*******************************************
Ascent to Hell - Part 13 of ? (13/?)
by Kronos (clb@roadrunner.com)
Rating:  NC-17
*******************************************


Present Day, Hour 27 of the Wait
Monday, 1:51 a.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia


Scully was self-conscious of the sound her heels were making on 
the linoleum floor of the hospital but she couldn't help speeding up 
as she approached the CCU.  She'd been gone from Mulder's side 
for three hours and was now filled with conflicting feelings of 
dread and anticipation.  Had his condition changed?  Had he 
worsened?  Had he awakened?  

Scully was practically running when she came to the CCU doors 
and knocked lightly, waving at the nurse at the desk.  The woman 
allowed her in and smiled.  Scully almost collapsed in relief, 
knowing that she'd be getting a completely different reception if 
Mulder's condition had worsened.

"Welcome back, Agent Scully.  Fox is doing much better."

Scully smiled at the woman.  "Thank you, Barb.  Has he woken 
up? Can I go in?"

"He hasn't woken up yet, but there have been some good signs.  
You can go on in, but please remember the doctor has a two person 
limit."

She nodded to the woman and walked softly into the room.  
Mulder was propped slightly on his right side, amazingly free of 
machinery, and looking drastically better than he had just a few 
hours ago.  Both her mother and his mother were fast asleep in 
their chairs, each staking out a side of the bed.  Scully took the 
opportunity to walk to Mulder's side and whisper in his ear.

"Hey, partner.  I'm back.  Did you miss me?"

She smoothed back his hair and, after ensuring that neither woman 
in the room was looking, leaned down to kiss his forehead.  Scully 
smiled and whispered again, "Skinner's been telling on you, 
Mulder.  I've been especially interested in learning about some of 
your friends from back at the Academy.  It sounds like you and 
Shirley were particularly close."

Scully brushed her hand through his hair once more, then leaned 
forward and added, "I'm really looking forward to talking to you 
about her, Mulder."

She could have sworn Mulder's heart jumped a beat.  That was all 
right.  A little jolt to get him moving faster back to her was just 
fine. She smiled again, and then pushed herself upright.  When she 
stepped back, she saw her mother looking at her, a small smile 
playing at her lips.

Maggie spoke softly. "I'm glad you're back, Dana.  One of the 
doctors was in about a half hour ago and said that Fox should be 
waking up in the next few hours.  I was worried it would be while 
you were gone."

Her mother pushed herself out of the chair and stood.  "If you think 
you'll be all right, I'm going to go out to the waiting room.  You 
stay here and let me know if there are any changes."

Scully wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her 
tightly.  "Thanks, Mom.  Try to rest if you can."

Her mother had just started to leave when Scully remembered 
something.  "Mom.  If AD Skinner is there, please let him know 
that I'll be staying here for a while."

Her mother nodded, saying only, "Of course."

Scully pulled the chair a bit closer to the bed so she could sit close 
and hold Mulder's hand.  She rubbed her fingers over his, 
marveling as she had so many times in the past at the long slim 
fingers.  She'd been watching those fingers playing with pencils, 
an envelope opener, paperclips… always something, for years.  
Mulder's fingers were almost always in motion. With her new self-
awareness, she could finally admit to herself that she wanted those 
fingers touching her, exploring her, soothing her.  She needed 
Mulder like she needed air. She wanted him suddenly like she'd 
never wanted anything or anybody in her life.  The shock of the 
sudden overwhelming desire left her almost breathless and just a 
tad flushed.

She glanced again at Teena Mulder and, upon ensuring the woman 
was still asleep, leaned towards her partner again.  "Hey, Mulder. 
I'm starting to discover that I'm not nearly as patient as I thought I 
was.  Do you think you could open those eyes of yours pretty 
soon?  I really want to talk with you, partner."

She sat down again, holding his hand tightly in hers.  Then, she 
laid down her head and decided to rest.  Just for a bit.

*******************************************

Skinner got off the phone with Landers, knowing that the team 
would contact him if anything turned up in the next few hours.  
Maggie Scully had just come from Mulder's room and filled him 
in on Scully's intentions.  He decided he could afford to just sit and 
rest for a bit.  Just an hour or two.  He sat in one of the more 
comfortable chairs available and stretched out as much as he could.  
He was asleep only moments after closing his eyes.

*******************************************

Scully was dreaming.  Someplace far down deep in her psyche she 
knew she was caught in a nightmare but she couldn't force herself 
out of it.  Someone was standing over her, a dark forbidding shape.  
He was threatening her, threatening her partner, but she couldn't 
scream, couldn't move, couldn't do anything to make it him go 
away.  She felt like she was struggling to just lift a finger.  

And then she heard a voice, clear and loud, say, "Who are you?  
What are you doing?"  It was enough to break the stranglehold the 
nightmare had on her.  Scully opened her eyes and jerked up.  
Teena Mulder was standing, one hand stretched over her son's still 
body, the other up, as if warding off evil.  

Scully saw a man in a dark suit rushing out the door and her mind 
finally caught up to what had happened.  She was on her feet and 
running after the man in a heartbeat.  In the CCU hallway, she 
shouted to the on duty nurse, "Call security.  Get someone here to 
watch over Mulder."

She was pulling her weapon out, even as she flew through the 
CCU doors and out into the general hospital hallway.  She caught a 
glimpse of a door closing partway down the hallway and noted it 
was an exit.  She raced past the waiting room, taking only a second 
to shout out her former boss's name, then continued on.

