<![CDATA[*******************************************
And Then There Was One - Part 5 of 8 (5/8)
by Kronos
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Wednesday, 10:02 a.m.
Arlington, Safehouse
Skinner was glued to the television set in the living area. Had been since
he'd awaken that morning a little after six. Had been last night until he
went to bed around midnight. It had been a shock, hearing his agent's
names on CNN. He'd been relieved that his own had not yet been
brought into the mix, but knew that it was inevitable now. The
connection would probably be made today.
Neither Mulder nor Scully had been available that morning when he
checked in with the Bureau office. He'd spoken briefly with Jake
Mander, asked the man to relay his concerns to his agents, and that was
it. Then he was back to the television, waiting for enlightenment.
He'd seen several reports since the breaking story last night, but they
essentially just rehashed old news. They were reporting on the story
again soon, supposedly in this half hour. Skinner found this waiting to
be almost unbearable. There. There was a video clip of Mulder and
Scully and it was new, hadn't been shown before. He'd have to
congratulate his agents. They'd made it to the big time. They were the
lead story, top of the hour, on CNN.
They were shown getting out of their car in front of what he assumed was
the Dallas Bureau. He noted Mulder struggling slightly as he exited from
the passenger's side, took in the bandaged hands, the sling encompassing
the man's left arm. He appeared way too pale and haggard, and Skinner
hoped it was just a distortion of the television.
Both Agents held their heads high as they weaved in and out of the
reporters blocking their path. He heard Scully say "No comment", heard
a matching statement from Mulder, and he was filled with pride in the
professional picture they presented. He increased the sound even more
and leaned forward, as if this would provide improved clarity.
"...has been confirmed that the Assistant Director was on board Flight 72
from Las Vegas last Sunday that was damaged from an in-air bomb
explosion, in which three people were killed. AD Walter Skinner is
known to have been on that flight and to have survived, but we have been
unable to confirm his location since that time. It is speculated that the FBI
AD was the target of the bombing."
"Shit!"
Skinner couldn't help it. He was furious at these idiots who played with
people's lives in this manner. This wasn't in the public good. This was
in no one's good except that damned network. This type of
sensationalistic reporting was going to get people killed.
"Everything all right in here, sir?"
Skinner waved to Henderson, saying, "Sorry. Everything's fine."
He was still listening carefully and was even more concerned than ever
for his agents' safety.
"... that Agents Mulder and Scully are investigating. What isn't yet
known is why they are here in Dallas and what the connection is to AD
Skinner. We will keep you informed as more information becomes
available in this still breaking story."
Damn that woman anyway for looking so fucking smug. She'd quite
possibly given Mulder and Scully a death sentence. Skinner stood
abruptly, wanting nothing more than to pick the television up and throw it
through the window. He resisted the urge and instead turned it off,
violently. He headed into the next room, hoping that maybe Henderson
or Chadwick would be in the mood to talk. This enforced solitude was
really starting to get to him.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 10:24 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder was trying the idea out on Jake. He and Scully had discussed it
for an hour and couldn't arrive at any decision as to its veracity. They
needed another opinion.
"But if one of them had begun investigating and contacted someone here
in the Dallas Bureau, it might have been the trigger. The guy might have
found out somehow. Found out that the team or at least one member was
looking into it again. Then he started his campaign of elimination."
"But, he killed them over a period of four years, Mulder. That's kind of
slow if he wanted to prevent the team member from talking to someone
else. I mean, what was he doing during all that time?"
Mulder was frustrated. It was the same argument Scully had made and he
knew that it did make sense. He understood that it made sense. But still,
he knew he was close. He knew he was on the right track. They just
weren't seeing it yet. He wasn't seeing it yet.
Mulder paced the room, sometimes in a circle, sometimes turning at one
end to head back the way he'd come. He had to find an outlet for his
frustration and restless energy. Running was pretty much out for the next
month at least, as was swimming. Pacing would have to do. Careful
pacing. Every once in a while he turned too quickly or stepped too
heavily and was reminded of the torn ligaments in his shoulder. No.
Careful, balanced, even pacing would have to do.
He raised his right wrist and glanced at his watch, noting they had about a
half hour until the group meeting. It would certainly be nice to develop
an actual profile on this guy. But Mulder was finding it impossible.
Nothing made sense. Nothing the guy did made any sense. But that
wasn't really true and Mulder knew it. There was sense to it, somehow
and somewhere. Mulder just wasn't seeing it yet. He needed to see it.
He needed to see it soon.
"Okay, so maybe no one was investigating. Or at least, none of the team
members. Maybe it was someone else. Someone who was narrowing in
on the truth."
"But, if that were the case, why would this guy start killing off the team?
It still doesn't make sense."
