<![CDATA[***********************************
The Abyss Looks Back - Part 2 of 7 (2/7)
by Kronos
***********************************
Wednesday, 9:03 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Conference Room
"Okay people, listen up."
Skinner's voice carried easily through the noise in the room. The thirty some
agents quickly quieted an looked at him expectantly. The shock of the previous
night had worn off and there was a feeling akin to excitement in the air. After
getting nowhere for months, they would at least have something to do, even if it
were an illusion of constructive work. Most of the agents who had attended the
briefing the previous night felt no resentment at being reassigned to new task
groups. For some odd reason, the very fact that they would be working on
something new gave hope where none had been before.
"I know that many of you were unable to attend the briefing last night but I'm
sure you've heard what's happening. ASAC Jenkins requested my
involvement and the assistance of Agents Mulder and Scully in this
investigation. He has asked me to direct the team from here on out.
Essentially, ladies and gentlemen, we are starting from scratch. Nothing has
turned up in seven months and we're facing a one to two week deadline before
our killer strikes again. I have identified five teams that will be working
full
force for at least the next several days, after which time we will reevaluate
resources and determine whether modifications are required. These teams are 1
-Victim Selection Pattern Team which will be led by Agent Halston, 2 -
Dumping Pattern Team, led by Agent Brewster, 3 - Profile Team, being
coordinated by Agent Vickers out of the VCS, 4 - Commonality Team, headed
by Agent Tresky, and 5 - Forensics Team, led by Agent Anderson. You all
know what teams you've been assigned to. Agents Mulder, Scully, and I have
already briefed the team leaders. I'll leave the team leaders to explain your
objectives and activities over the next couple days. Agents Mulder and Scully
will be working with every team as appropriate and at their discretion -- and
mine."
At this Skinner paused and panned his gaze around the room, daring anyone to
have a problem with anything he'd said.
"We'll be setting our temporary headquarters up in the adjacent room." Skinner
gestured to the smaller conference room to the right.
"We'll be meeting with the team leaders tonight and will all meet again
tomorrow evening here at 8 p.m. Kiss your husbands and wives good-bye for
awhile ladies and gentlemen. You're mine for the next couple of weeks."
Skinner abruptly turned his back on the group and took the couple steps
necessary to reach Scully and Mulder. Behind him, he could hear the departure
of the agents, heading out to meet with their new team leaders. He raised a
brow at his agents.
Mulder nodded to him, letting Skinner know he was satisfied.
"Sir, the team leaders are all good choices. They know what to do. Scully and
I'll be working closely with them. I'm having all the evidence brought next
door. While the teams are meeting, I want to look it over. Scully's heading
out
to speak with the first two pathologists. We're planning on going to the first
site in about two hours, so we'll leave from here around noon."
"All right. Keep me apprised of where you'll be at all times. I'm meeting with
Dave Jenkins to discuss the case. If you can't reach me through him, get me on
my cell phone. I'd like to join you on a couple of the sites at least."
Both his agents nodded and then went their separate ways, after a verbal
exchange that was too soft for Skinner to hear.
*************************
Wednesday, 11:26 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Mulder sat alone at one end of the conference table in their temporary
headquarters, amidst stacks of boxes, each prominently marked with a five digit
number followed by a date. He had an open box next to him that corresponded
to evidence retrieved from the first crime scene. The box was full of bags,
each
tagged with a number and initials to indicate investigating officer. The police
had released the evidence to the Minneapolis Bureau, relieved to be no longer
responsible for it.
Mulder quickly established a procedure for looking through the box of
evidence. Pick up a bag, compare identification number and contents to the list
on the table beside him, check it off, go to the next item. Every once in
awhile,
a piece of evidence would be intriguing enough to cause a break in the pattern.
Mulder would then open the bag, often turning the item, feeling the texture,
sometimes staring at it for as long as a minute, before returning it to its bag
and
moving on to the next item.
When he reached the string of shoelaces, he stood, carrying the bag with him to
the end of the table, where another set of case files sat. He opened the first
and
sorted through the pages until he found the photo he'd been looking for -- a
particularly gruesome view of the crime scene. Mulder pulled the photo out of
the file and stood staring at it. He finally placed the photo on the table and
then
removed the shoelaces from the bag.
He held them loosely on his open hands. They were so light. He could hardly
even feel the weight. It was hard to believe they could be responsible for the
death of a child. Mulder closed his eyes and slowly wrapped his fingers around
them. They felt practically new, smooth, except for the small knot tying them
together.
Opening his eyes, he gripped one end of the string firmly in his left hand and
with the right hand very deliberately stretched the length taut. He wrapped the
laces around each hand, once, twice, still stretching them tightly. He allowed
his head to drop back and again closed his eyes for a heartbeat, two, three.
This was what it felt like. The blood was slowly being cut off to his fingers.
They began to tingle, first at the tips, gradually spreading up, to the
knuckles,
even to the palm. His hands started to throb, suddenly heavy. It was almost
sensuous. The muscles in his arms were now straining against the tension. His
entire body was rigid. His breathing sped up, became slightly erratic.
Mulder opened his eyes again, blinded for a moment by the overhead light. He
then looked down at the table where the photo lay, taking in, yet again, the
details.
The photo drew him in, surrounded him, invaded him. He didn't fight it. He
wanted it -- he needed it. Mulder was there, standing by the body -- Kevin
Foster's seven year old body -- each wound horribly visible, the sexual assault
obvious, the young skin offering silent testimony to the heinous violation. The
stench of death invaded Mulder's nostrils. Blood, urine, vomit -- the perverted
perfume of innocence lost. As if physically present, Mulder was immersed in
the sight and smells of violent end. He stood looking down on the youthful
face, twisted horribly in pain, frozen by death's stamp.
It was too much, too soon.
Mulder tore his eyes away and gasped as if he had been holding his breath for
minutes. He threw the shoestring garrote on the table and stumbled to the near
wall where he dropped to his knees and proceeded to lose everything in his
stomach into a trash can.
He eventually became aware of a hand gripping his shoulder and opened his
eyes to see a paper towel by his head. Mulder took it, still not sure who was
there and not really caring. He was too exhausted, too miserable.
After rubbing the paper towel over his mouth and chin, Mulder threw it in the
trash, folded the plastic edges of the trash bag down into the can, and moved to
stand. A hand entered his view, offering assistance, and he took it, finally
looking up at his benefactor. He wasn't surprised to see AD Skinner standing
above him, a worried expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, sir. I..... it must have been.... something I ate." It sounded
like a
pathetically weak excuse even to his own ears. Mulder ran one slightly shaking
hand across his forehead to remove the light sheen of sweat that had taken up
residence, eyes bouncing from the ground in front of him to the far wall,
anywhere but on his boss.
Skinner had still not said a word. He decided not to let Mulder know just how
long he'd been in the room. "Mulder, the Forensics team wants to get access to
whatever evidence you don't need right now. They didn't want to disturb you.
Also, Agent Scully phoned. She'll be here in about half an hour."
Skinner quickly revised his own schedule in his mind. He decided he wanted to
stay close to Mulder today. "I'll be accompanying you this afternoon to the
crime scenes."
Skinner looked around the room briefly, taking in the stacks of boxes in
disarray. He needed time to think and used the survey as a delaying action.
Mulder still stood quietly, arms hanging at his sides, a now blank expression on
his face, working hard to calm his breathing.
"Look, Mulder, why don't you check in with the team leaders before we head
out. Tell me what you need to bring with you to the crime scenes and I'll
arrange for it to be gathered."
Mulder looked at his boss then, the feeling of relief coursing through him
almost tangible. Could Skinner somehow know? Could he possibly
understand? From his time in the VCS, Mulder was used to suffering through
these cases alone. All of a sudden he found he had not only his partner looking
out for him, worrying about him, but also AD Skinner, his hard-ass, take no
prisoners boss.
Mulder took a slightly shaky breath, nodded, and replied, "Yes, sir. I do need
to coordinate with them. I'll need crime scene photos, and all the .....
garrotes." He rushed on, as if afraid Skinner would object. "I'll meet you
back
here in half an hour, sir."
Skinner nodded and watched the younger man head towards the door. He
thanked the heavens above that he had never shown any aptitude for profiling.
He knew about the men and women of the ISU in VCS who got into the killer's
head, into his thoughts and feelings. After seeing only a few minutes of Mulder
doing this, Skinner knew he wouldn't wish the job on his worst enemy. God
help them. God help Mulder.
*************************
Scully sensed that something had happened while she was away. The two men
facing her seemed tense, uneasy about something, although both smiled upon
seeing her.
"Hi. Are you ready, Mulder?" Her partner nodded and then looked at Skinner.
At this, Scully also looked at her boss.
"I'll be accompanying you this afternoon, Scully. Agent Brewster is lending us
Patty Sachs. Agent Sachs is intimately familiar with all the crime scenes and
will be driving us. We're meeting up with her out front."
Scully nodded at this words and looked again at her partner. He seemed to be
taking the news of two additions to the party well. "Let's go, sir."
Trust Scully not to waste time.
Skinner led the way through the building, giving Scully the chance to drop
behind to walk with her partner. She spoke to him loudly enough so Skinner
could hear her update.