Scully was reassured to hear feet pounding after her.  She glanced 
back to see Skinner there, weapon out, drawing closer.

"Scully, what is it?  What's going on?"

Scully pushed through the exit door, saying, "Someone was in 
Mulder's room. He went this way."

They stopped to look up and down the stairs, trying to establish 
which way the man had gone, but there was complete silence.

Scully hit the stair rail and cried out, "Damn it!"  She jerked at the 
hand on her arm and then forced herself to relax.

Skinner broke the silence.  "Let's go to security and check out the 
cameras."

She nodded but said, "First, let's get some people on Mulder's 
door and find out if anyone in CCU saw anything.  Just anyone 
can't walk into CCU."

Skinner nodded to her and they both headed back to the CCU 
doors.

There were several nurses gathered at the desk, with one security 
officer standing with them and another standing at the opening to 
Mulder's room.  Scully caught a glimpse of Mulder's mother, 
looking pale and frightened.  She held her badge up to the security 
guard at Mulder's door and walked in.

"Mrs. Mulder, it's all right.  We're going to find this man.  Can 
you tell me what you saw and heard?"

The older woman sank back into her seat, somewhat shakily, and 
said, "I woke up to see this man next to me, leaning over Fox.  He 
had something in his hand.  I must have made a sound, because he 
turned away even before I stood or spoke."

Scully became alarmed, wondering if the man had managed to do 
anything to her partner.  She looked around the bed and on the 
floor, finally focusing on a discarded syringe.  She grabbed a tissue 
and picked it up, feeling her throat tighten at the sight of the 
yellowish liquid inside.

Scully placed it carefully on the bed, wrapped in the tissue and 
started examining her partner's arm, neck and IV tube.  She started 
to breathe easier when she realized that the man hadn't had a 
chance to inject it.

Teena Mulder said in a slightly strangled voice, "Is he all right?  
Did that man do anything to Fox?"

Scully turned and shook her head quickly, gathering her thoughts.  
"No, he didn't have time.  You stopped him, Mrs. Mulder".

The woman looked incredibly relieved.  Before Scully could say 
anything else, a ruckus at the door alerted her to Skinner's entry.

"Scully?"

She clearly heard the demand for information in his tone.  She held 
up a hand and replied, "It's all right.  Whoever he was, he tried to 
inject Mulder with something."

She turned and carefully held up the syringe.  "We need to get this 
booked into evidence and sent to the lab immediately."

Skinner nodded and pulled out an evidence bag from a pocket.  
She smiled a bit, wondering if he always carried them.  

She wiped the smile off her face when her former boss murmured, 
only for her ears, "It pays to carry them around you and Mulder."

She watched him seal the bag and gesture towards the door.  An 
RPD officer entered.  She was surprised that he'd gotten her so 
quickly.

Skinner said, "RPD was already on the scene with a shooting vic.  
They sent us a couple of officers until we can get our own people 
here."

Scully nodded her understanding and watched as Skinner handed 
the bag to the man.  "Log this in immediately.  We need to get this 
analyzed to find out just what this man was trying to do to my 
agent."  Scully felt a rush of warmth at the expression.  Even 
though she and Mulder technically weren't Skinner's agents 
anymore, he was still looking out for them both.

Her former boss turned to her and asked, "Do we know anything 
about this man?  All I got from the nurses is that they saw him 
from the back when he was leaving.  No one knows how he got 
into CCU and no one saw him from the front."

Scully looked to Teena Mulder who was shaking her head.  "I 
didn't see him either.  Not really.  He was about six feet tall.  
Maybe a little taller.  Youngish, but not too young.  I can't tell you 
color of hair or anything, except that he was a white man in a dark 
blue suit."

Skinner nodded, saying, "Thank you, ma'am."  Then turned to 
Scully.  "Hospital security is reviewing tapes for the past half hour 
or so.  Let's go down there."

Ten minutes later, they'd decided that their man was a ghost.  He 
never allowed his face to be seen on any monitor.  There was no 
way to link him with an automobile, no way to identify any critical 
feature.  The man waltzed into the hospital, got into CCU by 
following an unaware intern, then ran out so quickly that no one 
could catch him.

Scully was cursing to herself when Skinner's cell phone rang.  She 
listened to the one sided conversation with only part of her 
attention until she heard her former boss curse.

"When did that happen?  How did it happen?"

There was silence for a minute or so and then Skinner cursed 
again.

"That was our best chance of finding the UNSUB."

After another minute of silence, Skinner said gruffly, "Keep me 
informed."

When Skinner met her eyes, she saw the anger and frustration that 
he couldn't hide.

"What happened?"

"That was Landers.  Harold Stevens is dead.  He died in the prison 
infirmary of heart failure about two hours ago.  Just an hour or so 
after we visited."

Scully was stunned. And then she realized that the same fate had 
been intended for her partner.  She was lightheaded suddenly and 
needed to sit.  She felt a hand guiding her to a chair and sank into it 
gratefully.

Her words were forced, almost whispered, when she said, "He's 
trying to get rid of anyone who knows anything about him.  But, 
why Mulder?  What does Mulder know?"

She looked up at Skinner and saw him shaking his head.  "I have 
no idea.  But, we better find out soon.  This is a dangerous man, 
Agent Scully."

