Possession
by Amanda Rex

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Content Warning: NC-17 for non-consentual sexual content

The characters herein are the property of 1013, Fox and Chris Carter. No infringement on their copyright is intended. Their usage here is for entertainment purposes only.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At precisely 6:05 a.m., Judith's alarm produced the most hated noise known to man, ripping her from her dream and throwing her unceremoniously back into reality. She groaned as she sat up, twisting her body toward the offending device, groping for the button that would restore the silence.

She pulled back the covers, yawning as she swung her feet to the floor. After pulling on her robe, she shuffled her way to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

She avoided looking at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, a habit she'd perfected after years of practice. Two quick flicks of her wrist turned on the shower, and she quickly shed her robe and nightgown to get under the torrent of water before the hot water ran out. She only had about fifteen minutes before the spray against her body would begin to turn cold, a fact she'd learned through bitter experience. As she squeezed out a half dollar sized dollop of shampoo into her palm, she suddenly realized she'd forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan.

"Dammit," she whispered to herself. Not only would it make dealing with her curly, frizzy hair more difficult, but she'd soon find herself scrubbing away mildew from the most unexpected and distasteful places in her bathroom.

A bathroom should be immaculate, a remembered voice seemed to whisper to her.

She began to rush, scrubbing her hands through her hair and washing away the lather of the shampoo, repeating the process with conditioner a moment later. Careless in her haste, her eyes burned from the stray shampoo lather running down her forehead. She reached blindly around the edge of the shower curtain, pulling her towel from the rack to wipe it away. When she'd managed to get the shampoo out of her stinging eyes, she saw that she'd opened the shower curtain too far -- water from the antiquated showerhead had spilled out through the opening, soaking her shower mat and the surrounding tile floor.

"I'm so clumsy," she said to herself, passing judgement automatically. Clumsy. The word echoed in her head, changing from her voice to someone else's. "It's too late," she said to herself, pulling the shower curtain closed to stop the flow of water to her bathroom floor. Too late to feel stupid about flooding her bathroom. Too late to feel bad about a lot of things.

Suddenly, she got a chill, as if she'd accidentally left the door open and a breeze from the air conditioner was making its way through the room. The chill went away as quickly as it had come, and the room was once again bathed with oppressive humidity. She paused, pondering the rapid changes in temperature, when she heard a noise. It was a squeaking noise, coming from the direction of the sink. She turned off the flow of water to listened more closely, despite the soap lather that still covered her body. The only noise that invaded the silence of her bathroom was the sound of the remaining water disappearing down her noisy drain, and she began to feel silly for being afraid. Long after the noise from the drain had stopped, Judith heard nothing but her own heartbeat, her own breath -- both reassuring sounds that reminded her she was alive, and safe. She reached down to turn the water back on, and as her hand grabbed the knob, she could have sworn she heard it again, faint but distinct. Her heart began to beat faster, her breaths coming deeper and faster as fear gripped her, their sounds no longer reassuring. Some part of her knew already, despite the utter impossibility, who was responsible.

No, she thought. She'd lived enough of her life in fear, she wouldn't let some imagined noise send her into hysteria.

Her brain searched for some explanation for it, finally remembering her cat. That must be it. He must have slipped into the bathroom with her, and he was probably trying to climb onto something. His paw pads could easily make such a noise if he'd slipped on the dewy porcelain. She tried to picture it in her head, she tried to re-create the scene to convince herself. Though she didn't truly believe, she took in a shaky breath and prepared to scold him.

"Forte! Get down."

"He's not coming back," she whispered. "You saw it with your own eyes." Even if Forte wasn't responsible for the sounds, it could be the pipes, or sounds from her neighbor's apartment echoing through the ventilation system. There could be a thousand explanations, she tried to tell herself, willing her hands to stop shaking. It was time to be practical. She switched the water back on to wash away the soap.

She turned around and around in the shower, scrubbing her skin, suddenly convinced she couldn't be clean enough. Her body itched under her fingers, reddening as she tried to get clean. She didn't realize what she was doing until the hot water ran out, and the cold water had just begun to sting her abused skin.

She stepped shakily over the edge of the tub, nearly tripping on it, and a memory of his voice came to her. 'You've got no grace at all. Don't you know how you embarrass me?' She closed her eyes, wishing it away, but it only seemed to call forth his remembered voice again. 'Cover yourself up. Who wants to look at you, anyway? You're so big. Just look at those thighs. What have you been eating?'

Frantically, she tried to cover herself, as if it would protect her from the memories invading her thoughts. Even in her haste, she avoided looking at even a shadowy image of herself in the steamy mirror as she reached for her robe. She secured the terrycloth belt around her waist. She calmed after she'd covered herself, finally feeling safe. Her eyes drifted quickly over the mirror as she turned to wrap the towel around her hair.

The towel dropped soundlessly to the floor as her eyes fixated on the image before her. Scrawled in the fog of the mirror, in careful, familiar handwriting, were the two words that had controlled every move she'd made for five years of her life. Two innocuous words which, when paired, were the most terrifying thing she'd ever faced.

"I'm watching." Two simple words written on her mirror, simple words which had the power to destroy her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Byers leaned his neck alternately to each side, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles. He was up, as usual, much earlier than either Frohike or Langly, and he had already spent an hour or so reading through the new information posted to various websites dedicated to tracking news of the strange and unusual. A part of him reflected on his life as he read; he lived in continual surprise that the strange and unusual had become his stock and trade.

He'd found a number of items that piqued his interest before he finally got up from the computer to fix himself some breakfast. Just as he'd cracked several eggs into the frying pan, he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He verified that all the recording and tracing equipment was on and functioning normally before he picked it up. Several of the gauges sprung to life as his took the receiver from its cradle. A modified caller-id device had already registered the number and its origin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw the name of the company the call was being placed from.

Before he could stop himself, his concern overcame his finely-tuned sense of caution.

"Judith?"

"John, I need your help. I don't know what to do. I've been sitting in my office for an hour now, just staring out the window. I can't think. I need your help."

"Where can I meet you? Should I pick you up there?"

"No. You said we shouldn't be seen here together. Someone might figure out the..." Byers had warned her long ago never to speak of the alias.

"The diner. You know the one I mean. Do you think you're being followed?"

"I couldn't possibly...well, I don't know. Listen, John, I can't explain anything right now."

Byers reached over to flip a few switches on the apparatus attached to the phone, barely suppressing his inward-directed anger for leaving the tracer and recorder on for so long.

"Listen, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You'll be all right. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." His time estimate was unrealistic -- he knew that as he heard himself say it. She needed him sooner than that, but it would be a miracle if he saw her within the half hour. "Don't panic if I'm late, though. I'll be there as soon as I can," he added, just so she wouldn't worry.

He rushed to erase any sign of his conversation; he knew he didn't have the time to be as thorough as he wanted. He settled for simply running the tape back and erasing the last number registered on their call-id readout before grabbing the keys to the van and rushing out the door. He hoped his friends' curiosity wouldn't be aroused by any of the clues he left behind. This was the one secret he still jealously guarded from them, and he had no intention of trusting anyone with it unless he could no longer protect Judith on his own.

----

Soon, but not as soon as he'd wanted, Byers walked through the doors of the diner where he'd last seen her. When she still had the name he'd called her when they were kids, the name she could never have again. Without having to look, he headed for the booth in the back where he knew she'd be.

As he rounded the corner, he was shocked at what he saw. He knew she'd dyed and cut her hair; she'd done that shortly before he'd taken the picture he'd placed into her doctored driver's license. He was relieved to see she'd put on some of the weight she'd lost during her days with...him. If it wasn't for the look in her eyes, he'd have been happy to see her looking healthier.

"John," she whispered to him as he sat down.

"Judith," he answered, simply. He wanted to ask her what she needed him to do, but he sensed she needed time to tell him in her own way.

"I'm sorry I had to bring you here. I know you said we shouldn't do this unless it was an emergency." She was apologetic in a sadly practiced way, a subconscious, reflex response, the same way most people would say 'thank you' when someone held open a door for them.

"You don't have to be sorry. If you need me, you know I'll be here for you." He couldn't maintain his patience any longer. "What's happened?"

She explained the events of that morning to him. Her voice became eerily calm and even as she neared the end of the story, her eyes fixating on a point somewhere in the distance. He recognized her stark, emotionless expression immediately. It was the same as the one she'd worn on the witness stand as they'd cross examined her, trying to paint her as a liar, a manipulator. She'd simply shut off, the shock and disbelief finally getting to her as they assailed her character, accused her of being a cold-blooded killer. He remembered it because it had made him fear for her life, fear the jury would misinterpret it, convict her, give her the death penalty. Thank goodness...but there was no goodness to be found in this.

"I don't know what's happening, John. Who's doing this?" she finished.

"Was there any other indication someone had broken into your apartment?"

"Nothing. I checked around the doors and windows. The insulation in the windows hasn't been disturbed. The door was bolted, and the chain on it was still fastened. The alarm never went off, and it was still activated when I checked it this morning...afterwards. I don't know how it could have happened. And the words that were there...you know what they mean. It's him...but it couldn't be."

"There has to be an explanation for this. You can't go back there. I'll set you up somewhere else where I can keep an eye on you. Can you take any vacation from work? I don't want you to raise any suspicion there. Just in case."

"I have two weeks saved up. What can I tell them? I'm supposed to give them a week's notice before I go on vacation."

"Judith, quit if it comes to that. I'll drive you back there and wait for you in the parking lot. You could come back to my place, but I've got some friends there who don't know about you."

"Can we trust them?"

"Yes, if we have to. But I think it's safer for you if no one knows about your identity other than the two of us."

"I know, John. I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate -- "

He cut off her sentence by gently taking her by the hand. "Anything for family. You know that."

-------------

"Hey, blond boy! Do I look like your maid?" Frohike yelled from the kitchen as he picked up the frying pan full of raw eggs.

"What?" Langly yelled from the next room.

"When did you leave these out, anyway? Are they still good?" Frohike examined the contents of the pan through the thick lenses of his glasses, now starting to get hungry for a good fried egg.

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't even remember doing it, do you?"

