against medical advice.  He's been gone about ten minutes."
  
  Skinner felt his gut clench.  He pulled a picture of Mulder from
 his pocket and handed it to the doctor. "Was this the man you
 saw?"
  
  Dr. Anderson looked at it carefully.  "Well, the man I saw wasn't
 well-groomed, like the man in this photo, but yes I think it was
 the same one."
  
  Skinner's eyes narrowed.  "Describe the man you saw today.  And
 what are his injuries?"
  
  "Well, he seemed disoriented, rather as though her were under the
 influence of drugs or alcohol.  I'd planned to take a blood
 sample, but never got the chance.  He was dressed in white pants,
 a blue sweatshirt and brown jacket. He looked as though he hadn't
 shaved in a couple of days, was generally disheveled and became
 extremely agitated when he regained consciousness.  He was clearly
 frightened to be in a hospital."  Dr. Anderson folded his arms. "I
 was able to perform a brief physical exam before he regained
 consciousness and I found recent burn scars on his chest and a
 surgical scar on his abdomen, so he may well have reason to avoid
 hospitals.  As to current injuries, he had a bump on the head,
 some bruising in the ribs where the car hit him.  No obvious
 internal injuries.  He was clearly feeling well enough to stomp
 out of here, after insisting we let him go."
  
  "Did he give you a name?  Tell you where he was staying?"
 Skinner was beginning to feel desperate.
  
  "No, he refused to provide any identifying information."  Dr.
 Anderson smiled.  "I believe he said, and I quote, that it was
 'none of your f***ing business'."
  
  "Thank you anyway.  If you see him again, please call me
 immediately.  Mulder isn't well and it's vital that we find him as
 soon as possible."  Skinner thanked the doctor and slowly left the
 hospital.
  
  Skinner went directly to the Field Office and was able to
 organize a task force to search for Mulder. Skinner was able to
 use many of the same personnel searching for Bailey on the search
 for Mulder, reasoning that since Mulder was Bailey's prime target,
 to search for one would find both.  He spent the rest of the
 afternoon setting up teams, handing out photos of Mulder and
 coordinating the search effort.  He wandered back to the hotel
 after dark, to find that Scully had just returned from Palo Alto.
  
  "Any luck?"  She asked hopefully.
  
  Skinner frowned and told her about Mulder's visit to the
 hospital.  "I think it's safe to assume that Mulder is beginning
 to feel the effects of their treatment.  I've set up a task force
 and the agents will be out in force tomorrow morning.  How about
 you?"
  
  Scully smiled tiredly.  "Dr. Dietzel is everything Frohike said
 he'd be.  He has single-handedly rounded up volunteer researchers
 from Stanford to U.C.S.F. They're working intensively on the data
 and will keep me posted on their results.  I helped Joe set up the
 multiple labs we have going on the project."
  
  Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Now all we
 have to do is get there first.  And avoid Bailey in the process."
  
  May 17, Day 3
  5:00 pm
  
  Paul Bailey walked through the neighborhood surrounding the now-
 defunct Harrison Research Foundation.  He'd been overjoyed at his
 release, sure that Alex Krycek had engineered it somehow.  But
 when he went back to the clinic to thank him, the place was
 deserted.  And he soon became aware that the whole neighborhood
 was crawling with Feds.  He knew they were looking for him and he
 also knew he could out-smart them again, just like before.  Hell,
 Fibbies bled just like other people.. He grinned.  His favorite
 Fed was still alive and in San Francisco...life was good.
  
  When Paul's clothes had been returned to him he was glad to find
 the money he'd stashed in the sole of his shoe, just in case.
 He'd used it to get a cheap motel room for a night, then went to
 the local drugstore, bought hair dye, scissors, a cheap t-shirt
 and sweatpants.  The man who walked into the motel had longish
 brown hair and was wearing a dusty gray suit. The man who left had
 pale, bleached blonde hair cut very short, the beginnings of a
 beard and wore glasses.  Paul liked the glasses part, who knew
 that weak reading glasses would make such a good disguise? After
 the single night in the motel, Paul decided to save his money and
 camp out on the street.  He'd also made a visit to the hardware
 store and bought a hunting knife and sleeping bag.  He figured he
 could sleep in one of the quake damaged buildings for the time
 being.
  
  Paul hung around the area where the clinic had been, still hoping
 that Alex would show up and give him some of the money he'd
 promised, as well as a chance to finish things with that FBI
 agent.  He stayed where he could watch the Harrison clinic, and
 that evening, as he sat in front of the red-tagged building he'd
 selected as 'home', he'd seen something that surprised him.  A
 man, who looked very like Fox Mulder, moving slowly along the
 sidewalk at the end of the block. The man was dressed in clothing
 that hung on him, dirty white pants, a sweatshirt and jacket, none
 of which matched.  As Paul watched, the man looked suspiciously
 around him, and Paul saw his face.  It was smudged and unshaven,
 and the man's eyes were wild and paranoid, but it was him.  It was
 Mulder.  He must have gotten away from Alex somehow.  Paul smiled,
 knowing that he would finally get his revenge for Michael's death.
  
  Paul moved on Mulder smoothly and quickly and planted himself in
 Mulder's path, blocking it.  "Hello, Agent Mulder.  I'm glad to
 see you again."
  
  Mulder stopped and stared at him blankly.  "I don't know you and
 I don't want to know you."  His pace never changed as he walked
 around Paul.  Paul blinked. This man had been terrorized before,
 frightened of the very sight of him.  Now he didn't even seem to
 remember him at all.  Paul turned around and ran after Mulder.
  
  "Hey, you know me.  I'm Paul and you owe me."  Paul walked
 swiftly up to Mulder and grabbed his arm. Mulder turned around and
 locked his left hand around Paul's right wrist which still held
 onto Mulder's shoulder.
  
  "I don't know you.  Go away."  Said Mulder.  Paul followed and
 Mulder turned again, rage darkening his face.  "I said, I don't
 know you!  Get away from me!
  
  Get the hell away!"  Mulder put up his fists and began to rush
 Paul.  Startled, Bailey didn't know how to react at first, then
 backed up and pulled his hunting knife.
  
  "So, the Fibbie grows teeth, huh?  Good.  I'd like to see some
 more of your blood!"  Paul grinned and circled around Mulder, who
 was still brandishing his fists.
  
  Mulder dimly remembered some self defense moves he must have
 learned sometime, somewhere, but knew he was losing the fight
 fast.  Who was this guy, and why was he bothering him?  Mulder had
 been feeling troubled about his inability to remember anything
 before that hospital, and lately he was finding that he couldn't
 remember parts of the recent past.  It was as though he was
 blanking out, losing time.  And now this man had appeared, who
 clearly thought that Mulder should know him and fear him.
  
  Bailey got in a good shot with the knife, scoring Mulder's left
 shoulder.  Paul followed up the advantage and tackled Mulder,
 throwing him to the ground.  Then, holding the knife to Mulder's
 throat, began to pull him into the vacant building.  Mulder
 struggled, and almost got away, but Bailey was stronger and had
 the knife.  Bailey had pulled him into the entryway of the
 building when brisk footsteps came towards them.
  
  A tall man with dark hair, wearing a leather jacket stood on the
 sidewalk, holding a gun.  Paul Bailey stopped dragging Mulder and
 grinned.  "Alex!  Where have you been?  I've been looking for you.
 Look what I caught."  Bailey tightened his hold on Mulder's
 throat.
  
  Mulder began choking, but could still see the face of the man
 Bailey called 'Alex' and remembered him from the clinic.  That was
 the man who worked with the red-haired woman, and had tried to
 take him back. Mulder hadn't been afraid before, just mad.  But
 now he was scared.
  
  "I'm glad you caught him."  Said Alex with a smile. "But now you
 have to throw him back.  He's mine."
  
  Alex gestured with a hand and men came forward, grabbing Bailey
 away from Mulder.  Bailey howled in disappointment as they pulled
 him away from his victim, his last and best victim!  It wasn't
 fair! They had promised him Mulder!
  
  Other men moved on Mulder and held him down while a petite woman
 with red hair and brown eyes came close and examined him.  "So,
 Alexei, he is still alive. This is good, he is resilient.  Let's
 get him back to the lab and complete the treatments."  Mulder
 stared fixedly into her face, terror flooding him as he realized
 that he was going to endure another treatment again.  And then
 more of his memory would seep away, he was sure of it.
  
  A loud howl came from the clot of men surrounding Bailey.  Paul,
 in a rage, had thrown himself at his captors and was struggling
 with them.  Mulder saw his chance and jerked away from the men
 holding him and ran as fast as he could down the street and into
 one of his hiding places.  He lay there, behind some garbage bins
 watching the pursuit.  They wouldn't catch him, nobody would.  He
 was too smart and had too many hiding places.
  
  After the chase died down, Mulder went back to his dumpster to
 catch a nap before he went to visit Jaime.
  
 **********************
  Christe Eleison, Part 9
  
  "My heart is old, it holds my memories
  My body burns a gemlike flame
  Somewhere between the soul & soft machine
  Is where I find myself again.
  
  Kyrie eleison
  Down that road that I must travel
  Kyrie eleison
  Through the darkness of the night.
  Kyrie eleison,
  Where I'm going, will you follow?
  Kyrie eleison,
  On a highway in the light..."
  