*******************************************

Present Day, Hour 29 of the Wait
Monday, 3:39 a.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia


Scully reached for her partner's hand once more, not even self-
conscious about the fact that Skinner sat across the bed from her 
and could see her every move.  She'd sent her mother and 
Mulder's mother to their hotels for some real sleep.  Each was 
under the protection of an FBI agent.  

She looked over to the door and was reassured by the two hulking 
figures there.  No one would get past them.  Not again.

Skinner interrupted her thoughts.  "He's taking a lot of chances 
now.  He must feel that we're getting close to him."

She turned to him and nodded, considering his words.  "I suppose 
he could think that Stevens said something to Mulder before the 
police arrived.  It's possible he did."

Skinner nodded.  "Or that Mulder knows something we don't.  I 
wouldn't put it past him to have been developing his own theories 
that he hadn't shared with anyone yet.  We know he put some of 
his thoughts down in writing in his computer.  You know 
Mulder… I'm sure there was quite a bit more he didn't even bother 
to write down."

Scully nodded, knowing that her partner's memory had often 
worked against her when she was trying to figure out what he'd do 
next or where he'd go on one of his unofficial jaunts.  

Skinner said, "I should have anticipated this.  I should have had 
extra men on the job."

Scully shook her head.  "You couldn't have known."

Skinner laughed a bit, harsh and low.  "Yes, actually.  I should 
have known.  I should have anticipated it.  All this talk about the 
DC Murders case, and it still hasn't sunk in just how many 
parallels there have been."

Scully was again intrigued.  She knew she should be resting, but 
the adrenaline from their recent excitement still had her wired.  
"What do you mean, sir?  You mean something like this happened 
in that case, too?"

Skinner shrugged.  "Not exactly, but…"

*******************************************

PAST
September 11, 1986
Thursday, 2:59 p.m.
FBI Academy, Quantico, Virginia


Walter glanced over at Doug and grimaced.  They'd spoken with 
Keenan who had told them to present a unified front at this 
meeting with Patterson's profilers.  There were three men already 
sitting at the table when they were shown in.  Just as they were 
starting to introduce themselves, the door slammed open and 
Patterson waltzed in.

Walter watched the man's eyes flick around the room and then 
settle on him.  Introductions were put on hold when the Bureau 
Chief said, "I see we're a man short.  Or perhaps you thought I 
wasn't serious this morning?"

Walter stood a bit taller before replying.  "Sir, I spoke with the 
training leaders about the situation. They were extremely unhappy 
about the level of involvement of Trainee Mulder in this case and 
informed me that he was not to be consulted, either formally or 
informally, about anything to do with this case."

Patterson lifted an eyebrow, then glanced around the room.  "Well, 
we'll see what we'll see."

Walter wasn't sure what the man meant by that, but before he 
could speak, Patterson said, "These are three of my top profilers.  
They've been looking at the case. They'll brief you with the latest 
profile."  And then the man nodded and walked out.

He heard Doug mutter a curse, but it was mostly drowned out by 
laughter from the other end of the table.  A youngish black man sat 
there, obviously amused about the interaction.  

"I'm Sal.  Don't let him get to you.  He's not happy when he 
doesn't get his way.  Seems to think the entire FBI should just shut 
up and do what he says because …"  There was a pause as Sal 
glanced at the other two men.  Then, all three voices said, "… he is 
Bill Patterson, after all."

Sal stood and shook hands, as did the other two.  Then the man 
said, "Seriously, there's no one better at profiling these guys."

Walter and Doug nodded and sat down. Walter pulled out his pad 
of paper, looked at his notes, and said, "Patterson said a bit earlier 
that you've looked at the notes.  Reconsidered their meaning."

Sal sat forward a bit in his chair, arms folded on the table.  "Not 
really reconsidered their meaning.  The meaning of each is clear 
and always has been.  No one is suggesting that there are hidden 
meanings.  Instead, we've looked at the way the notes are 
constructed.  The grammar, word usage, expressions…"

Another profiler, who'd introduced himself as Charlie, added, "I 
have to admit that we've never really gone through exactly this 
exercise before.  It's been a good one.  It's helped remind us that 
we don't know everything."  The man adopted a wry look and 
added, "Some of us took to the lesson a little easier than others."

Walter could just imagine.  He nodded and asked, "So what have 
you learned?"

Sal answered again. "We agree with the kid's interpretation.  Took 
us a while to get there, but he was totally correct.  The phraseology 
is inconsistent with typical male phraseology."

Walter still wasn't certain what they were telling him.  He felt 
impatient.  "Are you saying a woman wrote them?"

The three profilers laughed.  Sal said, "No.  There's no way a 
woman committed these crimes."

Walter raised his hands a bit off the table, gesturing his confusion.  
"Then what exactly?"

Sal got serious quickly.  "He could be a multiple personality, 
although such a thing would be incredibly rare."

There was a snort from the other end of the table.  Charlie said, 
"Some of us are still not convinced that multiple personality is a 
legitimate psychiatric diagnosis."

Sal waved a hand in dismissal.  "Doesn't really matter what you 
think, son."

Charlie snorted again.

Sal continued, "If not multiple personality, then we think it's 
someone with transgender issues, someone undergoing a gender 
identity crisis."

This time it was Doug who snorted.  "What the hell does that 
mean?"

Sal was completely serious when he answered.  "A man who feels 
he was born into the wrong body. The wrong sex."