"Doing what?" Exasperation had found its way into Langly's voice. "Listen, I'm almost through level 36, and I'm going to lose my concentration if you keep -- dammit!" He quit the game program, making his way to the kitchen to confront his roommate. "What's the deal, here? I was almost to the boss on that level, and you...hey, you makin' breakfast?"

"What are you talking about? Didn't you do this?"

"No. You guys hate it when I cook."

"It must have been Byers, then."

"He'd never leave a mess like this."

"Well, I didn't do it," Frohike said, defensively.

"I didn't say you did."

"Say, where is Byers, anyway? Did he say anything to you about having to go somewhere?"

"No, I just woke up a little while ago."

"He could have been kidnapped in front of you while you were playing that game, and you'd never have noticed."

"Well, he wasn't. I'm pretty sure he wasn't, anyway."

"Come to think of it...did you hear the phone ring this morning?"

"Why are you worrying about it?"

"Because it's not like Byers to just disappear like this. No note, no nothin'."

"Well, there's one way to check."

They walked to the device they'd attached to the telephone line, and Frohike checked the small digital screen.

"That's odd. I know I heard the phone ring, but there's no readout." Frohike looked with puzzlement at Langly as he spoke.

"There isn't a number that won't register on this thing. I wired it myself."

"That's probably why it doesn't work." Langly glared at him in response. "You know I'm just kidding," Frohike said defensively. "Don't take it so personally."

"You know, I think the recorder's been reset."

"How can you tell?"

Langly removed the mini-cassette they used for recording their incoming calls, inspecting it closely. "Because I always wind past the leader tape when I set this up. And look," he said, shoving it toward Frohike. Frohike examined it, verifying the leader was indeed showing.

"Let's play it. If there's been a call, there should be something on there."

They replaced the tape, switching a few dials to allow the recording to play through the small speakers in the device. After the hissing sound of the leader ended, they heard a familiar voice.

"Judith?" Byers' voice sounded tense as he spoke in a guarded whisper.

Then they heard a woman's voice, a voice they didn't recognize. "John. I need your help. I don't know what to do. I've been sitting in my office for an hour now, just staring out the window. I can't think. I need your help."

"Who is that?" Langly asked out loud, obscuring the next part of the taped conversation.

"I don't know," Frohike answered, running back the tape to hear what they'd missed.

"...need your help," said the woman's voice again.

"Where can I meet you? Should I pick you up there?" Byers had answered her.

"No. You said we shouldn't be seen here together. Someone might figure out the..."

They looked at each other, wondering what the next word would have been if she'd continued.

"The diner. You know the one I mean. Do you think you're being followed?"

"I couldn't possibly...well, I don't know. Listen, John, I can't explain anything right now."

The recording abruptly cut off, replaced with a gentle hiss.

"He turned it off!" Langly said, surprised.

"Yeah, he didn't want us to know about this. I feel kinda bad busting in on his privacy like this."

"Who is she?" Langly said, apparently not having the same inner debate as Frohike about Byers' privacy.

"I thought we'd already covered that. I don't know, and you don't know, so we don't know, do we?"

"Any ideas where the diner he was talking about could be?"

"No. Hey, I'm not sure we should even try to figure this out. If he wanted us to know, he'd tell us."

"What if he needs our help?"

"Then he'll ask."

After a pause, Langly took the chance of saying just one more thing. "You know, I think I can extract the last number registered by the I.D. device..."

Frohike looked at him for a second, and Langly could see he was trying very hard to tell him not to do it.

"I don't suppose it would hurt anything if you did that. It would be a nice test of the backup subsystems, anyway."

"Yeah, it's just a test. We don't have to do anything with it."

"No. We don't. And we won't. Do...anything with it. Right?"

"Right."

"Well, get to it." Langly turned to work, looking up every few minutes to watch as Frohike paced nervously, hovering too often and too closely over Langly's shoulder.

"Will you cut it out? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Okay, okay. I'll go make breakfast. Tell me if you find that number...uh, I mean, if we get positive results from the test of the backup system."

"Will do."

Despite his intentions to merely make breakfast and put this new mystery out of his mind, Frohike again found himself staring at the egg left in the frying pan, wondering what Byers had gotten himself mixed up in this time. Byers was far too trusting, especially considering the line of work they'd found themselves in. Frohike sighed, willing Langly to hurry up as he cleaned out the pan. Byers had the right idea about breakfast, at least...eggs sounded tasty.

As he cracked a few more eggs into the pan, his mind began to wander. He'd established that Byers was too trusting. Anyone could see that. As he sprinkled in some pepper, he began to think about how guilty they'd feel if their friend was in trouble and they'd done nothing. Especially if they'd found some information and decided not to follow up on it. Certainly, he respected Byers' privacy, but not to the detriment of his well-being. He dusted the almost-finished eggs with paprika, now utterly convinced it was their duty to follow Byers. It was much easier to deal with apologies than regret.

"Frohike! I think I've got something."

"Hey, hey. I'll bring you some eggs to celebrate." Frohike quickly spooned the eggs out of the pan onto two mismatched plates, grabbing two forks and two cans of cola on the way out of the kitchen.

"I came up dry on the backup memory function. I'll have to take a look at that later. But I hit paydirt when I accessed the diode buffer. That call wasn't too long ago, or this data would have been history. Maybe an hour and half, two hours ago, tops." Langly reached for the plate Frohike handed him, and nodded his thanks as Frohike opened one of the colas for him.

"Breakfast of champions, pal. Eat up and tell me all about it."

"I've got it all -- the number and the point of origin information. Some company called Applied Interactive Services, Incorporated. Does it ring any bells with you?"

"Never heard of it. Byers certainly never mentioned it."

"So I guess we should leave it at that. I'll spend the afternoon taking a look at that backup memory subsystem." Langly looked at Frohike, obviously hopeful that he'd contradict him.

"Couldn't hurt anything to go down there and poke around a little. Who knows, maybe our little narc has gotten himself into some trouble."

"Well...if you say so," Langly said, his blase tone only thinly veiling his relief.

"I wonder if he took the van."

"We've still got my car."

"The bug? Oh, hell, that thing doesn't have any air conditioning."

"And not much of a muffler, either, so I hope you weren't planning on sneaking up on anyone."

"Byers, you better be in trouble if it means I've got to ride in that neon yellow piece of crap," Frohike whispered under his breath as they locked the door behind them.

----

Byers waited nervously in the parking lot, tapping the steering wheel as he continued to watch the front doors for any sign of Judith.

"What could be taking her so long?" He looked at his watch, finding that it actually hadn't been that long. It apparently only felt like an eternity.

He should be using this time to come up with a plan. She was relying on him, just as he'd told her she always could. Even when she was just his bratty, five-years-younger cousin, he'd been protective of her. He remembered missing her wedding shortly after he'd met Frohike and Byers, cursing himself for not being protective enough of her once they'd grown into adults. If he'd gone to the wedding, maybe he'd have seen a sign, gotten a feeling that her husband was the monster he'd turned out to be. But he'd been too busy, following up on some lead, something...he couldn't even remember the specifics it had turned out to be so unimportant.

He'd pick a hotel out of the phone book at random. He'd take her there, where they could talk more freely, and he'd figure this out for her. Hopefully he could use the laptop he'd brought with him to hack into some Internet access if he needed it. If he wasn't sure she'd be safe, he'd have to give her a new identity. Move her again, get her another job, a new apartment. They'd spoken of this possibility before, so hopefully she wouldn't fight him on it too much.

A noise pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to find its source. He wasn't entirely surprised to see the bright yellow Volkswagon Bug clattering its way towards the van, but he was amazed at how quickly they'd put together the few clues he'd left behind. He stood from the driver's seat, ducking his head as he moved to the sliding door, and opened it as the Bug pulled up next to him in the rear of the parking lot.

"Get in here, before you make too much of a scene," he hissed at them, not sure whether he should be appreciative or annoyed.

"Hey, Byers. Fancy meeting you here." Frohike tried to pass off their arrival lightly. Langly just followed him, his eyes darting nervously and guiltily around.

"Just passing through the neighborhood?" Byers began.

"Something like that." Langly answered.

"All right. Let's cut the bull and get right to it," Frohike cut in. �We tracked you down and followed you in case you needed our help. If you don't, then we'll just go."

"No, now that you're here, you may as well stay. I'm trying to keep a low profile. I think we're clear, but there might be someone following us."

"Us?" The other two asked, in unison.

"A friend...of mine. She needs my help."

"We know," Langly admitted. "Judith, right?"

"How did you -- "

"We listened to the tape. Wind it past the leader next time," Langly offered.

"I didn't have time," Byers answered, mildly annoyed. "She'll be coming out those double doors at the front of the building any minute now. When she does, I'm going to swing around and pick her up. You two drive around for a half hour or so, keep an eye on your rear-view mirror, and when you're sure you're not being followed, meet us back at our place." "Okay. We know the drill. Maybe we should just go now. Draw less attention if both cars don't leave at the same time." Langly jingled his keys, as if to punctuate his suggestion.

"Try not to beat us back there. She's been through a lot, I'd like to get her settled before I introduce her to you." Byers hesitated, not sure how to ask for the next favor he needed. He took a deep breath and plowed ahead, deciding on the direct approach. "And guys, she's very attractive. But like I said, she's been through a lot, and I'd appreciate if you didn't make any...comments to her, compliments, anything of a personal nature. It'll upset her."

"Sure, whatever you say," Frohike said, and Byers was relieved that he hadn't taken offense. "You know my heart belongs to Agent Scully."

Byers watched as they left, the car disappearing in a cloud of exhaust and a cacophony of assorted engine noises and backfires.

He'd have to be more careful to avoid being followed now that he was bringing her to their place, but it was probably for the best. There were more resources there to investigate or re-create her identity, if it proved necessary. And he had to admit, part of him was relieved he wouldn't have to handle this alone.

He continued to reflect on the mystery that lay before them, his thoughts soon interrupted when she appeared in the front doorway of the building. He'd already begun to think of a way to tell her of the change in plans, and to prepare her to meet his two off-beat roommates.

----

Byers tried to make Judith comfortable, offering her a cup of tea, a blanket, and anything else he could think of that might be even vaguely soothing. He finally relented, after she seemed to be running out of ways to politely refuse.