"Mulder, nothing new turned up this morning. I still need to talk with the
other
two pathologists involved. Janice Anderson is arranging it for first thing
tomorrow morning. I'll be speaking with her at greater length this evening. I
don't expect anything really groundbreaking to come of it, though."
Scully had been watching her partner take in the news and was concerned by
his pallor. She put her hand on his arm, leaned towards him and asked him
quietly, hoping her inquiry wouldn't reach Skinner, "Are you Okay?" He
looked at her then, really looked at her, and managed a small smile of
reassurance with an accompanying nod.
They had reached the front door and were greeted by a young agent who didn't
seem old enough to have even graduated high school. He had a box in his
arms. Skinner preempted the young man with a, "Follow us to the car, please,"
and breezed out the door, then held it open for the other agents.
They could see Agent Sachs standing on the curb, watching their progress. As
they reached her, there were nods of acknowledgment all around.
The last thing Patty Sachs ever expected to be doing was playing chauffeur and
waitress to Spooky Mulder, the Ice Queen, and the Assistant Director. It was
more than slightly daunting, and greatly annoying. She was still bristling a
bit
from the call she'd received twenty minutes ago instructing her to arrange for
juice and coffee for them, and while she was at it, how about get some bottled
water. Who the hell did they think they were? The chauffeuring she didn't
really mind. To be fair, she was not only driving them, but was also there to
provide details on the crime scenes. She'd been involved almost from the
beginning so few other agents had her perspective. It was the damn order to
'wait' on them. Oh well, 'ours is not to question why', she reminded herself.
"Hello, sirs, ma'am. I got the items you requested, sir." This last was
directed
at Skinner. "They're in the car. We're all set to go to the first scene. It's
in St.
Paul. It'll take about forty minutes at this time of day." The young woman
paused a moment before going on. "Sir, there are closer sites. The fourth site
is only ten minutes from here."
Skinner could see Mulder straighten noticeably out of the corner of his eye so
he looked over to better gage his agent's reaction.
Mulder was shaking his head and finally said, "No, we have to see them in
order."
Skinner nodded acknowledgment and returned his gaze to Agent Sachs. "We'll
see the first one. Could you pop the trunk Agent Sachs, so we can store this?"
Skinner gestured to the box the young agent had been patiently holding. He
saw Mulder move once again, a jerky movement, as if he stopped his actions
before finishing. He looked over at the younger man. Mulder was evidently
debating with himself. Skinner could guess at what.
"Mulder, Scully, perhaps we can take the time during the drive to plan the
evening's objectives and discuss developments from this morning." Mulder
merely nodded and moved around the car to enter the back seat from the
driver's side. Scully also moved to the back seat, leaving Skinner to sit up
front with Patty Sachs.
Once in the car, Skinner turned to the female agent sitting next to him. "Agent
Sachs, I apologize if you got stuck getting coffee and refreshments for us. I
know you have better things to do with your time. Unfortunately, on such
short notice, you ended up with the short straw. All I can say is that we
greatly
appreciate it and next time, I'll play fetch."
Patty Sachs didn't know how to react. The Assistant Director just begged for
her forgiveness and promised to 'fetch' coffee for her. Was that supposed to
happen? She finally collected herself enough to reply. "No problem, sir. I
know things are hectic right now. It was my pleasure."
Skinner smiled at her wryly, letting her know he understood that it wasn't
really, but that it was Okay. He then reached towards the bags sitting on the
seat
next to him and opened one at random. He pulled out a couple small cartons of
orange juice and passed them to the back seat, not asking Mulder or Scully if
they actually even wanted them.
"Mulder, I remember how much you enjoyed this on the plane." He could hear
Scully's light, appreciative laugh as he turned to look in another bag. Coffee.
Smelled wonderful but that could wait a bit. He opened the third to find the
bottled spring water. He pulled two out and passed these back as well. He
knew Mulder had to be dehydrated.
Skinner was used to missing meals and rarely ate lunch. Missing a meal this
afternoon would be no hardship for him. He wasn't so sure about Scully, still
thin after her ordeal with cancer, and Mulder always looked like he could use a
few extra pounds on his frame. But Skinner knew better than to suggest eating
just before viewing the crime scenes where seven small children were dumped
after being brutalized and murdered. He just prayed they'd get through the
afternoon as quickly as possible.
**************************
Wednesday, 1:17 p.m.
Gas Station and Automobile Repair, St. Paul (First Crime Scene)
Mulder stood in the center of the still deserted garage. The yellow crime scene
tape had long since fallen to shreds and remaining bits here and there fluttered
in
response to the light afternoon breeze. A mustiness permeated the air. The
building had been closed for more than seven months now.
The garage was attached to a gas station that had been targeted for renovation
some eight months ago. The owner had temporarily shut down while the
renovation was initiated. Before the first counter could be replaced, the nude,
maimed body of seven year old Kevin Foster was found lying in the center of
the garage.
Mulder had taken about six or seven photos from the case file. He would stare
at one, then would look up and around the garage, trying to match present and
past. He had again removed the shoestring garrote from the evidence bag and
had it wrapped around his right hand, ends trailing down either side.
Scully and Skinner stood by the garage entrance, talking with Patty Sachs.
Patty had met extensively with the local police and had visited the scene with
the
investigating officers a couple months after the murder. The FBI hadn't been
called in until the third victim had been found, since the police hadn't
originally
been aware they had a serial killer on their hands. Scully kept glancing over at
her partner. She knew that for whatever reason, he didn't need to hear Sach's
accounts.
What Mulder needed was much more intangible. He needed to get the feel for
the site. He needed to 'see' everything, to see how it might have happened, the
dumping of the body. Agent Sachs couldn't really help him with that.
Scully figured he had now been gazing at the photo in his hands for about four
minutes without moving. She was debating whether to approach him when she
realized Skinner must have been thinking along the same lines.
He walked up to Mulder's right side and intentionally stopped far enough in
front of his agent that he'd be in Mulder's view, not wanting to startle the
man.
He realized, however, that Mulder stood with his eyes closed, not looking at the
photo he was holding in front of him.
Skinner's soft, "Mulder," brought no response whatsoever. Skinner opened
his mouth to speak again, more loudly, reconsidered, then looked over at
Scully. Mulder seemed lost in some sort of self-induced trance. But was it
really Skinner's place to intrude? Mulder had done this work for several years,
and done it exceedingly well, during his time with the VCS. Perhaps this was a
necessary part of Mulder's approach to solving these cases.
Scully still stood with Agent Sachs, who seemed fascinated with the play
unfolding in front of her, and didn't seem to mind that both Skinner and Scully
had turned away from her while she was in mid-sentence. Scully was lightly
chewing on her lower lip, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She was
obviously debating whether to intrude on her partner. She didn't know the
right thing to do either.
Skinner looked back at Mulder and discovered the younger man was now
swaying slightly, almost unnoticeably, and his hands were beginning to shake,
causing the ends of the dangling shoestrings to sway and the photo to undulate
weirdly, so that there was an appearance almost of movement on the page.
Sweat stood out on Mulder's forehead, one drop rolling down his right temple.
Skinner wanted to avoid another incident like that in the conference room so
decided to be more aggressive in getting Mulder's attention.
Skinner gripped Mulder's forearm and again repeated his name, "Mulder",
much more forcefully this time. The younger man's eyes flew open and his
breath caught. He still stood frozen in the same position, but swayed to the
left
as if he'd lost his balance temporarily. Skinner gripped his arm more tightly
and put his other hand on the younger man's shoulder to anchor him. Skinner
waited a good seven or eight seconds to be sure his agent was steady before
removing the hand from Mulder's shoulder and then forearm.
"Everything all right, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked the question quietly,
giving Scully the chance to become otherwise engaged. When he heard her soft
voice speaking with Agent Sachs, he knew she'd got the message.
Mulder was now looking around, apparently trying to get his bearings. He
actually appeared confused. Then the confusion was replaced with
embarrassment and Mulder stood straight, looking once again the consummate
professional. He cleared his throat before replying. "I'm fine, sir, thank
you."
Mulder was furious with himself. He knew better than this. Twice now he'd
allowed himself to get lost in the case with others present or nearby. Scully
was one thing but Skinner. God, what had he been thinking. He'd have to be
more careful the rest of the day. Hell, he'd have to be more careful the rest
of
this case. He could feel his jaw clench, almost on its own.
He looked back at his boss, prepared to explain, or better yet, fabricate some
pacifying statement to get the man off his back. Instead, Skinner was gazing at
him kindly. The words Mulder had been trying to come up with died before
fully formulating. Skinner had surprised him yet again. His boss turned away,
heading for Scully and Sachs, allowing Mulder to recoup.
Mulder took a last look at the garage and headed over to the other agents. He'd
seen enough here.
*************************
The rest of the day proceeded in a haze for Skinner and Scully. Each site was
different but oddly similar. Always a location which had been temporarily
deserted or closed, but in the midst of a busy residential or commercial area.
An empty house for sale, a flower shop closed while the staff was on vacation,
a commercial property for rent, the gas station being renovated. Always a site
where the body would be sure to be discovered within days, but where there
would be a degree of privacy at night for the killer to dump the victim's body.
All but two of the sites still remained empty, appearing abandoned.
They had crossed back and forth from Minneapolis to St. Paul three times.
Scully and Skinner had had extensive conversations with Patty Sachs, gaining
insights and impressions on each site and on the furor surrounding the
discovery of the bodies. Mulder had been uninterested in hearing these details.