There was silence in the room.  Walter turned to look at Doug. 
Doug's mouth was open in disbelief.  Then, Doug said, "You're 
shittin' me."

*******************************************

PAST
September 11, 1986
Thursday, 3:09 p.m.
FBI Academy, Quantico, Virginia


Fox knew he was whining but just couldn't help it.  He really 
needed this.  

"Come on, Shirl.  Just for a couple hours. I promise I'll take care 
of your baby."

Shirley stood with hands on hips, tapping one foot impatiently.  
"Fox, you're supposed to be catching up on what you missed, not 
wandering all over doing God knows what all by yourself!"

Fox was annoyed now.  What he did on his off time was his 
business, wasn't it?  "Look, Shirl…"

"Don't you dare!"  He was shocked at the way she approached 
him, shaking her finger in his face.  "Don't you dare!"

He wasn't sure just what she was upset about but knew enough to 
stay quiet until she'd finished her rant.

"Is this all I am to you?  A means of transportation?"  Her voice 
had gotten shrill as she waved her car keys in the air.

Fox was stunned.  How could she think that?  He shook his head 
and walked closer, trying to take her hand.  "Shirl, don't even think 
that.  How could you think that?"

He finally managed to take her hand in his.  "Shirley.  I already 
read over what I missed.  I already made notes for the paper they 
want.  I don't intend for this to mess up my career or anyone else's 
and especially not yours."

He must have taken the right tack, because he could see Shirley 
was really listening to him.  

"I know this is crazy.  I never wanted any of this to happen.  But, it 
has.  I've been drawn into this and now there are a couple things I 
have to do."

Fox licked his lips and decided to come completely clean with her.  
"Shirley, I have to admit I'm a bit scared here.  This is a real case, 
with a real serial killer.  It's not just a case study.  But, I swear to 
you, Shirley, I'm not going to do anything dangerous.  I'm not 
going to do anything that might risk my future or anyone else's.  
I'm just going to look at a couple of the murder sites.  They're all 
public places, Shirl.  There's nothing dangerous about what I want 
to do."

He could see that she was wavering.  He shook her hand just a bit.  
"Look.  This will all be over soon.  We're on the home stretch of 
our training period and soon, we'll be heading out to our 
assignments.  Before that happens, I promise you that I will treat 
you to a night on the town.  Any restaurant of your choice.  Any 
movie, play or …"  He evinced a fake shudder.  "… even ballet.  
Your choice."

She had a smile playing around her lips now.  "And I get to choose 
the hotel, too?"

He laughed.  "You know it, babe."

She slapped the keys in his palm and turned away, hips moving 
suggestively.  "Baby, you better not disappoint."

Fox watched in admiration and muttered to himself, "That is a 
promise, Trainee Kudla."  He shook his head and added, "That's a 
dangerous weapon you got there Shirl."  

She sashayed out of view and he shook his head, then forced 
himself to focus.  "Get a move on, boy, time's a wastin'."  He 
pocketed her keys, slipped on his leather jacket and headed for the 
parking lot.  Shirley worried way too much.

An hour later, he was in Arlington, in front of the music store 
where Jesse Smith was last seen before his murder.  Fox walked 
into the little store, ignoring the greeting by the clerk.  He wasn't 
interested in talking with anyone.  Just in wandering around.  
Getting a feel for the place.  

He wandered down one aisle and up another, then paused by the 
door.  There was a poster taped on the wall next to the exit.  It had 
Jesse Smith's picture on it and had messages from people who 
must have known him. An impromptu memorial.  He read a few 
and saw that the man was well-liked and respected.  He wondered 
if the murderer had visited to look at this poster.

Fox left the store and turned to his right.  He'd never been here, but 
had seen the photos from the file.  He knew where Jesse was 
headed when he left the store.  Fox decided to follow his path.  It 
was almost the same as his dream.  In fact, he almost felt that he 
was in a dream now.  He felt disconnected from what was going on 
around him. He heard the cars and traffic, but only as if they were 
muffled.  He smelled the odors wafting from the restaurants, but 
only as if from a distance.

Fox turned right at the end of the block, heading down the very 
alley that Jesse Smith had walked down in his last minutes before 
being abducted.  Fox slowed, trying to imagine how it was for the 
man.  He could imagine Jesse, slightly distracted, thinking about 
his wife, about the family they would have together.  

There was a loud rattle coming from behind and Fox turned 
abruptly.  He moved out of the way as a delivery truck made its 
slow way up the alley and past him.  Fox walked a bit farther and 
paused, knowing he was probably close to the place where Jesse 
had been picked up.  He turned in a circle, trying to see what Jesse 
would have seen.  Wondering just who the man would have gotten 
in a car with, especially considering he'd been on the way to the 
bank and had the store's receipts with him.

Fox looked around on the street, knowing it was fruitless.  The 
police had gone over every inch of the alley during their 
investigation.  Fox lifted his head and looked around once more.  
Then, took a deep breath and headed back to Shirley's car.  He 
wanted to see where Jesse's body had been found next.

Fox headed back to where he'd parked and slipped into the driver's 
seat.  He looked around and pulled out into traffic, heading once 
more for the alley.  This time, he wanted to drive the route from 
the alley where Jesse'd been picked up to where his dismembered 
body was found.  

Fox drove down the small street slowly, still looking from one side 
to the other.  He wound his way through streets and alleys until he 
came to the warehouse.  Remnants of yellow crime scene tape still 
flapped in the breeze.  Fox got out of the car slowly and walked 
forward a few feet.

