Title: Women's Intuition Author: Jamie Greco jgreco217@aol.com Rating: PG-13 Classification: It's an X-File with UST. Spoilers: Tooms, Anasazi, Christmas Carol, Emily Summary: Mulder is targeted by a woman who has allegedly killed four men in a mysterious and undetectable way. They attempt to gather evidence against her, hoping to break the hold she has on Mulder before she takes everything from him. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are on loan from 1013 as are a couple of plot references. The rest is mine. Archive? Sure, just let me know. "Ma'am, there are four men dead. All four are linked to you. I'd say that's enough evidence for us to come here and ask you a few questions." Mulder waited his partner out from the door frame, not paying as close attention as he normally would. His attention was snagged by the incongruously sleek furnishings of the palm reader they had come to question. Each and every item was either black or white; there was no straying into even the slightest variation of gray or cream. There wasn't an extra art object or fixture or piece of furniture for that matter than was absolutely necessary as long as you didn't count the huge art deco poster that hung over the modest fireplace mantle. The riot of colors that made up the picture was completely engaging; it drew him in and captured him. He grew closer with an intensity on obsession, studying the portrait of a gypsy woman dancing maniacally by the light of a bonfire. In the woods behind the fire, there seemed to be a man who watched her with a palpable despair. The frame seemed to be slightly off kilter, and he carefully reached out to right it but drew back suddenly, realizing that rearranging this woman's art work was unacceptable in his capacity. Still, the urge was almost unbearable. "Why can't he ask the questions?" The suspect purred, nodding at Mulder, who remained completely oblivious to her. "Because this isn't The Dating Game," Scully retorted sharply. "Well, maybe I would feel more like answering if he were the one asking." "Maybe you'd feel more like answering if I handcuffed you and brought you into our field office." "You wouldn't mind talking to me, would you, Mr. Mulder?" she pressed, leaning to one side so as to see around Scully's imposing figure. Mulder raised his eyebrows, taken slightly by surprise by the sudden attention he was receiving from Scully and the suspect. He had completely tuned out, and now something was expected of him. Turning from the mantle and looking into Scully's irritated countenance, he wondered what he had missed and grimaced slightly at her, hoping she'd catch him up without further annoyance. "Mulder, Miss Roderick feels that she might enjoy this conversation better if she had it with you," she snapped as if he had suggested it. Mulder shifted his eyes toward the suspect who looked at him with open eagerness, as if he were going to whip out a velvet case and present her with a long awaited ring. He shrugged slightly and moved to take his partner's seat as she vacated. Picking up the pencil she had left, he tapped it against his other hand. "Well, there's nothing we want more than to make this a pleasurable experience for you, Ms. Roderick--" "Chloe," she interrupted, with a dip of her head. Scully retreated to the far wall and watched her partner play catch up. It wasn't like him to tune out during interviews, and she wondered at the cause. Chloe Roderick was another puzzlement. Just as her apartment, Chloe would give nothing away if a person were to judge her simply on appearance. She looked like a New York lawyer. Her black hair was cut fashionably in a harsh bob with short bangs, and her make-up was obviously a point of pride. She wore a two-piece suit in a deep plum color, and Scully recognized her shoes as ones she had lusted after in vain as a result of their price tag. Chloe's hooded blue eyes watched Mulder with undisguised lust. Scully wondered if Mulder recognized it or might respond to it and felt slightly chagrined at some small, beastly, green-eyed undisclosed entity in the very back confines of her brain. She clamped down on it. "Can I do a reading on you before we start?" "I don't see where that would be necessary," Scully replied. Mulder glanced over at her with an expression that she recognized-amused curiosity. "I'll tell you whatever you want if you let me read you first. I like to know with whom I'm dealing." Mulder shrugged and held out his hand; Scully rolled her eyes and sighed. "Your partner seems a little testy," Chloe observed. "It's not that," Mulder countered. "It's just her turn to be bad cop." "So that makes you the good cop?" "Not if you take a poll at work." Mulder watched her intently as she gazed at his palm. "You have a Celtic symbol painted on your hand," he observed. "I'm very impressed, Agent Mulder." She cooed as she held his hand across the table. "What does it symbolize?" "Power," she said in a stage whisper. "Over whom?" he replied. "Power doesn't necessarily have to be over people. Sometimes it can be between people or for people." "Which type of power do you engage in?" She leaned in toward him and flashed a smile which would have been alluring in a different context; clearly she expected it would be. Scully noticed that Mulder's lack of reaction seemed to raise Chloe's hackles. She quickly dropped the expression and replaced it with the sullenness of an adolescent. "Let's talk about you first," she intoned professionally. Mulder smiled a little and leaned forward, peering at his palm. "You're an old soul," Chloe began. "Oh, brother," Scully intoned. Mulder tossed another grin at his partner. "An old soul is--" "I know what she means," Scully bit off. "Can we move on?" Scully watched with little interest as Chloe closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate on what she found there. She glanced at her partner who was watching the charade as if he had the best seat in the house to the most entertaining show in town. Chloe began to rock slightly, her lips moving as if in silent prayer. When she began to speak aloud, it startled both agents. "You have traveled a long arduous journey which you sometimes feel will have no end. You are saddened and yet empowered by what you have lived through up until now." Scully looked at her partner to gauge his reaction to how close to the bone her words seemed to strike. But his face had taken on the same dreamlike quality Chloe's had. His eyes were gently closed and his chin was tilted back slightly as if he were laying himself bare before her. "I see a life full of longing and yet trepidation...A feeling of deep-seated terror that you might find what you seek.." Mulder began to tremble slightly. It might have been indiscernible to anyone but Scully. She took a step toward him. "Mulder?" she ventured to no avail. She looked quickly at Chloe whose mouth had dropped open slightly as if she had fallen asleep, all the while holding tightly to Mulder's outstretched hand. Looking back at Mulder, Scully watched sweat begin to emerge on his forehead. He licked his lips, then pulled the lower one in and bit against it. "You seek not only what you know is real and tangible, but something...something." Mulder's eyes flew open and he pulled his hands sharply from Chloe, who blinked and shrugged her shoulders as if she had been awakened suddenly, without explanation. "What did you do?" he demanded. "Do? I told you what I was doing," Chloe retorted smugly. "What is it, Mulder?" Scully interjected, moving closer to him. Mulder spun from the chair, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Backing up, he kept his eyes on Chloe's face. "Tell me!" he demanded. "Your partner seems a bit out of sorts," Chloe noted as she yawned aloud. "Shut up!" Scully snapped. She stood in front of her partner and tried to snag his attention from Chloe's placid face. "Mulder!" she called as if he were as far in distance as he seemed in his mind. She fought the urge to slap him in order to draw his concentration but took him by the arm and physically turned him instead. He swiveled his head toward Chloe, his face full of indignation and rage. Finally she pulled him, stumbling from the room. Once visual contact was no longer possible, Mulder was capable of focusing on his partner. He folded his frame slightly and bent into her face. "She did something to me, Scully," he whispered and began to pace in a tight rectangle. "Did what?" "I--I don't know. I just know that she was in my...my consciousness. She took some piece of me, something that...I can feel is missing." "Mulder," Scully began. "No! Scully, don't give me rational explanations. I'm telling you that something...If she did do something to me, it might explain what happened to the other men. Maybe if we can figure what she did, we can nail her." "For what? Theft of consciousness? Mulder, you're not making any sense." Mulder stopped pacing and glanced toward the room where he had left the suspect. His eyes swept back and forth as he tried to focus on Scully, but he felt the need to guard against Chloe's sudden arrival. He leaned over Scully and whispered, "Do we have enough to arrest her?" "We can bring her in for questioning," Scully offered. "Do that. I'm going to look around; see if I can find anything." "Come on, Mulder. You know you can't just look around. Wait for a warrant. With her connections to all theses deaths, I'm sure you can get one." Mulder placed his hands under his suit coat and on his hips and rocked. "Okay," he murmured, slightly mollified. "Are you going to be okay to get in the car with her?" "I'm not afraid of her, Scully," he protested with less than complete conviction. "I didn't say you were. But she certainly has affected you in some way." "I told you what she did, Scully," Mulder retorted. "Whether you choose to believe it or not." His eyes darted around the small house till he caught a glimpse of Chloe, who smiled slightly at him, sending a prickle of gooseflesh up his neck. "Let's go, Mulder," Scully ordered as she took hold of his arm and aimed him back into the living room. But he snapped his arm from her hand and stood in the threshold, not willing to enter. "I'll meet you in the car, okay?" Scully asked, watching his face tensely. Mulder didn't answer, his total concentration fixed on Chloe's face, which conveyed her total lack of interest in the goings on around her, a complete turn around from moments before. "Okay?" Scully reiterated. "Okay," Mulder murmured, turning on his heel and stalking out the door. Mulder sat in their sedan and waited tensely. He had rarely wanted to escape any situation than that of Chloe sitting behind him; holding some part of his mind in her hand. What had he given her? What secret part of himself had he handed over so easily? He was ashamed to have been taken advantage of, as if he had allowed himself to be raped. Worst of all, he was entirely in the dark as to the manner of assault and what he had lost. He only recognized a certain weakness introduced somewhere deep inside of him and the escalating, defensive fear it caused. He jumped a little when Scully opened the back door and tucked Chloe inside, but he didn't acknowledge her at all. "How are you feeling, Agent Mulder? Any better?" Chloe asked, her voice like melted butter. "I told you not to talk to my partner," Scully warned. "I'll be happy to gag you if you speak to him again." Chloe laughed a smoky laugh. "Kinky," she muttered. Scully's overt protection only served to heighten Mulder's sense of violation. His stomach rolled and he bit on a hangnail as he turned his eyes toward the houses that lined Chloe's street as they began to blur with the growing speed of the car. "I'm okay, Scully, " he finally murmured, hoping to reach only her ears. "That's a big strong boy," Chloe mocked from behind him. "I warned you once," Scully snapped. Mulder raised a hand to still her without discussion, and Scully followed his lead. As soon as they arrived at the police station though, Mulder fell out of the car liked poured water, eager to add distance. Scully joined him without releasing Chloe. "I've been thinking, Mulder," she began under her breath. "Do you think she could have drugged you somehow?" Mulder looked over her head, his irritation just barely concealed. "How could she have drugged me? I didn't eat or drink anything. If it were airborne, you'd be affected too." "But she touched you. She didn't touch me." "So you think she had something in her hands that..." He sighed, unwilling to discuss the theory. "Scully, I could feel her," he began, running a hand over his mouth, knowing full well how what he would say would appear to his partner and feeling too exhausted to play their game. "You're probably right, Scully," he finally offered. "Then you should be seen by a doctor," she ordered, still playing by their game rules, knowing