  (Kyrie, Mr. Mister)
  
  
  May 18, day 4
  2:00 p.m.
  Westin Hotel
  
  Scully picked at the sandwich Skinner had handed her ten minutes
 ago.  She just wasn't hungry.  She watched the activity in the
 office area at the San Francisco Field Office which had been
 allotted to the task force detailed to find Paul Bailey, and the
 missing agent, Fox Mulder.  So far nobody had turned up anything,
 even though both police officers and teams of FBI agents were out
 looking.  Scully sighed, wishing she were among them.  But Skinner
 was right; if Mulder had run from her once, he might do it again. 
 They could have better luck with strangers hunting for him.  Or
 not.
  
  "Agent, you haven't eaten all day and you need your stamina.  I
 want to see half that sandwich gone." Scully looked up to see
 Skinner standing over her with a stern expression.  Scully smiled
 a little.  "Yes, sir.  Provided you finish your lunch as well."
 She cast a meaningful look at Skinner's own untouched plate.
  
  Skinner's face lightened a bit as well.  "Fair enough."  He
 grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, watching to see if Scully
 did the same.  While both ate food they didn't want, they
 discussed the progress of the case so far.
  
  "Any luck with the labs?"  Skinner asked.
  
  Scully shook her head.  "They're having a hard enough time
 replicating what the original researchers accomplished without
 trying to develop a method to reverse the effects.  If only there
 were more time...."  She stopped and stared into space for a bit,
 her sandwich forgotten.  "He's out there, somewhere, obviously
 still functioning well enough to avoid all the people searching
 for him."  She lowered her eyes.  "Or Bailey has him already."
  
  "Let's stay positive on this, Dana."  Skinner said gently.  "We
 still have time...Yes?"  An agent had come over to Skinner, with
 the message that he was wanted on the phone.  Skinner picked up.
  
  "Hello, is this the FBI?"  Asked the voice on the other end,
 speaking with a slight Spanish accent.
  
  "Yes, A.D. Skinner speaking.  Do you have some information for
 me?"  Skinner tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
  
  "Yeah, I think I seen the guy you're looking for. My name's Jaime
 Ramirez and I'm the janitor in my building.  I saw your article in
 some old papers when I was emptying the trash today, and Marty
 looks a lot like the picture you printed.  He's this guy who's
 been hanging out by our dumpster the past few days. I think he
 sleeps in it.  Anyway, I give him part of my lunch every night.
 But last night he wasn't looking so good, I think he's sick.  He
 won't eat much and he kinda seems, y'know, spacy sometimes."
  
  Skinner reached for a pad of paper and Scully quickly gave him a
 pen.  "That sounds like our man.  Where are you, we're coming
 right over."
  
  "No, you won't see him here until later.  He's never here until
 at least 6:00  p.m.  Come by the back door then.  Here's the
 address...."  The man gave an address two blocks away from where
 the Harrison clinic had been.
  
  "We'll be there."  Skinner hung up the phone, hope in his eyes.
  
  "Mulder?"  Scully asked tentatively.
  
  Skinner nodded.  "A janitor thinks he's been sleeping in their
 dumpster.  He's been giving him part of his lunch every night.
 I'm to meet Mr. Ramirez outside his building at 6:00 tonight."
  
  Scully frowned.  "Wait a minute.  I'm going too. This is Mulder!"
  
  Skinner looked serious.  "Yes, and he ran from you the last time
 he saw you.  We can't afford to lose him tonight."  Scully just
 stared at him, fighting back tears of rage.
  
  "I'm a doctor, and he needs immediate medical care. At least let
 me come along and wait in the car until you have him
 restrained....Please, sir."
  
  Skinner considered long, then slowly nodded.  "All right, but
 stay in the car until I have him restrained."
  
  "I'll do that sir."  She agreed gratefully.
  
  May 18, Day 4
  6:00 p.m.
  
  
  Skinner parallel parked the Taurus near the address Jaime had
 given them, feeling lucky to have found a parking place.  Per the
 agreement, Scully stayed behind.  But she had been clutching her
 hands tightly during the whole drive over, and Skinner knew she
 was itching to be out there with him.
  
  Skinner made his way toward the back door and saw a short
 Hispanic man, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, waiting for him.
  
  "Mr. Ramirez?"  Skinner asked courteously.
  
  "Yeah.  Call me Jaime.  You Marty's friend?" Jaime looked
 suspiciously at Skinner, who was conscious of how cop-like he
 looked at that moment.  Trying to project good will, Skinner
 replied.
  
  "Yes.  I've been his boss and his friend for a number of years.
 It's important that we find him.  He's very ill and needs
 immediate medical care.  He isn't hiimself.  Here's a picture of
 Agent Mulder.  Is this the man?"  Skinner pulled the slightly
 dogeared picture of Mulder from his pocket.  Jaime looked at it
 and nodded.
  
  "Yeah, that's him.  But he looks a lot worse than in that
 picture.  He's thinner and, well, he looks like he's been sleeping
 on the streets."  Jaime handed the photo back to Skinner.
  
  Skinner tried to hide his sudden feeling of foreboding.  "When do
 you expect him ?"
  
  "Oh, he usually gets here about 6:30 or so, sometimes earlier,
 sometimes later.  Hey, that's him now." Jaime pointed.  Skinner
 looked over and saw a tall, very thin man in baggy clothes shamble
 over towards the office building.  The man's eyes were focused on
 the ground ahead of him, as though he were unable to stay on his
 feet.  Skinner's supposition was proved right when the man tripped
 and almost fell, catching himself against the alley wall with a
 trembling hand.
  
  While Skinner watched, the man looked up and met Skinner's stare.
 Skinner was shocked to see how emaciated Mulder looked.  His hair
 was greasy and he had a dark beard coming in.  But it was his eyes
 that jolted him the most; Mulder's eyes were burning and intense
 and, Skinner thought, terrified.  Mulder stopped abruptly and
 glared, first at Skinner, then at Jaime, in betrayal.
  
  "Mulder?"  Skinner said softly.  "Don't you remember me?  It's
 Skinner.  I've come to see you.  You're sick and I want to take
 you to a doctor."  While he spoke, Skinner moved slowly toward
 Mulder, keeping eye contact, with his hands out entreatingly.
 "Don't you remember all those bad expense reports?  You work for
 me..."  Skinner continued to talk while he made up the distance to
 Mulder, feeling as though a butterfly's breath could frighten him
 and drive him away.
  
  Finally, when Skinner was within three feet of Mulder, he began
 to hope that he was getting through.  At that moment, Mulder broke
 eye contact and turned and darted back the way he had come.
 Skinner was startled for a split second, then sprinted after him. 
 Damn, Mulder was fast.  He must be terribly afraid to run so hard.
 Skinner could see Mulder panting for breath as he tried to put on
 even more speed, but Skinner was healthier and determined to his
 core to save this man. Skinner drew near Mulder, then threw
 himself forward in a flying tackle, bringing Mulder down onto the
 pavement.
  
  "It's ok, Mulder.  I'm your friend, I'm here to help you...."
 Skinner tried to talk gently to the struggling man.  Mulder
 gradually stopped fighting, and Skinner eased him over onto his
 back, still soothing him.  "You're sick, Mulder, and we're going
 to get you some help.  It's ok, you're safe now...."
  
  Mulder looked up, stark fear in his face, as he panted for
 breath.  Skinner heard running footsteps coming closer and saw
 Scully heading towards them.
  
  Mulder looked over and saw her too.  His look of fear became one
 of terror.  "No, get away from me!  You can't take me back!  I
 won't let you take me back!" He screamed and began to struggle
 violently as she drew near, then he abruptly stopped screaming.
 Mulder's body grew rigid and his eyes rolled back into his head as
 he went into a seizure.
  
  Skinner saw what was happening and slid his knee under Mulder's
 head to keep him from hitting it against the pavement.  Scully,
 who had stopped in her tracks when Mulder began to scream, ran
 over the rest of the way and was already talking into her cell
 phone as she skidded into a stop next to Mulder.
  
  Skinner watched the rest of the seizure helplessly as Scully
 finished her call.  "The paramedics are on the way."  She said,
 handing the phone to Skinner, then leaning over to check Mulder's
 vitals.  She took off her jacket and lay it over him, while
 running her hands over his thin arms.  How much weight he'd lost
 in just a few days!  He clearly hadn't been eating. She waited
 with Skinner until the paramedics arrived.
  
  May 19, Day 5
  1:00 a.m.
  U.C.S.F. Hospital
  
  Scully sat in the chair next to Mulder's bedside, as she had at
 his other bedsides.  She shifted her weight in her chair, no this
 wasn't like the other bedsides. Then there had been, at the very
 worst, a hope that he would recover.  She knew in her heart that
 there was none.  Mulder hadn't regained consciousness since the
 seizure had laid him low, and he wasn't expected to.
  
  The CAT scans showed fading brain activity, with no known cause
 or cure.
  
  As soon as they had arrived at the hospital, a variety of the
 volunteer researchers had examined Mulder and argued about
 potential treatments.  But each of them had to admit that he had
 no viable treatment options for Mulder.  There just hadn't been
 time to thoroughly analyze the data.  They still hadn't figured
 out the nature of Mulder's condition, although they could predict
 the effect, and the ultimate outcome. Mulder's life signs were
 ebbing and Scully had made the decision to refuse heroic efforts
 to revive him.
  
  Scully sighed.  She had called Frohike and begged him to give her
 a solution.  He'd been in tears when he told her that, although
 the three of them had worked night and day on the project, they
 had no answer for her.
  