The smell of death still somehow hung in the air, all these weeks 
and months after Jesse's body was found. The warehouse looked 
ready to collapse, with windows broken and doors wide open. Fox 
turned in a circle slowly to get a sense of the location.  To better 
understand how it was possible that a man could be butchered over 
a matter of hours with no one near to hear his screams of agony 
and cries for help.

There were weeds growing through the broken pavement here and 
there.  Broken glass shards glittered in the brightly shining sun.  A 
breeze tossed a plastic bag into the air and threw it around before 
discarding it against the warehouse door.

Fox took a step forward and stopped.  Took another and stopped 
again.  He felt uneasy.  Felt as if someone were watching him.  He 
turned around again, this time more quickly, searching for 
movement.  Searching for anything out of the ordinary.  There was 
nothing.  Nothing at all except a dilapidated warehouse, a deserted 
alley, and the lingering smell of putrid, rotting, animal flesh.

Fox took a swipe at his forehead to brush away the sweat and 
started forward once more.  He walked to the open garage door, 
where the UNSUB had driven his vehicle after abducting Jesse 
Smith.  Fox stared down at the cement floor where large splotches 
indicated where the blood had pooled. There were gashes in the 
concrete and he knew these were places where the ax had hit. He 
was sickened at the thought of the bugs that must have feasted on 
the puddles left behind.

He felt cold suddenly and knew someone was behind him.  He 
wished he'd been cleared to carry a weapon already.  He turned 
quickly, prepared to fight, but again, no one was there.

Fox felt the need to hear someone's voice, anyone's voice.  He 
spoke to himself, softly.  "Need to get a grip. You're losin' it, 
Fox."

He took a last look at the site of Jesse's murder and then headed 
back for the car.  He glanced at his watch and realized he still had a 
few hours before he absolutely had to leave for Quantico.  He 
started the car and backed it up, then turned towards the alley that 
would lead him to a major street.  He wanted to see where Margie 
had been picked up.  He needed to see it.

He drove almost without thinking.  His mind was in turmoil.  Fox 
knew it was a cop.  Maybe even someone with the Bureau.  It had 
to be.  The UNSUB knew too much about evidence collection. He 
knew too much about how these investigations were run.  There 
was no way even the smartest serial killer could have managed to 
avoid leaving some trace evidence unless he'd been trained by law 
enforcement.  

Fox heard a horn blaring and realized he'd drifted too far into the 
next lane.  He waved his hand in apology then shook his head, 
forcing himself to pay attention.  Soon after, he was at Margie's 
school.  He pulled up in front and sat there, just looking at the 
building.  Looking at the surroundings.  It was late enough that 
most everyone was gone.  There were a few kids playing on the 
playground.  A few kids riding their bikes along the street.  

He looked across the street and saw a man and woman staring at 
him from their front porch.  He realized that he probably looked 
suspicious.  A lone man sitting in a car in front of a school 
watching little kids.  He shook his head again and started the car 
forward.  He recalled the route Margie's bus had taken and 
followed it.  

Fox imagined the kids getting off the bus along the way.  One here 
at this corner.  One here at this fire hydrant.  They'd get off the bus 
and wave to the driver.  Perhaps even wave to some of the kids on 
the bus.  Probably one or two said goodbye to Margie.  And then 
he came to the spot where the driver left Margie and he pulled 
over.  He was just a few houses down from Margie's own house.

What happened between here and there?  He could see her house.  
There was still a feeling of sadness that permeated the air.  There 
were no children playing outside.  The lawns around Margie's 
house were uncared for. It was obvious that her neighbors were 
also distraught at her death.  A black wreath hung on the door 
down the street where Margie never arrived.

Fox reached out and turned off the car.  He sat, staring at the house 
down the street. Just staring at it for long minutes, trying not to 
think, but unable to stop.

The sound of a loud tapping against the passenger side window 
caused Fox to jump.  He turned quickly and saw a wall of blue.  
Then, a man bent down and he saw a police officer at the window, 
gesturing for him to roll the window down.

Fox reached over and rolled the window down as quickly as he 
could.

"Can I help you, officer?"

The man looked in, eyes traveling over Fox and around the inside 
of the car.  "That all depends.  Why don't you tell me why you're 
sitting here, watching that house up the street."

Fox grimaced.  He'd been stupid once again.  "Officer, can I pull 
out my identification?"

The man nodded, and said, "Slowly."

Fox kept one hand up in the air and reached into his back pants 
pocket.  He pulled out his wallet and fished out his FBI 
identification, then handed it to the officer.

"Sir, my name is Fox Mulder.  I'm a trainee with the FBI.  I've 
been involved in the recent serial killer case and came to see the 
abduction site for myself."

The man stared at the identification Fox had provided, then back at 
him.  Looked down the street and then stepped back from the car. 
"Mr. Mulder, was it?"

Fox nodded.

"Can you step out of the car, please?"

Fox made sure the car was turned off and then stepped slowly from 
the vehicle.  He walked around the front and approached the 
officer.  He saw the man's name was Higgins.

Higgins stared at him once more, then gave his identification back.  
"Mr. Mulder, I suggest you not park yourself in front of schools 
and crime scenes in the future without properly notifying local law 
enforcement of your intent.  It's a good way to get yourself 
mistaken for a criminal."

Fox colored slightly, feeling foolish.  "Yes, sir.  I'll remember 
that."