"Just let me know if you need anything. And if you're the least bit uncomfortable, just let me know. We can go somewhere else. And Frohike and Langly are okay, I promise. I wouldn't let anyone near you who I didn't trust."

"I trust your judgment, John," she said, blankly.

"Judith," he began, haltingly, "can you think of anyone who would know..."

"Who would know enough to write that?" she finished. "No." She answered her own question, her voice sure and grave.

"But it's not possible. We both know he's...gone."

"I know. I saw it with my own eyes. None of it makes any sense. Someone got into my apartment, but they got there without leaving any signs of breaking in. They didn't even disturb the chain on the door. How is that possible?" Byers started to speak, but she interrupted him. "Wait. Don't even answer, don't even try. It's not possible. You and I both know it. I'm never getting away from him, just like he told me. I left him, he tracked me down and he...convinced...me otherwise. I tried to make him happy, but he was going to -- "

"We both know what he was planning to do, Judith. Don't rehash this. You don't deserve it."

"It's useless, John. No one will believe it. No one would believe he was threatening me when he was alive. Now that he's dead...dammit, John, I don't even believe it."

"I know someone who'll believe it. He'll look into this for me if I ask him to."

"One of your friends, the ones on their way here?"

"No. Someone else. Two people, actually. But you can trust them, too. If there's some explanation to be found, they'll find it."

"And if there isn't?"

He took her hand and looked into her eyes, trying to convey some of the conviction and strength she'd need to get through this. "Then you'll disappear again. We'll give you another identity, get you a new job, and you can start again."

"He was right, you know. He meant it when he said he'd kill me. What I didn't know was that it would happen again and again. He threatened to do it, and like an idiot, I thought he meant it literally. Then I thought I'd die in the gas chamber, but it wasn't going to be that easy. When will it be over? Is this my punishment?"

"No. This isn't your punishment. You didn't do anything wrong. If I could bear this for you, I'd do it. I'd do it in a second." "I know you would. But you can't." She watched as he looked at her in sincere regret. "What are you going to tell them?"

"Frohike and Langly? As little as possible."

"Your other friends."

"We'll have to tell them everything. If we want their help, they'll have to have all the facts. One of them is a woman, Judith. Her name is Dana Scully. If you'd feel more comfortable just telling her about it, we could arrange that."

"No, John. I couldn't. Can't you do it?"

Byers was torn -- the last thing he wanted to do was ask her to tell her whole, painful story to a complete stranger, but he was bound to miss some detail, something they'd need to know.

"Judith, they're trained investigators. They'll have questions I won't be able to answer. I'll miss facts, forget something. If there was any way to avoid it -- "

"No, it's okay. I shouldn't be so weak."

"You are the strongest person I know. And I'm going to get you out of this."

Tears had begun to glisten in her eyes, her head falling forward as her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly.

"You look like you could use a nap," he said, gently. "Why don't you lie down for awhile?"

"Will you explain -- "

"I'll tell my friends why you're here. You can feel safe here, Judith. I'll be here. I won't be far away."

He led her to his room, making her comfortable and staying even after she'd fallen into a light sleep, leaving only when he heard his friends return.

He put his finger to his lips, silently shushing them, as he closed the door carefully behind himself.

"Is she sleeping?" Frohike asked him.

"Yes."

"Who is she?" Langly asked, earning him a moderately sharp chop to the stomach from Frohike.

"No, no, it's okay. It's a fair question," Byers said. "She's my cousin. She's had quite a scare this morning."

"Is she in any trouble? Anything we could help with?" Frohike asked.

"Yes, it may be. There's something very strange going on, and I think we're going to need some more help. I need to contact Mulder and Scully."

"I'm on it. You stay with your cousin," Langly quickly offered. "Come on, Frohike. Why don't you help me."

Byers returned to his bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so he could hear Langly make the call to Mulder. When it was clear he had talked Mulder into making a visit, Byers closed the door completely, shutting off the sounds of any of the inevitable speculation from the outer room. He intended to preserve as much of Judith's privacy as he could.

----

"Thanks for coming so quickly. I really appreciate it." Byers addressed them, looking into both agent's eyes in turn, trying to convey his sincere gratitude to them. Scully, in particular, was probably moments away from wondering why Mulder had dragged her down here to listen to such a strange story.

"Langly said it was important...of personal importance to you, in fact. Have you gotten yourself into some trouble with the latest issue of the Lone Gunman?" Mulder asked him, half in jest but with an obvious curiosity hovering just under the surface of his humor.

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's my cousin, Judith. She's been threatened, and I can attest that these aren't idle threats. I need help protecting her, figuring out how to keep him away from her."

"Well, Byers, you know Agent Scully and I are more than willing to help, but isn't this more of an issue for the police? Unless there's something to establish the Bureau's jurisdiction in this matter, we'll probably have to turn over the duties of protecting your cousin to the local P.D."

"What if the guy who's threatening her is dead?" Langly put in, obviously a little anxious to move the conversation towards the crux of the problem. This earned him another rap in the chest from the back of Frohike's hand, which he returned quickly.

Byers watched them in surprise, unable to understand how they'd gotten that piece of information. The two men looked at each other in obvious embarrassment, and Byers saw that they'd intended to keep what they'd figured out on their own to themselves. Though he should have been angry, Byers was overcome by gratitude -- no matter what, his friends always had his back.

"What do you mean, he's dead? Are you saying the man who's threatening your cousin is believed to be dead?" Scully asked Byers, not really believing it was the correct explanation, but hoping this hadn't just turned into what she thought it had just turned into.

"I know it sounds crazy, Agent Scully, but I can tell you I believe her story," Byers began. "He's her ex-husband, and he did some really...terrible things to her when he was alive. He told her, over and over, that there was nothing that could keep him from her. He'd always watch her, he'd always find her, and she would never be able to get away from him. And after what happened to her this morning, I think he really meant it."

"Okay, before we get too deeply into this, can you tell us what happened?" Mulder asked. Byers related the story Judith had told him in the diner that morning, as briefly as he could. "Judith checked every way in and out of her apartment -- there was no sign of breaking and entering. And what was written on her mirror, it was something only the she and her ex-husband knew about. Something he always told her, his way of letting her know he was always in control."

"I need to talk to Agent Scully. We'll be right back, we'll go just outside." Mulder led Scully back outside after Frohike had undone each of the locks, and as they listened to the sound of those locks being re-engaged, he began. "Scully, I know this sounds crazy, but there is some precedent for this kind of a haunting. Obviously, the ghost has strong feelings for Byers' cousin, and it's possible he's just trying to make good on his threat never to leave her alone." When Scully looked at him in exasperation, he continued. "The least we can do is talk to her. It's for Byers. We can come to him with anything -- anything -- and he helps us, no matter how crazy it sounds. If we can help him, I think we should do it."

"Mulder, we haven't heard much, but it sounds like this woman has been through quite a bit. She could be imagining this, it could be a simple case of paranoia." "Then it should be a simple matter to close the investigation," he countered. "We don't have a case right now, and I, for one, would rather do this than fill out all our back expense reports."

"I had no idea you had any intention of touching those reports, Mulder."

"Well, not now, Scully. We've got a case." Without waiting for her reply, he turned around and knocked on the door again. Once the lock noises began again, he heard Scully take a few steps closer to him, a subtle but unmistakable sign that she intended to see their current mystery through to an explanation.

"Mulder...Scully. Will you help us?" Byers asked, simply.

"Absolutely," Mulder answered. "Can we speak with her?"

"Of course. She's resting now. Let me just go in and wake her up. We'll be right out."

After Byers disappeared into the bedroom, Frohike took the opportunity to speak in Byers' absence. "I've never seen him this concerned about anything. I didn't even know he had a cousin. And another thing -- he wasn't going to tell us about this. We had to track him down after he disappeared this morning...just in case he'd gotten himself into some trouble." "How'd you find him?" Mulder asked.

"Trade secrets. If we told you, we'd have to erase your memory of the conversation," Langly answered, as if he was only half-joking.

Byers' head appeared in the doorway. "Would the two of you mind coming back here?"

"No, not at all," Scully answered, as she stepped over a few stacks of books and around a few boxes overflowing with electronics parts to reach Byers. Mulder had a slightly easier time, his long legs making navigation around and over the objects easier. Byers watched as Scully stumbled a bit over a particularly high stack of references, too far away to help her. With an almost impossibly fast reflex, Mulder reached out, quick and sure, to steady her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, Mulder. Thanks," Scully answered him. Mulder rested his hand on the small of her back after they'd cleared the mini obstacle course, waiting until she'd steadied herself before he removed it.

Byers went to Judith, whispering a quick reassurance into her ear and squeezing her hand before he addressed them all. "I'll leave you all alone, then," Byers said, starting to leave.

"No!" Judith said, quickly, refusing to release Byers' hand. "I'd really like it if you stayed."

"It's okay. That's fine. I'm sure he doesn't mind at all," Mulder said, soothingly. "I'm Special Agent Mulder, and this is my partner, Special Agent Scully. Maybe you could start by telling us why you think you received this message."

Judith looked at them, biting her bottom lip nervously before she began to speak. "I'm not sure where to begin. I'm still trying to understand it all myself."

"Just tell us what happened, and don't worry about trying to explain the things you don't understand. That's what we're here to help you with," Mulder said, trying to put her more at ease.

"Well, this morning, I heard a noise while I was in the shower. I didn't worry about it until I got out and saw a message written in the fog of my mirror. 'I'm watching.' I checked my apartment, and I can't see how anyone could have gotten in, much less gotten back out." When Judith paused, Byers craned his neck a bit to see the notes Agent Scully was making. It didn't surprise him that she'd resist the supernatural explanation, having written, 'Possibility that intruder was still inside the domicile when subject searched for signs of breaking and entering. Intruder could have followed her into domicile somehow, leaving no signs of entry.'

"Is there a personal significance to the message you found?" Mulder asked her.

"Yes," she answered, with difficulty. "It's something my husband used to say to me. I don't think it could be a coincidence."

"Did anyone else know of its significance to you?" Scully asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so." Scully began to write again, and Byers assumed she'd made a note about the possibility that someone else may have known the meaning of that phrase to Judith.