  Skinner was asleep in the other chair.  He'd refused to leave her
 alone, arguing hotly that there was no telling whether the smoker
 or his people would try to kidnap Mulder at this point.  Scully
 wasn't fooled by his logic and was glad to have him here.  She was
 glad that Mulder had him here, and wished Mulder could know that
 his friends were with him.
  
  So Scully sat vigil, praying quietly to ease Mulder's way.  She
 knew he didn't believe as she did, but hoped that a little prayer
 on her part would help Mulder along, somehow.  She fingered the
 rosary she'd borrowed from the hospital chaplain and began praying
 again, closing her eyes against the sight of Mulder's quiet face
 against the pillows.
  
  She was deep in her prayers when she heard the door open.  She
 looked up and saw a man walk into the dim room, then saw that it
 was the smoker.  He seemed stooped and moved slowly until he stood
 at the foot of Mulder's bed, eyeing Mulder intently with
 unreadable eyes.
  
  "He's dying."  The smoker said.
  
  "Yes.  He is."  Said Scully calmly.
  
  "I can save him."  Said the smoker.  "No one who cares for him
 could want him to die, not like this."
  
  Scully shook her head.  She'd thought it over and knew what
 Mulder's decision would be if he were able to choose.  Well, she'd
 choose for him.
  
  "No.  I won't let you have him.  You'd save his body, but you'll
 kill the man inside.  Mulder couldn't stand that."  Scully
 realized that she was shaking as she pulled her gun from its
 holster and trained it on the smoker.  "And if you make the
 slightest move to take him, I'll shoot you where you stand."
 Scully was so focused on the smoker, that she didn't realize that
 Skinner had awakened and was watching the interchange.
  
  "And I agree."  Skinner said, pointing his own gun at the smoker.
 "Mulder lived his life a free man, he deserves to die as one."
  
  The smoker paused, with a trace of desperation, Scully thought.
 "How can you do this?  By your choice, you are murdering him as
 surely as if you held that gun to his head and pulled the trigger!
 He can recover fully even now; I can save his life!  What gives
 you the right to decide that death is a better option for him?"
  
  Scully looked at the smoker steadily, and with pity.
  
  "We are his friends, and we love him."  She said simply.  "Now
 get out!"  She brandished her gun with a wild look in her eyes
 that made the smoker realize that she was entirely serious.  He
 began to back away.
  
  "You'll regret this decision, I'll see to that!" The smoker
 glared at Scully, now trembling more violently but still training
 her gun on him.  Then he looked at Skinner, icy calm, his gun held
 steadily but no less dangerously.  The smoker left.
  
  The minute the door closed, Scully collapsed against her chair,
 setting her gun down on the nightstand. She wrapped her arms
 around herself and tried not to wail out loud.  Skinner didn't
 know what to do, so he pulled his chair next to hers and sat
 quietly with her, saying nothing until her breathing had steadied.
  
  "You made the right choice, you know." He finally said.  "The
 only choice."
  
  "Yes," Scully said quietly.  "I did."  She took Mulder's hand in
 hers and settled herself in to wait for the morning.
  
  May 19, Day 5
  4:00 a.m.
  
  Scully woke from a light doze to hear the door open again.  She
 looked up and saw Alex Krycek enter the room on silent feet.
 Scully grabbed up her gun and trained it on him.  She saw that
 Skinner had also roused and done the same.
  
  "We've already seen your boss tonight.  Get out!" She yelled.
  
  Krycek raised his hands.  In the real hand she could see him
 holding a vial.  "I brought help."  He said.
  
  "This will save his life."
  
  Scully frowned.  "Yes, I know about those treatments of yours,
 and the answer is still no!"
  
  Krycek smiled.  "You don't understand.  This is the antidote!
 This will reverse the effects, all of them."
  
  "There is no antidote.  Your boss already told us, you bastard." 
 Skinner snarled.  "You're just trying to trick us into finishing
 your work for you."
  
  "No tricks."  Said Krycek.  "A certain smoker of our acquaintance
 doesn't know I'm here.  He lied to you, we've had an antidote all
 along, but he wants Mulder in the organization.  It's been a
 cherished dream of his for a long time.  This was his golden
 opportunity to make that happen."
  
  "And you, why are you breaking with him on this?" Asked Scully
 suspiciously.
  
  Krycek lowered his hands cautiously.  "Because the last thing
 that I want in the organization is a man whose loyalty to the
 consortium is unquestionable, and who could easily make my
 services...expendable.  I never had any intention of allowing
 Mulder's treatments to continue to fruition.  This is simply
 another way of accomplishing my goal."
  
  Skinner's gun remained firmly pointed at Krycek. "You mean, you'd
 have killed him rather than see him become your rival?"
  
  "Is that such a stretch?"  Asked Krycek reasonably. "After all,
 you two are planning to kill him yourselves for altruistic reasons
 of your own. Here, take it.  It won't hurt him.  I don't want
 Mulder's death or I'd have killed him long ago.  I just want to
 solidify my position within the organization." Krycek held out the
 vial toward Scully.
  
  She hesitantly reached for it and then grasped it in her hand.
 "What is the dosage?"  She asked.
  
  "Give him the entire vial intravenously.  It will clear the
 chemicals from his system within 48 hours and restore the
 suppressed memories within 24." Krycek looked at Mulder
 dispassionately.  "Provided you give it to him before death.  Even
 we can't cure that yet."  Krycek lowered his arms and backed out
 of the room slowly.  Skinner lowered his gun as the door closed
 and looked at Scully.  She held the vial in her hand and stared at
 it fixedly.
  
  "I wish I knew what was the right thing to do...." She whispered.
 "If he's lying, I sentence Mulder to a living death."  She looked
 at Skinner in agony. "But if he's telling the truth, I could be
 denying Mulder a chance at a cure, at life.  God, what do I do?"
  
  Skinner could only look at her silently, unable to help.  He
 himself was in a quandary, wanting to believe that what Krycek
 said was true, but afraid to be taken in by yet another lie.
  
  Scully put the vial down on the bedside table and grabbed the
 rosary, praying harder than she'd ever prayed before.  After a few
 minutes her face cleared and she put the rosary down.  She picked
 up the vial and left the room, returning with a hypodermic
 syringe.
  
  "You've decided?"  Skinner asked.
  
  Scully nodded.  "The one thing that has always kept me going,
 after my abduction, during my cancer, was the sure knowledge that
 the fight for life must continue. I knew, Mulder taught me, that
 you never give up even when the odds say that you can't win.  He
 never gave up on me, even when Mom was picking out a headstone and
 planning my memorial."  Scully ran her hand gently through
 Mulder's hair.  "I won't give up on him, no matter what.  If...if
 the man who wakes up isn't Mulder any more, the consortium still
 can't have him, to corrupt him.  Not as long as I can protect him,
 and I'll do that until they kill me."  Scully walked over to
 Mulder's IV line and injected the contents of the vial into it.
  
  She and Skinner watched the liquid drip slowly into Mulder's
 veins, and waited for it to take effect.
  
  
  May 19
  11:00 a.m.
  
  Scully opened her eyes slowly, then looked at her watch.  Then
 she anxiously checked Mulder.  Still alive...good.  She took his
 pulse and blood pressure, then went to the nurse's station for his
 chart to look at the last reading.  Positive changes, yes, but so
 small...maybe the medicine was working.  But what was it she'd
 given him?  Scully breathed a quick prayer and went back into the
 room.
  
  Skinner slumbered on in his chair.  Scully smiled at him
 affectionately, and draped him with her blanket.
  
  He had flatly refused her suggestion that he go back to the hotel
 and sleep, insisting that it was his duty as Mulder's supervisor
 to stay and monitor his agent. Scully stretched and took her seat
 again, forcing herself to patience.
  
  She heard a noise, and looked to see Mulder's eyes open.  Then it
 occurred to her that the last time Mulder had seen her he'd been
 terrified of her. Surely this effect would also be helped by the
 medicine....
  
  Scully smiled hopefully at Mulder and said gently "Hey, partner. 
 How are you feelin'?"
  
  Mulder smiled back and Scully mentally jumped for joy. "Hey,
 Scully...What am I doing here?  What happened?" He asked weakly.
  
  "You mean you don't remember?"  Scully asked anxiously.  "What's
 the last thing that you recall?"
  
  Mulder frowned and thought back.  "I remember being in the
 courtroom when there was an earthquake...then the ceiling fell
 in.."  Mulder frowned.  "And then I remember Krycek and
 Bailey...then it all goes fuzzy."
  
  Scully looked deep into his eyes.  "Do you remember being part of
 a consortium test project?  Getting treatments?  Being tested?"
  
  Mulder looked back with bewilderment.  "No...nothing like that at
 all."  Then the realization hit him. "Scully, did they take me?
 Like they took you?  Is that why I'm here?  What did they do to
 me?"
  
  Scully smiled, relief on her face.  She took Mulder's hand and
 squeezed it.  "Nothing lasting.  You escaped the worst of it.  Put
 briefly, they planned to wipe your memories and remake you into
 the perfect consortium operative.  But they didn't succeed."
  
  Mulder squeezed back.  "What saved me?"  He asked quietly.
  
  Scully's smile broadened.  "Internal politics."
  
  May 19
  2:00 P.M.
  Mark Hopkins Hotel, Room 439
  
  The smoker motioned Krycek to a chair as he entered the room.
  
  "Well, did you do it?" The smoker took a puff of his cigarette
 and stubbed it out, averting his face slightly to hide his
 anxiety.
  