The man nodded and stared at him once more.  "If you don't mind 
my saying, you look a little young to be involved in this case."

Fox took a deep breath and replied, "I'm only peripherally 
involved, sir.  I'm not part of the official team."

The officer's eyes narrowed and Fox could imagine the phone calls 
that would soon be made.  He groaned inwardly, then decided this 
might be his only chance to ask questions first-hand.

"Officer Higgins, can you tell me if you were involved in the 
search for Margie?"

The man paused, but then answered.  "Yes, of course.  This is my 
area.  I know the family quite well."

Fox licked his lips, wondering if he should ask the next question.  
He decided to go for it.  "Sir, if there were some other officer in 
the area or even an agent from another agency, would you have 
known?"

The officer smirked a bit and said, "I did today."

Fox had to laugh a bit.  "I guess so.  What if someone was dressed 
as a police officer but just drove through?  What if the person only 
made one stop… to talk with Margie."

The man sighed.  "I know where you're going with this.  Look, we 
checked every one of our officers.  Not one person was 
unaccounted for.  Every man and woman on the force was either 
with a partner on the job or had an alibi.  It wasn't anyone on the 
force."

Fox nodded, then stared up the street once more.  He saw a woman 
in front of Margie's house.  The woman was staring at them.  She 
stood with shoulders slumped, hair blowing in the breeze.  Fox felt 
a stab of remorse at the sight.  He knew from first hand experience 
something that Margie's mother might not yet have understood.  
That her family would never be whole and would never heal.

When Fox looked back to Higgins, he saw the man had softened 
just a bit.  "Look, Mr. Mulder.  I knew Margie.  She was a great 
kid.  Always polite.  Always waved when we drove by.  And I 
knew the parents."  Higgins paused and glanced up the street 
before continuing.  "There's only two possibilities that make any 
sense.  Either it was a family member or police who picked her 
up."

Fox looked at the man intently and saw the desire for justice so 
clear on his face.  He nodded and thought it through. He reached 
out a hand and shook, saying, "Thank you, officer.  I appreciate 
your talking with me."

Higgins gestured to the house straight across the street.  "That's 
where she was let out. The people who live there also have kids.  
They've been devastated.  I can attest to everyone up and down 
this street.  No one here did anything or knew anything."  Higgins 
looked at Fox directly in the face.  "And if anyone had seen 
anything, they'd have told us."

Fox thanked the man again and slowly walked around the car to 
the driver's side.  He opened the door and slipped inside, then 
waved to the officer one last time before starting the car and 
driving down the street, his mind on thoughts of a man in blue, 
beckoning to Margie Connor.

Fox forced himself not to meet the eyes of Margie's mother, who 
still stood outside.  Instead, he concentrated on the road ahead and 
tried to figure out what he should do with the little bit of time left 
to him.  He saw that he was getting low on gas, so knew that his 
first stop had to be to fill Shirley's tank.  Then…  well, he needed 
to decide.

He pulled over to station just a couple blocks away and started 
filling the tank.  His mind wandered and his eyes flicked around, 
not really focusing on anything.  But then, he saw something out of 
the corner of his eye that intrigued him.  He made sure not to turn 
directly towards it.  He tracked a small blue station wagon that 
seemed to be moving slowly amidst the traffic. 

A horn sounded and then the car speeded up.  When it turned the 
corner, going away from the station, Fox decided he was being 
paranoid.  There was no shortage of small blue station wagons in 
the world.

He finished pumping, decided to clean Shirley's windows, and 
then went inside to pay.  After, a glance at his watch helped him to 
decide to head on back to Quantico.  There wasn't really anything 
else he could do in the time he had.

As he got in and started the car, he saw another small blue station 
wagon.  His heart started pounding and sweat popped out on his 
forehead.  Damn.  He was worse than Pavlov's dog.  He wiped his 
palms on his pants legs and started to drive away.  He turned in the 
opposite direction of the blue car, deciding that this would be in 
the nature of a test.  If it surfaced again in his rearview, then he 
would know he was being followed.  The question would then be – 
by whom.  And beyond that – what would he do about it.

Fox pulled out the map he had of the area, laying it out on the 
passenger seat.  He turned to look at it whenever he had a break in 
traffic and got a pretty good sense of where he was and where he 
needed to go to get back to Quantico.  He took a right at the next 
through street and sped up just a bit.  He kept his eyes in his 
rearview mirror and had just decided he was in the clear when the 
blue station wagon appeared about four cars behind him.  

"Damn!"  Fox wished he had a way to call in to someone.  He 
could have used Officer Higgins just about now. He turned made 
his way to the left lane and looked for a smaller road.  He wanted 
to get away from the more traveled areas.  Get to a road where a 
car wouldn't be able to hide.  Then, just maybe, he could turn the 
tables on this guy and trap him.

Deep down, Fox knew that what he was thinking was foolish.  
Foolhardy, even.  He couldn't help it, though.  He remembered the 
conversation he'd had with Agent Waring, who said that Fox 
would never be the Lone Ranger.  That he'd always have people 
around him.  And Fox recalled his own statement.  That 
sometimes, you just had to act without thinking, without planning, 
to avoid a larger catastrophe.

He knew what he was doing was possibly dangerous.  It could 
mean the end of his career with the Bureau, before it had even 
begun.  But, he couldn't help it. Jesse's face … Margie's face… 
they floated past his vision as if they were right there with him.  If 
there was a chance to get their killer, he had to take it.