"It would if he wanted to eliminate any trace to the original case but
wanted to keep it quiet so it wasn't obvious. If he had to make each of
the deaths look accidental, which he did quite well. AD Skinner wasn't
even curious about it until the last death and that was because he'd kept
up with Hendricks. If he and Hendricks hadn't remained friends, even
AD Skinner wouldn't have known what was happening."
"That's true, Mulder, but still, four years?"
"So our guy's patient."
Scully had remained silent as Jake and Mulder went back and forth, but
she couldn't any more.
"Patient?! He tried to kill Skinner by blowing up a plane only a little
over a week after he killed Hendricks and when he missed, he tried
shooting him in his hotel room the very next morning. That doesn't
sound very patient to me."
Mulder heard the helplessness, the impatience in his own voice when he
spoke again, but couldn't dampen in it, couldn't keep it at bay any longer.
"Well, I don't know Scully. Maybe Skinner's different. Maybe he was
saved for last for a reason. I mean, we haven't been able to identify any
pattern to the order in which the agents were killed. Maybe there wasn't
any order except that Skinner was supposed to be last."
Mulder had stopped pacing and turned towards them abruptly from sheer
frustration. The resulting jarring to his shoulder caused a cloud of black
to coat his vision. He put his right hand out, searching almost blindly for
support and was relieved when he felt a hand in his a moment later. He
heard Scully finally, telling him to sit. Felt her other hand on his right
arm, guiding him. He let his knees bend and sank into the chair,
concentrating on doing it smoothly.
He leaned against the chair back gingerly, closed his eyes and tried
getting his breathing under control. Damn, he hated not being a hundred
percent. Shit, he'd settle for sixty percent even. This crap was getting
real old, real fast.
"Mulder, you okay?"
He sensed the concern underlying his partner's seemingly nonchalant
inquiry. Nodded and finally opened his eyes. He could see again. The
black had pushed back, leaving Scully's face behind. He could manage
only a hoarse whisper.
"It's okay. I'm okay."
Mulder cleared his throat, licked his lips, decided to try again.
"Just stopped too fast. That's all."
He realized that Jake was standing to the left of him, a bottle of water in
his hands, as if in offering.
"Hey, how 'bout something to drink?"
Jeez, get a little dizzy and everyone thinks you're going to fall apart on
them.
"No thanks, Jake. I'm fine."
He was feeling stronger now but the throbbing reminded him that he
should probably take a couple more pain pills. They had only ten minutes
or so until the briefing with the team. He decided it was time to ask for
help, after all.
"Actually, Jake I changed my mind. I could use some water. And
Scully, could you get those pills out of my suit jacket pocket and get me
two?"
Scully was thoroughly surprised, but smiled, reached into his right
pocket and retrieved the bottle. She opened it quickly, opened the bottle
of water, then shook out two pills into his extended right hand, careful of
the bandages.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Ten minutes later they were in the large conference room down the hall
with all but two of the team members present. SAC Delano was also
there. He'd checked in on Mulder and Scully earlier that morning to be
sure both were all right and to see if they needed anything. Mulder had
invited him to the briefing so as to avoid repeating the status of the
investigation at a later time.
Mulder leaned against the front wall slightly, just enough to help keep
him firmly in one position. Scully and Mander sat in the front row, ready
to give their own reports.
"As you all probably know by now, Scully and I had a little excitement at
the UTA campus yesterday."
There were smirks and ironic chuckles throughout the room. Leave it to
Spooky Mulder to understate his Superman stunt as a 'little excitement'.
Yes, they'd all heard. Every FBI agent across the country had heard, as
had most of the rest of America.
"Both Agent Mander's team and mine will be investigating that incident
and will be working jointly with the Arlington police. Unfortunately, it's
already clear that no one got a good look at the guy. No one who was
there can provide a description. And he disappeared on us so there's no
tracking him. It's pretty safe to assume we're not really going to get
anywhere with the evidence. The only pieces of evidence that might be
useful are the bullets that were retrieved. Preliminary reports link these
slugs to those used in the hotel shooting a few days ago. What will
possibly be more useful to us, however, is the motivation, if we can
identify it. Why was he there? Why was he following Agent Scully and
myself? Why did he shoot at Agent Scully when he hadn't even been
identified or threatened?"
Mulder pushed himself away from the wall slowly and took a couple
steps forward, scanning the agents' faces before him.
"If we can find the answers to those questions, we might just understand
why this guy has been killing off the team members and why he's going
after AD Skinner now. It might also help to explain why he set off the
original bombs back in the seventies. Because we are sure now that it's
the same man. We still need the evidence to tie him to them, and to set
Alvarez free, but we are certain of it."
There was a gentle murmuring through the room at this statement.
They'd all speculated about this aspect from the very beginning, but this
was the first time Mulder or anyone else had made it definite.