  Krycek nodded.  "Yes.  Agent Mulder regained consciousness this
 morning.  He retains no memory of his time with us, but otherwise
 is unaffected.  He is expected to have further tests and then will
 be released in a day or two.  But I don't understand why you had
 me do that."
  
  The smoker's face gave nothing away.  "I have my own reasons for
 wanting Mulder alive.  And there will be other opportunities.  How
 is Bailey working out?"
  
  Krycek smiled.  "He's turning out to be almost as good a subject
 as Mulder was.  Once we have his homicidal tendencies under
 control, he should work out quite well."
  
  "Good, good.  No loss without some gain."  The smoker leaned back
 in his chair with a sense of satisfaction.


  
Kyrie Eleison III: Misericordia Dei 
Rating:  PG
Category: SA 
Spoilers: Thru 6th season
Keywords: Mulder/Sc friendship, Mulderangst
Summary:  Mulder decides to go after Bailey and arrest him,
even though he is warned that to do so will mean his death.

Feedback:  Yes! Yes! Please send me feedback!!!!! I live for
feedback!  I WRITE for feedback!!

DISCLAIMER:  I don't own the X Files or any of its
characters and make no profit from this story.  The X Files
are Chris Carter's.and 1013 Productions' property. Any
resemblance between any character, organization or evil
mental health clinic cited herein is purely coincidental and
unintentional. 

Note:  The title is translated from the Latin as "The Mercy
of God".  This piece is the final part of a 3 part series: 
Kyrie Eleison and Christe Eleison are the first two stories.
They are both archived at Muldertorture Anonymous
and at Xemplary -- currently in the new stories sections.
I'd advise you to read those first, because this story begins
immediately after Christe ends.

Misericordia Dei

PART 1


May 21
U.S.C. Hospital
9:30 p.m.


Mulder lay in his bed, rejoicing quietly.  The doctor had
finally confirmed it, his CAT scan readings were normal.  He
had been stuck in this hospital for days, even though he had
felt more or less normal within 24 hours of Scully's
unorthodox "treatment", giving him the antidote to the
consortium's mind control drugs.  But Scully and the doctor
had argued that he shouldn't be released until his brain
activity showed normal, so here he was.  Fidgeting.

His hyperactive mind wandered inevitably back to the events
of the past months.  God, how he wished he could forget all
of it.  He ran his hands over his face, remembering  his
time as Paul Bailey's victim. The physical torture had been
bad enough, but after the hospital, when Mulder had seemed
to see Bailey, everywhere, but nobody else did.  And nobody
had believed him, not even Scully.  

He turned the television remote to "off" and lay back in the
bed.  He'd been refusing the sleeping pill offered by the
nurse each night, still afraid to sleep. The nightmares had
gotten better, but they still weren't gone. Mulder gritted
his teeth.  That bastard Krycek had set him up.  He'd staged
all of Mulder's visions and recreated his worst fears,
recruiting Bailey himself to help.  Mulder shivered.  Bailey
had been promised Mulder's death for his reward.  But Krycek
hadn't delivered, instead opting to kidnap Mulder into a
consortium mind-control project, as a human lab rat.  Mulder
still wasn't sure why the consortium had wanted him out of
their way, preferably in a locked mental ward somewhere.
But he was bound to find out just as soon as he finished
another errand.

"Hey, partner."  A bright voice called from the door.

Mulder looked up and saw Scully holding two large sacks
emitting a wonderful smell.  "If that's Chinese food, I'm
yours for life!"  he said fervently.

Scully grinned and pulled out a container of hot and sour
soup.  "Is that a threat or a promise?  I couldn't stand the
face you made over dinner, so I thought I'd give you a
decent meal.  There's also mu shu pork, fried rice and
szechuan beef in here.  What do you want first?"

Mulder grinned back.  "Whatever I can eat fast before the
nurses take it away... Gimme that!"  He reached for the
carton and began rapturously eating soup.  Scully set the
remainder on the side table, removed some chopsticks from
the sack and began delicately eating szechuan beef.

"So, any more memories come back?"  Scully asked between
bites.

Mulder frowned and stared into his soup carton, his appetite
suddenly diminished.  "Yeah, some...."  His voice trailed
off into silence.

Scully examined him with veiled concern, but kept it light. 
"Well, you're bound to remember things gradually.  It's only
a few days you're missing, after all."

"No, that isn't the problem."  Mulder set the carton on the
table.  "I remember it all.  And I don't want to."

"What is it you don't want to remember?  You want to talk
about it?"  Scully put her own food down.

Mulder looked troubled.  "What I recall is being scared, and
running for my life from everybody....running for my life
from YOU. You...looked like somebody at the clinic who gave
me the treatments.  And when I saw you, I saw her. I'm sorry
Scully."  

"I thought it must be something like that."  Scully said
calmly.  "Mulder, you weren't yourself.  So, why don't you
finish your soup.  You're still underweight, you know."

Mulder smiled.  "Okay, Mom.  I'll eat my dinner." He began
eating again, then spoke casually. "So...any word on
Bailey?"

Scully eyed him sharply, but Mulder just kept eating. "No.
No sign at all.  They never found a body in the ruins of the
building, but they're still sifting through the wreckage.
He's probably dead, under tons of concrete."

"No...he's not."  Said Mulder.  "I've been remembering more
about the time after the quake. There was a point where
Bailey had me cornered. He was dragging me into an empty
building, when Krycek showed up and saved me."

"Krycek!"  Scully put her carton down and moved closer to
Mulder.  "What happened?"

Mulder gave a humorless laugh.  "Bailey started to struggle
and while they were busy with him, they didn't pay attention
to me.  I ran like all the demons of hell were after me...."
His eyes darted nervously around the room. "I guess they
were.  As I ran away, they were all piling on top of Bailey.
Then they started running after me."  He finally met
Scully's gaze.  "I know that Bailey is alive, and that he's
still out there, somewhere."  

He paused, then swallowed hard.  "I've been thinking a lot
about what it means, that he's still out there somewhere.  I
feel like...I'm not really safe. Like I have to keep my gun
with me just in case. The nightmares are dying down, but I
still jump at strange noises, startle at things I see out of
the corner of my eye.  I'm starting to wonder when all this
will end.  It's been weeks since I could just BE somewhere
without being on edge."

Scully nodded.  "Yes.  I know exactly what you mean.  After
Duane Barry, and especially since that bridge and Cassandra
Spender, I've had...concerns...that they might decide that
they aren't done with me, that they want me back for more
tests."  Scully felt the back of her neck with her right
hand.  "I worry sometimes that I might go to bed one night
and wake up the next day in a train car."  She put her hand
on top of Mulder's. "I don't think that you really get over
it, but you learn to live with it."

Mulder grabbed her hand and laid the palm of his other hand
against her cheek.  "I wish you'd told me about
your...concerns...before this.  Scully, I can promise you
this.  If you ever do wake up in that train car, just
remember that I'll be coming for you. Nothing and nobody
would stop me from finding you.  Ever." 

Scully smiled tentatively and replied softly.  "Well, the
same goes for Paul Bailey, Mulder.  He'll have to go through
me and my gun to get to you.  I'll be there to guard your
back, any time you need it."  

Just then, Mulder heard the nervous sound of a throat being
cleared.  Both agents sprang apart and turned to find A.D.
Skinner standing uncomfortably in the open doorway.  

"Good evening, Agents.  Mulder, I understand that you're to
be released tomorrow.  Congratulations.  I stopped by to
give you your plane ticket and to ask whether you've
reconsidered my offer of some extra medical leave."  Skinner
came over to the bedside and put a one-way ticket to D.C.
onto the nightstand, next to the open carton of Chinese.
"I've brought the leave request form, in case you decide
you'd like some more time off.  I think you've more than
earned it."

Mulder picked up the papers.  "Thank you sir.  I'll
considered it, but I'd really like to get back to work if I
can."  

"Well, Agent Scully and I will be here at 10:00 tomorrow
morning to pick you up.  You can let me know your decision
then.  Otherwise, you should get a good night's sleep.  I'm
confident that your backlog of cases hasn't diminished in
your absence." Skinner grinned at his agents and walked
through the room door.

"Now that is an indisputable Truth, Mulder."  Scully smiled,
trailing after Skinner.  "I'll see you tomorrow morning.
Good night."  Scully waved at him as she left, closing the
door behind her.  

Mulder was left alone with his dinner and his thoughts.  Too
bad the thoughts were so sour, he considered.  He leaned
back against the pillows and mulled over all that he hadn't
told Scully.  He remembered everything, all right,
especially a conversation he'd overheard between two
orderlies early in his captivity at the clinic, while they
discussed the 'other' facility in Roseville.  Mulder had
spent the empty hours scouring his memories of everything
that he'd seen and heard after waking up at the Harrison
clinic, and would bet money that Bailey was at that
Roseville clinic.  

He grimaced.  How like Krycek to exchange one lab rat for
another.  You lose Mulder, well, you still have Bailey to
condition into the perfect consortium killer.  In any case,
that gave Mulder a place to start looking.

Yeah, Mulder concluded yet again, if I don't find Bailey and
know where he is, I'll be looking over my shoulder for him
for the rest of my life.  God help me, I could shoot
somebody by accident, I'm so jumpy.  Gotta find him and put
him away for good. And I can't let Bailey stay loose.  The
old Bailey is a sadistic murderer, but who knows what Krycek
and his merry band will turn him into?  And if I have a
chance to shut down that whole damned mind-control project,
so much the better.

