Title:  Kyrie Eleison II, Christe Eleison (1 of 9)
Author: Xenith

E-Mail address: 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.

Title:  Kyrie Eleison II:Christe Eleison (2 of 9)
Author: Xenith

 
"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.

Christe Eleison (5 of 9)


"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.

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.