"And your husband?" Mulder said, not really specifying his question. It was an interesting way, Byers noticed, of seeing how Judith would begin to answer him. It would no doubt be the quickest way to hear the information Judith herself thought was most relevant.

"He's deceased."

"But you believe that message was sent to you by your husband," Mulder clarified.

Judith looked at him before answering. "But that doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"How did he die, Judith?" Mulder asked her, seeming to know somehow the answer to that question was of primary importance.

"I killed him," she answered, flatly.

Byers watched as the agents shared a look. It seemed as though they were silently conferring on how to handle this new piece of information, staring at each other for just a moment before Mulder turned back towards Judith.

"I know this is painful for you," Mulder began, "but I think it might be enlightening if you could give us a little more information about that."

"What do you want to know?" Judith answered, blankly.

"It was in self-defense," Byers offered. He'd intended to remain quiet, but he was momentarily overcome with the desire to take some of Judith's burden from her.

"He attacked you, threatened you?" Mulder's voice was controlled, calm.

Judith looked away. "Always. Every look was a threat. Everything I did was wrong, an excuse to fight, to hit me, to punish me. It didn't start that way. I met him in college. We started living together right after graduation. He'd always been possessive, jealous, but even more so after we got married. If I even glanced at another man while we were out together... He became demanding. Everything had to be done perfectly. We had to be perfect, everyone had to think everything was wonderful between the two of us. My bruises, cuts, scars, could all be hidden away. And they were, if I knew what was good for me. As time went on, he only got worse."

Images flashed through her mind. Crawling across the living room to a chair so she could pull herself up after he'd kicked her in the stomach. The night he'd used his swiss army knife to carve his name into her thigh, after she'd shrunk away from him in bed. The constant calls at work, questioning her about male co-workers and always ending with, 'You know, I'm watching you.'

Judith looked up again. "I'm sorry. Where was I?"

"Isn't this enough information?" Byers asked, trying to spare her from telling the story again.

Reluctantly, Mulder nodded. "I'm sure that's enough for us to go on for now. We can -- "

"No." Judith said, her voice suddenly strong. She turned to Byers. "They have to hear it. They have to know what he did. What he's capable of. Why it happened. Or they won't believe me. They won't know." She looked around the room, her anger suddenly giving her the strength to finish what she'd begun.

"One morning, after he'd beaten me when he decided the skirt I'd intended to wear to work was too suggestive, I realized he always wrote in a journal -- after the fights were over. I cleaned myself up, changed my clothes, and he followed me to work, just as he always did. He was always suspicious that I wasn't going where I was supposed to be going. I waited until I saw him drive away. My heart was beating so hard it was all I could hear, and I was terrified that he knew what I was doing. I went up to my office just long enough to ask the receptionist to tell anyone who called that I was in a meeting that would last all day. Then I went back out to my car. I drove home, and I found the journal in a zippered case, hidden at the bottom of one of his dresser drawers. I read it -- as much of it as I could get through, at least. He wrote about how much he loved me, how much he was sure I was cheating on him, or trying to cheat on him. Suspicions about men I worked with, other male friends of ours. Graphic descriptions of things he wanted to do to me...

"But towards the end, the most recent entries, he became incoherent. He kept saying that I had to be his, that I didn't understand how important that was, that he needed to know I was his every second of the rest of his life. Finally, I came to an entry...where he decided the only way to accomplish that was to kill me. Then I would always be his. It was the only way he thought he could really be in control. The entries after that...they were just ideas...ways to kill me, ways to assure I'd never do anything to go against him again. I knew he would follow through, I just didn't know when. And I realized I didn't want to die.

"I went back to work and started to look into how to get myself a gun. When I got home that night, he was livid that he'd been told I was in a meeting. He wanted to know why I hadn't told him about it. It didn't seem like he believed me, and I started to worry he would discover I'd looked at his journal. I was so relieved when it turned out he didn't suspect I'd read it that I agreed when he told me he wanted me to quit my job.

"There was a whole new set of rules that went along with being home all day. I wasn't allowed to answer the phone unless I knew it was him. He'd call, hang up after one ring, and then call back -- that's how I'd know it was him. Everything was fine as long as I picked up that phone. And I did. Every day until the day I took the chance of leaving the house for an hour to buy a gun.

"I got home, worried that the paperwork for the gun license had taken longer than I'd thought, wondering if I'd gotten away with it. When he didn't mention it the next time he called, I thought everything was okay. I'd started to wonder if I'd ever have the guts to use it, even if I thought he was about to kill me. I found out the answer later that night."

Judith continued to tell her story, her eyes blanking over as she began to relive it. As the words escaped her mouth, it was as if she was in the middle of it again.

----

"I called and you didn't pick up," he told her, calmly, as they sat next to each other on the couch watching television.

"No, sweetie. You called five times today, and I picked up each time," she answered, trying to calm herself enough to deliver her cover story with believability.

"No, you're wrong. We talked five times. I called six times. At 2:17 p.m. you didn't pick up."

She looked at him, trying to project sincerity. "I must have been in the shower. I cleaned the kitchen in the early afternoon, and I got all dirty and sweaty while I was doing it. I took a second shower just after two o'clock. I'm sorry, sweetie. I should have called and told you where I'd be. It won't happen again."

"Another shower, huh? You know what? I think you're too dirty for that. I think your whole story is too dirty for that. Why are you lying to me? Did you think I wouldn't find out?" He yelled incoherently into her face, first grabbing her by the shoulder and then rolling over on top of her. His right forearm pressed into her throat, pressing her down and cutting off her breath. He pulled on the handle of the knife he wore around his waist, sliding it almost seductively from its sheath. He pressed it to her neck, easing the pressure from his forearm when he seemed to realize the knife would keep her in place.

His now free right hand found the front of her shirt, tugging it free from the waistband of her skirt, then tugging harder, popping each of the buttons until the shirt was torn and tattered around her.

"Get up," he said, his voice low. He got up with her, never moving the knife from her neck. When they were standing, he turned her until her back was flush against his chest, his left arm reaching around to hold the knife securely against her skin.

What was left of her shirt dropped to the floor, and she could feel him roughly undoing the catch on the back of her bra. While he pulled it away, he issued his next command.

"Take the skirt off. Take everything else with it, while you're at it. And then we're going to kneel down."

She could hear him slide down his zipper as she reached to her right hip to unfasten the skirt. It fell to the ground, and she'd hooked her fingers into the elastic of her hose and underwear when he spoke again.

"Okay, just kneel as you pull those down. Just remember, the knife is coming with you."

Somehow, he managed to keep the knife securely at her throat as she maneuvered herself downwards, baring herself completely as she went. She felt the cold steel of the teeth of his undone zipper on her lower back. Through it, he was pressing into her, obscenely hard. He pulled her hard against his chest, his right hand gripping the back of her neck tightly. She jerked when he shoved her face toward the carpet, thinking he was pushing her into the knife, but he'd pulled it away. She tensed as she felt the chill of the blade moving along her back, down her buttocks, then dancing lightly on her inner thighs.

"Just don't move," he told her. "You keep your head down and this," he said, reaching in-between her legs, "up here and I won't hurt you."

Liar, she thought, now certain he was planning to kill her after violating her one last time.

He shoved one finger roughly into her, then pulled out and rubbed it painfully against her.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll forget about all the other men you whore around with, you hear me? You won't even remember their names when I'm done with you." His right hand circled her waist, pulling her back hard, then moving upwards to squeeze painfully at her breast. His hand drifted to her left thigh, and he roughly grabbed it, pulling her legs open. She held her breath in anticipated pain as the knife trailed along her inner thighs, closer and closer to where his finger had violated her. And then it was there, just barely cutting into the top layer of skin. Involuntary tears began to stream down her face.

"Don't you cry! It's too late to be sorry. You should have thought of that before!"

The knife fell away as she felt him shove inside her, pounding roughly into her.

"I don't even know why they'd bother with you. I can hardly get to you through those big thighs of yours," he said, breathily, grabbing her hair and pushing her face harder into the carpet. Her face began to burn as it rubbed against the floor. She concentrated on the pain in her cheek, much more preferable to the other pain, the other things happening to her body. She had one thought in her mind as he finished.

This will be the last time he does this to me, no matter which one of us dies tonight.

----

Judith seemed to startle out of her thoughts, Byers half-noticed through the anger coursing through him.

"When he was...done...he made a mistake. He should have killed me then. But he sat back, and I heard him zip up his pants. I turned around, and watched as he got up and walked towards the mirror in the hallway. He pulled his comb from his back pocket, and he fixed his hair. He always had to be perfect. That was the only chance I had. I slid myself over toward the entryway, where my purse was, and I pulled out the gun. I'd already loaded it, thank god. I can still see the expression on his face in that mirror, when he saw me pointing the gun at his back. I was just starting to think that I couldn't do it, but somehow, I pulled the trigger. I don't even know how I hit him, because I had my eyes closed from the time my finger twitched until I heard him drop to the ground. I'd gotten him in the stomach. I waited there until I was sure he was dead before I called the police.

"His last words were, 'I'm watching'."

Byers expected her to cry, to do something, anything, but she didn't. She just sat there, blankly, finally turning to look at him.

"I'm tired now. Would it be okay if I took a nap?"

"Absolutely. Thank you for the information you've given us so far. It's more than enough to start our investigation," Mulder told her. Byers watched as Mulder protectively took Scully by the arm, just as he had before, and led her from the room. Byers knew Mulder had intentionally given them some privacy, a gesture that didn't go unrecognized.

"Judith, I'm not going to go anywhere. All you have to do is call for me, and I'll be here. I'm just going to go to the living room, where I can help with the investigation. We're going to take care of this. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I know, John. I don't know how to thank you."

"You can remember that we're family, so thanks aren't necessary." He tucked Judith in, protecting her from the chill that Frohike insisted was necessary to keep their equipment operating at peak efficiency. He waited for her to close her eyes before he turned to leave, shutting the door carefully and quietly behind himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, can you think of a place to start?" Byers addressed the agents.