Mulder pondered his conversation with Scully, realizing that
he couldn't bring her along.  No, she'd already done her
time as a test subject.  The possibilities, between Paul
Bailey and Krycek were just too dangerous.  And besides, he
reminded himself, I don't have a choice.  I have to do this,
or I'll never be free again.  Even without Paul Bailey
phoning me, or Krycek messing with my mind, I still have
trouble sleeping....and coping.  The panic attacks are
better, but not gone, and I still dream about Bailey and
what happened.  I just...can't let this go on.  Scully'd
just worry about me.  And if anything happened to her...God,
I don't think I could stand it.  No, I go alone.


May 22, 10:00 a.m.
U.S.C Hospital

Skinner and Scully drove in together.  While Skinner headed
for the front desk, Scully sought out Mulder's room, but
found it empty.  She went back to the front desk to find a
bemused Skinner reading something from an envelope.

"What is it, sir?  And where's Mulder?"  Scully asked,
beginning to be concerned.

"He left the papers asking for additional leave, and a short
note."  Skinner handed it to Scully, whose eyebrows raised
as she perused it. 

"'Gone camping.  Sorry for the last minute, but I'll see you
in two weeks. Mulder.'"  Scully examined the handwriting of
the note. Yes, it was Mulder's and it didn't look written
under duress.  "Excuse me, but did you see who left this
note at the desk?" Scully asked the nurse.

The nurse grinned.  "He said you'd say that.  Yes, Mr.
Mulder wrote that out in my presence at 7:00 this morning
when he checked himself out.  He said to tell you he wanted
some time alone and not to worry about him."

"That sounds like Mulder."  Said Skinner.  "Well, Scully,
are you ready to fly back to D.C.?"  Scully was frowning and
still giving the note suspicious looks. Mulder had never
ditched her before to take a vacation. And as far as she
knew, Mulder didn't camp.

"Sir, if it's okay with you, I'd like to take some vacation
time as well.  I've been thinking about visiting my brother
and his family in San Diego." Scully looked up and found
Skinner's face softening.

"Of course, Agent Scully.  This time hasn't been easy for
you either.  Take all the time you need. I'll see you back
in Washington when you're rested." Scully dropped Skinner at
the airport and went to return the car, then thought better
of it.  Where to go now?  She had a niggling feeling that
Mulder was getting himself into something over his head, but
maybe just this once he really was just on vacation. She
really had no proof that he planned anything else, and this
kind of impulsive, last minute decision was typical of
Mulder.  She shook her head and decided to go to San Diego
after all.  She pulled the rental onto Highway 101 and
reached for her cell phone to call Bill and Tara to let them
know she was coming. May 22, 9:00 p.m. Holiday Inn,
Roseville California

Mulder let himself back into the room.  His preliminary
survey of the area surrounding the Maidu Mental Health
Center had been fruitful and a bit disappointing.  This
wasn't going to be easy. Roseville was about thirty minutes
from Sacramento, in a hilly, rural area.  The Center sat on
a rocky hill with no underbrush or tall grass, and was
surrounded by a perimeter fence topped with barbed wire.  It
was accessed by a secure gate manned by two alert-looking
security guards. Mulder had noted holsters at the hips of
both men.

In the nine hours Mulder, hidden by a fortuitous bush, had
trained his binoculars on the entrance no traffic had either
entered or exited.  He had to conclude that even a jack-
rabbit would find it difficult to get in.  

To make matters worse, the Center sat in a remote valley off
Highway 80, only reachable by a narrow, two lane country
road.  Nobody was likely to disturb its occupants, or to be
disturbed by the sound of gunfire coming from the facility.

Mulder put the binoculars down on the table and turned on
the room light.  He jumped back and reached for his gun when
he saw the man sitting by the window. Then he stopped,
recognizing him.

"What on earth are you doing here?"  He asked. The man
grinned.

"Sorry I startled you.  It wasn't intentional, but I can see
as well in the dark as in light, so I kinda forget that
others need the lights on."  Michael Bailey got up and went
to shake Mulder's hand.  To Mulder's surprise, Bailey's
ghostly (or angelic, or whatever he was) hand was warm and
firm. Mulder let go Mike's grip and examined his own hand as
if checking for spiritual residue.

Mike's amused grin broadened, then he sat back down and
motioned for Mulder to do the same. Mulder sat nervously at
the table.

"Don't get me wrong or anything, but should I be seeing so
much of somebody who is...."  Mulder groped for the word.

"Dead?  It's ok, Mulder, it doesn't embarrass me. And don't
worry, I'm not an omen or anything. Actually, I'm here to
help if I can."

Mulder gave Mike an innocent look. "Help with what?  I'm on
vacation."

Mike looked Mulder straight in the eye.  "Like Hell you are.
You can lie to Scully and Skinner, but I know you're here to
find Paul. If you aren't careful, you're going to get
yourself killed."

Mulder's eyes narrowed.  "So what else is new? You know the
kind of monster Paul is.  He can't be allowed to remain
free, to hurt anybody else again..." Mulder looked away from
Mike's searching eyes.

"But that isn't all, is it?"  Mike asked gently. "Paul
terrifies you.  And you know that you have to face him, or
live in fear of him for the rest of your life."  

Mulder looked up.  "It just doesn't go away.  And he keeps
reappearing in my life, but always on HIS timetable, when I
don't expect him.  This time, I call the shots.  And I'm
bringing him back to stand trial."

"Or you'll die trying."  Mike said flatly.  "Is that what
you want?  Do you really want Scully laying wreaths on your
grave?"

"You leave Scully out of this!"  Mulder flared back. "This
doesn't involve her, just me and your brother!"

Mike gave Mulder a look of mixed exasperation and
incredulity.  "How can you think that anything you do
doesn't inevitably involve her? How do you think she'll feel
when she finds out she's been ditched again? And don't you
realize how much you need her to guard your back? You're
twice as reckless on your own than when she's there to make
you focus on safety."

Mulder gritted his teeth and said very slowly and carefully.
"You are saying that I should have told Scully about this
trip, recruited her to sneak into a consortium test
facility, ask her to risk being taken and experimented on
AGAIN, or maybe have Paul take a stab at slowly torturing
her to death."  Mulder suddenly deflated, visualizing what
he'd just said. "No, I can't do that.  If I do nothing else,
Scully stays safe."

Mike sighed.  "Mulder, the simple fact is, that you're going
to get killed unless she's here to pull your ass out of the
fire.   I don't know how and I don't know why, I just know,
ok?"

Mulder gave Mike a puzzled look.  "I thought you guys knew
everything?"

Mike smiled.  "Not everything.  Many more things than I did,
but I'm not omniscient.  This time I can see the trend of
future events, without specifics, and this one doesn't look
good."

"So why don't you play avenging angel and just zap whoever's
going to kill me?" Mulder found himself more fascinated than
afraid by this conversation.

Mike shook his head. "Doesn't work that way.  I can advise,
listen, inspire, coach, teach, persuade, but I can't act.
That would be interfering.  You make your own decisions and
your own life."

"Sort of like a heavenly prime directive, huh?" Mulder asked
with a grin.

"Yeah.  It's a bitch, but it's necessary."  Mike nodded. "I
honestly can't say I'm sorry you're going after Paul, for
reasons of my own. He wasn't always the monster you've
experienced."  Seeing Mulder's attentive look, Mike went on.

"When we were kids, he was just my dorky little brother. We
played, fought, we were normal, you know?  But my dad died
when I was eight and Paul was five, and Mom re-married.
Wayne was...an evil man."  Mike shook his head.  "And he
hated Paul from the first day he met him.  I think Paul
looked too much like Dad, while I took after Mom. Anyway,
Wayne never missed a chance to torture Paul, and I do mean
torture.  One night Paul forgot to finish his chores, didn't
feed the cat...and do you know how Wayne punished him?"  

Mike stopped and seemed to be gathering himself. He went on.
"Wayne took our cat, Paul's cat, and strangled her while
Paul and I both watched.  Then he gutted her, skinned her
and nailed the pelt to the shed wall to show us that we
wouldn't be allowed to keep any possession we didn't take
care of. And...to teach us to finish what we started."

Mike smiled ruefully at Mulder's expression.  "It only got
worse after that.  I tried to shield Paul, but Wayne worked
nights and Paul was only in school half-days.  Paul always
had bruises and cuts and later, burns. I didn't report it
because, well, you just didn't back then.  Everybody's dad
whupped them sometimes, you figured it was normal.  Except
that Paul changed.  As he got older, dead animals started
turning up over the neighborhood.  When I was 12, I caught
him torturing the neighbor's cat, treating it just like
Wayne had treated our cat.  When the police came, I
confessed, because I knew that Wayne would kill Paul if the
cops took him to Juvenile Hall.  Wayne was mad at me, but he
didn't do anything to me.  Paul was his target."

"And later?  Did you know about the serial killings? The
children Paul killed?" Mulder asked quietly.

Mike shook his head.  "No, I didn't.  When the cops arrested
me for the killings I knew it had to be Paul, but I just
couldn't turn him in. I told the police it wasn't me, and
left it at that.  I just couldn't do that to my brother.
And I had his promise that he'd never, ever do it again."  

Mike looked at Mulder with regret.  "Obviously I was wrong,
Mulder.  I'm so sorry all this had to happen to you.  And
I'm even sorrier that it isn't over yet."