Fox turned down another street, moving farther and farther away 
from city center.  Houses were stretched out more, and trees lined 
the road.  There were fewer cars.  Hardly any traffic lights.  He 
turned down an even more secluded road and sped up.  Backed 
quickly up a driveway behind trees and waited.  When the blue 
station wagon passed by, he floored it and tore out of the driveway, 
right up to the car's rear.  He tried to see who was driving, but the 
windows were filthy, probably on purpose.  He tried to make out 
the license plate but it was covered in mud.  He couldn't make out 
even one letter or number.

And before he realized what was happening, the car in front 
slammed on its brakes.  He swung the steering wheel to the right 
and slammed on his own brakes, just managing to avoid a tree.  
When he looked up, he saw the car speeding off down the road.  

Fox took a deep breath and looked in the rearview mirror, making 
sure the road was clear.  Then, he backed up and took off after the 
station wagon, now far in the distance.  Shirley's car was made for 
speed, while the station wagon clearly wasn't.  Still, the driver of 
the wagon was determined not to be caught.  He followed the car 
through turns and racing straightaways.

Fox realized his palms were coated in sweat and wiped them on his 
pants, one at a time.  The sweat rolled into his eyes and he tried to 
swipe at that, as well.  He was in trouble and knew it, but he just 
couldn't stop.

He was being led farther and farther away from civilization.  The 
area they were driving through was practically deserted now.  
There were few homes to be seen and fewer signs of life.  It was 
starting to get dark, the last few rays of sun hitting the tops of the 
trees.  Fox had to make a decision and fast.

But, before he could, it was made for him.  The blue car was some 
100 yards ahead of him.  He saw it turn down a small access road 
that seemed to go through the woods.  He slowed and took the 
turn, then slammed on his brakes when he saw the blue car stopped 
just twenty feet or so ahead.  Shirley's car started to skid on the 
dirt.  He fought for control and tried to track the blue car.  All he 
saw was a swirl of trees and dust kicked up from the tires. 

And then there was a crunch as the passenger's side of Shirley's 
car slammed into the back of the blue wagon.  Fox's head was 
thrown to the side so that it cracked against the driver's window.  
He heard glass shattering, even as he felt the intense pain from the 
impact overwhelm his senses.  He never even thought about 
holding the steering wheel any more but instead reached up to 
head.  He felt the blood pooling through his fingers and dripping 
down his arm.  

And through the red haze, through the pain, through the swirl of 
dirt and sounds of metal and glass still falling around him, he 
realized that there was a shape coming towards him.  Someone was 
walking towards him from the other car.  Fox couldn't get his eyes 
to focus.  Couldn't' concentrate hard enough to make out features.  
He only knew that he had to do something and soon.  But, he 
couldn't.  He couldn't move.  Couldn't hardly keep his eyes open.

And then he saw the shape pause, still six or more feet away.  
Then, the figure turned and ran.  The blue wagon started pulling 
away from the wreckage.  Speeded up and disappeared from view.  
And finally Fox began to hear something other than a ringing in his 
ears.  Something other than the crash of metal and tinkling of glass.  
He heard a siren.  A blessed, heavenly, wonderful siren.

Fox took a deep breath and allowed his head to fall back.  Closed 
his eyes and decided it would be all right to rest just a bit.  And the 
last thought that passed through his mind before he lost 
consciousness was that Shirley was going to be plenty pissed.

*******************************************

PAST
September 11, 1986
Thursday, 11:18 p.m.
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

Keenan stormed about the small room, quite obviously wanting to 
hit something.  Walter saw Doug look his way, but just shook his 
head quickly.  Not a good idea to talk right now.

Keenan finally stopped in front of them.  The man looked first at 
Doug and then at Walter.  His first words were directed at Walter.  
"I thought I made you responsible for this trainee's health and 
welfare.  Did I or did I not direct you to watch out for him?"

Walter tried to swallow before answering.  It was difficult.  "Yes, 
sir, you did."

"And did you or did you not allow him to end up in the hospital?"

Walter paused.  Just how was he supposed to answer this one?  "I 
didn't let him, sir.  It just happened."

Keenan barked out a laugh.  "It just happened.  That's your 
answer?"

Walter decided it was a rhetorical question and kept silent.  It was 
all he could do to keep from trying to defend himself.

Keenan took a few deep breaths and said, "What exactly 
happened?"

Walter again exchanged looks with Doug, but knew that this time, 
he had to answer.  "Sir, I had a man following Trainee Mulder 
without his knowledge.  I felt it prudent, given some of the 
trainee's recent actions."

Keenan actually sat down then, but still stared stonily at Walter.

"From what I've learned, my man tailed him to Jesse Smith's 
workplace, then the scene of his murder.  From there, the trainee 
went to Margie's school, then her house.  An officer spoke with 
Mulder at that point, after which the trainee filled his car with gas."

Walter swallowed.  This was where it got difficult to understand.  
"From there, he claims that the trainee somehow made him 
because Mulder started what he said was standard maneuvers to 
trap a tail."

Keenan hadn't moved.  The man merely said, "Go on."

Walter nodded.  "Evidently, though, it wasn't my man the trainee 
saw.  My agent claimed that Fox pulled a hide and follow on a …"  
Walter couldn't say it.  He took a breath and finished the sentence.  
"On a small blue station wagon."