"Yes. This sounds like a case of a spirit, or in this case, a demon, residing on the lower astral plane. There's a theory -- those who die a violent or sudden death�people who aren't ready to leave this world can get stuck. Judith may have done something, may have said something, even thought something that could be interpreted as an invitation. She may have inadvertently opened a doorway to that plane, allowed the spirit to enter the physical world." Scully's eyes grew wide as Mulder spoke, her lips pursing slightly -- accurately displaying her disbelief.

"I don't think we should jump to any conclusions. For example, this message could have been arranged by a member of Judith's ex-husband's family. By anyone who might hold Judith responsible for his death."

"Well, Scully, I think it's possible, but not likely. How could they leave the message without any trace of breaking and entering?"

"Perhaps they followed her in the night before, sneaking in behind her before her front door had closed all the way."

"And they stayed there all night just to leave that message? And when they left, they somehow managed to re-hook the chain on the front door?"

"Mulder, obviously we could stand here theorizing, but that isn't the point. There might be a much more mundane explanation."

"Agent Scully," Byers interrupted. "I don't mean any disrespect, but I did want to hear more about Mulder's theory."

"Certainly. Mulder?" Scully's tone was slightly clipped, betraying just a touch of annoyance despite her otherwise unperterbed exterior.

"Well, to pick up where I left off...we have to do an investigation." Mulder looked up, saw everyone's confused expressions, and clarified himself. "Not a typical, FBI investigation. A type of investigation specific to the paranormal phenomenon of spooks, ghosts, specters, ghouls, and demons." He paused, looking upwards as if he was trying to recall information from his memory. "We've got some research to do. We've got to go to Judith's apartment, see if we can turn up anything out of the ordinary. Get an EMF detector to track electromagnetic clusters, nightvision scopes to observe the areas in the dark, and maybe some infrared film for psychic photography. We should also," he said, looking pointedly at Scully, "investigate any alternate theories, including a thorough search for any relatives who might have an axe to grind with Judith." Scully nodded her approval, and Mulder continued. "If we do find evidence that this is an actual haunting, then the tough part begins. Getting rid of it will be tough -- we'll have to arrange some kind of exorcism."

"We'll take care of the EMF detector, and the other stuff you mentioned, Mulder," Frohike said, pulling on Langly's arm.

"Yeah, we've got to be able to find the specs on that stuff on the 'net or something. We could probably build the EMF device from scratch, and modify the nightvision goggles we've got," Langly added.

"In the meantime, Scully and I will look into some of the less supernatural explanations. Give us a call when you think you have the equipment lined up." Mulder had begun to move toward the door, when Byers interrupted him.

"To do that, you'll need Judith's real name." A hush fell over the room as Byers prepared to explain. "We had to change her name...to protect her. I gave her an alias, a new driver's license, a new life. A life she could use to start over. Her married name was Eliza Jenson. Her husband's name was Andrew, and her maiden name was Milton. She was born in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 1961. The...incident...occurred in 1991. She was acquitted in early '92. If you need more information than that, just call."

"That should be enough. We'll be waiting for your call," Mulder told them as he waited for Frohike to let them out.

"Thanks, Mulder...Scully," Byers said, sincerely.

----

Scully settled herself at a table in the corner of the reading room closest to the periodical section of the library. Mulder had started their research at her side, but had soon wandered off -- no doubt to find the definitive tome on supernatural spirits and lose track of time while he read it right there between the bookcases. She could see already that she'd have to use her cellular phone if she wanted to find him.

A search through the computerized index of the Washington Post and Washington Times had turned up a few hits on Eliza Jenson, several of which contained information about the murder trial she'd been through in 1992.

She'd printed several of the relevant articles, and she began to thumb through the paper, looking for information that might lead them to the person who left that message on Judith's -- Eliza Jenson's -- mirror. An article from the day after Eliza's acquittal caught her eye, and she sat up in her chair as she concentrated on it.

"The murder trial of Eliza Jenson concluded today, when the jurors returned a Not Guilty verdict after four days of deliberations. One of the jurors, a thirty-six year old administrative assistant who asked not to be identified, said, 'In the end, we found it to be a case of self-defense. Ms. Jenson had been threatened with a knife. We were shown pictures -- bruises, cuts -- it convinced me that she felt she had no other alternative but to protect herself.'

"Relatives of the late Andrew Jenson were outraged at the verdict. His mother, visibly emotional as she gave this statement on the steps of the courthouse, said, 'She murdered my son. She stood over him and watched him die, watched him bleed to death. And she's walking away, free. She wasn't on trial here; they put my son on trial, and he isn't even here to defend himself.' Victor Jenson, brother of Andrew Jenson, was later arrested on assault charges after he allegedly tried to attack Eliza Jenson as she was being led out of the courthouse by her lawyer."

A picture of Eliza being led from the courtroom by her lawyer accompanied the article, and while there were some differences in her appearance, Scully could see the woman she'd met that morning was also the woman in the picture. She'd cut her hair, and her figure was much healthier now than the rail-thin woman in the picture, but both women had the same pale skin and conventionally beautiful features.

Scully made a few marks in the margin next to the relevant passage before she set off to find Mulder. They could go through the rest of the articles later. They should definitely contact someone in the research department to do a more thorough background check on Victor Jenson and his mother, and throw in a check on Eliza and Andrew while they were at it. She hoped someone over in research owed Mulder a favor for some reason.

She decided against using her cellphone to find Mulder out of deference to the "Silence, Please" signs posted throughout the library, opting instead to visit a card catalogue to find the section where he'd most likely disappeared to. Armed only with a Dewey decimal system number she'd hastily scrawled onto a small sheet of scratch paper, she set off to find him, silently making a bet with herself that he'd be exactly where she thought he would be.

After turning a few more corners and navigating through a reading area, she found him -- his lanky body uncomfortably arranged against a bookcase, several books in the crooks of his arms, and reading from two more he was somehow balancing in the palms of his hands.

"Mulder," she whispered.

"Scully," he answered, considerably less careful to moderate the volume of his voice, "I'm finding some really good stuff in these books."

She shushed him, pointing to the nearest of the signs pleading for their silence. "We'll take them with us, but I think there might be a much more earthly explanation for these threats. When Judith -- Eliza Jenson -- was acquitted, it appears that her husband's brother swore vengeance against the woman who killed his brother. He definitely has a motive, and with a more thorough investigation of Judith's apartment, we may find that he had the opportunity, as well."

"Have you called anyone to get the background checks?"

"No, not yet. Let's get out of here, make some calls, and see what we can find out about the Jenson family." She regarded him for a second, wondering why he was going along with her theory so easily.

"I just want to take a few of these books with me. Just in case the brother-in-law theory doesn't pan out."

"Of course, Mulder. I don't have anything against being thorough."

----

"This really is important, Richard," Scully said into the phone as Mulder drove them back toward the Lone Gunmen's place. "No, I really need those background checks as soon as possible. If you can't do all of them, could you just expedite the report on Victor Jenson? You should be able to get a jumpstart on that one by checking for an arrest on March 27, 1992. Fifth precinct in Suffolk county. Start on that one for now. I'll be there soon to pick it up." Scully paused, listening to Richard reluctantly agree to work some overtime to help them. "Thanks again," she said, just before she ended the call.

"I'll talk to Byers, see if he has any information for us about the Jensons, and I'd like to get to Judith's apartment tonight, too. I was thinking we should hold a vigil there tonight, if it looks like Frohike and Langly will be able to pull together the equipment in time."

"That's fine, Mulder. I want to get a closer look at the doors and windows, take a look around for other possible ways to get in or out. In the meantime, I'll head back to the office and wait on the information from Research. I can go through these papers while I'm waiting."

"Sure, Scully. No stone unturned, and all that."

Scully spent the rest of the trip reading through some of the articles, becoming more and more convinced that there was at least one man here on the earthly plane who had ample motive to try to scare Judith. Mulder soon pulled into the alley behind the Gunmen's building, hopefully one step closer to tying up the case. And the faster they could do that, the faster Judith could return to her life.

----

Langly let Mulder in, wearing a pair of goggles around his neck. "We're nearly done with the stuff you asked for, although the EMF detector is a bit of a technical challenge. I think we'll be ready in a couple of hours. Three, tops." Langly led him to the cramped room where he and Frohike were working on the equipment, showing Mulder their progress in agonizing detail. Working on the devices Mulder asked them to put together had obviously taken them the better part of the morning and early afternoon. Their excited explanation promised to take even longer, interrupted only when Byers rescued Mulder nearly a half hour after he'd arrived.

"I thought that might be you," Byers said, leading him out of Frohike and Langly's work area. "Where's Scully?"

"She's gone back to the office to follow up on a few leads there. In fact, if you have any information about Victor Jenson, you might give her a call."

Byers picked up the secure line, dialed Scully's cellphone number, then looked up and confided in Mulder as he listened to the line ring. "If it's possible, I might dislike him more than I disliked his brother." Scully must have answered, Mulder thought, as he listened to Byers begin to tell her about Victor Jenson. "Agent Scully? Mulder told me you were looking for information about Victor Jenson?" He paused, then continued, "Victor blamed Judith for his brother's death. He tried to attack her several times, and the police weren't very helpful. It was his need to exact revenge that prompted me to arrange for Judith's identity change. I just wanted her to be safe." Byers paused again, looking worried. "You don't think he's found her, do you? Frankly, Agent Scully, I find the notion of a ghost much less frightening than that." After one last break in the conversation, Byers finished, "No, Victor and Andrew's mother died about a year after the trial."

The conversation ended, and Byers looked at Mulder, obviously shaken to think that Victor might have uncovered Judith's new identity.

"She'd just arrived at the Hoover building as she hung up. She said she'd go and pick up the information and meet us here in about an hour. She'd like to go over to Judith's apartment and do a more thorough check -- make sure there isn't evidence Judith missed.�

"I'd also like to set up a vigil for this evening," Mulder interjected, "to test for any residual traces of a supernatural phenomenon."

"Absolutely. I'll see about getting you the keys. I'll stay here with Judith. I'm sure Frohike and Langly wouldn't mind accompanying you if you'd like their assistance."

"I'm sure I'll need them to show me how to use the EMF detector," Mulder answered. "If this is the spirit of Judith's ex-husband, I'm not sure he'll return unless she's there, so we probably won't be able to witness a manifestation first-hand."

"If it will help me to end this, I'm willing to come along," Judith's voice came from behind them.