"Do you mind my wanting to take Paul to jail?" Mulder asked
gently.

"No, not at all.  Besides, you know that the greatest danger
isn't that Paul goes to a jail.  I saw what they were trying
to do to you. What kind of monster do you suppose Paul will
become at their hands?  He never asked for this, any of
this.  He's sick, and tormented, but they'll take away
what's left of the little kid who tagged along behind me."
Mulder eyed Mike's solemn expression.

"Well, all the more reason for what I'm doing, then. But I'm
not involving Scully.  Absolutely not.  She's been through
Hell because of them, and I won't drag her in for another
round.


May 23, 1:00 a.m.
Residence of Bill Scully, Jr., San Diego


Scully awoke abruptly, conscious that she was not alone in
the her brother's guest bedroom.  She tensely recalled that
she'd left her gun in her suitcase, and cautiously propped
up one eyelid.  A glowing figure of a man sat at the foot of
her bed. Even though the room was dark, she could still see
his face clearly as he studied her with a pleasant
expression.

"I know you're awake, Dana.  You might as well open your
eyes.  Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."  Scully
opened her eyes wide and sat up, scooting back in the bed as
far as she could.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bedroom? 
And how do you know my name?"  She studied him carefully,
with the feeling that she'd seen him somewhere before.

"I'm a friend of Mulder's.  My name's Mike Bailey." As
Scully's eyes widened, he added, "Yeah, THAT Mike Bailey,
Paul's brother."

"But...you're dead.  Aren't you?"  Scully felt a sense of
unreality that she was having this conversation at all.
Must be dreaming...gotta be a nightmare, these things just
don't happen.  Do they?

"Well, yeah, I'm dead but it isn't as bad as you'd think.
Look, I know that all this is making you really
uncomfortable but I wouldn't have bothered you unless it was
important."  Mike began, but Scully interrupted.

"Mulder really was talking to you that night in the Westin,
wasn't he?  It wasn't just some fake apparation provided by
Krycek and his buddies?" Scully was beginning to get the
feeling that maybe, just maybe this really was happening.

Mike gave her a look of compassion.  "Yes, I really was
there, and we really did talk.  Not that he listened much to
what I had to say.  I can understand your frustration with
him.  He really is a stubborn man.  Which brings me to the
purpose for my visit. Mulder needs you, or he's going to get
himself killed."

Scully became all business.  "Why?  What's he done?"

"He isn't really on vacation.  He's determined to locate and
arrest Paul.  Trouble is, Paul is at the consortium's new
test facility in Roseville, under heavy security.  Mulder's
been surveilling the place all day, and refuses to let
anybody help him."  Paul shrugged helplessly.

"I take it, you've already spoken to Mulder about this"
Mike nodded.  "What's your involvement? Excuse my bluntness,
but if, as you say, you're dead, why do you care?" Scully
gave Mike her best FBI interrogator's glare.

"Dana, just because I'm dead doesn't mean I stop caring
about the ones I love.  Paul's my brother and I don't want
him to become a consortium assassin. And Mulder...well, I
kind of keep an eye on him. And with his track record, he
needs somebody watching out for him."

"And the danger?  Why am I so important?"  Scully leaned
forward, then lurched suddenly at Mike, trying to throw him
off the bed and restrain him.  To her suprise, she dove
forward, passed through his body and landed on the floor in
a pajama'd heap. She pulled herself into a sitting position
and looked up incredulously at Mike who was obviously trying
to restrain his fit of laughter.

"Believe me now?"  He asked.  Scully nodded dumbly.  He went
on.  "Well, I can't read the future exactly, but there's a
nexus point coming up when Mulder will lose his life unless
you're there to protect him.  I don't know the details, just
that he won't survive unless you're there.  And I know
Mulder.  He doesn't take adequate safety precautions when
he's working a case alone.  He'll be more careful with you
along, if only to safeguard your well-being."

"Okay.  I'm convinced.  Where is he?"  Scully got up and
turned on the light.  She pulled her suitcase off the floor
and, opening it, began to pack.

"In Roseville, California, at the Holiday in. Roseville's
near Sacramento.  You should get there as fast as you can.
As soon as he figures a way in to the facility, he'll be
trying to break in.  I know he plans to go back tomorrow
morning."

Scully heard a tap at the door.  She went over to open it,
and found Bill standing there with a baseball bat in hand.
He stepped into the room, examining it for intruders and
looked through Mike Bailey.

"Dana, are you all right?  I heard a noise.  You ok?" Bill
put down the bat and noticed the suitcase.

"I'm fine, Bill, but I have to leave.  I'll call a taxi to
take me to the airport.  Could you or Tara return the rental
for me?  I have to get the next flight for the Sacramento
area."

Bill's eyes narrowed.  "I didn't hear a phone ring. Is that
idiot partner of yours dragging you into something again?
Can't you just let him go it alone this time without bailing
him out?"  And endangering yourself, he added silently.

"No, the phone didn't ring.  I just have a...feeling...that
I need to be there.  I'm sorry, Bill, but I guess I'll have
to cut the visit short."  Scully looked searchingly at her
big brother, pleading for understanding.

"Ok, Dana.  Have it your way.  But I'm driving you to the
airport.  At least that way I can be sure you get there
safely.  Let me know when you're ready to go."

Scully nodded and turned to see that Mike Bailey had
disappeared.  She shrugged and resumed her packing, mentally
wondering at her own apparent comfort with extreme
possibilities.

May 23, 8:00 a.m.
Holiday Inn, Roseville

Scully knocked on the door to room 23.  She waited for
several minutes, then quietly checked to be sure that she
wasn't observed, and picked the lock.

Inside the room was a typical Mulder-mess. Clothing was
draped on the chairs and the remains of a cold pizza
languished on the table, but he was gone and so was his
weapon.  Scully looked for more clues to his whereabouts but
found nothing. Mike hadn't given her the name or location of
the new facility, and she found herself at a loss.  

"He's gone off to the clinic to watch it some more." Mike
Bailey's voice came from behind her.   Scully jumped and
turned around.

"Damn, you startled me."  She said breathlessly. "Do you
know where he is?  Can you help me find him?"

Mike nodded.  "I always know where he is.  Get in the car.
I'll show you."

Scully got into her rental car and began following Mike's
directions, taking Highway 80 east into the hills.  She
vaguely found it funny, not to mention weird, that she was
taking directions from a ghost...She looked at Mike in the
passenger seat, out of the corner of her eye...ghost or
something, she amended.  Mike directed her to a turn off and
soon she found herself at the end of a long driveway. She
saw a car parked off the driveway, hidden by low trees and
underbrush.  She slid the rental in next to it and walked
over to the other car.  Empty.

She found Mike standing next to her, disconcertingly
transparent.  "Come on, I'll show you where he is."  Mike
said and led the way up a narrow trail.  Scully checked her
holster for her gun, and followed as quietly as she could.

She came upon Mulder, crouched behind a bush, intently
watching a building on a hill through high-power binoculars.
The leaves under her foot crunched as she approached and
Mulder jumped as though he'd heard a gunshot.  He was
turning and reaching for his weapon when he saw that it was
Scully.  He grinned in relief and sank back.

"Scully.  God, you had me scared."  Then he looked at her
more suspiciously.  "Why are you here?  How did you know
where to find me?"

Scully slid in next to him, behind the bush.  "A friend of
yours came to visit me and insisted that I come along."  She
turned to stare at him.  "Why didn't you tell me about Mike
Bailey?"

Mulder's face turned an interesting shade of crimson.  "Uh,
because I didn't think you'd believe me?"  Scully glared at
him and Mulder continued. "Well, yeah, you generally don't
believe me anyway...but this was just too much.  When
I...died...in the hospital I had a near death experience,
and Mike was there."  Mulder's eyes went distant. 

"He offered me a choice, you know, heaven and every question
answered, or my life back, with all its complications.  You
can figure out what my choice was.  I didn't realize just
how...complicated... my life was going to get.  Afterward I
was too wrapped up in recovering and physical therapy to
tell you about it.  Later, in the hotel you already were
having some serious doubts about my sanity and I couldn't
see any point in adding to your worry."  Mulder smiled, hurt
and pain in his eyes.  "And after I ended up in the hospital
with abnormal CT scans, it didn't seem the right time to
discuss it with you."

Scully was silent for a bit.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  I know
it's been hellish these past months.  It would have been
easier to just give up the fight.  But I'm glad you didn't. 
So, let's end this.  How do you propose to get Bailey out of
there?"  

Mulder sighed.  "Damn it Scully, I didn't want you along on
this.  Bailey's a torturing, murderous bastard and I can't
face the thought of him endangering you."

"So that's why you ditched me with that fake camping story?"
Scully smiled gently.  "Mulder, you know I can't *not* be
there if I think you're about to do something stupid.  And
I'd rather be with you trying to prevent it, rather than
calling the ambulance for you after you've already done it. 
I'm not going anywhere.  Besides, remember the promise I
made you in the hospital.  It still stands."

Scully reached out a hand. Mulder gave her the binoculars in
resignation.  "It looks quiet."  She said after a few
minutes.

Mulder sighed.  "That's the trouble.  It is quiet.  No
traffic at all yesterday and none today.  The fence is
electrified and has no openings and there's so little
underbrush, a ground squirrel couldn't make it up that hill
unobserved.  And that doesn't account for the internal
security."  As they watched a blue car climbed the long
driveway.  Scully gave a low whistle.