full well he wouldn't go unless he was delivered. "Okay, Scully. I'll do that, right after I go back to her house." "You're not even going to try and get a warrant, are you, Mulder?" Mulder placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned down into her face, grinning and agitated. "I'll be like the cat, Scully. No one will ever know I'd been there." Scully shook her head, "Mulder, I don't think--" she began, but he was already set in motion. "Meow," he said as he trotted off. "Great," she murmured before she ushered her prisoner from the car. "I hope he has a few of his nine lives left." Mulder broke into Chloe's house with a backward glance over his shoulder. He prided himself on his ability to do so undetected and expected to find what he needed to know without any hindrance. The drawers were few and far between, so there was little to rifle through. Most of her possessions were displayed on shelves, and there seemed little to discover. He began to go through her books, opening titles on the occult and psychology and various historical essays; nothing that specifically pointed a finger at Chloe's crime, although a number might explain how she had done it. Pulling out a notebook, he scribbled the names of the books he would seek out later. Mulder stood, contemplating his lack of leads, feeling a certain desperation niggling at his brain. There was a certainty within him that if he couldn't understand what she had done to him, he would end up like the four other men he was investigating--cold and lost to intervention. The poster on the wall drew him in once again. He felt strongly that this was how Chloe saw her life-- flying and dancing entirely contained within herself, while men looked on from the outside, pining with desire. Every scrap of power was within her, and it was delightful to her. He cringed a little, identifying with the man who hovered in the bushes, watching, wondering. But he held no desire for her, only a sinking revulsion that hummed in his chest. The only way he knew to be rid of her was to expose her and incarcerate her and strip her of whatever power she held. Mulder headed back to the police headquarters where Scully would no doubt be grilling Chloe. He doubted that she would give up anything simply because Scully insisted; but if anyone could put the fear of the law into the mind of a killer, it was his partner. Hell, she even scared him sometimes. He smiled a little at the thought and threw his car into park, heading into the squat, nondescript building. He felt a little better and made room in his mind for the idea that perhaps Scully was right this time. Maybe she had drugged him some way. After all, he felt entirely better and he preferred to think that whatever she had done had been temporary. He tossed his keys once as he approached the door and then pocketed them. He was pleased to see Scully outside of interrogation, and he called to her. "Mulder," she acknowledged. She drew closer to him, and he could smell her perfume. She was wearing something different lately, and it made him think of...things he should not be thinking of, he reminded himself. "Did you find anything?" she said under her breath. "Nope," he said lightly. "I made a note of some books she obviously had spent a lot of time with. But she's not concealing anything I could find quickly." "How are you feeling?" she asked, stepping back and peering into his eyes. "I'm fine, really." He could tell she was chomping down on the urge to feel his forehead, and it made his heart overflow with affection for her. "Really, Scully," he said sincerely. "I've been thinking that maybe you were right about her." Scully observed him with pronounced skepticism. "What did you just say? I could swear you just said--" Mulder grinned a little. "Yeah, yeah, heap it on." "No, Mulder, I think maybe you were right. She must have done something to you." "Uh-huh," he murmured as they began to walk to interrogation together. "I mean, you're obviously not yourself." "Are you finished?" "For the time being. I reserve the right to continue at a later date." They arrived at the one-way mirror that stood between them and Chloe and watched her silently for a moment. She smoothly sipped a diet soda as if she sat on a southern verandah at twilight rather than the somewhat putrid police station at which she was detained. "Did you get anything out of her?" Mulder queried, still gazing steadily at her. "Just that, although she knew the men in question, she never harmed them in any way and a bunch of mumbo jumbo about deciding out own destinies, our lives being intertwined, blah, blah, blah." Scully stopped talking when she realized Mulder was no longer listening. He was looking at Chloe, his face full of apprehension. She followed his line of vision and realized Chloe was smiling at him, despite the one-way mirror. She pursed her lips into a showy kiss and cocked her head coquettishly. "Mulder," Scully murmured, baffled and suspicious. He didn't respond in any manner. It was as if the projector of his movie had broken while hers continued to play. "How can she--" she began to ponder aloud, before she decided to break Chloe's spell. Pushing at Mulder's arm slightly, she moved passed him and into the room. After a moment, Chloe refocused on Scully. "Well?" "Well," Scully began, glancing over her shoulder and only seeing her own reflection. "You can go home for now. We'll call you if we have any more questions." Chloe smirked and began to gather her belongings. "Agent Scully?" interrupted an officer she didn't recognize. "You have a call," he quickly turned and exited. "Wait!" Scully called after him and he reluctantly turned back. "I have to finish up here," she told him, unwilling to allow the suspect time alone with her partner. Mulder slowly appeared in the threshold. "It's okay, Scully." "I know," she answered. "But I just thought--" "No," Mulder insisted, half of his body still unwilling to join him in the interrogation room and therefore rooted in the hallway. She leaned in closer to him. "Are you sure, Mulder?" He nodded, but still she hesitated. "Go on, Scully, I'll meet you out front and we'll grab something to eat. Okay?" She looked deeply into his newly darkened eyes. "I'm fine," he assured her. With her chest wound tight with anxiety, she walked down the hall, feeling like she was leaving Mulder to be executed. Mulder stood to one side to allow Chloe to leave the room; but she stopped in front of him, almost leaning against him. "Just you and me, huh?" Mulder glanced at her but didn't respond. He willed himself not to back away from her but to hold what little ground he felt he had. She leaned even closer until her lips were close enough to touch his cheek. "Find anything interesting in my apartment?" Mulder finally stepped back from her. "Why in the hell would I go back to your apartment?" "To find...the truth?" He didn't respond for a moment but simply held her gaze, deciding. Finally he conceded. "How did you know?" "Fox, you and I have a bond. Don't you feel it?" "No," he turned out too quickly. She smiled indulgently. "Yes, you do. You know there's something. You just don't know what yet." "Then why don't you tell me now? Save me the trouble of breaking into your house again." "No, I think you should seek out the truth. After all, that's what you do." She began to walk away from him; and he dropped his head, exhausted from her presence. "And Fox?" she purred from her place a few steps down the hallway. He picked up his head carefully as if he feared she might heave something at him. "I just wanted to let you know. As far as your breaking into my house?" She stepped closer once again, and he pulled himself inward, dropping his eyes. "Fox?" she repeated, waiting for him to look into her face, which he did reluctantly and mostly to prove to himself that he could. "Fox, I forgive you." She didn't watch the blood drain from his face, but she supposed it did. Scully waited by the front desk, attempting and air of professional nonchalance; but her insides were twisting around themselves like colors in kaleidoscope. Finally she decided going back for him would be no where near as conspicuous as she imagined and she headed back. Chloe was nowhere to be seen, which either made her feel much better or a whole lot worse. She'd make up her mind when all the facts were in. On the side of 'a whole lot worse', Mulder seemed to be missing as well. Glancing around casually, she finally decided to go back to interrogation where she had left him. When she looked through the one-way mirror into the small interrogation room, the sight of Mulder made her blood feel like dry ice. Quickly she glanced over her shoulder, always aware of damage control where Mulder's reputation was concerned. She stepped through the open door and closed it behind her, knowing it gave her no privacy at all, but still feeling some security from it. "Mulder?" she said quietly as she took in the sight of him. His head was cradled in his left elbow, which was splayed across the mossy green wooden table, his legs were scattered underneath, formless and seemingly oblivious to their relationship to rest of his body. But what made her feel like the lynch pins of her life had been pulled and flung to the winds were his broad, bony shoulders, which shook under the weight of his emotions, whatever they were. "Mulder?" she tried again, and he seemed to twitch slightly. She approached him as if he were a hungry dog, and could either be grateful or ferocious. Carefully and slowly, she reached out her hand and touched the back of his head. His shoulders stilled. "Are you all right, Mulder?" He lifted his head, still keeping his expression to himself. When he finally looked into Scully's eyes, she gasped. His face was soaked with tears but held the manic bliss of a man seeing his child born. Scully reached out and touched his cheek without thinking, and he smiled in a placid but almost broken way. "Scully? He whispered as if he didn't quite recognize her. "Yeah, Mulder, it's me. Are you all right?" He took in a shuddering breath. "I'm...I'm better than I have ever been, Scully. I feel like...god...this must be what heaven feels like." Scully's face tightened into a wary grimace. "Why are you so happy?" she asked tersely. His face puzzled only slightly before it reverted to unencumbered bliss. "I don't remember," he answered as his head lolled back and his eyes closed. "I don't care." For a long while, she simply watched him silently revel in his newfound joy--watching his face take on new expressions, an idea she would have previously considered impossible. But it seemed as if all care- given tension was erased from his face, and she had never realized before now how wracked with anxiety his face normally was. He looked ten years younger, and it made her feel physically ill. She knew she had to remove him from the station without question or even innuendo, and she felt burdened with the knowledge; she knew it would be her burden alone. She knelt next to his knees and took his face in her hands. "Mulder, you're not yourself and--" She looked over her shoulder once again, despite the impossibility of knowing whether they were being watched. "I want to take you out of here. Do you think you can go with me?" She stood again, trying to block him from view. Mulder looked into her eyes, his eyes sparkling. "I can do anything, Scully. Anything at all." With that, he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his head against her stomach. Tentatively she touched his head. "Come on, then, Mulder. Let's go." He released her and smiled at her once again before he rose to his feet and seemed to take a moment to get his balance. "Are you going to be able to walk?" she queried. "Mm-hmmm." "Mulder, don't talk to anyone on the way out. Okay?" "Why not?" "Just as a favor to me. All right?" He raised his eyebrows a little and nodded. "Sure, Scully. Don't talk to anyone." "Are you sure you understand?" He looked down at her, bemused. "I'm happy, Scully, not stupid." "Okay," she replied, a little relieved at his more characteristic reply. "Let's go." Once she had Mulder in the car, Scully felt like she could breathe again. She glanced at him as he buckled his seat belt, his face still a witness to the extraordinary delight he seemed to feel. He looked over at her and slapped his knees. "Let's go," he offered before settling his head back and closing his eyes. It seemed less than a minute before his breathing let her know he had fallen asleep. Scully scowled at the road as she made her way to his apartment. It seemed beyond reason that Mulder's happiness would fill her with such deep seated dread. Certainly, if it were born of some joyous event or discovery, she would share in his bliss. But this most assuredly came from an encounter with Chloe, and she feared would result in untold sorrow. She