"Judith, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Byers began, concern coloring his tone.

"No. I've had it. I don't want to run any more. Whatever he wants, it's time I faced it. I think about it every day. I was thinking about him in the shower this morning when I heard the noises. I can't live like this."

"Judith, you just said that you were thinking about your late husband this morning?" Mulder asked.

"Yes, I was. He's always there. It's always there." Her voice dropped. "The guilt, the anger." Judith began to breathe more quickly, panic overcoming her. "I don't want to feel this anymore. I just want him to understand so I can stop thinking about it. Why can't it just stop?" Byers supported her by her shoulders, looking as if he was the only thing holding her up.

A chill filled the room, a chill that felt more like a new presence in the room. Mulder shivered as he felt a wave of nausea overcome him. He looked quickly at Judith and Byers, both appearing to have a similar reaction. The room was silent as the chill moved around them, darkening into a shadow that hovered behind Byers and Judith. A voice, a voice that wasn't a voice, briefly filled the room.

"I'm watching," it whispered.

It remained eerily quiet as the presence seemed to leave. Warmth returned to the room as each of them looked at each other in stunned silence.

"It's him," Judith whispered. "That's his voice." She pulled away from Byers, moving towards Mulder. "You can help me, can't you? You know what this is, and you can help me get rid of it."

Langly and Frohike rushed into the room, Langly waving the EMF device they'd shown Mulder earlier.

"That thing just went nuts. What the hell happened in here?" Frohike asked them.

"You didn't hear it?" Byers asked him.

Langly and Frohike looked at each other questioningly, and Langly apparently decided to answer for both of them. "Hear what? We were working...this thing isn't even done yet and we got readings off the scale. Did something happen in here?"

Silence followed, none of them sure of what they'd experienced, until finally Judith spoke.

"When are we going?" Judith asked, gravely. "We are going, aren't we? We aren't going to wait?"

"No, we aren't," Mulder replied.

"I need some time -- just a little -- to rest," Judith told them.

"Absolutely, Judith," Byers said, leading her to the bedroom in the back of the building. "Take all the time you need, and we'll go when you're ready." Byers shut the door behind her, resting his head against the wood for a moment too long. Mulder watched as his right hand formed a fist, pressing lightly against the door for a second before he turned around.

"Hey, Byers, don't worry. We'll get this straightened out."

"Long overdue, Agent Mulder. This is long overdue."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have straightened this out a long time ago," he answered.

Before Mulder could ask Byers to explain further, his cellphone chirped at him from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Mulder," he said after he pulled out the phone to answer it.

"Listen, Mulder, I'm on my way there, but I have some news for you. Victor Jenson died over two years ago. I saw a copy of the death certificate. I suppose he might have tried to fake his own death, but this looks real to me."

"How did he die?" Mulder found himself asking.

"Gunshot wound. He was working behind the counter at a gas station and it was robbed. The assailants shot him as they left the store, apparently trying to keep him from tripping the silent alarm. The whole thing was caught on the security cameras, and the three men who committed the robbery were brought in later that night. They're all in jail, serving fifteen to twenty."

"So it couldn't have been Victor."

"I think we need to expand our investigation, Mulder. Find out if Andrew Jenson has any other living relatives, or if there's anyone else who might have a motive to do this."

"Scully, there's something you should know -- something happened here while you were away. Byers, Judith, and I experienced a visitation, similar to what happened to Judith this morning." He paused, waiting for Scully to have some reaction. He soon tired of the tinny static of their cellular connection, so he continued. "There was a temperature drop in the room we were in, followed by a visual manifestation of a human-like figure. And we all heard it say, 'I'm watching'. I'm more convinced than ever that we're dealing with a ghost here, Scully."

"Mulder, I..." she began, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Mulder, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. We'll talk about this once I'm off the road." She disconnected the call before he could say goodbye, much less protest.

"Mulder, what did you mean? You said it couldn't have been Victor?" Byers asked.

"According to our research department, he's been dead for two years. Shot during a robbery attempt. Scully's looked at the evidence and she believes it's legit. She'll be looking for another relative, someone else who might try to avenge Andrew's death."

"To tell you the truth, Agent Mulder, I'm relieved."

"Byers, when we're confronting this ghost, I think you may change your mind. Do you think Judith can handle this?"

"I wish she didn't have to, but I think she knows it's necessary. She's as strong now as she'll ever be," Byers told him. "I'm going to look in on her, make sure she's getting some rest. Maybe if she just gets some rest..." Byers mumbled, as he disappeared toward the bedroom.

"If we're going to get readings like we did a few minutes ago, we have to make some adjustments," Frohike explained. "The needles were steady at zero, and then all of a sudden, the readings spiked."

"We have to adjust the detection range, so we can differentiate between weaker and stronger readings. This thing was way too sensitive just now," Langly added.

"I think we can do it, although I wish we could get some test readings," Frohike said.

"Hey, guys, I don't want a repeat of whatever just happened out there, I don't care how much you want to test this thing. Just do what you can, and we'll have to make do." Mulder told them.

"Mulder...what really did happen out there?" Langly asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Textbook visitation. Same thing we might see tonight. Sure you're prepared for it, Langly?"

"Hey...we can take it, can't we, Frohike?"

"Sure, no problem," Frohike answered, not at all convincingly. He started to elaborate when he was interrupted by a soft rapping on the front door. "Could that be the lovely Agent Scully?" Frohike asked, looking hopefully at Mulder.

"You're probably right," Mulder said, checking his watch. "I'll let you get it, Frohike. I know she always likes to see your smiling face."

Frohike scurried to the door, looking through the peephole and letting out a low whistle, eliminating all doubt that the person at the door was anyone other than Dana Scully.

"Oh, god, Mulder. She looks exasperated. How can she look like that and be so hot at the same time?"

"Surely one of the greater mysteries of our time, Frohike. But she's going to look more exasperated if you leave her waiting out there." Mulder answered.

Frohike worked at the locks, opening the door just long enough to let Scully in. The sound of the door had alerted Byers to her arrival, and he quickly appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Byers, I assume Mulder has filled you in about Victor Jenson?" Byers nodded the affirmative, and Scully continued, removing her jacket and shaking the moisture, a product of the drizzle that had recently begun, out of her hair. "Is there anyone else from Andrew's family who would have a reason to do this?" Scully asked him.

"I honestly can't think of anyone. Whenever Judith spoke of them, she only spoke of Andrew's brother and mother. I'm sure Judith will be up soon. You could ask her then."

"We should actually get going soon," Mulder noted.

"We'll be ready in about a half hour, Mulder," Frohike supplied, helpfully.

Judith opened the bedroom door, apparently having listened to most, if not all, of their conversation. "There's no one else, Agent Scully. Andrew's father left his mother when Andrew was eight. He had no other close relatives, as far as I know. Just the three of them." She looked briefly at Mulder, "I know we need to go, Agent Mulder. I need just a little time." Her eyes found and focused on something in the distance. "I could feel him on me. Just now. I have to try to get rid of that. I just need to get rid of that feeling."

Judith started towards the door to the bathroom, hesitating just as her hand had begun to turn the knob.

"After this morning...I'm not sure I can be in here alone. I want to take a shower, but I'm afraid to pull the curtain, of what will happen when I can't see. I'm sorry, but I -- "

"No, Judith. Don't worry about it. Of course you'd be apprehensive, it's understandable," Byers said, trying to relieve her embarrassment. "We'll be right out here. All you have to do is call out."

"Agent Scully," Judith said, haltingly. "Would you mind coming inside? I'd feel better hidden behind the curtain if someone else was in there with me."

"Of course," Scully answered. "Just let me know when you're ready." Scully turned to Mulder and Byers. "Perhaps the two of you could help Frohike and Langly in the back room," effectively and pointedly dismissing them. "I'll be right out here until you're ready," she reminded Judith as she disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the sound of water spraying from the showerhead filled the room, its sound muffled by the door. Judith's voice followed it soon afterwards, and Scully entered the room, closing the door behind herself.

"I've got my back to the door, Judith. Nothing will happen in this room that I can't see."

"Thank you, Agent Scully. I know this is an imposition," she began, and trailed off before she finished her sentence. "You're wondering how I got into this mess, aren't you?" she said, changing the subject drastically.

"You shouldn't be concerned with what anyone else is thinking. I've read about your trial. What you did, that night in 1991, it was completely in self-defense. I would have done the same thing."

"You wouldn't have been in that situation," Judith said with conviction.

"Actually, I did once get involved with a man who tried to kill me," she answered, thinking of Ed Jerse. "And it wasn't in the line of duty. I was on vacation." She reflected back on how little judgment she'd used, how angry she'd been at herself afterwards.

"He wasn't always violent," Judith said. "I told myself that so many times, every time I tried to figure out why he did the things he did. He was so kind when I first met him. He did have a jealousy problem -- I told you that before. But he told me it was only because he loved me so much, he couldn't bear to see me with anyone else. I don't know why I believed him. And here I am."

"Did you ever try to leave him?"

"Once. He'd beaten me pretty badly, one of the first times he really lost control. I locked myself in the bedroom and called the police. When they arrived, they reluctantly took him in for questioning and told me I should spend the night somewhere else. They released him a few hours later, and he came looking for me. I'd gone to a friend's house, a woman who was one of the few friends I had left. He got in through one of the windows, found me, and told me he'd kill all of us if I didn't come with him. When we got home, he told me he'd kill me if he caught me calling the police again, or trying to leave him. So I was stuck. I couldn't get away on my own, and the only people I thought could help me just released him without even filing any charges or even asking me what happened."

"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed at the inadequacy of the words.

"I thought it was over when he was lying there on the floor in our apartment, bleeding to death. There was the trial, but they acquitted me. Again, I hoped it was over, but then Andrew's brother started threatening me. John gave me this new identity, helped me move here, and I thought it was over. But it's not." She paused, and Scully could hear Judith scrubbing at her skin over the sound of the shower. "Agent Scully, your partner -- does he mean what he says? Can he really end this?"

"He believes what he's telling you, Judith."

"Do you believe it?"

Scully hesitated, not wanting to show a lack of confidence in her partner, but not wanting to lie, either. "I believe, Judith, that between the two of us, we will find the answer."