He had been very professional at each site, as well as thorough. He had, at
times, seemed engrossed in minutiae, at other times almost bored with the
surroundings. He once stared at a blank wall for no apparent reason, only to
then walk to within inches of it, at which point he then turned and walked back
to the middle of the room, as if pacing off the distance. At another site,
Mulder
placed the crime scene photos on the floor, each positioned corresponding to the
scene in the photo, and then proceeded to walk from one to another, staring
down at the photos, then around the room.
Scully had only seen glimpses of this Mulder before and wasn't totally sure
what to make of it. She had already decided not to question him. She had
doubted him in the Mostow case, hadn't trusted him, and it had almost cost him
his life. She wouldn't repeat that mistake again.
Throughout the day, Agent Sachs had watched Mulder whenever possible,
often surreptitiously. He was something of a legend throughout the Bureau,
and she'd been surprised at how young he actually was. She had heard Spooky
Mulder stories even when going through the Academy and was now seeing him
operate first hand. He was certainly living up to his spooky reputation.
On the other hand, she was beginning to think Dana Scully's reputation as the
Ice Queen was way off base. Sachs had seen Scully's concerned gaze find its
way to her partner over and over as the day progressed. Occasionally Scully's
and Mulder's eyes would meet and perhaps a smile would be exchanged. Patty
was beginning to think that maybe Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were more than
just partners. And she had no idea where Skinner fit into the equation. He
seemed to honestly care about his agents and had been solicitous of Mulder's
health.
They were now at the last site and had been working steadily without a break
beyond the car rides for seven hours. Mulder was again at the location where
the body had been found, but was down on one knee, the inescapable
shoestring garrote in hands. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed
drained of all life and vitality. Each movement was orchestrated, deliberate,
as
if he had to conserve his energy and was rationing his internal accumulation
carefully.
Scully had remained discreetly neutral throughout the day, but was now
concerned enough to walk over and kneel down next to her partner, lightly
touching his arm.
"Mulder, are you about done? We're going to have to leave soon to make the
eight o'clock meeting with the team leaders tonight."
Mulder dragged his head up and nodded once. Dark circles had begun to form
under his eyes.
"Come on, Mulder, let's go."
Scully gently moved her hand under his elbow and started to pull, lending him
her support. She had gathered the photos in her other hand and now guided
Mulder to the exit. He didn't seem to see Skinner and Sachs standing by the
door. Scully merely nodded to them and walked out to the car with Mulder,
opening the door for him. He practically fell into the car and closed his eyes,
quickly falling asleep. Scully walked around to the other side of the car and
waited for Skinner to approach.
"How's he doing, Agent Scully?"
"I don't know, sir. I'm not sure what he was doing today, what it
accomplished, beyond the obvious. But, sir, Mulder does know what he's
doing."
Skinner merely nodded and then looked closely at Scully. He had managed to
forget for awhile how near she had been to death mere months before. He
wasn't convinced she was fully recovered, and here he was subjecting her to
additional worry over her partner.
"And how are you doing, Dana?"
Scully smiled. Mulder wasn't the only one who could cut through her defenses
by the simple use of her first name.
"I'm fine, sir." They both smiled at the familiar phrase. "We better get
going,
sir. We've got a briefing in about a half hour."
*************************
Wednesday, 8:07 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
The command center had undergone a startling transformation during their
absence. On one of the twenty foot walls was a 6 x 6 grid, created by masking
tape, taking up most of the wallspace. A couch sat against the opposite wall.
Along two thirds of the far thirty foot wall were taped photos, index cards of
varying size, and a collection of bagged items. Long vertical strips of 3" wide
masking tape provided clear demarcations between each case. The bags with
the shoestring garrotes had been added to their appropriate locations, making
the wall a sick tribute to one man's evil. Under each section, one or two boxes
lay pushed against the wall, each containing the remainder of the evidence
pertaining to that case.
Mulder stood leaning against the opposite wall, one arm across his chest, the
other propped on top of it with hand on chin. No clear details were obvious
from the twenty foot distance, but still he stared, oblivious to the others now
filing into the room. The thirty minute nap he'd managed in the car had
somewhat rejuvenated him and he felt ready now for the hours ahead.
Their command center had quickly become crowded with the five team leaders,
ASAC Jenkins, Skinner, Scully and Mulder. The crisp professional look of the
morning was long gone. Jackets had been discarded, sleeves rolled up, ties
hung loosely askew. The two women had also shed their jackets and Janice
Anderson had even changed from heels into tennis shoes.
Skinner caught Scully looking at Anderson's feet in envy. What was with
those heels she wore anyway? He'd often wondered how Scully had managed
to operate in the field for five years without breaking an ankle. He guessed
her
5'2" natural height had something to do with it.
The kid from the morning poked his head in the room and then walked over to
ASAC Jenkins. Skinner saw them confer briefly and then Jenkins nodded and
gestured to the conference table in the middle of the room. The young agent
left
the room only to appear moments later followed by yet another kid, arms full of
bags. Evidently, dinner had arrived. Jenkins was at Skinner's side now.
"Walt, I took the liberty. I know none of my agents have eaten since lunch and
I figured you wouldn't have had the time either. I hadn't realized until just a
bit
ago how long it's been since we've done this so late. I guess we had pretty
much given up."
His disgusted expression turned bitter and then his face smoothed once again.
Skinner could guess at the self-recriminations and found himself at a loss as to
what to say. He merely reached out to grip his old friend's shoulder for a
second, hoping to convey his understanding, then moved towards the head of
the table. Time to get this show on the road.
"Okay, people, load up and then let's get started. We have a lot of ground to
cover still tonight."
A burst of activity ensued as the hungry agents moved to grab sandwiches,
drinks and cartons with unnamed substances. No one particularly cared about
the details. At this point, food was food, caffeine was caffeine, and both were
absolutely necessary.
Skinner was relieved to see that Mulder had also grabbed something and had
settled between Scully and Vickers at the table. Skinner took his own dinner
and sat across from them, where Jenkins joined him. The other agents had also
settled in, each with stacks of files and pages of notes in front of them.
Determining that everyone was set to start discussing the day's events, Skinner
kicked off the briefing.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, unless there's an objection, why don't we
progress by the numbers tonight. Agent Halston, can you give us an idea of
what your Victim Selection Team has been doing and where you're going?"
Halston pulled his stack of notes closer and rapidly swallowed, then mumbled a
hasty, "Yes, sir," as he stood. He shuffled through his files until he found a
stack of 5" x 7" index cards and then walked over to the 6 x 6 grid at the end
of
the conference table.
"I've divided my team into two groups - one of two and one of four. We've
hypothesized that either the killer knows his victims or he's finding them
somehow."
Halston went on to describe a scenario very much like the one Mulder had been
working on the previous evening. "We're pretty sure that if there is a pattern,
it
will coincide with the idea of an available victim pool, which my B team is
investigating, but we don't want to rule out the other possibility as yet. Now,
my B team has hypothesized that the pattern coinciding with the victim pool
would most likely involve ages, names, or pickup location."
Skinner and Scully exchanged quick smiles, and then both found their gazes
drawn to Mulder. He was completely absorbed in Halston's briefing, as if
everything the team leader was saying was totally new to him. Skinner should
his head slightly in exasperation and amazement, before focusing once again on
what Halston was saying.
"If the ages are the key to pattern, then, we'll most likely see some grid
relationship forming the pattern. We've exhausted any linear pattern
possibilities and have moved on to possibilities with rows of two." He used the
6 x 6 grid on the wall to explain the various combinations they were
investigating.
Scully found herself interested in the approach Halston was outlining for his B
team. They had arrived at most of the same conclusions and hypotheses as
Mulder, but their plan for testing the hypotheses was slightly different. They
weren't necessarily assuming a limit to the 'number of numbers', as Mulder
had, and were progressing more conservatively through every combination.
Scully was surprised that Mulder didn't object to the slower approach the team
was taking. A look at her partner revealed that he was nodding his head at
Halston's words, still looking interested and content at their progress. On the
pad in front of him, however, Scully saw that he had drawn a grid of 3 x 3,
thick black pen marks indicating that he had drawn over the lines again and
again. To the right of the grid he'd created a column of numbers: 7, 11, 5,
13,
10, 6, 9, then a space and an 8 and then a 12 next to it. He'd circled the 8 so
many times that it was almost illegible amongst the darker lines around it.
Skinner had also wondered at Mulder's silence, but decided to take it as a sign
that there was no objection to the approach Halston's teams was implementing.
After entertaining a few clarifying questions from the other team leaders,
Halston outlined their activities for the next day and then moved to sit down
again.
The briefing continued as each team leader brought the others up to date on
their
hypotheses, actions that day, and tasks for the next day or two. The only real
excitement came when Vickers reviewed the results of the profiling team's day.
It seemed there were two completely different profiles being developed and a
substantial friction was growing between opposing agents within the team. Not
unexpectedly, it was Hank Crowley who was most vocal in objecting to the
'new' profile. The original team had developed a profile of a young male,
probably 20-25, unmarried, living at home with parents. The new profile,
being put forth by Vickers (and in reality fed to him by Mulder), hypothesized
the killer was a much older man, between 35 and 45 years, married, no children
likely, with a professional career.