knew this as well as she knew her way to Mulder's apartment, and she found herself there without much forethought. Mulder felt as if his eyes were epoxied shut. Raising his eyebrows, he attempted to coax them open; but it wasn't going to happen. "Damn," he murmured under his breath. Finally, he grasped the lid with his thumbs and index fingers and pried them open. It didn't help much. The world was a blurry and shaky place, and it only tossed his stomach to observe it. He thought it might be a good plan to get to his bathroom as quickly as possible. But given that wasn't an option he decided to settle for before his next birthday. Slowly...slowly... he raised up on one elbow and the world took another form--lopsided and trembling. He groaned loudly. "What the hell did I drink?" he asked aloud. "Good morning" came the droll voice of his partner. He squinted and cocked his head. "Scully?" "Right on the first try," she observed, although she sounded much more casual than she felt. "I--I'm sorry, Scully. Whu-I don't know what happened. Did you bring me home?" "Yup," she said as she crossed through the threshold. He rubbed his naked belly with his hand. "I guess we'll address whether I have any mystery left when I can form sentences." Scully smiled a little. "Not to worry, Mulder, I still respect you." He struggled to place his feet on the floor. When they co-operated, he gave himself a moment to adjust. "Scully, if you took advantage of me while I was indisposed, I'll expect you to repeat the whole experience when I can keep my intestines from--" He dropped his head into his face in his hands. "Mulder, are you going to be all right?" "You tell me," he directed as he pulled himself upright. "What the hell happened? I don't even remember drinking." "You didn't drink. Don't you remember anything?" He held up his hand and began a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Scully tried to drown out the sound of his retching by pressing the power button on his stereo. Miles Davis covered the sound of his sickness. When Mulder reappeared, he was a number of shades lighter than when he had entered his bathroom. Trembling lightly, he joined Scully in his living room and sunk into the couch. Scully pulled the blanket over him, and he murmured a thanks and waited for the shaking to stop. When it did, he raised beleaguered eyes to his partner. "What's wrong with me, Scully?" he asked beseechingly. She observed him rather sadly and shook her head. "I don't know, Mulder." "You don't know?" he repeated his voice cracking. "I'd like to take some blood, have it analyzed." "Do you have the equipment for that?" "I got it while you were asleep. Do you want to do it now?" "Okay," he answered, nodding slightly. As she gathered her materials, she said over her shoulder, "Tell me what you remember last." Mulder reached his hand out from under the blanket and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes against the searing headache that was forming and building. Pressing his hand against the arm of the couch, he attempted to rise. "Hey," Scully called out. "Where do you think you're going?" "Headache," Mulder mumbled. "I need...I need something for--" "Sit down. I'll get it." Gratefully, he did as he was told, pushing himself deeper into the cushions and blanket. When Scully returned with a glass and pain medicine, she prompted, "Well?" "Well what?" "What you last remember?" Mulder scowled as he swallowed the pills, praying they'd stay down. "I remember..." He cleared his scratchy throat. "Take your time," Scully told him. "You were at the police station." "Mm-hmm" "With..." "Chloe." "Yeah, with her. And I went to meet you there and you left to get a call, right?" "Right. Then what happened?" Mulder took in a deep breath and replayed the scene in his mind, causing his stomach to tumble and fall. He leaned forward, fairly certain he wouldn't make it to the bathroom. Scully reached for the bag she had brought her supplies in and handed it to him. Hovering for a moment, he got control over his insides and sat back. "Scully?" he whispered. "Yeah?" she leaned forward and placed her hand on his forehead; she guessed 102 at least. "This is going to be hard...this is going to sound strange." She chuckled a little. "Even for you?" He glanced at her without humor, his face taut and anxious--the very opposite of the previous night's. 'What is it, Mulder?" "I remember what happened. But...maybe..." Just tell me what you think you know. We'll sort it out." He upper torso slid toward her; and he rested his head on her shoulder, swallowing hard. Scully was a little taken aback by the gesture but curled her arm around his head and stroked his hair. "I was...she was leaving and I was, trying to stay out of her way. But she came back and we talked about my being in her apartment." Scully sat up a little. "She knew? How?" "I don't know. She said we have a bond now." He sat up, reaching for the water, and swallowed it convulsively. "A bond? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "I don't know. I--I don't know. But she kept saying my name, my first name, until I looked into her face." Everything came back to him in a rush, and his only thought was to escape it. He reeled onto his feet, becoming entangled in the blanket, and swayed precariously. "Mulder!" Scully cried, jumping up and grasping him firmly around the waist. But he struggled weakly against her until she got a better grip. "Scully, she had my mother's face! My mother's voice!" "What?" she asked incredulously. "I looked into her face, but...but she was my mother, and I responded to her like she was my mother. And she said...she said..." "Mulder, sit down." Scully cajoled, pulling on him. But he twisted away from her. "She said she forgave me." "For what?" "For everything, Scully! I felt like she was forgiving me for every failing, every disappointment. From the time I lost Samantha to my impotent attempts to find her. For not being the kind of man she could be proud of! Everything! I felt like every burden I had ever carried was just...shrugged off, and I was completely free of all the pain...all the agony of...of..." Scully watched him, horrified at his sorrow, at his misplaced sense of uselessness. Angry tears filled his eyes, and he swiped at them. "Now it's all back. All the shit I carry around day after day, it's all back, tenfold! I'm not sure if I can...I just don't know if I can stand the implications of that." "Mulder, it wasn't your mother. You know that." "But, Scully," he replied brokenly, "it felt like it was. It was all I needed." He dropped heavily onto the couch and drew silent. Silence enveloped them for what seemed a long time. Scully attempted to form some sort of attempt to comfort him but was absolutely unable. So she let her mind meander through the facts she had so far. "Mulder," Scully finally began thoughtfully. "I wonder if this doesn't have to do with the death of those other men." "What?" he asked as he wiped his face. "What if--" She shook her head. Mulder smiled, just the smallest bit. "This must be one of those spooky moments you hate so much." She nodded, sharing her own tiny grin. "It is. I have definitely been possessed by a Mulder moment." She began to pace a little. "Okay, this will probably bring on another of your faux marriage proposals, but here goes. What if, when you were with her at her apartment, what if she took from you...I don't know..." Mulder's eyes narrowed. "She found my heart's desire. She found the thing most important to me." "Yeah, and what if she used that, just to..." "To gain power. But, Scully," he began, getting to his feet and heading for the desk. He pulled out the files in the case. "I don't remember any of the other victims' families or friends referring to illness. Do you?" Scully took hold of the files, opening and scanning. "No, they all mentioned the well-being, the happiness...Here, Daniel Isaac's mother. Agent: Could it have been a suicide? Mrs. Isaac: No, no way. I had never seen him so happy and positive. It really was the only time in his life I had seen him that way." Mulder flipped open another file. "Okay, here's Michael McCarthy's roommate. He said the guy was energetic, upbeat. There's no sign of suicide anyway, not overtly. There's no sign of any trauma. It seems like all of these happy-go-lucky guys just dropped dead." "So none of them seemed to experience the extreme illness, but, Mulder, none of them seemed to have experienced the extreme manic reaction you had either." "Maybe something went wrong." "Maybe...Mulder, what if she didn't get to your heart's desire?" "What do you mean?" "You pulled away, remember?" "Yeah." She shook her head, feeling foolish for thinking so far out of her usual realm of science and logic. Mulder watched her intently, waiting. When it seemed as if she wasn't going to voice her theory, he cajoled her. "Come on, Scully. It can't be any worse than any number of my theories." "Mulder, have I ever failed to be suspicious of any of your theories?" "From time to time. And you usually come around in any case. Come on, Scully. Come around first. I need your help." He looked at her, his face full of despair. "Okay, Mulder, but this is wacky." He nodded eagerly. "I love wacky." She looked at him almost shyly and began haltingly. "Maybe she never made it to your heart's desire. So what if she got something else? Maybe what drives you--your guilt over your sister, your desire to make that right, to appease your mother. If that's so, maybe your reaction isn't what she was expecting and maybe her power over you isn't complete. Maybe you can fight her, and that's what your illness is about." Mulder grinned affectionately at her. "Scully, do you prefer plain, yet elegant china or the new florals? I'm willing to let you make the final cut." Scully smiled back. "We'll talk about it at the engagement dinner. I think, first, I'm going to talk to the families again. Maybe we missed something. If the victims became ill, we should monitor your health more closely. But if they didn't, there's obviously something different about you." "So I've been told," he replied, pulling his blanket tightly around him. "Then I'll go over the autopsy reports." "Sounds fun." "Maybe if you feel well enough, you can research what we know about her so far on the Internet. Maybe she's part of a group or...I don't know. What did you call that symbol on her hand?" "It was a Celtic symbol. She said it was for power," he answered, his voice becoming muddied. "Okay, I think that's a good start." She started to gather her belongings as Mulder watched her through heavy lidded eyes. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, slightly slurred. "I wanted you to--" She paused, studying his demeanor. "Sleep. A Lot," she amended. He grinned. "I think I can manage that," he replied, sliding to a prone position. Scully watched him for a moment and headed for the door. "Hey, Vampirella. You wanted some of my blood, remember?" he called after her. Scully rolled her eyes and set down the files she was carrying. She sat on his coffee table, and he stretched out his arm to her. He took no notice of the needle prick and seemed entirely unaware of the procedure. Shifting his eyes, he watched her as she capped off the vile and placed it in her briefcase; finally his eyes drooped shut. Scully felt sure that he would sleep, but his voice barely cracked the silence. "Scully, if all of this is true, I'm the only evidence that could possibly put her away." She looked back at him as he regarded her with more than a little fear. "I know, Mulder," she answered, resigned and wary. Scully bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to keep her frustration in check. She was at her third stop that afternoon and was experiencing an overload of annoyance and hated herself for it. After all, she knew first hand the all encompassing misery that comes with the loss of loved ones and could easily relate to the overwhelming grief she was witnessing with Daniel Isaac's mother. The middle-aged woman rocked herself back and forth, holding a wrinkled and sodden handkerchief to her eyes. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she murmured, waving her freehand. "It's just that...he was just so...so..." Her gulping tears began anew, and Scully prepared to leave. It was obvious this woman was beyond reason and understandably so. But, the woman had been unable to speak through her tears for going on thirty minutes, Scully was unable to comfort her and she felt the ticking of an unseen clock in her mind. Scully just didn't have any more time for the piteous woman's grief; she felt strongly that Mulder was in danger from a source she couldn't understand and she felt like the only barricade protecting him. Despite her empathy, Scully had to move on. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Isaac," Scully offered. "I realize this is a very difficult time for you. Perhaps I can call back later." "No!" Mrs. Isaac protested. "I want to help." She sniffled loudly into her handkerchief and sat up. "I can do this." Scully lowered herself into her seat. "Mrs. Isaac, have you ever met Chloe Roderick?" Mrs. Isaac sprang to life, pulling herself forward to the very edge of the chair on which she sat. "The woman is the devil incarnate! She killed my boy!" "Why do you feel that way?" "Is that what this is all about? Have you finally caught her? Do you have evidence that--?" "Mrs. Isaac, there doesn't seem to be any evidence." "Evidence! You want evidence? My boy was living his life. Maybe he wasn't always happy or content every minute of every day. But he was living. From the first time I heard her cursed name, I had this feeling, you know? Like prickly all over the back of my neck. You watch out for that one, I told my Daniel. You watch out." Her sobbing began anew. "Mrs. Isaac, did Daniel seem...happy...when he was seeing Ms. Roderick?" Mrs. Isaac cocked her head and considered Scully, as if she had stopped speaking English. Finally she shook her head. "What good is happy once you're dead?" "So...he was happy?" "Yes. Yes, he said he was happy." "Did he say anything else about how he felt about her?" "He did say one thing...a lot." "What was that?" "That he felt she...respected him. That she was the only person ever that he felt respected him and that that made him the happiest man on earth." Scully nodded. It was more of the same. Each and every person she had visited this afternoon had mentioned the victim's reliance on Chloe for some unfulfilled desire and felt completely sated with her. It made her skin crawl. "Mrs. Isaac, did Daniel develop any sever flu symptoms at any time during his relationship with Ms. Roderick?" "No, no," she answered dismissively. "He was healthy as a horse until the day she killed him." She returned to rocking for a moment, her mind obviously wandering. Suddenly she focused on Scully, looking into her eyes beseechingly. "Why do you think he thought I didn't respect him? I loved him! I loved him like my own life! It didn't matter to me that he never finished his education. I only wanted what was best for him. Do you understand?" Scully nodded. "I'm sure he knew you loved him," she offered as she rose from her seat. Mrs. Isaac took hold of her wrist. "Are you sure? If I thought he didn't know--" Scully bent over from the waist and looked into the woman's face. "I'm sure he knew," she said with as much conviction she could muster. After all, there was no reason to sweep up the crumbs of her life and throw them to the wind. The woman released her slowly, and Scully returned to gathering her things. She turned slightly before the woman began to speak again. Stifling a guilty sigh, Scully stood and waited her out. "You know my boy...he held my hand his whole life. I remember when he was in first grade, the other mothers told me, 'Just you wait. Next year he'll let go. He'll be too embarrassed to hold your hand in public next year.' But he never did. He kissed me every time he saw me. He used to say, 'Who's my favorite mama?' That's what he'd say and then he'd twirl me around...my little boy twirled me around." Scully watched as the woman's face twisted in agony. It was too painful to watch for long, and she lowered her eyes. "Do you have children, Agent Scully?" she asked, her voice tightly wound around her sorrow. Scully didn't answer at once. She had never mentioned her daughter to anyone but family...and Mulder. "Yes," she finally said. "I had a daughter." "Had?" "Yes," Scully replied, trying to keep her face neutral, professional. "She died very young." "Then you know. You know how the love almost eats you alive. You know how you'd stand between death and him any day of the week...if only you had the opportunity. But death comes...death comes and doesn't beg your pardon." Scully nodded, unable to speak for fear of spilling out every tear she always held till night time, alone in her bed. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, with you being an FBI agent and all. But sometimes I lay in bed and picture my hands around her neck, squeezing the life from her." "I understand." "I don't like a world where she still walks around, and my son is cold...my son is..." The weeping began again. "I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry. But I have to go." She held out her hand, and the woman grasped it with both of her own. "Has she killed others?" she asked as if she were awakening from a dream. "I can't share that information," Scully answered. Her face becoming more tender, she added, "I'm very sorry about the loss of your son." "And I'm sorry for your loss." The woman climbed slowly to her feet. "I pity the family of the next man she fixes her sight on." Scully paused and concentrated on taking a deep breath. "Thank you for your time," she offered and walked out the door, concentrating on every trembling step. Scully sat across from Mulder's apartment, looking up at the window that had the faint cross of old masking tape. She wished there were someone to whom she could throw out some kind of flare. Logic told her that, despite the many friends and family members who pointed a finger at Chloe, the deaths were not mystical. She knew that there was an explanation she was missing, perhaps in the autopsies, performed by doctors whose experiences did not encompass the full range of what could kill a person. Scully knew. She knew more than she wanted to know, really. Once she looked through the files, she felt sure something would present itself to her. Years ago, before she was assigned to the X-Files, she would have been limited to standard medical knowledge. Now she felt like she'd seen almost everything, and she dreaded finding that which she hadn't. Gathering her files and notes, she glanced up again at his building. He would be expecting answers, trusting that she would know what to do. His trust constricted her throat, and it only grew tighter as she entered his lobby. The elevator came down quickly and she entered, preoccupied with her thoughts. It took her a minute, upon the doors opening on his floor, to realize she was looking at Chloe Roderick as she sauntered down the hallway to his apartment. "Hey!" she yelled, causing the woman to turn on her heel. Chloe rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she drawled impatiently. "What am I doing here?" Scully repeated incredulously as she advanced aggressively down the hall. "What the hell are you doing here?" Chloe glanced at her nails. "I thought of something that might help Agent Mulder with his case." "I'll bet you did," she replied, sneering. "You can tell me." "I'd rather tell Agent Mulder," she replied coolly as she turned from Scully. Scully grasped her arm tightly and spun her around, pushing her hard against the wall. She leaned tightly into Chloe's surprised face. "You will leave Agent Mulder entirely alone. Is that understood?" she hissed. "What is it about me that threatens you so, Agent Scully?" "I'm not even slightly threatened by you. I am simply telling you what's going to happen. And that is that you are going to stay away from my partner." "Why?" "Why? Officially because you are a suspect in a number of murder investigations and thereby prohibited from fraternizing with Agent Mulder." "And unofficially?" she replied, pulling her arm from Scully's grip. "Because I said so, " Scully replied in a low guttural snarl. "And what have you got to do with anything? I was under the impression that you are simply his partner." "Then you are woefully misinformed." "How so?" "Agent Mulder's well being, his...You know this is really nowhere near any of your business. Let me just explain to you how things are going to go here--" "Scully?" Both women head's snapped toward the barefoot, rumpled Mulder who had opened the door to his apartment and stood squinting at them. "Mulder," Scully acknowledged as she stepped back, revealing Chloe to him. His face transformed into a mask of fury as he started down the hall. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked. Scully blocked him when he was a few feet from her. "Mulder, let's go back into your apartment," she grunted as she pushed against his chest. "This is a bad idea," she admonished as she leaned her weight against him. "A bad idea?" he echoed, looking into Scully's face and then transferring again to Chloe who watched him curiously. "You tell me what you did," he demanded, reaching out to her and grabbing part of her coat. "Agent Mulder, are you not well?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "You tell me!" "I don't understand," she answered, cocking her head and making no attempt to release her sleeve from Mulder's grasp. "I woke up this morning feeling like I had been on a three-day drunk!" "Mulder," Scully attempted again, finally able to push him back a little. "I can't eat! I can't think! And it all started when you told me--" "Mulder, stop! Let's go back into your apartment. I have something to tell you." He glanced at her and back at Chloe and once again to Scully. "Come on, Mulder," she said with authority. He seemed to respond; he turned and allowed her to lead him down the hall. Before she closed the door behind them, Scully looked back at Chloe, who watched them with her hands on her hips, looking every bit as puzzled as they felt. Scully closed the door behind her and watched Mulder pace; his agitation was palpable. "What was she doing here, Scully? Did she tell you what she was doing here?" "She said she had information about the case that she wanted to share with you." "Bullshit!" "I'd have to agree with you there." "So, why? Why would she come here?" "I don't know, Mulder. My guess is that she expected you to be happy to see her." "Happy?" "That seems to be the result of her initial approach. Everyone I re-interviewed today mentioned the happiness factor. Although nobody experienced the same level you did or became ill after. How are you feeling, by the way?" "Feeling?" he asked, looking slightly puzzled. "I'm fine. Scully, I got some information--" "Mulder, I want to know how you really are." He paused and considered the question and shrugged a little. "I feel a lot better actually." "Really?" "Yeah." He frowned. "What?" "I feel better since I came in from the hallway." "Mulder--" "No, I was laying in here before I heard the noise in the hallway. I felt like shit. My head ached, my stomach was churning. Scully, I feel better since I saw her." Scully sighed. "Are you sure it's not an adrenaline thing? Or maybe it's a psychological--" "Scully, my symptoms are gone." She approached him and felt his forehead. "Your fever is gone anyway." "It obviously has something to do with her, and I think I may have some information about that." He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. I went on-line while you were gone--" "I thought you said you felt like shit." He frowned at her, slightly confounded. "Yeah, I did. But I had to know." "Okay, what did you find?" "I think I found pay dirt. I used a lot of different key words having to do with what we knew. And I found this group of women who have combined some aspects of ancient Celtic beliefs--" "Like the power symbol?" "Among other things...with the results of a scientific study of women's intuition done in the 1970s." "Women's intuition! Mulder, I don't think--" "No, wait. Listen, Scully. You'll like this." He glanced at her, grinning. Scully smiled to herself when he looked away. She was glad to see some of his spark returning. "It was done at Harvard by a doctor." He reached for a paper he had printed out. "Dr. Herbert Benson. See, Scully? Not spooky at all." "Not so far." "He introduced the concept of 'relaxation response.' It's the opposite of fight-or-flight. It says that one of its characteristics is the presence of slowed down alpha brain waves. A presence you can actually track on an EEG screen.. Now, get this, it's associated with feelings of well-being and relaxation. And Dr. Benson found that, in this state, intuition flourishes." "So, you think that Chloe has found a way to--" "Use the knowledge for evil rather than good," he finished in a radio announcer's voice. "So," Scully began as she rose slowly from the couch. "If what you're saying is true, she could use the information in two ways. One: to produce a relaxation response in her victim, virtually taking away his natural fight-or-flight response. Two: she uses her own heightened intuition to procure information about what would bind the victim to her emotionally." "That's right," Mulder agreed. "I love when you talk like this. Are you sure you're not using the technique on me right now?" Scully ignored him as she continued to muse. "The symbol on her hand would explain why she does it." "For the