"You know what I believe, Agent Scully?" She paused, as though she was waiting for an answer from the other side of the shower curtain, but continued before Scully could speak. "One way or another, this is ending tonight. I can feel it."

Scully couldn't place the sound in Judith's voice. She tried to find hope in Judith's tone as her words rang off the ceramic tiles in the steamy bathroom, but she couldn't quite believe it was hope. Dread filled her as she placed it as a kind of morbid resignation, the same tone she'd used earlier, as she told them about the night she'd killed her husband. It was the same sound that had been in her voice when she'd said, ' This will be the last time he does this to me, no matter which one of us dies tonight.'

Despite the oppressive humidity in the room, Scully found herself shuddering at the realization.

"I think I'll be okay now, Agent Scully. If you could just hand me a towel..." Scully found a towel that didn't look too overused on the rack next to her and carefully handed it to Judith around the edge of the shower curtain.

"I'll be just outside the door." Scully slipped out of the room, the condensation chilling her skin and reminding her uncomfortably of the evening's events. She called softly to Mulder, suddenly needing to speak to him.

"Scully? Did you call me?" he asked, as he appeared in the doorway.

Scully met him halfway across the room, not wanting to get too far away from Judith. Byers followed closely behind Mulder. "She's okay, isn't she?" Byers asked.

"Yes, she's fine. But I wanted to make absolutely sure that Judith has to be there. Is there any way we could make this trip without her? Leave her here with Byers?"

"I'm not sure how we can keep her safe if we split up the group, Scully. No matter who's after her, whether it's a ghost or a human being, they'll follow her. It would be best if we all stayed together. Strength in numbers."

"She's trying to prepare herself for...whatever's going to happen tonight, Mulder, and I could swear she's decided that she isn't going to live through it."

The bathroom door opened and Judith strode out, exuding a confidence she simply hadn't had before. The courage of the damned, Scully couldn't help but think to herself. Byers was visibly shocked at the change in her demeanor, glancing at Scully as if he finally understood what she'd been trying to tell them.

"I can see that you're worried, John, and you really don't have to. This ends now. Tonight. I'm not going to be his possession anymore."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly grateful Scully had suggested quietly to him that they should ride over to Judith's apartment in a separate car, Mulder started to enumerate his plan for the evening. Even though he knew she probably thought his theory was crazy, he truly needed someone to help him piece together a plan of action.

"If this is a ghost, getting rid of him isn't going to be easy. This is going to be difficult for her."

"He did treat her terribly. Like a belonging. A possession," Scully said quietly.

Mulder flipped through the pages of a few of the books he'd brought with him, glad that he'd asked Scully to drive.

He skimmed a section on obsessed spirits, reading guidelines and suggested incantations, finally mumbling to himself, "If she's strong enough to do it, I think it will work."

They continued their trip in silence, following the Gunmen's van until it pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex on the west side of Falls Church.

----

After they got out of the car, Scully watched as Mulder pulled Judith aside, apparently preparing her for whatever he thought was going to happen tonight. When Mulder was finished, Judith fished her keys out of her purse and led them up the path towards the apartment door.

"My cat is inside, so don't be frightened if you hear something," Judith told them as they reached the landing outside her door.

She let them in, flipping a switch near the door that turned on a single light at the far side of the room. Frohike, the last one to enter the apartment, closed the door behind himself, closing them all inside the apartment Judith had left in haste that morning.

Scully caught a quick glimpse of Judith's cat as she scurried along the hallway and disappeared into a dark room. She started to point it out to Judith, but at a glance she could tell that Judith was consumed in thought and anticipation.

"Judith, I'd like to have a look around. Would that be okay?" Judith nodded, distracted, and Scully began her investigation of the apartment. She opened the front door again, briefly, to examine the doorjamb for any signs of forced entry. When she found nothing there, she began to examine each of the windows, quickly ruling out any entry through either of the windows in the dining room and the single window in the living room. Mulder had joined her at some point -- engrossed in her examination, she hadn't noticed right away.

"Did you find anything, Scully?"

"There was a slight irregularity in the lower sill of one of the windows in the dining room, but I don't think it could account for a break-in. There is, of course, the possibility that one of the windows was open, or unlocked."

"No, nothing was open or unlocked. I check and double check all the doors and windows every night before I go to sleep. They were all locked this morning, too," Judith answered from across the room.

"Maybe I'll take a look at the bathroom," Scully said, knowing there would be something here to lead them to the truth.

"Down that hallway, on the left," Judith directed.

"I'll go with you," Mulder said, following Scully down the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom.

Scully pulled on a pair of latex gloves, turning to Mulder and offering him a pair. "You can either put them on, or promise not to touch anything." Mulder raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, and Scully withdrew the gloves. "There have to be some prints in here other than Judith's. We'll dust in a second, but first, there's something I want to try."

Scully reached behind Mulder to carefully grab the doorknob and pull the door closed. When the door was closed, she pulled the shower curtain aside and switched on the hot water tap.

"Scully, this isn't how I imagined us doing this at all..."

Deftly ignoring him, she explained herself. "If anything was written on the mirror, it should show up if we flood the bathroom with steam again."

There was a rap at the door, followed by Byers' soft voice. "Are you guys okay in there?"

"We're just checking the mirror. We'll be out in a minute," Scully answered him, her voice straining just a bit as she yelled over the noise of the shower.

Mulder turned toward the door and yelled through it, "Frohike, Langly... Could the two of you start a survey of the apartment? Do a walk-through for me with the goggles, and get some EMF readings?"

"You got it," Langly shouted from the other side of the bathroom door, too loudly.

Steam began to collect in the cramped bathroom, slowly revealing a pattern in the mirror. Several minutes later, the message Judith had seen that morning was clearly visible.

"Well, Scully, that part of her story checks out."

"Mulder, I don't believe she'd intentionally lie to us. I just want to make sure we don't overlook something obvious."

Mulder nodded. "What next, Scully?"

"I'd like to get some prints, but I think we'll have to cut the steam in here. Can you open the door?"

"Sure," Mulder said, twisting around to open the door he'd been leaning against. He turned around after a second, a quizzical look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"It's stuck. Must be the steam...the door's probably a little swollen. I just have to get a better grip on it..." he strained against the door. "I'll turn on the exhaust fan for now. That should clear some of it out."

Scully yelled over the sound of the noisy exhaust fan, "Mulder, the knob's not even turning in your hand. Are you sure it's not locked?"

"I've tried it both ways." He raised his voice. "Byers! We're stuck in here. The door won't open. Can you push from your side?" Only silence answered him, and he tried again. "Byers! Langly! Frohike! Can any of you hear me?"

----

"Langly, you getting any readings over there?"

"Nope. I'm not picking up anything in my nightvision goggles, either. No temperature fluctuations. I think we're giving a party and the guest of honor isn't showing up, Frohike."

"Be patient. Mulder's got some weird ideas but I think he's right about this one."

"Come on, let's head back to the living room. We're not picking up anything back here in the bedroom. We need to get some readings in the bathroom, too."

Frohike squinted towards the bathroom door, visible from Judith's bedroom. "They're still in there. We'll have to wait."

Langly looked up, tilting his head toward the bathroom. "Do you hear something?" Frohike concentrated, and then looked back at Langly. "That's not the sound of the shower. Sounds more like a fan."

"No, no. I meant, do you hear someone yelling? It sounded like Mulder."

"I'll check it out. Try to pick up a reading in the back corner there." Frohike headed toward the bedroom doorway.

Langly looked down, his eyes widening at what he saw. "Hey, Frohike! This thing's going nuts," Langly said, indicating the EMF detector. "I've got fluctuations like you wouldn't believe."

"Mulder, Byers! We've got something in here," Frohike yelled. When no one showed up right away, Frohike started through the doorway into the hallway. Just as he attempted to cross the threshold, the door swung back violently, hitting him in the face and throwing him backward.

"Frohike! Are you okay?"

"I've been better," Frohike answered, groaning. He put his hand to his now throbbing nose, not too surprised to see blood covering his fingers as he pulled it away. "I think my nose may be broken, and I'm stuck in here with you instead of Agent Scully, but other than that, I'm okay."

Langly stepped over Frohike to get to the door, pulled on the doorknob to no avail, and then resorted to pounding his fists against the wood. "Hey, guys! We're stuck!"

Langly looked down at the EMF detector, its needles jumping around, and wondered what could be going on out there. He looked at Frohike's bloodied face, and realized there were more immediate concerns. He took a pillowcase from Judith's bed, hoping she'd forgive him later, and handed it to Frohike. "Hold this against your nose to stop the bleeding." He looked helplessly back toward the door, wondering how long they would be stuck there.

----

"John, what's going to happen?" Judith asked him after they sat down on the couch to wait.

"I'm not sure, Judith. You should be prepared for just about anything. But I'll be here. I'll be here to help you."

"I know," she said, freely giving him her hand when he reached out to take it, protectively covering her single hand with both of his.

They heard the shower go on in the bathroom, and Judith looked momentarily alarmed.

"Mulder and Scully are in there. They're probably just checking things out. Do you want me to go take a look?"

"No," she said, quickly, gripping his hands tighter. "Stay here." She took a shaky breath, and tried to calm down. "I'm sure you're right."

"We'll just wait here until Mulder and Scully come back. They'll figure this out. They always do," he told her, wondering how much he was stretching the truth. Judith began to squeeze his hand again, and he assumed she was just a little frightened until her grip began to become uncomfortable. "Judith?" he said, looking toward her.

Anger colored the features of her face, a sad, tortured anger. "He's here..." she said, darkly, unfazed. She pulled her hand from Byers' grip, standing and walking away from the couch. "Where are you, you bastard," she whispered, stepping slowly around the room and looking up at the ceiling. "Come out. You were never afraid of me before, not until you saw a gun in my hand. I don't have a gun this time, Andrew. This time, it's just you and me." Her voice stayed low, quiet, almost intimate.