"Well, there's activity now.  Guess who's driving that car? 
Our old friend, Krycek."  They watched as Krycek was stopped
at the gatehouse, then waved on through.  Mulder grinned and
borrowed the binoculars back from Scully. "I think I know
how we're getting in there."

12:00 noon

Mulder's Taurus had been moved to the end of the Center's
driveway, partially concealed by trees. Mulder sat in the
rear passenger seat, training the binoculars on the
gatehouse while Scully, in the driver's seat, munched on one
of the sandwiches Mulder had brought.

"Scully.  It's time."  Mulder said tensely.  "He's coming
through the gates."  Scully put the sandwich down and
started driving slowly along the road leading back to
Highway 80.  

Soon a blue car moved in behind them.  Scully could see that
it was driven by Krycek and that he was alone.  

"Now!"  Said Mulder and Scully firmly turned hard left and
braked so that both lanes were blocked. Before the car came
to a stop, Mulder jumped out from the passenger's side door
and ran to the driver's window of Krycek's car.  Krycek
found himself looking into the nose of Mulder's gun and then
up, at Mulder's wolfish grin.

"Ok, give me the keys."  Said Mulder.  Krycek quietly
complied.  "Now slide over."  Krycek moved into the
passenger seat.  

Scully parked the Taurus at a wide spot and got into the
blue car, taking the seat behind Krycek. Mulder's grin
became even more feral when she pulled her gun and held it
firmly at the back of Krycek's neck.

"Well, now everybody's here."  Said Mulder.  "You are going
to help us get into the clinic and if you so much as breathe
wrong, Scully will shoot you."

Krycek's eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror and saw
Scully's determined look.  "Scully wouldn't shoot me.  She
wouldn't kill in cold blood."

Scully grimaced.  "Like you killed Missy?  And who says my
shooting you would be in cold blood?"  She cocked her gun
and pressed it against the back of Krycek's head.

Krycek winced.  "Ok, I'll get you in.  By why do you want to
go in there?  You only just managed to escape from one just
like it."  His eyes widened. "You want Paul Bailey, don't
you?"  Krycek flashed a look at Mulder, who had started the
car and was turning it around. 
Krycek began to grin. "You just can't live with the fact
that he had you screaming for mercy and you haven't been
able to face him since.  Kinda does something to your
manhood, doesn't it? Powerlessness?"

"Shut up."  Said Scully in a low voice.  She pushed the gun
hard against Krycek's head.  Mulder said nothing but
continued driving, his face set and eyes unreadable.

They rode in silence to the gatehouse.  The guard looked
disinterestedly at Mulder and Scully once Krycek's
credential had been examined and Krycek ahd glibly explained
that he had run into his old colleagues and brought them
back to tour the center.

They parked the car and began walking toward the main
building.  

"I have a gun on you and so does Scully, so don't try
anything."  Mulder said.

"Wouldn't think of it."  Said Krycek and led them through
the door. 

After more glib explanations from Krycek at the desk they
took the elevator to the basement where they found Paul
Bailey's room.  As they approached, Mulder could feel his
stomache knot in anticipation. No, he reminded himself,
gotta face him.  Gotta be free of this...

"You want Paul Bailey?  Well, here he is."  Said Krycek and
opened the door.  The room was windowless, made of
featureless cement block and bore a disturbing resemblance
to the place Mulder had been kept at the Harrison Clinic.  

Mulder forcibly set aside the memory and flipped the light
switch.  A rumpled Paul Bailey tried to sit up in his
hospital bed.  Bailey turned confused and childlike eyes
toward Mulder.

"Please...I don't want another treatment....I'll be good.  I
promise."  Baily whispered softly and edged back against the
headboard.

"So Mulder, here is your monster.  You want to kill him now?
Or save him for later?"  Sneered Krycek.

Mulder handed Scully the gun and walked slowly into the
room.  He crouched by the bedside and spoke softly.  "Hello.
I'm not here to give you a treatment; I won't hurt you.  Do
you remember how you got here?"

The man in the bed shook his head.  "I don't remember
anything before I was here. Just being here and having
the...the treatments.  I don't like the treatments...They
hurt."

Mulder studied the man silently for a few seconds. "What do
they call you?"

"My name's Paul.  I remember that much.."  The man smiled
anxiously.  "You sure you're not gonna make me take a
treatment?"

Mulder stood up, decided.  "No, Paul, we aren't. How would
you like to leave here and not have any more treatments?
Would you like to go with us?"

"Oh yeah, I'd like that a lot.  But what's your name?" Paul
got out of bed and reached out his right hand to shake
Mulder's.  Mulder slowly returned the gesture, then clasped
Paul's hand firmly.

"Mulder.  My name's Mulder.  And this is my friend Scully." 
Mulder gestured toward Scully.  She flashed a reassuring
smile at Paul and made sure her gun was hidden behind
Krycek's back.  When Paul saw Krycek, he drew back in alarm.

"No, I know that man.  He's bad!  He's the one who took me
here."  Paul backed away from Mulder and climbing back onto
the bed, began to huddle against the headboard again.

Mulder approached carefully.  "That's fine, Paul. He isn't
my friend either.  We're making him get  us out of here.  Do
you want to go with us?"  At Paul's nod, Mulder went to the
closet and found street clothes.

"Here, get dressed and we'll go."  Mulder turned away and
moved close to Krycek."How many treatments has he had?"  

Krycek stared at Mulder with a bland expression. "He's had
all but the final one, which will imprint the new
personality.  You know he'll die if he doesn't get either an
antidote or the completed treatment." Krycek paused and
folded his arms.  "Or do you care if he dies?  Here's the
man who tortured you for what?  Twelve hours?  And he's at
your mercy, Mulder.  No more fear.  No more nightmares.  No
more checking the crowds to see if he's there.  If he dies,
you're free."  Krycek's voice lowered to a seductive murmur.

Mulder jerked.  He grabbed the front of Krycek's shirt. "And
just what do you get from this, you bastard?  I become a
murderer, just like you!   Well it doesn't work that way.
I don't work that way." Mulder backed away from Krycek and
walked over to Paul.

"Paul, are you ready to go?"  Mulder asked gently. Paul
nodded and preceded Mulder from the room.  

In the hallway Mulder held his gun on Krycek and demanded.
"Where are the chemicals for the treatments and Paul's
file?"   Krycek shrugged and pointed to the door across the
hall.  At Mulder's nod, Scully went inside.  She soon came
out with a manila folder, a handful of diskettes and a paper
sack.  She packed them into her briefcase.

"I've got it, and their research on imprinting personality. 
Krycek's right, Paul is at the final stage of the treatment,
when the last dose is given and the new personality is
impressed."

"Good." Mulder grinned. "That's one less killer our friend
Smokey has at his beck and call.  Let's get out of here."

Mulder's gun on Krycek got the four of them past the front
desk  Mulder was just beginning to breathe easily as they
walked toward the car, when Krycek threw himself backward
against Mulder, yelling and grabbing for the gun.  Mulder
began to struggle with Krycek, never letting go of the gun. 
Scully ran towards them, Paul following close at her heels.

She could hear shouting from the gate area and saw a guard,
gun in hand running toward Mulder and Krycek, taking aim at
Mulder's exposed back.  

"Mulder!  No!!!"  Scully propelled herself forward and
pushed Mulder away just as the bullet ripped into her body.

Mulder landed flat, Scully on top of him.  He rolled over
and found himself looking into her startled blue eyes.  She
mouthed something, but no sound came out.  He was conscious
of blood flowing through her clothing, soaking the fine
cotton of her blouse. Before the shock set in, he noted that
there was no exit wound.  The bullet must still be lodged in
her.

Mulder felt the ground beneath him squirm...no, he'd landed
on Krycek.  Good.  Mulder lifted the gun and hit Krycek on
the back of the head.  Then put his arm under Scully's
shoulder and began to drag her toward the car.

"Here, let me help."  Said Paul, and scooped up the fallen
briefcase, then helped support Scully's other shoulder.
Together, they put Scully and Paul into the back seat.
Mulder started the car and gunned it toward the gates.
Guards scattered as Mulder plowed through the closed gates. 
He didn't slow down until they were well on their way to the
freeway.

"Paul, how is she?"  Asked Mulder anxiously.

"She's still alive, Mulder, but she's bleeding pretty bad.
Poor lady."  Paul had taken off his shirt and held it to
Scully's back to stanch the blood flow. Mulder tried
desperately to remember what hospitals there were in the
Roseville area.  He didn't think there were any big ones
close by, certainly none with a trauma center.  He glanced
back in the rear-view mirror at Scully's pale, still face.
And at Paul's, filled with concern.

Well, the closest big city likely to have a trauma center is
Sacramento.  He pulled his cell phone from his jacket and
dialled 911.  Gotta get some help here, but I don't dare
stop driving; Gotta get her to a hospital, can't wait.
Scully might die...Oh God, if she dies it's because of me.
She took my bullet. She took my bullet...is this what Mike
meant when he said she had to be there?

May 24, 6:00 p.m.
Sutter Hospital, Sacramento

Mulder sat quietly in the chair he'd made his own, a growing
pile of sunflower seed shells gathered on the floor beside
him.  Scully had been whisked into surgery when they arrived
and he hadn't seen her since.  As it had turned out,
Sacramento was the closest trauma center; Mulder was
grateful he'd made the right decision and kept on driving.