sense of power over her victims," Mulder confirmed "Right, but how does she kill them?" "I don't know. But it would be easy to do so what with their own ability to sense danger taken from them," Mulder observed. "But, Mulder, none of this seems to apply to you, except for how she discovered what she thought was your heart's desire." "I think you were right, Scully. I pulled away, and she didn't get far enough." He got up from the couch and began collecting various articles of clothing from surrounding furniture. Once he slid his feet into his shoes, he grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair. "Come on, let's go." "Go where? Mulder, you're sick!" "I'm fine." "For now." "I made an appointment with the woman who is sort of the grand Puba of the group I found on the Internet. She's agreed to tell us what she knows about Chloe. By the way, she says Chloe's real name is Margaret Murphy. I ran a check on her and didn't come up with anything useful." He was still preparing to leave as he continued to impart information. Scully watched him in exasperation, knowing there was no stopping him short of tying him to a chair. Not the worst idea she had ever come up with, she acknowledged silently with a small grin. What?" Mulder asked, noticing her expression. She flushed slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice. "Nothing, Mulder. I was just wondering what your real heart's desire was." He looked into her face with an expression of tenderness that made her swallow hard. "Scully," he began, placing his hands on her shoulders. "My real heart's desire..." He looked down and up again. "...is that the Knicks will draft a decent forward next year." Scully shook her head at him. "Thanks for sharing, Mulder," she said dryly as she began to follow him out the door. "Hey, I'm just a naturally open kind of guy," he threw back over his shoulder as he jogged toward the elevator. Mulder's slide from glib joviality to contemplative solemnity was not gradual. He was his usual enthusiastic self when he bounded from the elevator in his building and outside to Scully's car. But they hadn't put a mile under their belts before he began to slouch down in his seat and grow silent. Scully glanced at him from time to time, noting his decline with growing anxiety. He lowered his head into the palm of his hand and seemed to be jolted by every twist and turn in the road. "Mulder?" she finally ventured. "I'm all right, Scully," he snapped off. "I can see that," she retorted. He sighed. "The woman at the cloister--" "It's a cloister?" "Of sorts. She seemed to have some apprehension about talking to us. It was like she feared retribution." "Did she say that?" "She alluded to it. I think we'll have to be careful how we talk to her." "Not a problem. Mulder, if you want, I can go in and talk to her while you rest in the car." "I'm not an invalid, Scully!" he bit off. "No. No, Mulder you're not. But you're not yourself either. I think we have to take into consideration that whatever has happened to you affected your brain as well as your physical health." "So you think I'm not capable of doing my job!" "I didn't say that--" "Maybe you should call Skinner if that's the case. Maybe you should let him know that I'm unfit for duty." He continued to hold his head during his tirade, rocking slightly. "Mulder, you're not making sense. I'm not attacking you. I'm simply looking out for you in the only way I know how. I'm sorry if I've been too heavy handed." His posture relaxed slightly. He shook his head and then turned to her. "Scully, I just feel so helpless. I feel like I handed myself over to her to be...manipulated. Worse that that...assaulted. It makes me feel like an incompetent, vulnerable, nonentity." "Mulder." She laid her hand over his gently, but he pulled his hand away. "I don't want your pity, Scully." "I'm not offering it. I just want you to know I don't see it that way. Not at all." "I--I just wanted you to know how I feel so that you'll understand when I'm not my usual delightful self." "I'll keep that in mind," she grinned lightly. "Come on. Let's get this over with." "Yeah," he agreed with a hopeless edge in his voice. "Let's get it over with." The building was little more than a conglomeration of hoarded store fronts--an entire strip mall of quiet, meditative women. Mulder and Scully were passed through the first store front which held a faint odor of sawdust, and they followed their silent guide through various compartmentalized areas--books, kitchen, more than one almost empty area where women sat together in silence. It was peaceful but almost bordering on eerie. Mulder and Scully exchanged no words. Not even their customary silent communication was utilized, both feeling anxious and under the gun. When they came to their apparent destination, their companion knocked lightly on the door and backed away. "Come in," a clear voice rang out, and Scully pushed open the door. They walked in, one after another, gawking at the highly unexpected surroundings. It looked like an English library in an opulent castle. Books shelves braced the walls, floor to ceiling; an Oriental rug, deep and richly colored covered, most of the floor; stained glass had been hung over the old metal windows, giving the light a still, reverent feel. "Hello?" The woman behind the desk said in an expectant way. Scully strode forward, holding out her hand. "Hello, I'm Agent Scully. You spoke with my partner on the phone this afternoon?" Mulder stepped forward also, and took the woman's hand in his. "Hello, yes, I'm Anne Templeton. Nice to meet you in person, Agent Mulder." But her face contradicted her words. She nodded at the leather couch a few feet from her desk and followed after them, lowering her into the wing chair that faced it. "You had questions concerning a former student of mine, Margaret Murphy?" "Yes, ma'am," Scully answered. "We have reason to believe she may be involved with a crime--" "Murder," Anne stated emphatically. Scully turned and glanced accusingly at Mulder. "No, no. Your partner didn't tell me, not aloud." "How did you know then?" "Well, let's just say I put two and two together. I knew Margaret since she was a little girl. Her mother brought her along when we were a new organization. She picked up our teachings so quickly." She glanced at Scully. "Your partner explained our beliefs?" Scully nodded, her skepticism borne across her features. Anne smiled indulgently. "It always surprises me when women refuse to embrace their power, the unique strength that flows from their womanhood." "Me too," Mulder agreed, only slightly facetiously. Anne looked into his face and realized he was not being purposefully antagonistic. "So, you believe?" "The better question for my partner would be what doesn't he believe in?" Scully chided gently. "Well, I used to believe in everything, but then I waited up last Christmas." He leaned forward. "Rudolph's a myth." "Anyway," Scully continued, dismissing Mulder with a turn of her shoulder. "I would have to spend more time looking into your belief systems before I could make a decision on whether or not I believe." "What does your heart tell you?" Anne asked, sitting forward. "My heart tells me that I'm running out of time. I need to know if there is anything you can tell me about Chloe Roderick that might help our case." Anne sat back, obviously disappointed. "As I told your partner, we asked Margaret to leave when it became apparent that she wasn't following the spirit of our beliefs." "In what way?" Scully pressed. Anne pressed her lips together. "She came to me to talk once. I really shouldn't be telling you this; it was in confidence." "Ma'am, lives may be in danger," Scully prompted. "I don't doubt it." She looked at Mulder curiously. "Your illness--is it a result of Margaret's meddling with your psyche?" Mulder's eyebrows raised. "How did you know?" Anne shrugged. "It's what we do here. It's what we learn. We are able to use our intuition as a tool, hopefully to help." Scully looked from the accepting Mulder to the placid Anne. "Are you sure you are not in contact with Ms. Roderick?" "I can see where you might jump to that conclusion, but no. I asked Margaret to leave when she began to speak of power and the need to control people with our methods, which were instituted only to bring about a fulfillment of women's potential to complete themselves. Margaret didn't feel complete; she felt hollow. I fear what she needed to fill herself, or what she believed she needed, was a stripping of power from men. It wasn't enough for her to build her own strength. She saw men as the holders of all the power. She didn't see that the only way to counter was to build from the inside." Mulder sat forward slightly. "When you say she stripped power from men, what do you mean?" "She found some way to plunder the psyche of the unsuspecting. She did it here first. Many of the sisters complained that she would repeat long held secrets, secrets only that person should have known and then used those secrets to push them off center." "What do you mean?" Scully asked. "What you are, what you are made up of, is peculiar to each person. It's like a tall wall; your life experiences are the bricks. If you share those experiences with a friend or a loved one, they make you stronger, shore you up. But if someone comes in the night and pulls out various bricks without your knowledge...Well, you're bound to tumble over." "And you're saying that Chloe Roderick is...pulling out bricks?" Mulder asked "I said that's what she was doing here. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she were going way beyond that now. She had a very angry inner core. I can see where that might become dangerous with time and practice." Mulder glanced at Scully, who stood up, holding out her hand. "Thank you for your time," she told her. "I think you should be aware," Anne interrupted. "There is something in her physical touch that moves her from the realm of what we do into her own destructive path." She looked intensely at Mulder. "Don't let her touch you, Agent Mulder. It's vital to your survival." Mulder nodded; and Anne turned once more to Scully, reaching to shake her hand. "Feel free to come back if you decide to find your inner power," "I don't think it's missing," Mulder observed as he took his turn in bidding Anne farewell. Mulder squinted up at the clear sky accusingly as he stepped out of the metal door. "Has the sun exploded into our atmosphere, causing the death of our civilization, or is it just me?" "I think it's just you, Mulder," Scully answered as she folded herself into the driver's seat. Mulder hesitated, wondering if the twisting of his stomach would result in another session of vomiting and hoping to spare Scully the experience if the answer was yes. She leaned across the seat. "Are you coming?" she asked through the closed window. He nodded once, regretted it, and leaned carefully against the car. His world began to melt down at the edges, and he closed his eyes against it. Scully was beside him before he thought time and reality would permit it. Against his will, his knees buckled slightly. He lowered toward the ground, but Scully braced him and helped him regain his footing. "Mulder?" she asked, not following up the thought, although he knew what she wanted to know. Was this a temporary lapse or a more permanent situation? Should she take him to the hospital or continue to make it his call? How could she help without making him feel helpless? "Just--just help me into the car, Scully. We have to talk." He leaned heavily upon her small frame, his breath coming in short gasps, his skin pale and damp. Somehow she settled him into the passenger seat and walked around the back of the car, feeling hopeless and powerless, distraught. When she got into the car, he nodded forward, indicating that they should go, and sat quietly for a moment. "I think we should seriously consider the hospital now, Mulder," she ventured. He shook his head tentatively. "We both know they can't help me there." "We don't know anything of the sort! We don't know what's wrong with you, Mulder." "After everything you heard in there, you still refuse to believe what Chloe has done to me?" "What? What did I hear in there? Am I supposed to believe she's sapping your strength with women's intuition? Come on, Mulder!" "All right then, you explain it to me! You give me a better explanation!" Scully shook her head but didn't answer. "I know...I know it's hard for you to accept this kind of thing. So maybe you should just look for your logical explanation while I go back and talk to Chloe--" "Have you lost what's left of your oversized brain?" Mulder grinned a little. "Gee, Scully, I'm flattered. You think I have an oversized brain?" "I think you have an oversized ailment of the brain. Whatever is going on with you, Chloe is at the heart of it." "And I'm the only one who can get past her facade. If she believes I am under her power, she is more likely to tip her hand. I can find out what she's doing and maybe then reverse it and, as a bonus, find out how she killed those other men." "That is, of course, if you can find that out before she kills you in the same manner." "She won't kill me." "You're the one who came up with the theory that she eliminates the fight or flight response." "Scully, either you believe or you don't. You can't disregard what I believe and what Anne Templeton believes Chloe Roderick is capable of but hold me back using the same information." "All right," Scully countered. "But I have to know what's going on. I have to be able to cover your back." Mulder let that soak in for a minute. "Okay, we'll go by the Gunmen's and get some sort of monitoring device. You can listen in on the whole thing and charge to the rescue if it goes bad." "It's already gone bad, Mulder. I think we need to take you into the hospital and bring Skinner in on what's happening. We're FBI agents, Mulder, we can use the resources of the Federal government." "Okay, okay, Scully. Let me just try this one meeting with her, with you at my back. If I get nowhere and I still feel like last week's shit, I'll go into the hospital, no questions asked. I swear on Elvis' grave." "Yeah? Well, I hear he's not really in it." "Oh, Scully," he sighed, leaning his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes. "When you talk like that, it makes me tingly all over." She glanced at his pale face and realized he had won this round but renewed a firm resolve that she would see him in the hospital before the next twenty-four hours had come and gone. The sound of Mulder's breathing filled Scully's car and her consciousness. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. She counted the breaths unconsciously; but mostly she was simply aware of the quickness, the telltale strain of a body taxed to near exhaustion. Sometimes she could hear his heart, if he moved in just the right way, the pen that held the monitoring device amplified the pounding in a very frustrating way. Scully could only begin to monitor the speed at which it beat before he would move in some way that would disconnect her surveillance of his health. "Maybe I should have borrowed a pocket protector," Mulder murmured as he made his way to Chloe Roderick's apartment. "It's part of the look, you know?" Scully shook her head. His words came out in short huffs as he struggled to stay upright, but he meant them to relax her. She felt no such comfort. The microphone concealed in the Gunmen's pen told her far too much about his condition for her to feel any ease; when she coupled that with his destination, she felt something akin to panic. "I'm here, Scully," he panted. "I haven't been on a date for a long time. Maybe I should run out and get some candy...or flowers." Scully bit her lip. He had stopped walking and was obviously trying to catch his breath. "What do you buy the woman who wants to put you out of your misery?" She fingered the door latch. If his breathing quickened past where it was at this point, she would run out and reign him in before he went any further. "I'm going in." Within a few seconds, she heard the tinny gong of Chloe's doorbell and she held her breath. "Agent Mulder!" Chloe sounded pleased but not surprised. "Ms. Roderick." "It's nice to see you. If I knew you were coming--" "I thought you could tell the future," Mulder countered. "The future is always in motion." "Don't tell me...Yoda: The Empire Strikes Back." "You a big science fiction fan, Agent Mulder?" "Depends on who you ask. Can I come in for a minute?" "I suppose if I don't let you, you'll just break in later." "It's a bad habit of mine. My psychiatrist says I should redirect my impulses. Maybe get a hobby." "Does he have any suggestions?" "It's a she, and she thinks maybe cat burglary. I'm thinking I need a new therapist." Chloe chuckled lightly, and Scully could hear Mulder moving. She supposed he was in Chloe's home now. Scully pulled her coat up around her neck where the sound of Chloe's voice had just caused the hair to rise up. Her hands clenched the steering wheel and let it go, over and over. Mulder's voice sounded calm and assured. Anyone else might think he felt that way. But Scully recognized his barrage of glib humor as defense tactics. She felt impending doom as if it were sitting in her back seat, smiling into her rear view mirror. "Can I get you something to drink?" Chloe offered. "What've you got?" "Coffee, tea, soda, wine, beer?" "Uhh, tea would be good." Scully sighed and fidgeted. She felt strongly that he shouldn't be ingesting anything in this woman's home. But what could she do? Break down the door and scream, "Put down that cup?" She hoped Mulder had the good sense to not to actually drink, but she doubted it. On the other hand, she realized his breathing was evening out, indicating that his body was bouncing back. It didn't make her feel relieved though; an anxious voice inside her mind told her that he was recovering due to Chloe's proximity and that she, therefore, might actually hold Mulder's health in her hands. Scully didn't want to believe that or even think it. She concentrated on Mulder. "Want to keep me company while I make it?" Chloe cooed "Sure," he answered, following her into the kitchen. "So," she began as she filled the kettle. "Why are you here, Fox? You don't mind if I call you Fox, do you?" "Well, I prefer--" "Ahh, yes. Mulder. You prefer Mulder." "Are you going to answer all of the questions you ask me?" "No. Sorry. Where's your partner?" Mulder paused, and Scully assumed he was mocking Chloe, allowing her the time to answer for him. Finally he answered, "I don't know." "You don't know?" she asked incredulously. "No," he said casually. "Why?" "Well, it just seems to me you practically carry her with you. In some way..." She trailed off ,and Scully went on alert. Was Chloe reading Mulder? "She's my partner. We're close, but we're not linked at the hip." "Much to your dismay." "What is that supposed to mean?" "Never mind. So, are you here about the case?" "My partner told me that you had said there was something you wanted to share with me...about the case." "About the case?" she echoed with a challenging tone. "Yeah." "And you're not here to find out why you feel this bond with me?" Silence crackled, and Mulder's heart rate picked up. "What if I were here for that? Would you tell me what I want to know?" "And what do you need to know?" "What--what did you do to me? Why am I so sick?" "Is that all?" "Why...why am I so...connected to you?" Scully hoped fervently that he was acting. His voice cracked with despair, and his intensity swirled around the interior of her car and her mind. Her won breathing rasped harshly against her throat, and all she could do was listen. She heard a chair scrape, and she continued to listen. "Mulder, I don't know why you're sick," Chloe answered tenderly. "Honestly, I don't. I've been wondering myself. Are you sick now?" "I--I was. I feel really good now." "So when we're together, you feel good?" "Yeah." "Then we should stay together." "Chloe, I don't even know you. You're a suspect in a case I'm investigating. I can't stay here with you." "But you do know me. If you search your soul, you know me. Somewhere, somewhere we were together and now we're reunited. Don't you feel that?" "I don't know what I feel." "I guess that's understandable. Listen, Mulder, when I met you, I knew you. I simply reconnected with you. That's what you feel. You just haven't recognized it yet." "How do I know that you haven't done something to me that you're just putting a very pretty face on?" "Like what? Cast a spell? I'm not a witch, Mulder." "I just...I need the truth. If you know me like you say you do, you know I have to know the truth. Maybe then...maybe I could..." "Okay, Mulder. Let me think about this. Maybe I could be a little more forthcoming. Could I call you tonight?" Chairs scraped, and the tea kettle went off. "I guess we're not having tea," Chloe observed. "Maybe next time." "Before you go, Mulder. I want you to know something--" Silence ensued, and Mulder's heart began to thunder in his chest. Scully sat upright, adrenaline pumping into her blood. He moaned slightly, and she opened her car door. "Have you ever felt anything like that?" Chloe whispered huskily. Never," Mulder murmured, his breathing growing short again. "I--what was that?" "It was our connection," Chloe answered, her voice still coquettish. "Can you imagine what our love making would be like?" There was no answer, except for Mulder's renewed heart pounding. She was kissing him, Scully realized, repeatedly; and he was allowing it, enjoying it...immensely. "Dammit," Scully hissed. "He was told not to let her touch him." "I have to go," Mulder suddenly interjected. "Where?" Chloe whispered. Mulder didn't answer. Was he considering staying? Scully opened her car door the rest of the way and slammed it shut. "I have work to do...I--I'm sorry." "No!" Scully called out. "That's okay, Fox. I forgive you." Mulder stepped out into the bright night and tilted his head back to observe the sky. It was a stunningly beautiful tableau. He had read literature that had compared the night to velvet and the stars to diamonds but it didn't seem to give the sky her due. He smiled up at it. "You're ravishing," he directed upward. Slowly, without direction, he began to walk up the street. His chest felt as if it had opened up and released every weight he had carried in his heart for all of his life. And now all he was left with was delight and wonder and what he had been missing. He had to find a way to be with Chloe. He knew that now. How had he missed it up until this point? There was no doubt now, no concern over repercussions. Only the assurance that only Chloe could take what was left of his life and turn it into what he couldn't even dare to dream about before he met her. Tears formed in his eyes: of joy and assurance that, from now on, he would be within her and never allow himself to be without her. He turned slowly, wondering why he had left her behind. Scully sat anxiously awaiting Mulder's reappearance. She had heard him direct a compliment but had no idea to whom. He had obviously left Chloe behind, so where was he now? She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. Finally making a quick decision, she moved as quietly as possible out of the car and around the corner toward Chloe Roderick's house. She saw him a few feet ahead of her and snapped off his name, but he was completely unaware of her presence. She trotted toward him, keeping low and watching the windows of the house. "Mulder!" she called out. This time he turned around, spotting her and smiling broadly. "Scully!" he replied. "Shit," she murmured under her breath, catching up with him while shushing him at the same time. "Mulder, where are you going?" "Scully," he began, his eyes dancing as he took hold of her by the arms. "I know this is going to sound nuts to you. But I've got to go back to her. I'm going to go--" "Mulder!" she clipped off again as she pulled him toward the car. "You're not making any sense. Don't you remember we're surveilling her?" "Not anymore, Scully. I know she didn't kill anyone. She couldn't." "Mulder, do you remember at the jail? When she told you she forgave you? Do you remember that?" His eyes darted back toward her house, and his expression dulled slightly. "Did that happen again?" Scully asked, knowing full well that it had. "I--I don't know." "Then let's go back in the car and discuss it. Let's try to get some perspective here." She took hold of his arm, and he stumbled after for a few steps but suddenly he snapped his arm from her, looking confused and angry. "Maybe I don't want perspective, Scully. Maybe I just want to feel wanted and good enough." "You're not going to get that from her, Mulder. You're only going to get a cold box." "Why? Why can't you believe someone would want me because they see something in me?" "I believe that, Mulder. Mulder, I do. But it's just not her. Try to realize it. It's not her." His shoulders drooped slightly, and his face fell to despair. "Who then, Scully?" "Come on, Mulder. Come with me," she replied, without answering the question.. They had been driving quite a long while before any conversation was exchanged. Scully noticed that, although Mulder had fallen into quiet contemplation, he fidgeted and squirmed at a rate far beyond his usual restlessness. His feet shuffled and his fingers tapped and his head nodded to the beat of an unseen rhythm. From time to time, he would come close to rising out of his seat entirely as he suppressed what seemed to be colossal stores of unspent energy. The high he was experiencing post-Chloe was obviously lasting much longer