Vickers explained to the group, "It's causing a strain. Nothing I can't take
care
of. Just thought you should be aware that we have two competing views at
present. This will impact the other teams, obviously, since you'll need the
profile to start refining your own hypotheses. I would suggest that unless it
become critical for your people, you allow me to continue with my team
through tomorrow and we should have a preliminary resolution by the joint
meeting tomorrow evening."
He was looking at Mulder as he said this last and was reassured to see Mulder
nod minutely in confirmation. Both knew what the resolution to the situation
would be, but the others in the room weren't privy to the details. It could
wait
until tomorrow at least, if not longer.
Mulder continued to sit passively, listening to the questions being fired off at
Vickers. Eventually, the team leaders were content and they moved on to the
next team's report.
By eleven, Skinner was ready to drop and called a halt to the meeting. It was
obvious that each team was working efficiently and effectively. If they were to
continue to do so, they'd need their leaders to be at their best and that
wouldn't
happen if Skinner wore them down prematurely.
The agents around the table stood and then slowly began heading out. Mulder
and Scully still sat at the table, Mulder slouched low in his chair, Scully
leaning
forward at the table, still writing on the pad in front of her. Mulder stood,
stretched tight muscles, and then leaned over his partner slightly, touching her
shoulder.
"Come on, Scully, let's head home."
Scully was amused at Mulder's choice of words. It sounded so ... domestic.
What they were doing was as far from domestic as you could get.
Her partner now had both hands on the back of her chair, obviously prepared to
pull it out for her as she stood. It was odd that this didn't bother her. She
had
fought hard to be considered an equal by her male counterparts. But Mulder's
solicitousness in no way affected the way he viewed her and depended on her.
He counted on Scully to watch his back and no matter how many doors he
opened for her or chairs he pulled out, nothing would ever change that trust.
Scully nodded to her partner and gathered her notes and files, rising slowly.
She stood for a moment and let her head fall to the right, then left, stretching
her
neck. She then put one hand up to the back of her neck and rubbed for a
moment before picking up her notes. Both agents put their discarded jackets
back on, and left the room, waiting outside the control center until their boss
joined them a couple minutes later. None of them spoke. There was no need
for words to tell them what they already knew. It would only get worse.
*************************
Wednesday, 11:51 p.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
At the hotel, Scully moved to take her leave of the two men outside their rooms.
Skinner entered the suite, leaving the partners alone. Scully squeezed Mulder's
arm and held on for a minute. "Mulder, don't work too late, Okay?" She knew
better than to expect he wouldn't work at all, but she could hopefully get a
promise that he'd get some sleep at least.
Mulder stared down at her intently, and sighed before replying. "Scully, you
don't need to baby-sit me. It's not your job to make sure I eat or sleep."
Scully raised her other hand to her partner's face, a gesture which took him
completely by surprise, causing him to flinch slightly. " I know it's not my
job, but it is my pleasure. Sleep well, Mulder."
Mulder stood in the doorway to the suite, watching his partner and friend enter
her room. A smile finally found its way to his face. Dana Scully never ceased
to amaze him.
*************************
Thursday, 1:54 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Walter Skinner was at a complete loss. He was used to giving orders and being
obeyed. He was comfortable with it, familiar with it. But he didn't really
have
the authority to order his thirty-seven year old agent to go to bed. The mere
thought of it was ludicrous.
It was now almost two in the morning and Skinner had been tossing and
turning since going to bed a couple hours before. He would drift off and then
jerk awake, check to see if light was still shining in under his door from the
living room, lay back in frustration until he would drift off again and repeat
the
process. He finally decided to check on Mulder. Maybe the man had fallen
asleep on the couch and all this worrying was for nothing.
Skinner got out of bed, putting his glasses on, and made his way to the door.
He opened it quietly, so as not to disturb Mulder if he were sleeping. He
needn't have worried.
Mulder sat on the cleared space on the floor, where he had been the previous
night. He had changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt and his feet were bare.
He again had his 3 x 3 grid of index cards and sat staring at them, Indian
style,
one hand pulling slowly and repeatedly at his lower lip. Against the wall, the
TV cast eerie shadows across the room, the sound so low it didn't even reach
Skinner's ears.
After standing in the doorway for half a minute watching his agent, Skinner
moved into the room. "Mulder, how's it going?" Mulder looked up at him,
stared through him for several long seconds, then flushed red as he finally
processed who he was seeing.
"Sir, I'm sorry, did I wake you? I'll go into my room. I wasn't thinking."
The younger man had already gathered his cards and was standing before
Skinner could reassure him. "No, Mulder you didn't wake me. I just got up
for a drink and saw the light. Thought I'd see what you were up to. Stay
where you are ... please."
Mulder sank back to the floor, nodding his head, still seeming slightly
flustered. His eyes roamed the room, finally settling on Skinner.
"So, Mulder, any progress?"
Mulder looked at the cards in his hands, laid them out in a 3 x 3 grid, in a
very
definite order. "I've been looking at this ordering, sir."
13 12 11
10 9 8
7 6 5
"There are actually a couple different orderings that all achieve the same
ultimate
symmetry, so that whether you go across any row or down any column, there's
a linear progression. For instance, across the rows, it's obvious that the
numbers reduce by one from left to right. Then as you go down each column,
you subtract 3."
Skinner looked at the cards and nodded in understanding. "So, is there anything
about this ordering that would correspond to a pattern the killer would be using
for victim selection?"
Mulder sighed and stretched slightly, a small grimace passing quickly across his
face. "Look at the corners, sir. I believe I might be close to something."
Skinner tried to process the significance of the numbers 13, 11, 7, and 5, then
realized they were the ages of the first four victims. Skinner suddenly felt a
chill
and his heart paused a beat. Suddenly, he knew, absolutely knew, with
complete and utter certainty, that Mulder was, indeed, on to something. He
wondered if this was how it felt for the younger man, this bolt of certainty out
of the blue. Mulder was talking again.
"I don't totally see it yet, sir. Still working on a couple possibilities."
Skinner stared at the younger man, quickly calculating just how much sleep
he'd had, or hadn't had, in the last three days. "Mulder, maybe it would be
clearer after a few hours sleep. It might help to clear your head." Skinner
waited, holding his breath lightly, hoping Mulder would get the hint. His agent
paused, then nodded to him and stood, leaving the cards on the floor.
"Yes, sir. I think you're probably right. I'll see you in the morning, sir."
'In the morning???', Skinner thought to himself. What the heck did Mulder
think 2:45 a.m. was?
He merely said, "Night, Mulder," though, and made his way back to his room,
turning off a light on his way. When he got back to his room, he was reassured
to see all the lights in the living room remained off.
*************************
Thursday, 6:07 a.m.
Minneapolis
Their second full day in the Twin Cities started pretty much the same as the
previous with the exception that Mulder took his run by himself, since Skinner
didn't appear to be stirring quite yet. The day promised to be warmer than
yesterday so Mulder wore a T-shirt and running shorts instead of sweats. He
decided to push it a bit. He felt the need for some clarity of thought.
Perhaps
punishing the body would help clear his mind.
They were missing something important. He felt it, knew it, but couldn't figure
out what it was. It remained in the background, niggling his consciousness,
teasing him. He hoped a full out run would enable him to bring the thought to
the foreground.
He was three and half miles out and had been running at about a six minute mile
when his body chose to remind him of the fact that it had hardly slept or had
nourishment in days. The lightheadedness hit, followed quickly by the nausea,
at the worst possible moment.
He'd gone beyond the park and was crossing a street when the assault on his
senses caused him to fall hard in the road. He had enough control to tuck and
roll, thereby avoiding any major injuries, but boy was he going to hurt today.
Breath coming in gasps, muscles protesting from the abrupt strain, Mulder
managed to raise his head enough to confirm that he wasn't in any immanent
danger of being run over, then laid back in the road to assess his condition.
He
knew he had to move before he became roadkill, but it was so hard. Finally
catching his breath, he rolled slightly on his side and propped himself to a
sitting position. He checked for cars again, then finally managed to get to his
knees, then feet.
As he started towards the sidewalk, a familiar voice called out, "What happened
Spooky, the aliens trip you up?"
Crowley's unfriendly face was the last thing Mulder needed to see right now.
He wouldn't have believed that even Frank Crowley was so petty as to leave
Mulder on the road when he was obviously hurt. But, Mulder heard the man's
fading snicker as he sank against the nearest wall for support. Blood dripped
from his skinned knees and from a cut on his palm. How the heck had that
happened? Must have been something in the road. He wadded his hand in the
bottom of his loose T-shirt, hoping to staunch the flow of blood.
Mulder tried to focus his thoughts on his situation and determine what to do
now. He had no money for a cab so that would mean multiple trips up and
down to the hotel room to get money and pay a driver, increasing the chances of
others seeing him in this condition. He'd rather slip into the hotel quietly,
when
no other agents were around.
He was starting to feel better and decided his knees were only skinned, nothing
was sprained or strained, none of the injuries were really too bad. Mulder
stood up and figured he could make it back to the hotel at an easy jog in a
little
more than a half hour, if he went back by the most direct route. With any luck,
Skinner would be in the shower or at breakfast, and he could make it into the
room without anyone noticing. It would be too embarrassing to admit the truth,
after all.
By the time Mulder was about a half mile out from the hotel, his body once
again decided to remind him what had started all this mess in the first place.