He glanced over to the chair opposite.  Paul slumped in his
chair, asleep.  He'd been unwilling to leave Mulder's side,
seeming to find comfort in Mulder's presence.  Mulder
sighed. Great.  He had just adopted a serial killer...but
try as he might, he just couldn't see the demon of his
nightmares in Paul's bewildered face.  And he just couldn't
hate him, or fear him any more.

"How's he doing?" Asked a voice next to him. Mulder turned
to find a familiar figure in the next chair over.

Mulder shrugged.  "As well as can be expected. I called Dr.
Dietzel.  He's the closest thing we have to an expert on
these 'treatments'.  He's coming out and bringing a friend
who's a psychiatrist.  They'll take the files, the chemicals
we got and will try to help Paul somehow."  

Mike leaned toward Mulder.  "Well, I have to thank you for
saving my brother.  You didn't have to do it.  I'm grateful
to you."

Mulder turned cold eyes on Mike.  "I wish I could say the
same to you. I've been sitting here, waiting to find out
whether my partner will live or die.  And the only reason
she was there in the first place is because you talked her
into it.  She was safe until you sought her out.  You forced
her out there, to take my bullet!"  Mulder got up and folded
his arms, then began to pace.  "Is my life worth so DAMNED
much that she has to die for me?"

Mike was quiet for a second.  "Mulder, I told you everything
I knew.  I only knew there was danger to you and that she
could save you.  I didn't know anything more than that.
I...don't know why things like this happen.  I only know
that she came of her own free will.  Yes, I persuaded her,
but it's no different from the other times she's come after
you and pulled your ass out of the fire."

Mulder stopped, inches from Mike's ethereal face.  "Yes,
this time it's different.  This time she got shot and I had
to hold her in my arms while she started bleeding to death. 
This time, I had her safe but she ended up in danger
anyway." Mulder turned away.  "My f***ing black cloud.
Everybody I care about dies, or gets taken away. The best I
can do for her is try to keep her out of danger.  And see
what a great job I did today!"

"You didn't chase her away."  Mike said calmly.

Mulder grimaced.  "That never works.  Once she's on a case
she's stubborn.  The best I could do was give in gracefully
and try to watch her back.  But you knew that."  Mulder
stopped his pacing and stared at Mike.  "So, I'll tell you
what you are going to do for me. I've read about miraculous
healings all my life.  You say you're grateful to me about
Paul?  You're my guardian angel or something?  I say all
this is your fault, for interfering.  You owe me one."
Mulder pointed toward the double doors where they'd wheeled
Scully.  "You caused this, you cure it."

Mike's face looked troubled. "I don't know if I can do
anything, this isn't my usual sort of..." He sighed.  "Okay,
I'll try.  But you know it's not up to me."

"Yeah."  Mulder's smile was a grimace. "It never is."  Mike
evaporated and Mulder took his seat again, wondering if he
should pray.  No, why start now?  If anything, he was pissed
at God, at the consortium, at the justice system, at every
power on the goddamned planet that conspired to make
Mulder's life a torment.  If Scully could just be okay....
Mulder looked up to see two men enter the waiting room.  Dr.
Dietzel he recognized from his own stay in the hospital.
Mulder rose to greet him.

"Mulder, I'd like to introduce an old friend of mine, Dr.
Arthur Jennings.  He's the psychiatrist I told you about."

Dr. Jennings shook Mulder's hand.  He was a paunchy man in
his late fifties, balding, with a short fringe of reddish
hair.  "I'm pleased to meet you, Agent Mulder.  With Dr.
Scully's permission, I read over your medical file and was
fascinated by effects of these so-called mind-control
treatments.  I'm looking forward to trying to help this
young man."  Jennings looked at Paul with interest.  Paul
opened his eyes and stared back, warily, at Dr. Jennings.

Mulder handed Dr. Dietzel the briefcase.  "All the data
we've been able to gather is in here." Dietzel took the
briefcase and both doctors went to the far end of the room
and were soon absorbed in its contents. Eventually Mulder
wandered over to see what they'd found.

"Well,"  Dr. Jennings summed up.  "You have a choice.
Either we administer an antidote and the suppressed memories
and personality return, or we give the final treatment and
impose a new personality."  He looked at Mulder.  "I'm not
certain of the ethics in this case.  I see from the Maidu
Center file that Paul has a criminal past, and was quite
disturbed."

Mulder nodded. "You should also know that in his previous
life Paul was a serial killer with over ten people on his
slate.  I can provide the criminal files if you need them,
but it won't be a kindness to him, or the the rest of
society,  if you restore his old memories."

Dr. Jennings frowned.  "Agent Mulder, are you asking us to
program this man with a socially acceptable personality?
That doesn't seem much different that what his kidnappers
were planning."

Mulder was silent. "That's...not a question I can answer.  I
was one of his victims, but I was rescued before he could
kill me.  I also know what it's like to lose yourself, bit
by bit, through those treatments.... Does a sadistic
murderer have the right to remain a sadistic murderer, even
if a way can be found to involuntarily change his
proclivities?  He doesn't have living family to make this
decision for him.  But do I have the right?"  

Mulder looked into the distance, then laughed a little.  At
the doctors' questioning looks he added "I just never
thought I'd be making medical decisions for Paul Bailey."
Mulder looked over at the bewildered looking man, still
seated in the chair.  "Give him back himself, as much as you
can.  But try to cure the homicidal monster.  I don't think
it was ever his choice to be that way."

The three men walked back to Paul and both doctors were
introduced to him.  At Jennings' suggestion, the two doctors
and Paul went to the far end of the waiting area and talked
quietly. Mulder could feel Paul's eyes on him, begging for
reassurance.  Mulder nodded at him and smiled, then resumed
his wait.

A few minutes later, a doctor with a chart came into the
waiting room.  Mulder immediately rose to meet him.  "How is
she?"  Mulder begged anxiously.

The doctor smiled.  "It's amazing how well she's recovering.
Although she was in shock and bleeding severely when you
brought her in, miraculously the bleeding slowed and we were
able to bring it under control very easily.  The bullet's
out and although we anticipated some severe internal damage,
we actually found very little when we performed the surgery.
She's a very lucky woman."

Mulder grinned.  "Can I see her?"

"She's in recovery.  When she's moved to a room, we'll call
you and you can go sit with her."  Smiling, the doctor went
back the way he came.

Mulder gave the news to Dr.'s Dietzel and Jennings.  


Paul was overjoyed. "I'm glad she's getting better.  I owe
her one for getting me out of there.  And you too, Mulder." 
Paul added shyly. "The doctors say you called them, to help
me with my memory, that I should go with them. Should I?"

Mulder felt vaguely uncomfortable. "Paul, before you were at
the Center, you were very mentally ill.  The same treatment
that took your memory seems to have helped the illness.  If
you could choose to be well, but have no prior memory, would
you do it?"

Paul looked troubled.  "Did I have family?  A wife? Kids? Do
you know who I was?"

Mulder took a deep breath.  "Yes, I know who you were, but
you don't want to know.  You have no living family, and when
you were sick you hurt a lot of people, me included.  If you
go back to what you were, you could start to hurt and kill
people again, then you'd have to go to prison.  This is
another chance for you."

As Mulder finished, he was vaguely aware that Mike had
reappeared and was standing next to him.

"Come on, Paul.  Go for it!  You can have a new life,
finally get a chance to do it right!"  Mike urged.

Paul stared into space and through Mike, then answered
thoughtfully "I think I can lose the memories, if they're
that unhappy.  I don't want to hurt anybody."

Mulder added  "Paul, you have to know, this means one last
treatment.  But I can promise you it's the last, and you
won't be strapped down."

"Will you be there?"  Paul asked quietly.

"Yes, if you need me to be."  Mulder was quietly amazed at
the direction his life had taken, but suddenly he felt as
though a hundred pound weight had lifted off his soul.  He
wasn't afraid anymore.  And he had a feeling he'd seen the
last of these nightmares, at least.

"Mr. Mulder?"  Mulder turned to find a nurse at his elbow.
"Ms. Scully is in her room and awake. She'd like to see
you."

Mulder spared a glance at the group of three, no four men
clustered in the corner of the waiting room.  Mike was
listening closely to Dr. Jennings' explanations to Paul.
Mulder waved to Mike, who waved back, followed by an absent
gesture from Dr. Jennings.



Mulder felt, as he usually did in hospital rooms, like a St.
Bernard dog touring an antique store. He moved carefully to
Scully's bedside, dodging equipment and finally landed in
the side chair with relief.  Scully watched him with a
glowing smile.

"Hey, how ya doin'?"  Mulder asked.  "I was going to bring
you some sunflower seeds, but the nurse frisked me on the
way in."

"That's ok." Scully grinned.  "It would clog the tubing, and
I won't say which."  Scullys stretched.  "I must say that I
feel much better than I usually do when I land in the
hospital. The doctor says I'm making a very good recovery
thus far."

"Oh, I'm confident that you'll have a very swift recovery." 
Mulder smiled mischievously.

Scully frowned.  "Your friend Mike didn't have something to
do with this, did he?"

Mulder nodded and smiled even more broadly. "Yeah, I
blackmailed him into healing you.  I gave him an ultimatum
in a language that a Catholic angel has to understand."

Scully looked puzzled.  "Love?"

Mulder's smile grew soft.  "Guilt."

Scully grinned.  "Come on, Mulder, you admit he's an angel. 
Does this mean I'll be taking you to mass on Sundays now?"

"I dunno, Scully...Maybe if you go with me to the strip club
on Saturday night we could work something out?"


FINIS EST.