"Judith, don't do this..." Byers pleaded, getting up from the couch and moving toward her. She didn't seem to notice him -- she just kept looking toward the ceiling, as if she could see Andrew there. She moved away from him, lightly pushing him away. He stumbled backward a single step before he began to walk toward her again, more determined to snap her out of this, when he was suddenly pushed backward, much more violently, by some unseen force. It felt as if he was being choked, his vision becoming fuzzy as he gasped for air. He tried to speak, tried to reach out for Judith, but he couldn't accomplish either. He felt the energy being drained from him as he slumped forward.

Abruptly, the single light in the living room cut off, washing the room in darkness, except for a small area illuminated by moonlight near the window. She rushed to Byers' side, relieved to find him still breathing, deep and rhythmic, a small spot of blood coloring his forehead. "Why can't you let go, Andrew?" she whispered, "Why can't you realize it's over. You never loved me. You owned me. And you can't love a possession, Andrew. And I didn't love you. An object can't love its owner. So just go. Go anywhere, just go away from me."

----

Langly panicked a little when the lights cut out in the bedroom, but suppressed his reaction, not in a hurry to look like a coward in front of Frohike.

"Damn. What's that?" Frohike asked, his voice slightly nasal as it sounded in the darkness.

"I don't know. I guess it could be a random power outage." Langly didn't need to see Frohike's face to know the skeptical expression he'd be directing towards him. "But I doubt it," he added.

"What should we do?"

Langly tried the door again, still completely immovable. "I still can't open the door. I'd try to go out the window, but we're on the third floor, and I'm not Batman."

"I guess we wait. What else can we do?"

----

"Scully, would this be a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" Mulder asked, apparently trying to lighten the mood. When the single overhead light cut out, sending them into total darkness, he added, "And that I'm afraid of the dark?"

"Shhhh...Mulder, did you hear something? Someone yelling, just before the lights went out?"

"No, I didn't. But if you did, I'll take your word for it." He paused. "There's definitely something going on here, Scully. And I'm going to get us out of here."

Mulder backed up as far as he could in the confines of the small bathroom, leaning backward and trying to kick out the door. When he came in contact with it, his body recoiled impossibly away from it, throwing him backward and crumpling him to the ground.

Scully knelt, trying to see something in the complete darkness, without any luck. She rifled though the pockets of her suit jacket for her flashlight, even her cellphone...anything that could provide any illumination at all. "Mulder?" she asked quietly as she continued to look, suddenly picturing her cellphone sitting securely in the pocket of her overcoat, draped over the couch in Judith's living room. She finally found her keys, equipped with a small, pen-light flashlight. She pointed it toward Mulder, fearing the worst. Immediately, she saw a spot of blood on the back of his head, blood already beginning to soak through his closely-cropped hair.

She jumped to her feet, using her flashlight to locate the towel rack, and returned to Mulder on the ground, holding the towel on the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood.

"Scully?" he asked, weakly.

"Mulder -- try to stay awake. Keep talking to me."

"Still don't believe there's a ghost here?"

Leave it to Mulder to be annoying when she simply asked him to keep talking. "I don't believe anything of the sort. Why don't you try to convince me."

Mulder started to breathily repeat some of the material from the research he'd done earlier that day, interrupted by quick, hissing breaths, the only indication of the pain he was in.

"Is it bad, Scully?" Mulder interrupted his own lecture on ghostly phenomena to ask.

"Just a head wound, Mulder. Shouldn't be a problem for you," she said, surprised at her ability to joke with him when she could still feel her heart beating in panic at the idea that Mulder was wounded.

"Ha, ha, Scully. So I know I'm gonna be okay. You'd never joke with me if I was dying."

"What would I do if you were dying, Mulder?" she teased, actually quite interested in what he'd say.

"You'd profess your undying love for me, Scully. Swear that you'd never look at another man for the rest of your life, of course."

She pressed her lips together almost as hard as she was pressing against the wound on Mulder's head, wondering how close to the truth Mulder's words were.

"Well, Mulder, I'm not saying that. So you must be okay, right?"

"Sing to me, Scully," he asked.

"Not again, Mulder. Why don't I tell you about Bill's vacation to Anaheim with Tara and the kids?"

"Scully, I thought I wasn't supposed to go to sleep."

She pulled the towel away from Mulder's head, and used the flashlight to examine the gash. Much to her relief, the flow of blood was beginning to stop, and telltale signs of healthy clotting were beginning around the outer edges of the wound.

"I should wash this out," she told him, knowing he wouldn't be happy about it. He protested, and she cut him off, practical as always. He flinched a little as she dabbed the water-soaked corner of the towel against his head, but he endured the discomfort in silence.

"Something's going on out there, Scully."

"There isn't anything we can do about it from -- " she interrupted herself. "Mulder, do you have your phone in here?"

He patted his pockets for a second before answering. "No. It's with our coats." He paused. "This is the last time I come into a bathroom with you without my phone."

----

Something touched her, without touching her...spoke to her somehow without using language. She was overcome with a feeling of guilt, she same feelings she'd had in the days following Andrew's death. Memories followed the guilt, flowed through her mind...a picnic Andrew had set up under a tree on the campus. The first time he'd explained that his jealousy was evidence of how much he loved her. The first time they'd made love...and the first time he'd raped her. It rushed through her mind, overcoming her, forcing her to fall to her knees.

"Stop it...stop," she said, clutching her head in both hands. The pain was real now, physical, as the memories continued to assault her. The flowers he'd brought her -- pink roses -- an apology for the first black eye he'd given her. The day he'd shown up at work, making a scene in the lobby and breaking a lamp when the receptionist couldn't find her right away. Threats he'd made to her male co-workers, men he was convinced she was having affairs with.

And then the memories became more recent. The night she'd killed him...she watched again as blood poured from his stomach, seeping into the carpet and saturating it, creating strange, surreal patterns around his unmoving body. The trial, the threats and attacks she'd suffered from Victor, the reporters looking for a story. Cutting her waist-length hair and dying it from its natural blond to a dark brown, while she was waiting for John to kill her old identity and create a new one for her. Starting her new job, nervous that she'd make a mistake, do something to destroy her fragile new life.

And it all shut off, abruptly, replaced by Andrew's clear, calm voice.

"I told you I'd be watching you. I told you I'd find you. And if you think I'm going to let you get away with this..." Judith flailed her arms, fighting in futility against the attack, realizing only at the last moment that the attack was coming from within.

She crumpled to the ground, feeling her heartbeat slow, choking on each new breath. It was as if invisible hands gripped her heart, her throat, squeezing the life out of her.

She choked again, coughing as she tried to struggle against the pressure, rewarded only with the coppery taste of her own blood filling her mouth. Her vision blurry, she strained to see her cousin one last time, the only person who had always been willing to sacrifice everything to help her, the only person who made her feel worthy of help, and silently thanked him one last time before she relaxed. The hands seemed to tighten, and she relaxed again.

She had one thought in her mind as he finished, a memory from years ago ringing through her head. "This will be the last time he does this to me, no matter which one of us dies tonight."

----

Scully found herself looking upwards, squinting and blinking under the sudden return of light to the room.

"Could we dare to think the door will open now?" Mulder asked. "I'd try it, but I think I'm still too dizzy to get up."

"I'll try it," she said, taking Mulder's right hand and putting it against the towel, silently urging him to continue direct pressure against his cut.

"Be careful."

With visions of Mulder flying away from the door, Scully carefully approached it, slowly putting out her hand and moving it toward the knob. She felt her palm connect with the slippery metal, and, to her surprise, it turned easily under her hand.

"I'm going out there. Stay here."

She saw the closed bedroom door to her left as she left the bathroom, moving to it first. She again carefully approached the door, finding that this one also opened easily.

She found Langly sitting on the edge of Judith's bed, standing up quickly when he saw Scully at the door. Frohike was sitting on the ground, clutching a blood-stained pillowcase to his nose.

"What happened?" she asked Frohike, leaning down to get a better look at his injury.

"Door hit me in the nose when we were trying to get out of here. Think it's broken."

Scully pulled the pillowcase away momentarily, seeing the early stages of bruising that indeed indicated a probable break. "I think you're right. We need to get you and Mulder to a hospital."

"Mulder? What happened?" Langly asked, alarmed.

"He's okay. Just a head wound. He got it when we were trying to get out of the bathroom."

"You guys were locked up too? Did the lights go out in there?" Frohike managed to croak out, his voice getting more nasal by the minute.

Scully looked around the room. "Where are Byers and Judith?" Langly and Frohike shrugged.

"Living room, I guess," Langly answered.

Scully sprinted down the hallway, past the bathroom, making the turn at the end of the hallway to enter the living room, only to be greeted by eerie silence. Two motionless forms lie near each other on the floor. Judith was pale, her eyes staring, unblinking, at the ceiling. In a gesture she knew was futile, Scully knelt on the floor next to her, feeling for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there.

"Are they gonna be okay?" Langly asked hopefully, as Scully moved to inspect Byers. Though he was unconscious, his pulse was strong and his breathing was even, giving Scully every reason to expect he'd be fine as soon as they could get him checked out in a hospital.

"My jacket. My phone's in it," she said, pointing Langly towards it. He brought her jacket to her, and she dug out her cellphone, finally able to make the call to 911.

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI. I'm at 451 Brick Kiln Circle, apartment 304. We have two head traumas, one minor, one slightly more severe, a broken nose, and a woman who is unresponsive, without a distinguishable pulse, trauma unknown. We need medical attention here immediately." She ended the call, turning to Langly and Frohike. "I'm sorry. She's gone."

----

"I think I was the only one who knew you, Judith -- Eliza -- at all," Byers whispered, looking at her headstone and wondering again if there was anything the could have done differently. "I wish you could have seen what I saw in you. You were so much more deserving of something good, of some joy. You didn't find it here. I hope, wherever you are, that you find it there." He collapsed a little, his shoulders slumping, his hand rising to cover his eyes, catching the tears that fell down his cheeks.

He stood there, silently thinking about the girl he'd known when they were young. The summer afternoons they spent running through a sprinkler, the silly fights they'd gotten in when their families visited at holidays. He allowed his mind to run through all the memories of her, remembering in spite of the pain it caused him.

And later, he felt the presence of his friends, approaching the grave nervously and hesitantly.

"It's okay, guys. I'm ready to go," he called to them. He had only one last thing to tell her.

"I'm sorry, Eliza," he told her, his heart heavy as he walked to meet his friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

end

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