This time at least he was only jogging and was better prepared to handle the
attack.
Mulder quickly came to a stop and put his left hand on the wall of a nearby bank
in support, his right still wrapped in the bottom half of his shirt. He closed
his
eyes, tried to breath deeply, and leaned forward to encourage the blood to flow
to his head. That was supposed to work, wasn't it? Why was he still feeling
so dizzy?? He stayed in that position for a full minute at least, before the
weakness passed.
When he opened his eyes, Mulder found himself looking down at his legs,
which were now covered in blood, little rivulets still winding their way
downward. Damn, between the legs and the hand, he'd scare Scully to death if
she saw him like this. He could try to find someplace to get cleaned up, could
possibly even use his T-shirt to get some of the blood off. Mulder finally
decided that time was pressing, so he'd better head straight back and be
prepared to lie, if necessary.
He started a slow jog once again and almost felt like crying in relief when he
saw the hotel just down the street. It was full light now, and he knew the
other
agents would be stirring. Mulder slowed when he approached the entrance,
glanced quickly in the front door to see whether anyone was around, then
dashed in and jogged to the elevators when he saw he was alone. He made it in
and to his floor with no one the wiser. Now, if he could only make it to his
bedroom.
The hallway was empty and a moment standing by the door to the suite revealed
no sounds inside. He opened the door slowly, walked in and headed for his
room. He was five feet away from it when he heard Skinner say, "Mulder,
we're meeting Scully for breakfast in ten minutes."
Mulder didn't stop or turn, merely said over his shoulder, "Yes, sir, I'll be
ready." The door closed on his final words. Damn, that was close.
*************************
Thursday, 8:11 a.m.
En Route to Minneapolis Bureau
Scully walked next to her partner as they made their way to their command
center in the local Bureau office. Every once in awhile, Mulder seemed to sort
of stumble. It was quite odd, since he was generally quite graceful. Scully
was
trying to identify exactly what he was doing, when he asked, "So, Scully, are
you meeting with Janice today?"
Scully considered his question. What was going on here? He knew she was
going to be interviewing the other pathologists and that Janice Anderson was
accompanying her. They had just discussed it at breakfast. Was he
intentionally trying to distract her?
Scully stopped still, almost causing Skinner to run into her. She could hear
his
mumbled "What" in the background but was determined not to be put off.
Mulder had continued a step or two forward and then had stopped when he
realized he was partnerless. When he looked back, Scully was staring at him
with an angry expression. Damn, she was good.
"Mulder, what did you do?" Uh, oh. That was the tone he most dreaded. To
lie, or not to lie, that was the question? Perhaps a half-truth.
Mulder intentionally adopted his most pathetic don't be mad at me look and
said, "Scully, I just had a little tumble when I was running this morning.
That's all."
He took his hands out of his overcoat pockets and raised them wide, as if to
say, see, I'm fine, look at me.
"It wasn't the first time, Scully, and it won't be the last." Now he looked and
sounded slightly irritated.
Skinner was confused at first, but quickly understood that Mulder had been
trying to keep some sort of injury from his partner and his boss,
unsuccessfully, it seemed.
Skinner looked at Mulder closely but saw nothing amiss, until a flash of white
caught his attention. Was that a bandage on Mulder's right hand? Scully had
evidently seen it as well.
She walked forward and grabbed his hand out of the air, refusing to let go even
at his jerk.
"Scully, we don't have time for this. It's a little cut, that's all. I washed
it and
bandaged it and I think I'll survive." His voice had steadily been increasing
volume and the last words were spoken forcefully. He snatched his hand out of
her grip, then became angry at himself when he saw her hurt expression. He
was such a bastard sometimes. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed
deeply and attempted a weak smile. Mulder reached out with his right hand and
took Scully's still raised hand in his. "I'm sorry, Scully, really. Okay?"
She understood that what he was really asking was not only do you forgive me
for speaking so sharply but also for not telling you about my tumble. She
squeezed his hand lightly and nodded to him, forcing a smile. It was all she
could manage.
He had a tendency to minimize any hurts and she couldn't help being concerned
that he was doing the same thing now. Scully had no choice but to trust him on
this, as well. But she'd sure as hell be sure to watch him closely over the
next
couple days.
Skinner had remained back, ignored through the entire exchange, and he was
reasonably sure neither of his agents were thinking about him right now. They
had turned, almost simultaneously, towards the bureau office and were now
walking briskly down the sidewalk, quickly leaving him behind.
Skinner started after them, his eyes on Mulder. He finally saw what Scully had
evidently seen earlier. The occasional limp, almost looking like a stumble, but
not noticeable unless you were looking closely. Damn Mulder any way,
couldn't he do anything the easy way?
*************************
Thursday, 11:57 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau
The morning was a blur for Skinner. Mulder had asked him to spend time with
the Commonalities team to make sure they were on the right track. His agent
had been most concerned with finding the link between the victims that he was
so sure existed. The team had subdivided and were diligently exploring every
possibility of a connection, many of them ones that Skinner would never have
imagined. Schools, teachers, sports teams, day care, doctors, hospitals,
stores,
salespeople, the list went on and on. Every conceivable way the children or the
families could have been linked was being identified, prioritized, and explored.
Skinner realized it was practically noon and decided to see what Mulder was
doing, perhaps try to get him to eat. He found the younger man sitting alone in
the command center, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, all lights out except
for a
small lamp that had been placed in the far corner. It cast dim, elongated
shadows across the room.
Mulder was surrounded by children's clothes, the victim's clothes, some still in
bags, some removed. Mulder sat with arms propped on knees, holding a little
boys T-shirt in both his hands. He'd been facing the door and looked up as
Skinner came in and shut the door again.
"The guy takes their clothes off, sexually molests them, beats the crap out of
them, strangles them, sometimes after days of God knows what. Dumps them
someplace, but leaves their clothes, neatly folded."
Mulder had been speaking in that dull, monotone voice that Skinner had come
to recognize as a defense mechanism, a way for Mulder to remove himself from
the horrors of the case. He looked at Skinner searchingly, obviously unable to
understand, perhaps hoping his boss might have some insight he was lacking.
"Mulder, I don't understand any of it. I'm sorry."
Skinner felt the need to apologize to this man -- for not being able to provide
understanding, but also for being unable to protect him from the case to begin
with. Skinner moved closer to his agent and sat next to him with a weary sigh.
He took off his glasses, rubbed his face, pinched the bridge of his nose.
Mulder was staring at the T-shirt once again. Skinner put his glasses back on
and also looked at the small shirt.
Unbidden came the image of the child's mother, lovingly laying the shirt out
one morning for her little boy, along with a pair of pants, socks, shoes, making
sure they all matched. The tragedy of a life ended before it had really even
begun hit him then. Skinner had to get out of this room, away from these
reminders. Reminders not only of the lives lost, the families destroyed, but of
the children still out there, perhaps next on the killer's list, whose fragile
lives
would soon be devastated if the killer weren't found and stopped.
Skinner wanted to get away, to run from these reminders that made him feel so
helpless. But Mulder was here. Mulder wasn't running. He had, in fact,
immersed himself intentionally, absorbing the pain and the tragedy. Hell, he
had lived the tragedy after his sister's disappearance. Skinner drew a deep
breath and considered the thought that had just come to him.
Was this what it was like for Mulder after Samantha's disappearance? A twelve
year old boy, surrounded by reminders that he could do nothing to save his
sister? That he was helpless to act, to change anything? Jesus.
Skinner couldn't help his agent understand why the killer did what he did,
probably wouldn't be able to help him come up with any answers at all, but he
could do one thing. He could be there for him. Skinner propped his arms on
his knees and leaned forward, head hanging down, eyes closed. Mulder leaned
down and to the right, put the shirt on a pile, leaned farther down and picked
up
a little girl's dress, Missy's green and yellow spring dress, with a dandelion
embroidered on the skirt.
Scully found them three hours later. A secretary had directed her to the
command center and told her that she'd been instructed to keep everyone out of
the room. The woman knew better than to question Scully's right to enter.
When she opened the door to the small conference room, Scully was surprised
by the near lack of light. She arrested her initial impulse to flick on the
overhead lightswitch. If they wanted more light than the small freestanding
light provided, they'd have put it on themselves. As her eyes quickly adjusted
to the dimness, Scully focused on Mulder and Skinner, sitting side by side
across the room.
She walked around the conference table and approached them. Skinner had
been watching her progress. Scully had never seen him looking so forlorn, so
helpless. It was disconcerting. She didn't understand at first what was
happening. She searched out her partner's form in the dim lighting, stood
still,
and watched him for a minute.
Mulder held a small tennis shoe in his right hand, the fingers of his left hand
running absently up and down the empty tongue flap, up, down, up, down.
The victim's clothes and shoes lay in piles around him. Scully began to
understand.
Skinner was still looking at her and she finally nodded to him and then moved
towards her partner. She didn't know how long they had been there. Hours at
least. It was time for a break. Besides, she needed to speak with Mulder about
her morning.
She took a breath which she was surprised to discover sounded shaky, even to
her ears. Get a grip, Dana.
"Mulder."
He looked up at her and Scully realized he'd been aware of her presence.
Scully unexpectedly became disoriented by a feeling of deja vu. She suddenly
saw him sitting at his desk after he'd killed Roche, completely worn down,
exhausted, ready to give up, feeling both helpless and guilty.