than the last time. Even taking into consideration the quick tumble from elation that came with the realization that Chloe was not his long lost love. "Want to go dancing, Scully?" he finally piped in. Scully's face expressed her surprise. "Dancing?" "Yeah, that'd be fun, wouldn't it?" "I hope you realize that's a very uncharacteristic request." "Just because I never said it doesn't mean I never thought it." She smiled indulgently at him. "Maybe next time, Mulder." "Next time?" "Aren't you supposed to be getting a call from Chloe tonight?" His head dropped. "Yeah." "Shouldn't we go back to your place then?" "I think we could eat first." "You're hungry?" "Yeah!" he replied, his enthusiasm rebounding. "Let's chow down; what do you say?" "Doesn't sound very inviting, Mulder." "No! You can choose, Scully." "And you'll go wherever I say?" "Yeah!" "Okay, Dante's" Mulder retreated quickly, "Scully," he pleaded. "What, Mulder?" "How about Hong's at my house?" "Hong's? Again?" "I thought you liked Hong's." Scully sighed. "I like Christmas. It doesn't mean I want it every day." She glanced over at Mulder who watched the passing scenery with hyper fascination. "Okay, call now and we'll pick it up," she conceded, if only to put the matter behind them. "Maybe we can dance while we're waiting," Mulder suggested. "Maybe," Scully answered, glancing at him again. "But I get first choice of fortune cookies." "Why's that?" He sat quietly for a moment before he answered. "Because nobody should get my fortune, Scully. Least of all you." Mulder and Scully struggled with the many bags and boxed they were toting into Mulder's apartment. When the door swung open they rushed through, depositing their bundles on the coffee table. "Mulder, are you expecting company?" "You just never know who's going to drop in here, Scully." "That's very true, and we can feed just about anyone and send them home with leftovers." "I don't think Krycek deserves a doggy bag." "You're expecting Krycek?" Scully asked as she went into the kitchen for plates. "I never expect Krycek, and yet..." He sank into the couch as Scully reappeared. She eyed him warily. "How're you feeling there, Mulder?" "Just swell," he answered, sitting up and digging into the bags. "Is that so?" "Okay, I'm a little winded. But let's take into consideration my advancing age." "Let's just keep it advancing," Scully murmured. Mulder glanced up at her face, saw the tension there and regretted it. "I'm okay, Scully." She nodded and opened up the rice container. Mulder continued to watch her, determined to allay her fears. "Did you get my blood test back?" "Nope, I was busy listening to your romantic interlude." Mulder opened another white container, sniffing the brown sauce and setting the box down again. "I'm sorry about that, Scully." "No need to apologize," she answered a little stiffly as she speared a shrimp with a chopstick. "How are you really feeling, Mulder?" "I'm...sliding." They both sat silently mulling this over. Mulder slumped back against the couch. "I hope this doesn't mean you expect me to eat all of this food," Scully told him facetiously, but with more than a little anxiety in her voice. "Just put it in the fridge. I'll eat when I wake up." "Is there room in there for all of this?" Mulder chuckled. "Just slide the mustard over, Scully." He slid his head onto the armrest and raised and dropped his feet behind her. "Why don't you go get the blood test results, and I'll sleep for awhile?" "I don't think I should leave you alone, Mulder." "I'm sure you enjoy the enchantment that is my snoring, Scully, but I'm sure I'll be okay. At least..." He yawned mightily, "...till you get back." He nodded his head a few times and was gone. Scully sighed and began to pick up the multiple containers. "I guess you can't get into too much trouble here on the couch." Mulder's dreams were multi-layered and disjointed. One segment had little or nothing to do with the next, and they threw him from one extreme state of mind to another. His subconscious clawed from one unstable cliff to a different, but equally shaky under footing and he longed to awaken, but he couldn't find his way out of his nightmares. "Mulder?" A lifeline, he told himself as he struggled to open his eyes. "Mulder, wake up. You're having a bad dream." Her cool hand stroked his forehead and helped bring him forth. "What time is it?" he asked when he could make his mouth obey. Her voice sounded amused. "It's a little after ten." "At night?" "Yes." Her hand still moved over the planes of his face. It felt soothing and peaceful and...kind of intimate. He forced his eyes open and looked into Scully's face. She looked at him so tenderly, so full of concern and affection, it made him want to reach out and pull her close. Of course, he didn't. "What did you find out?" he asked. "Find out?" "About my blood test." "Oh. It was normal." "Normal?" he asked, amused. "Yeah, why?" "Well, what happened to all the medical mumbo-jumbo that usually accompanies these types of statements?" "Do you want mumbo-jumbo?" "Maybe just the mumbo. You can give me the jumbo later." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Okay, let's just say your blood work looks normal and leave it at that for now." "Okay." He nodded his head and realized his headache was gone. Carefully, he opened his eyes and wasn't assaulted with pain. He looked as Scully's face and was taken aback by her unusual expression. Her eyes were downcast and her face uncertain. "What is it, Scully?" he asked tenderly. She looked up at him again and dropped her eyes. "I've been thinking about something, Mulder. Something..." "What?' he asked, his curiosity on full tilt now. "Maybe it's a bad time to bring this up." "It's okay. I'm feeling a little better since I slept." He propped himself up against the arm of the couch and watched her face studiously. "While I was out...getting your blood test..." She sighed and twisted slightly away from him. "Mulder, I don't know how to say this." "Scully, it's me. Whatever you have to say, just say it. It's just me." She grinned at him a little and touched his arm. "I know that." She took in a very deep breath. "Ever since we've been working our current case...or at least since you've met Chloe...I've realized that you were attracted to her and I--" "Hold on a minute, Scully. Do you really believe my attraction to her was something that came from me?" "Well, you seemed--" "Any attraction I felt was manufactured by her. I feel victimized by any feelings I've had for her." Scully's expression froze, and Mulder touched her cheek. She didn't speak for what seemed like a long time, and Mulder drew his hand through her hair. "What did you want to say to me, Scully?" She stood abruptly, leaving Mulder's hand suspended for a moment. He frowned, confused. "I guess I wanted you to know, Mulder...I realized that I didn't like you having feelings for her. I felt jealous." Mulder stood up slowly, testing his unpredictable legs. When they seemed to support him adequately, he followed after her. "You were jealous, Scully?" She nodded tensely, her back to him. Mulder touched her shoulder, and she turned around slowly and looked anxiously into his eyes. "I--I guess I have feelings for you that would be frowned upon by the Bureau. I guess that's what I wanted to say." "Scully, I...I--" She walked away from him, shaking her head. "You're what? Shocked? Frightened? Repulsed?" "No!" he replied pleadingly. "No, I guess I'm...just surprised." Her face reflected her humiliation, and Mulder wanted desperately to rectify that. "I'm flattered, Scully." "Oh, my god!" she murmured, putting her hands over her face. "That's what men say when they're not interested." "No!" he cried out again. Reaching out as he walked toward her, he took her hand in his own. "There's a good reason no sane woman wants anything to do with me. Oh god...I'm not saying you're not sane. What I'm trying to say is..." He pulled her toward the couch and lowered himself and, by means of his arm on her shoulder, brought Scully along with him. "...that I'm flattered and delighted and grateful." "But you don't feel that same powerful desire you feel for her." "Scully, she took from me what should have been given. She took from me...what I wanted to give to you. I just never thought..." Scully's face was still and unreadable. It was a little nerve wracking to Mulder that he couldn't see what she was feeling; he had known her so well for so long. He leaned into her and a little under her face. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, and I've totally accepted that it would just be another dream of mine. That--" Scully put her hand over his mouth to silence him and placed her kiss behind it. Scully sat by the side of the road and read over Mulder's chart. His white count was up; his body was obviously fighting off some infection. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Infection or invasion? Could it be that his body was fighting off Chloe Roderick's invasion? If so, was the failure of that fight what killed those men and could still kill Mulder? Perhaps it was like the rejection of a transplanted organ...she shook her head and put her car in gear. An unexpected noise made her glance warily around her car. The noise crackled and snapped and seemed to be coming into focus. "I'm flattered-----delig-----ful---." It was Mulder's voice. Or it seemed to be. It was hard to tell with the interference. As she drove toward his apartment, it became obviously him. She smiled, realizing she had left on her monitor and was picking up Mulder at home. Her smile quickly melted into a frown of consternation. She wondered why he wasn't asleep, who he was talking to. Silence was spattered and crackled with interference, but within a few minutes the silence was more pure. "Scully," she heard him sigh. "Scully..." "Why don't we unplug the phone?" she suggested. His mouth was so firmly attached to her neck that it was a matter of talking or continuing. There was no choice. Mulder continued, moving back to her mouth, pulling her back to him as she stretched to disconnect his phone. "That feels so good, Mulder," she said as she sank back into a more prone position. He stopped for a moment and looked into her face, savoring the expression he had never seen. "You're so beautiful," he offered as his eyes took in her face. "I just can't believe--" "Me neither," Scully replied, pulling him against her aggressively. "Are you sure?" Mulder murmured against her hair. "It seems so sudden. I don't want you to be unable to look at me in the office on Monday." Her face turned slightly petulant. "Don't you want this, Mulder?" "Are you kidding me? I want this more than anything. More than anything in the world." His own words resonated a minor chord within him. He tried to make contact with whatever was disturbing him; but she was kissing him now, her lips sliding over his jaw and down his neck. His skin prickled and he drew an arm back. A thought made its way to the forefront of his mind. "It's like you found my heart's desire. Like you're giving me the thing I wanted most in the world." She unbuttoned his shirt slowly and pushed his shirt back from his shoulders. "Hey," she asked as she kissed the scar there. "Where'd you get this?" Scully raced through the city, her mind screaming impatience and frantic concern. She monitored the conversation and realized without a doubt that Mulder realized that he was being duped by Chloe. But she wasn't sure if he was emotionally or even physically capable of dealing with it in an effective manner. She reached for her phone and made a call for officers and paramedics. Very quickly, Mulder put space between himself and Chloe. Scrambling to his feet, he backed off ten paces before he stopped. "Mulder?" she asked, her voice tremulous, her eyes wide. "You--you're not Scully." "Mulder," she replied indulgently. "You're not yourself. I knew I was pushing this along too quickly." "No more bullshit! I know who you are!" "Of course you do. You're just a little confused because you've been ill." "Yeah, I've been ill. You've made me ill." He watched her face in fascinated horror. There was no suggestion, not the slightest hint that the person who looked back from his couch was not his partner. But he knew in his bones and his blood that this woman was simply a representation of his own fantasies and daydreams which had come back to haunt him in the most debilitating way. Yet there was some part of him that screamed to relax against her, to feel her skin, that felt no fear. The woman stood up and approached him, watching him curiously as he held out his arm. "No. Back off," Mulder demanded. A sneer that didn't fit Scully's face appeared there. "You stupid son-of-a-bitch," she said, her voice cracking with rage. And then her face followed suit, but not slowly, not so Mulder could adjust. But