Keenan nodded, obviously understanding the implications.

"Mulder chased the car for about fifteen minutes, while it kept 
leading him farther and farther away from the city.  My man lost 
them both for a couple minutes and decided to call in what was 
happening.  He called the local police, then got back on the road to 
try to find them again.  He said he saw a cloud of dirt in the 
distance and followed it.  Just as he was coming up on the small 
dirt road, he saw what looked like a crash a ways down."

Walter shifted, feeling angry at himself for letting the kid get 
involved in the first place.  None of this would have happened.

"My man hit his siren and called in his location.  He found Trainee 
Mulder unconscious and decided not to leave him until help 
arrived.  He saw a cloud of dust far down the road.  Once 
emergency services arrived, he tried to continue down the road to 
see whether he could find the blue wagon.  There were too many 
side roads.  It was impossible at that point."

Keenan nodded, then turned away from them.  The man propped 
his chin on his fist and stared into space for a minute before saying 
softly, "What the hell did the kid find?  Why is the UNSUB after 
him?"

Doug said, "That's what we've been trying to figure out, sir.  
We're hoping that maybe Fox saw the guy's face.  Or caught the 
license plate."

Keenan stood abruptly and glanced at them.  "So what are you 
doing here?  Get your asses to the hospital."

They answered in tandem, "Yes, sir." 

*******************************************

Present Day, Hour 30 of the Wait
Monday, 4:41 a.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia


Scully shifted a bit to get more comfortable.  The adrenaline high 
was long gone, but this story of Skinner's was keeping her awake.  
Scully turned to her former boss with a small smile playing at her 
lips, "So that was the start of his practice of ditching everyone?  I 
guess I have you to blame for years of being left behind."

He chuckled and shook his head.  "No, I think that was all Fox 
Mulder.  Don't try to drag me into it."

"I take it he wasn't hurt badly."

"No, no…  he wasn't.  Not then."

Scully felt her eyebrow lift of its own accord.  "Not then?"

*******************************************

PAST
September 12, 1986
Thursday, 1:38 a.m.
Fairfax Hospital, Arlington, Virginia

Walter and Doug walked slowly down the hallway, exhaustion 
pulling at both of them.  Too many late nights.  Too little food.  
Too much stress.  But neither man was willing to call it quits just 
yet.

Walter ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, "Sharon's going 
to kill me.  I can't believe this is her first day here.  I've seen her 
all of thirty minutes.  Cancelled dinner and now it looks like we 
might be here for hours yet."

Doug sighed.  "I know.  Angie's starting to give me dirty looks in 
the morning.  I think she's about to tell me to just stay away until 
this things over."

Walter looked over at his fellow ASAC to see whether Doug was 
kidding.  He couldn't tell.

A police officer was stationed outside the room.  They showed 
their badges and explained who they were.  Walter pushed the door 
open then and was surprised to find his old mentor dozing in a 
chair by the kid's bed.  He took a couple steps into the room and 
stopped when Waring opened his eyes.

"Hello, Dean."  Walter kept his voice low, given that Fox was 
obviously sleeping.

Dean sat straighter in the chair and nodded, but said nothing.  

Walter was at a loss.  He knew that this case was pushing a wedge 
between them.  He knew that Dean blamed him for getting Fox 
involved, even though it had all happened innocently. But, here 
they were.  The situation was the situation and right now, he and 
Doug needed to debrief Fox Mulder.

Doug took a step forward, but Waring stood and raised a hand.  
The message was clear.  Waring said softly, "Outside."

Walter decided not to argue the point, but nodded and turned.  
Doug took a second longer to decide but finally followed Walter.

Once outside, they walked a little ways down the corridor and 
away from any of the rooms before talking.

Dean said, "Walter, I understand why you're here.  Fox just got to 
sleep a bit ago, though, and I think you need to leave him be for 
now."

Walter nodded, but said, "You know we need to talk with him."

Dean shook his head.  "Actually, I already spoke with him.  I'll fill 
you in on everything he told me.  It's not much, though, and I 
doubt it will help you."

Walter nodded encouragement. 

"You know the gist of what happened.  He managed to trail the car 
for quite a while, but then the driver laid a trap for him, which he 
fell into at about 50 miles an hour.  He's lucky to be alive, frankly.  
Anyway, he told me that the car was covered in dust and dirt and 
he couldn't see in the back window to get a description of the 
driver.  Also, the tag was covered in mud, probably intentionally, 
so there was nothing he could get from that."

Walter sighed in frustration.  The closest lead they had and it was 
pretty much falling apart.

"Fox said that just before he lost consciousness, the driver started 
walking towards him.  Unfortunately, he'd hit his head pretty badly 
on the driver's window.  His vision was unclear and there was 
blood dripping down his face.  He couldn't make out any details 
about the man walking towards him.  Then the man ran away and 
drove off when your man pulled in with his siren blaring.  
Probably saved Fox's life."

Walter turned to Doug.  "Had to be him.  It had to be."

"Yeah, but why?  Why follow some FBI trainee who doesn't know 
anything?"

Walter turned to Dean, wondering what the answer might be.

Dean said softly, "Maybe Fox does know something.  Somehow.  
I'll talk with him again as soon as he wakes up."

Walter nodded and reached out a hand.  He was incredibly relieved 
when Dean took it.  "Thanks, Dean."

*******************************************

End Part 13 of ?
(Feedback to clb@roadrunner.com greatly appreciated)