As she had then, Scully moved to embrace her partner, one arm pulling his head
lightly against her stomach, the other around his shoulders. He didn't resist.
Perhaps he'd also remembered, because he wrapped his left arm around her and
pulled tight for a moment, almost as he had during the Roche case. This time,
though, he didn't let go quite so fast. He needed the human contact. He
needed for someone to touch him, bring him back from where he'd been.
Skinner had helped, just being there. But he needed Scully. She was his
anchor.
She hugged him back, ran her hand through his hair, then reached down and
took the small shoe from his right hand. He loosened his grip and she moved
back a little.
"Are you doing Okay, Mulder?"
She waited for the nod before letting him go. Mulder cleared his throat,
realized
he hadn't spoken in hours and hadn't had anything to drink all day.
"Mulder, I just got back with Janice. I want to give you and AD Skinner an
update. I didn't get any lunch though and thought I'd see if you were hungry.
I'll buy. How about it?" Her partner didn't seem very interested in her
proposal. "Come on, let's get out of here for a little bit."
Scully turned to Skinner, who still hadn't moved or spoken. "Sir, have you
eaten? Will you join us?"
Skinner smiled at her kindly, appreciative of her concern. He stood, stretched
his back and looked down at Mulder, who still hadn't moved.
"Come on Mulder, I need to stretch my legs and find some food. Let's go."
He watched his agent start to get to his feet, only to gasp in what appeared to
be
intense pain. "Mulder?!"
Both Scully and Skinner were at his side, each holding an arm, as Mulder
slowly straightened. He was obviously fighting to keep his expression neutral,
but was failing miserably and looked to be on the verge of collapsing.
"Mulder, are you all right?"
Skinner's concerned voice finally cut through the fuzziness and pain and
Mulder nodded, gasping out, "Yes, sir. Just tightened up a little from my fall
this morning. I just need to stretch a little, that's all."
Skinner was now looking at Mulder as if he were crazy. A little tumble didn't
cause you to almost pass out when you moved. Scully wasn't buying it either.
"Mulder sit down."
Mulder looked exasperated. He'd just managed to get upright and now she was
trying to get him to sit down again. Uh uh.
"Scully, I just need some Advil or something. I should have thought of it this
morning."
"Mulder, you're right. You probably should have thought of a lot of things this
morning, but now it's past three in the afternoon. Sit down."
Mulder was trying to figure out if anything Scully had said made any kind of
sense. One thing was sure, he'd better sit back down.
Scully had pulled a chair over in front of her partner and now sat, her knees
lightly touching his. She looked up to her boss and asked, "Sir, could you turn
the lights on please?"
Happy to have something to do, Skinner quickly walked around the table and
flicked the lights on, blinking at the unaccustomed brightness. He then made
his way back to his agents. Scully had cupped Mulder's left wrist in her right
hand and was checking his pulse.
"Okay, Mulder. Now, tell me what happened this morning." She stared
intently at her partner, daring him to lie to her.
"I was running hard, had gone three and a half or four miles out. I ...." Here
Mulder paused, again thinking he might be able to get away with a half-truth,
but Scully was still staring at him. She would know. "I got dizzy, nauseous,
fell down in the road. Skinned my knees, cut my hand, got some bruises.
That's it."
Scully was still staring at him and he felt guilty even though he'd told her
everything.
"You were four miles out?"
Mulder nodded, forehead creased, confused at why this was important.
"How did you get back to the hotel?" Mulder now stared at her, mouth slightly
open, unable to speak.
"Mulder?"
He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate now, then looked back at his partner.
"I
jogged back." He waited for the fireworks, but Scully only nodded after a
moment's pause.
"Did you experience any more dizziness or nausea?"
"Once."
She nodded again then took his left arm in her hands, raised it slightly, and
began to feel along its length.
"Uh, Scully, I'm pretty sure nothing's broken."
She dropped his left arm, picked up the right, repeated the procedure, ignoring
his comment. She then moved her hands to his left shoulder, across his collar
bones, to the right shoulder. He winced slightly and she made a note of it.
More winces accompanied her investigation of his ribs and back, on the right
side, where he'd impacted the road on his fall.
She sat back down in front of him and asked, "How bad are the cuts?"
"Just scrapes, Scully, that's all. Really."
His partner nodded at him, lightly squeezed his knee and then stood.
"Okay, Mulder, it doesn't look like you've done any permanent damage and
you're right. You should have taken some Advil this morning. It probably
would have helped. I'll go track some down now. And then, Mulder, we're
going to get something to eat and then you are going to then lie down on the
couch and sleep for a little while."
Mulder started to object, but Scully beat him to it. "Mulder, dizziness and
nausea are signals from the body that something is wrong. I'm more worried
about that then I am about any bumps and bruises you got from your fall this
morning. You need food and rest. That's all there is to it. Now, just sit
there
until I get back."
Mulder was too drained even to feel embarrassed in front of his boss. Skinner
moved to lean against the table and was now looking at him, an amused
expression on his face. His eyes flicked to the right and back where Scully was
just closing the door behind her.
"She's kind of hard to argue with, isn't she?"
Mulder laughed. "Sir, she's a force to be reckoned with. I'd lay odds on
Scully any day of the week."
Scully wondered why both men were smiling at her when she returned but
wrote it off as one of those male bonding things. She was pretty sure she
didn't really want to know.
*************************
Over their late lunch, Scully had filled the two men in on her activities and
had
shared with them Janice's impressions. Janice Anderson was sure that beatings
and the sexual assaults were deliberate, in control, not done in anger or haste.
It put a different spin on things, suggesting that these acts were done by
necessity, to the killer's thinking. For some reason, he had to 'teach them a
lesson'. Mulder had hypothesized that the children had perhaps failed a test
and
had to be punished, by a reluctant killer. This would account for why some
children were killed almost immediately while others had been held for days,
apparently well taken care of until the end. This idea opened new avenues of
thought for Mulder to explore.
After lunch, they walked slowly back to their command center, each lost in
thought. Mulder excused himself to use the restroom and headed down a
corridor to the right. He had just turned the corner when Crowley came out of
an office directly in front of him. Crowley immediately set his sights on
Mulder, smirk on face, and asked, "So, Spooky, what'd you do, crawl back to
the hotel after your little spill this morning? Or did you catch a ride in a
passing
spaceship?"
Scully and Skinner both turned upon hearing Crowley's spiteful drawl and
were headed back towards the man. Crowley froze and noticeably paled upon
seeing the AD and Scully bearing down on him. Scully won the race.
"You bastard! You saw him fall and you left him there? You didn't even check
to see if he was hurt? What the hell kind of agent are you? What kind of a
human being are you?"
Mulder was trying to sink into the floor but it wasn't cooperating. He had
opened his mouth to call her off, when Skinner grabbed Scully by the arm,
physically pulling her back at least a foot. He then moved his hand to her
shoulder and squeezed in warning.
"Agent Crowley, I assume you're supposed to be somewhere. Agent Mulder,
we'll be in the command center."
Skinner turned, dragging Scully around with him, then finally dropped his
hand. When they'd gotten halfway to the conference room, he turned to her
and asked quietly, making sure his words didn't go beyond the two of them,
"Agent Scully, what the hell do you think you were doing?" He saw that she
had reddened slightly and wouldn't look at him.
"Sir, I wasn't really thinking. I'll apologize to Mulder."
"I don't think there's any harm done. No one else was around, at least. We'll
have to deal with Crowley, I've known that since the beginning. I've talked
with Jenkins, Vickers, and Mulder about it. What's most important, is that
Mulder not lose credibility in front of these people. Neither you nor I can
appear to be making allowances for him in front of the team."
Scully had dropped her head in mortification, making Skinner feel like a
complete heel. Hell, he'd gone charging around that corner also. What would
he have said if Scully hadn't spoken first?
"I am truly sorry, sir. It won't happen again. It's just...." Scully looked up
at
Skinner then, obviously fighting for an elusive control. "I'm so worried about
him. And there's nothing I can do."
They were in the privacy of the command center, the door closed, and Skinner
found himself doing something he'd never done before, never imagined himself
ever doing. Somehow, though, these two agents had found their way into his
heart. He wrapped his arms around Scully, just for a moment, and said, "I
know, Scully, I'm worried too."
*************************
Thursday, 6:05 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau
Skinner was coordinating with Jenkins and the various team leaders. Mulder
had not been as upset as Scully had expected. He understood and a part of him
loved her for it. Mulder now lay on the couch, asleep for the past hour.
Scully
sat in a chair in the corner by the floor lamp, at the opposite end of the room,
working on her portable computer. The overhead lights were turned off, and
the secretary was again instructed not to allow anyone to disturb them. In just
a
couple hours, all team members would be meeting to report in.
Scully was working on a report summarizing the impressions of the
pathologists, with supporting forensic data. She was just putting the finishing
touches on it when the door opened and her boss came in quietly, closing the
door behind him.
He looked to the right where Mulder slept peacefully then walked over to
Scully, several files in his hand. Skinner sat down in the chair next to her
and
gestured to the files.
"Scully, I just spoke with Vickers and Tresky. Tresky's team is about out of
options. They haven't found any commonalities between the victims. There
have been a couple links with at most 4 out of the 7 victims connected.