with a quick snap, Chloe stood before him. Mulder's stomach rolled and tightened. He backed off two more paces, his face taking on the look of a cornered, wounded animal who still hopes his countenance could strike enough fear to protect himself. His arm remained stiffly in front of him. "Don't you realize that now any strength you have comes on loan from me?" she snarled. "Don't you understand that I can take and give at will? That I have all the power here?" "I understand that you're sick enough to believe that," Mulder growled as he glanced around for his gun. "I put your gun away," Chloe said, as if he had expressed his desire to find it aloud. "We don't want anyone getting hurt, do we?" "Do we?" Mulder repeated. "Why are you doing this to me?" "Because I thought we could be together. I thought you were different. And, of course, because you're a very attractive man, Agent Mulder." "Just my luck. Someone finally finds me attractive, and she's a maniacal killer. Why are all the sane ones taken?" She lurched forward and grabbed his arms. He felt his body draining of strength as if it had mind and spirit of its own and was simply choosing to depart. More frighteningly, he felt his body begin to relax against her. He knew she was draining his of his natural response to her attack, but he couldn't make himself stir to defense. Silently she held her grip, watching as his life flowed away from him. He began to feel a certain peacefulness, an acceptance, although a part of him tried to shake that off. Something inside of him refused to beg her, but he never took his eyes from her, and she could see the spark in him begin to die, like a cloud floating over the moon. She loosened her grip a little; it was no longer necessary to hold him so tightly. Instead, she embraced him and stroked his hair. He felt as if he were being hollowed out, that everything he would hold most dear was being siphoned from his soul--his hopes, his dreams, his secret longings, all escaping him piece by piece. She released him, and he stumbled backward as she watched with contempt. "You're not as stupid as I thought. The others were so pathetic. They didn't ever understand they would die. They couldn't believe I'd kill them. But you--you know, don't you, darling?" His knees gave way, and he plunged toward the floor as Chloe backed away. With the last of his strength, he rolled over. She knelt between his legs and then straddled him, hiking up her skirt. She ran her eyes over his body, his face, a small spark of remorse coming to her surface; but she swallowed it down like the bitter pill it was. "I guess you're no use to me now," she complained as she stroked his stomach through his open shirt. "I--I guess every cloud has a silver lining," he stammered. "You're no use to her either. How's that for a silver lining?" "N-never was," he replied with a deep sigh. She leaned over his body and drew herself over him, and he turned his head. But she grasped him tightly by the face, pulling him around to face her and harshly kissed his mouth, biting his lip as she withdrew causing blood to well up there. "It's really too bad," she observed rather sadly as Mulder's eyes closed. She petted the side of his face and pulled herself to her feet. Mulder heard her heels hit the floor as she left and felt the slightest relief. But, he knew now that she had taken everything that mattered from him, everything that propelled him forward and made him open his eyes every morning. She had left him with one no options, only to lay here and die on the floor, and his regret was so bitter he could taste it in his mouth. He never realized it was the blood from her kiss. Scully pulled up at the same time as the paramedics, identified herself, and entered the elevator with them. They were all silent as they were brought to their destination, but Scully screamed inside of her mind and wondered if the sound might carry. When they reached his apartment, the door was open and Mulder lay still and pale on the floor except for the vivid blood at his mouth. The paramedics worked over him, but she didn't attempt to help. She knew he was dead. She only hoped they could revive him. As she watched them pump his heart for him, her rage began to bubble and then overflow. She gazed at his placid face and longed to clean the blood from his mouth, longed to protect him, now, even after the fact. The paramedics worked feverishly around him, but she didn't see them. All she could perceive was the incongruous stillness of the man she knew she loved but had never gotten around to telling. The man who had been waiting to hear but had to settle for a false reading of her lines. "We've got him going," one of the young men told her. "We're going to take him in and hook him up. See what's going on." She nodded, unable to speak around her fury, knowing that Chloe had used his love for her, a love unspoken to anyone but that evil woman, a love that had been wrongfully diverted into the soul of a depraved... "Will you be driving with him?" She didn't answer. In her mind, she was wrapping her hands around Chloe's neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. "Ma'am?" "No," she answered. "I'll keep in touch. But I have to go somewhere before I go to the hospital." She grabbed hold of the arm of one of the men before they left his apartment. "Don't let him die," she told him as if it were in his hands. Scully arrived at Chloe's home, fully expecting that she had the audacity to think that no one would be capable to call her accountable for what she had done and therefore had simply returned there as Mulder lay dying. She snapped open her car door and approached Chloe's door, her palm on the butt of her gun. But as she drew closer, she saw that the door was flung open. Her heart picked up speed as she entered the pristine house. She called out her name, but there was no answer. As she rounded the corridor into her bedroom, she realized why. Chloe lay lifeless in a black silk night shirt, her head twisted in an unnatural position, her eyes wide open, caught forever in an expression of utter disbelief. As Scully drew nearer, she could see the bruising around her neck that had caused her death. She felt slightly light headed since she had pictured causing Chloe's death in the same manner so vividly. It almost made her feel responsible; but she felt no remorse, only a slight sense retribution attained. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she called the line the paramedics had given her. "I'm calling to check on the status on Fox Mulder," she said and waited as she was put on hold. "Agent Scully?" "Yes." "He seems to be gaining ground. He's breathing on his own although he's still unconscious." "Thank God," she whispered. "Any idea what happened to him?" "Yes," she answered and hung up to call the coroner. Far off in the distance, he saw a light. He had heard somewhere that he should go to it, but he was just so exhausted. So he tried to ignore it, hoping the light might come to him. "Mulder," came a very sweet voice. So much love lingered in the pronunciation. But he was surprised that even here in heaven he was called by his last name. He decided he should have changed his first name in high school as he had planned. At the time, though, he couldn't decide. He had wanted something ordinary like Bob or John. But not Bill--he never thought of using his middle name. "Mulder, come on. It's me." His heart squeezed in horror. She had killed Scully too, and now her life was ended. His hatred raised up like bile in his mouth. There was an accompanying tone that seemed to raise with his anger. Were emotions choreographed to music here? Odd. "Mulder, I know you can hear me. You're in the hospital. You're going to be all right." Very odd. He tried to move his mouth. It hurt, but it seemed to work. "How?" "How?" she repeated. "How am I going...to be...all right?" "Can you open your eyes?" Scully prompted. They felt swollen shut, but he worked hard and was surprised to find he had the strength to open them slightly. Scully was smiling brightly at him, and it unnerved him. He felt unsure of his own reality. "It's me, Mulder," Scully assured him, but he looked away. "You got the scar on your shoulder when I shot you so that you wouldn't be accused of your father's murder." Mulder watched her uncertainly running his tongue over his bruised lip as he contemplated her. "Okay, on our first surveillance together, I brought you dinner. You said if there was iced tea in the bag it could be love." "Scully." "Yeah." "Scully," he repeated with assurance in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Have you started interviewing new partners yet?" "Mulder," she murmured gently. "It's Friday. You know you can never find agents in town on a Friday night." He smiled briefly and nodded, swallowing saliva harshly. "I guess it's my lucky day." Scully didn't respond, only continued to watch him come around. "Scully?" he asked after a moment. "Hmm?" "Why aren't I dead?" "I'd like to take a little credit for it. I called the paramedics as soon as I knew Chloe was in your apartment. They were able to stabilize you--" Mulder attempted to sit up, but he had to reverse course immediately. "How did you know she was in my apartment?" "I heard you on the monitor." Mulder closed his eyes. "Oh my god." "What?" "You heard what I said?' She lowered her eyes, even blushed a little. "I heard." "I'm sorry, Scully." She gently placed her hand over his. "Why?" "I'm sorry you...I didn't mean for you to know." "Why?" "Because I don't want you to feel you have to reciprocate or leave me." "You know what I hate, Mulder?" "What?" "When you don't let me speak for myself? What makes you think you'd know what I'd say in that circumstance?" "Because I think I know you, Scully. If you felt that way about me, you would have told me by now." "Well, you obviously don't now me as well as you believe." Mulder's mouth moved but no sound came out. "Mulder...I want to talk about this. I really do. We have a lot to say to each other, and I think we need..." She stopped, suddenly shy, and Mulder was enchanted. She placed her fingers over her mouth and looked into Mulder's eyes, and he couldn't think of anything to say. He simply grinned and nodded. She shook her head slightly to gather her thoughts and began again. "But I have to go down to the coroner's office and I'm overdue." "The coroner? Why?" "Mulder...Chloe is dead." He succeeded in sitting up abruptly this time and the room spun like a drunken mind. "She's--she's--" "She was murdered, Mulder. I found her strangled in her house." Do they have any idea who might have done it?" Scully thought back to a conversation between mothers. How Daniel Issac's mother had said she would like to squeeze the life out of Chloe Roderick. She felt more empathy with her than she would care to admit, and she felt less than comfortable with it and with her decision to not bring the conversation to the attention of the authorities. She simply couldn't be the one to point the finger at the woman who might have done what she had intended. "I'm sure there was more than one person that might have cause to kill her, Mulder" was all she said, her sorrow kept tightly inside her heart. "That's why I'm alive," Mulder told her. Scully raised her eyebrows. "Somehow I knew you were going to come to that conclusion." "Scully, she walked out the door with...whatever keeps me alive. I'd be dead if she were alive." "Well, you almost died. I thought I'd lost you." Mulder nodded. "I thought I'd lost me too." She touched his hair lightly and leaned over his face, hovering for a moment and looking at his features, at his broken mouth, and finally she kissed him just below his eye. He smiled openly at her. "My mouth doesn't hurt that much, Scully." "Yeah, but it looks like hell." He shrugged, still delighted with what he had received from her. She touched his face and turned to leave, but he grasped her hand and she turned to look at him. "But when it looks better?" She nodded. "When it looks better," she confirmed and slipped her hand free and left. Mulder watched her go, his heart thundering and wondered how, even for a moment he could have mistaken Chloe for Scully. The thought of Chloe made his insides recoil, and somewhere deep inside of himself he felt the smallest bit of her left behind. He also felt certain he could chase that away with Scully's help. Picturing Scully's face as it hovered above him was enough to redirect his every thought. He touched the bruise on his mouth and smiled because it felt like the best promise ever made to him. And he knew Scully well enough to know she always kept her promises. His heart filled up to the brim and spilled over. Author's notes- The study sited by Mulder is real as is the name of the scientist involved. I'd love to hear from you if you liked it. Thanks for reading.