Crowley's managed to swing a couple agents on the profile team to his way of
thinking. They're using the lack of any identified commonality to support the
original profile." Skinner shook his head before continuing.
"I'm torn about this, Scully. I believe Mulder is right about a pattern. But I
worked with Tresky's team for hours this morning, reviewed what they've
done this afternoon. If there's a link between the victims I don't think we're
going to find it, or at least Tresky and his team won't. We still have some
time
but we'll be feeling the pressure soon."
Before Scully could respond, their attention was drawn to the far side of the
room, where Mulder's voice could be heard, crying out in his sleep. No real
words could be made out, except for the word 'no', which was repeated over
and over amidst the indistinguishable ones.
Scully quickly moved across the room to wake her partner. He was breathing
heavily and his face was coated with sweat. His head jerked occasionally, as if
trying to get away from something. She shook his shoulder, said, "Mulder"
quietly but forcefully. He launched forward, gasping.
Scully was prepared for his rude awakening, had seen it many times before.
She gave him time to orient, then said, "Mulder, AD Skinner needs to talk with
you about Tresky's and Vicker's teams."
He nodded understanding and said, "Give me a minute, Scully."
Scully went to the door and turned on the overhead light. She could hear
Mulder muttering behind her. She then moved her files and computer to the
table, where Skinner joined her. A minute later, Mulder wandered over and sat
down heavily in the chair next to Scully. Skinner decided to get to the point.
"Mulder, Tresky and his team haven't been able to come up with anything.
They're pretty much out of ideas. I think it would make sense for you to
coordinate with him. Maybe you can come up with some possibilities for them.
And Vickers hasn't really been able to find much to support the new profile."
Mulder took it all in stride, not even seeming surprised. He looked at his
watch, did the math.
"Okay, I'm going to see Tresky. Vickers' team can wait. I spoke with him
earlier. We're all right at least until tomorrow. We need a break from the
Patterns teams or from Tresky and the profile team'll fall in place."
He stood, put his jacket on gingerly, straightened his tie, then ran his hands
through his hair.
"Could you check in with Halston and Brewster? See if they're making any
progress?"
Scully and Skinner both stood as he breezed out the door. Skinner was once
again amazed at the man. One minute he's lying on the couch in the thrall of a
nightmare, looking like nothing more than a frightened child, the next he's the
consummate FBI agent, calm, cool, and completely in charge. An absolute
enigma.
*************************
Thursday, 7:56 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau
"Did you go all the way back to birth?"
Mulder was meeting with Tresky, reviewing the possibilities they'd investigated
so far to identify a link between the victims. Tresky was feeling against the
wall. He'd already met with AD Skinner and broken the news that they'd been
unable to find a link between the victims. Now he had Spooky Mulder insisting
a link existed if only they could work harder at finding it. But they'd
exhausted
every standard connection on the official list as well as some twenty plus other
possibilities they'd dreamed up.
"Okay, look Tresky, all I can say is that there is a definite link. There's got
to
be something we're missing."
"Fine, Mulder, so tell us what to check. Give us some ideas here. 'Cause
we're fresh out."
Mulder was frustrated but understood where Tresky was coming from. There
was no maliciousness on his part, merely frustration. His team had practically
worked around the clock to check out every possible link that might exist
between the victims or the families. They were exhausted and stymied. Mulder
tried to be conciliatory.
"Look, Tresky, just don't give up yet, Okay? I'll see if I can come up with
something for you and we'll talk about it in the briefing tonight. Maybe
someone else will be able to come up with some new directions then too."
Tresky nodded at him and walked away.
Mulder hit his fist against the wall lightly, wishing he could cut loose and put
his fist through it. Time to get ready for the briefing.
Mulder headed down the hall to the restroom. Surprisingly, he was the only
one there. Everyone else must already be in the briefing room. He splashed
water on his face with his unbandaged hand, rubbed his hands over his eyes,
then through his hair, trying to straighten it. The door opened and in the
mirror
he saw Crowley enter the room, then stop on seeing Mulder.
"I can't fucking believe this. It must be fate, don't you think Spooky?"
Mulder didn't feel up to an encounter with this man right now. What the hell
were the odds of running into this character yet again? Fate or the Gods,
whichever, were obviously out to get him. Mulder leaned forward over the
sink, placing both hands on the cool tile. He needed the support.
"Crowley, give it a rest, please."
Mulder was tired. He was aware that he was practically pleading with the larger
man but couldn't help it.
"Spooky, you don't know shit. While you're leading the AD around by the
dick, getting him to do your dirty work, there's another kid out there gonna be
dead in a week. You're wasting our time here, you bastard."
Crowley's anger finally got the best of him and he shoved Mulder on the
shoulder. He turned and charged out of the bathroom before seeing the results
of his anger.
Still exhausted and slightly weak despite the hour sleep he'd managed, Mulder
was thrown off balance. He wobbled for a couple seconds, fighting a sudden
onslaught of light-headedness, then fell sideways, cracking his head on the
tiled
sink. Mulder lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, wondering what next.
He'd landed on his right side again and he was considering whether it was
possible for bruises to get bruised.
Damn, Scully wasn't going to be very happy with him. He was pretty sure he
had a concussion. At least, the rolling in his stomach every time he thought
about moving suggested that might be the case. Maybe he could just close his
eyes for a bit. Speaking of which, what was that in his right eye anyway? One
hand found its way up to his face and felt his forehead above his right eye. It
came away covered in blood. Shit. Sorry, Scully, don't think it was my fault
this time.
Vickers found Mulder ten minutes later. When he hadn't shown for the eight
o'clock briefing, a couple agents had gone searching. Mulder heard Vickers
curse, as if from a far distance, then heard a muffled cry for a doctor. A few
minutes later, he felt a cool touch at his forehead. He'd recognize his
partner's
touch anywhere, anyplace, eyes closed, even half dead.
"Scully." It came out as a whisper.
"Mulder, what happened? Who did this to you?"
"No one, Scully, I fell."
Skinner was angry, but trying to contain it. "Mulder, who did this? We need to
know."
"No one. Fell."
Why wouldn't they believe him? It was the truth after all. Crowley gave him a
little shove, but he certainly hadn't intended to injure him in any way, was
just a
bit upset. It wasn't the shove, anyway, it was the dizziness. It was his own
fault for letting himself get so worn down so fast.
"Just fell," he reiterated. He'd tried to convince them, couldn't do any more
right now, so Mulder decided it was a good time for some serious sleep.
Skinner and Scully could get things going tonight.
"Mulder, open your eyes. Mulder, you can't go to sleep, you have a
concussion. Mulder." It was the last thing he heard. He tried, but he was so
very tired. Scully would forgive him. She always did.
The paramedics arrived soon after. Skinner directed Scully to go with her
partner, letting her know he'd be there as soon as possible. After all, by
Mulder standards, this was a pretty minor injury.
"Don't worry, Scully, he'll be fine. Go on, I'll see you soon."
Scully nodded to the older man in appreciation and walked beside the stretcher,
one hand on her partner's shoulder.
Skinner looked around at the faces of the agents gathered outside the restroom,
eyes narrowing for a heartbeat as his gaze rested on Crowley, then moved on.
Crowley looked as shocked as everyone else. Maybe Mulder really did fall.
*************************
Friday, 2:14 a.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
A little more than five hours later, Mulder woke to an epiphany. He knew,
dammit, he was sure. He searched his memory, catalogued data previously
considered unimportant. It was there all the time and no one had seen it. He
hadn't seen it. Fuck.
He felt hands on his right arm and looked over to see Scully asleep, leaning
partly across the bed, her head resting against one arm. Something in him made
him regret that he'd put her in this position so many times. He moved his left
hand to stroke her hair lightly and then called her name, softly. She opened her
eyes and looked at him sleepily.
"Hey there, Scully."
His partner gave him her patented Scully smile and squeezed his arm.
"Hey, we were kind of worried about you." Something about the way she said
'we' made him look to his left. Skinner was fast asleep in a chair in the
corner.
Mulder looked back to his partner.
"Scully, get me out of here. I have to talk with Tresky and Vickers. I know
the
link. I need to see them, Scully."
Scully started shaking her head before he'd said five words. "Mulder, you not
only have a concussion, but you are suffering from exhaustion and severe
dehydration, as well as some very serious contusions. You're not getting out
of here for a couple days, at least." Now it was Mulder's turn to shake his
head.
"Listen to me Scully, this is important. I know the link, do you hear me?"
He had her attention finally, and Skinner's as well. The older man had
awakened in time to hear Mulder's last sentence . He stood and moved to the
side of his agent's bed. Mulder moved eyes back to his partner, beseechingly.
"Scully, all the children, the victims, they're abused."
Scully was confused, not understanding. "I know Mulder. He abused them
before he strangled them."
Mulder again shook his head but then froze at the rising nausea it caused. He
closed his eyes, prayed the room would stop spinning, calmed his breathing,
then tried yet again.
"No, I mean they were abused before .... by their parents. That's the link.
That's the victim pool. Gotta figure out who knew."
Skinner was intrigued by Mulder's hypothesis. "Mulder, I've read every case
file and there is no suggestion, by any one of the hundreds of people
interviewed, that any of those children had been abused by their parents or
anyone else."
Mulder breathed deeply again, slowly turned his head towards Skinner.
Wouldn't due to throw up on his boss, after all.
"Sir, several of the children had been in the hospital for broken bones,
bruises,
even burns."
"Yes, Mulder, but none of those incidents appeared to be unusual or out of the
ordinary. They were all accidents."
"No, they weren't." Mulder was fading out again, could barely keep his eyes
open. "Tell Crowley - have team look into it. Talk parents, teachers, doctors.
No one believed. Fell."
Did they understand? Would it be enough?
Skinner exchanged a confused look with Scully. The injured man had become
so cryptic towards the end, Skinner couldn't make out what he meant.
Scully looked thoughtfully at her partner, then back at Skinner. "I think he
meant that no one believed him when he said he'd fallen, we insisted someone
was responsible. Because that's always the typical response of an abuse victim
to explain away injuries - 'I fell'."
*************************
Friday, 10:32 a.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
It was half past ten in the morning and Skinner had returned to the hospital to
check on his agent. Scully was at the bureau, coordinating efforts to
reinterview neighbors, teachers, doctors, day care workers who were involved
with the children and might have insights to their family life. If they could
find
any supporting evidence of abuse, even qualitative impressions, then they
would go directly to the parents. Until then, they were hesitant to start
accusing
parents still reeling from the violent loss of their children of such a
violation.
Skinner walked quietly into Mulder's room and paused by the bed. His agent
was asleep, seemingly resting peacefully. Skinner sat in the chair Scully had
been in most of the night and leaned back, trying to make himself more
comfortable. Mulder always looked so young when Skinner saw him this way,
which seemed to be much too often, upon reflection. Skinner needed time to
think, to regroup.
He had been feeling out of control, the events around this case spiraling in
directions unanticipated. Each of the five teams was looking at their own tasks
now with the added possibility that the victims were part of a pool of abused
children. Patterns, commonalities, profile, and forensics were all impacted by
this new hypothesis. Scully would be joining Skinner at the hospital soon and
they were going to plot out the afternoon's activities. Initial reports from
the
interviews would be coming in soon. All further actions depended on what
they learned.
Half an hour later, Skinner's musings were interrupted by the opening of the
door. A nurse had been in just a few minutes before so he guessed it was
Scully. He stood up when she stopped next to Mulder's bed. Scully nodded
to him in greeting.
"How's he doing, sir?"
"He's fine, Scully, just taking the chance to catch up on some sleep, I think."
Scully smiled and took the chair her boss offered her. He pulled up another
from the corner so he could sit next to her.
Skinner watched Scully carefully, unable to read the mix of expressions passing
quickly over her face. She finally turned her head to look at him and broke the
temporary silence.
"Sir, it appears Mulder was right. Just before I left, we received preliminary
reports from three different groups who'd been interviewing the teachers. All
the teachers suspected the children had been abused but could never get enough
confirmation to make any kind of official report, or even an unofficial
accusation. The interview teams will be speaking with various doctors next,
after they finish with all the teachers, but we're pretty sure this is the
link."
Skinner nodded his head and realized that Scully was working hard at appearing
emotionless. It hit him then, suddenly. Just months ago she'd buried her own
daughter, a child she'd only known about for days, but whom she'd come to
love dearly. Emily had merely been a tool, a guinea pig, a victim, created to
serve an agenda not of her making, and certainly not of Scully's.
Skinner had read the report, even asked Mulder at the time how Scully was
doing. He'd never spoken to her directly about the tragedy. Abuse takes many
forms, Skinner realized. He'd been so used to thinking of Mulder's ghosts,
he'd forgotten about Scully's. Damn. There were too many ghosts in this
case.
Skinner reached over and took Scully's hand in his for just a moment,
squeezing lightly. She sobbed quietly, softly, no longer bothering to try to
hide
her pain or tears. She didn't know how, but Skinner understood.
Skinner wished he could help both his agents. He could only pray they'd find
contentment in their lives, and perhaps a little happiness. He was involved in
their lives now, it was too late to pretend otherwise. Perhaps he could be
their
friend, in addition to their boss.
A ringing disturbed their thoughts a half hour later, as they both sat in silent
reflection, and Scully moved quickly to answer her cell phone. Skinner listened
to the one sided conversation, picking up that the interview groups had
confirmed that all the victims had been believed to have been abused by their
parents.
Whether it was a coincidence or a result of the conversation he'd just heard,
Mulder started to stir. At first, Skinner thought he was waking up, but then
realized his agent was in the throws of another nightmare. At least, it seemed
like a nightmare. Mulder tossed his head slightly from side to side, saying
'No.'
Scully realized what was happening and finished her call, closing her cell
phone. She stood next to Skinner, who had risen at Mulder's movement.
Scully was ready to shake Mulder's shoulder to wake him up, when she froze
at his words.
"No, Daddy, don't."
Scully stood with her left hand hovering inches over his shoulder, finding
herself unable to move. She had drawn in a quick breath at his words and now
she was holding it, as if in anticipation. Skinner also stood frozen next to
her.
Mulder groaned slightly, then said in a whisper, "I won't do it again, I
promise.
No, Daddy."
Scully took an abrupt step away from the bed, now breathing heavily. In all the
times she'd sat by his bedside waiting for him to awake from one injury or
another, in all the times she'd woken him from nightmares in hotels across the
country, never had he said anything like this, ever even alluded to the
possibility. Was this a memory or was he projecting? Had he gotten inside the
minds of the victims or was this really him, a memory of a little boy pleading
with his father not to hurt him? She didn't know what to do.
Scully felt Skinner take her arm and start to pull her towards the door. She
allowed herself to be led outside the room, where she leaned against the wall,
suddenly feeling unable to stand without it. Scully looked up at her boss, who
appeared as shaken as she felt.
"Scully, do you know anything about this?"
He was pretty sure he could guess the answer, based on the shock still so
apparent on his agent's face. She shook her head now from side to side, eyes
wide, denying the thought.
Skinner wasn't sure whether he was talking to himself or his agent when he
said, "He could be profiling, still. Profiling the victims in his sleep. I
don't see
how he could have gotten past all the Bureau tests and psychologists without
something like that being known." He felt the need to reason through this new
development out loud. A thought then occurred to him. This was Mulder,
master at game playing, eidetic memory, IQ essentially off the charts, an Oxford
trained psychologist. The man could run circles around any psychologist or
psychiatrist the Bureau assigned him, had already done so in fact on numerous
occasions. If Mulder wanted to keep something secret, he'd be able to do it.
"Fuck!" Skinner saw Scully jump at his expletive and immediately felt
ashamed. "Sorry, Scully."
Both were leaning against the wall now, side by side, trying to calm their
breathing and their thinking, working this possibly new information into their
respective views of what made Mulder tick.
"Sir, I'd better go wake him."
Skinner nodded, then watched as Scully enter the room and headed towards the
still distressed Mulder. The door closed then, cutting off anything further
from
his sight. Skinner came to a decision and reached for his cell phone. He
needed Dave Jenkins to help him find some thirty year old hospital files. He
could trust Dave. Scully wouldn't even have to know for now. Maybe Scully
would never have to know.
*************************
Friday, 5:03 p.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
Mulder was being difficult. It was five in the afternoon, Scully was at the
command center and would again be joining Skinner at the hospital
momentarily. Mulder kept insisting that he needed to be released. In fact, he
was insisting that he had to be the one to interview the parents of the victims.
Skinner had just told him that Tresky's team had confirmed by multiple sources
the suggestion of abuse for each of the victims. They would start approaching
the parents directly that evening.
"Look, sir, I realize I'm not at my best here. I know that. But I also know
that
I have to be the one to talk with them. Tresky's a trained psychologist and is
excellent at suspect interrogation. There's no one better. But he doesn't have
the right touch for this. He won't be able to get them to talk. In fact, he'll
probably scare them off. I know it, sir."
Skinner stared at Mulder intently, taking in his agent's animation, his ease of
movement. Mulder was in his own clothes, jeans and a light cotton black
turtleneck. Skinner idly wondered if the jeans were always so loose on the
younger man. Any aftereffects of the concussion appeared to have dissipated.
In fact, Mulder seemed to be in better shape, and more rested than he had since
he'd been assigned to the case days ago.
Skinner considered the situation again, especially in light of his and Scully's
new suspicions. Even if Mulder were physically able, was he sufficiently
removed from the case details to be effective?
Skinner shook his head lightly, hoping to clear his thoughts. He reminded
himself then that profiling wasn't about removing oneself from the situation,
but rather immersing oneself in it. It was the thing Mulder particularly
excelled
at, the ability that made him the best. Skinner decided to trust his agent's
judgment on this, as long as the doctor agreed.
"Okay, Mulder. If the doctor says you can be released, you'll do the interviews
..... with Scully and myself present. We've got a briefing with the team
leaders
at 6 p.m. We can discuss approaches then."
Mulder was relieved. He'd been feeling the building pressure of the case and
knew that this was the thing that could lead them to the victim selection
pattern,
the pool, and possibly the next victim candidate. Mulder knew that time was
running out, perhaps faster than the rest of the team even realized.
Skinner was talking on the phone with Scully. Mulder grinned slightly at the
grimace that crossed Skinner's face, recognizing that his partner was probably
lecturing their boss on the dangers of a concussion, a lecture he'd heard many,
many times in the past.
***********************************
End Part 2 or 7
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