"All right, now I'd like to review each team's report. I'll start with my
own. Regarding the plane bombing, it is certain now that no employee
was responsible for setting the bomb at the Las Vegas Airport. Two
luggage carriers believe they saw a man in maintenance coveralls in the
underbelly of the plane at a time when no maintenance was logged as
being performed. They've been unable to provide a description of this
man. My team has the LVPD searching security cam tapes now
specifically for a man dressed in maintenance coveralls. No prints were
found in the underbelly other than those pertaining to cleared individuals,
so we're assuming he wore gloves. The device itself has been
determined to be nothing particularly unusual. It was comprised of parts
that could be purchased basically over the counter, or cut down in a home
shop, so there's no chance of tracing him that way. All-in-all, this guy's
done an admirable job so far at remaining a shadow."
Mulder turned and headed back to the support of the wall, wanting
nothing more now than to sink into a soft bed and close his eyes. He
glanced at his watch and couldn't help sighing when he realized it was
only 11:13 a.m. It would be a while before he felt the coolness of crisp
sheets on his skin. He looked back at the agents again.
"The shooting at the hotel is a dead end. Nothing retrievable or usable
except the slugs. No prints, no description of the guy, nothing on the car
theft. We're leaving it to FWPD from here on out. As for the 'bomb' left
in Agent Scully's and my car the other night, again we have no way to
trace parts, no prints, no hairs or fibers, nothing out of the ordinary.
We're tracing the origins of the paper the note was printed on. This will
possibly provide something useful. It turns out that this type of bond is
only sold in bulk commercially, so it's a pretty safe bet it came from a
company, rather than an individual's home. That means the laser printer
is also most likely from a business. We have the labs tracing the residue
to determine what company provided the cartridge for the laser printer.
We might then be able to cross-match paper with cartridges to develop a
list of potential businesses or companies where this guy might work."
Mulder paused again, not saying what everyone in the room was already
thinking. That they'd bet their next paycheck the Bureau would be on
that list.
"I think that hits the high points of what we've been doing. Any
questions?"
Mulder saw a hand go up to the right and nodded, saying, "Yes, Agent
Lewis?"
"What about the font that was used? Was it unusual enough to require
special software?"
Mulder smiled at the astute question.
"Unfortunately, no. It was a common script font available in pretty much
every software package."
This was the way it was, usually. A series of ideas followed by dashed
hopes. But sometimes, an idea paid off. They were overdue on that
score. It was time to hit a payoff.
"All right, if there are no other questions regarding the activities of Team
1, we'll move on to Team 3. Agent Scully?"
Mulder moved slowly, relieved to sit finally. His entire body ached from
the banging he'd received the previous day. Bruises dotted his right side
where he'd crashed into the wall. He looked at his watch again and
wondered just how long it was going to take for those pills to kick in. It
had been almost half an hour. He looked up at his partner, deciding he
needed to pay attention, even though he knew everything she was going
to say anyway. Maybe concentrating on Scully's words would keep his
mind off the throbbing that just wouldn't stop, wouldn't let him relax.
"...and confirmed with these as well, so we have changed the reason for
death officially on these. As you know, three of the remaining four had
been cremated and the spouse of the last refused exhumation. We are
tracking down various samples that might remain on these four, but aren't
really holding out a great deal of hope that this will lead to concrete
evidence. My team is continuing to interview as many relatives and
colleagues of these men as possible in the hopes of determining whether
they might have been stalked or perhaps contacted by someone prior to
their deaths. We're making progress on that score. It is our belief that
our killer was positioned in such a way that he could get close to these
men somehow. That he gained their trust and by doing so was able to kill
them quietly in ways that appeared natural or accidental. We do believe
he's with the Bureau and that he used his credentials to get to them."
There. She'd finally said it out loud. Scully had been looking at her
partner's face when she said it, noted the raised eyebrow and sardonic
expression. She quickly scanned the room and saw irritation on Delano's
face, fear on McCulley's, resigned irritation on Liu's. It was an
interesting mix and she was suddenly conscious of the several seconds of
silence that had passed. Scully cleared her throat hastily and looked
down at her notes once again.
"My team is also coordinating with Team 2 on forensic aspects of the
original bombing, particularly as they apply to Jose Alvarez'
involvement, as our own tasks with the agent's murders are completed.
Agent Mander will fill you in on these details. But first, are there any
questions?"
There were none and Scully nodded to Jake Mander as she took her seat
to Mulder's left. She glanced over at him, took in the pale complexion
that hadn't really changed since his near blackout forty-five minutes ago,
saw his clenched jaw, the fact that his right arm was gripping his left
across his body, the fingers peeking out from the white bandage of his
right hand almost touching her sleeve, and she knew he was in pain.
Knew that the pain pills hadn't even made a dent. She turned back to
Jake's overview, leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms on her
chest, allowing her left hand to reach for his quickly, giving his fingers a
squeeze. She smiled quickly at him as he turned her way, then released
the fingers. At least he knew she was there with him and she'd help as
soon as this was over.
"...so that means he was definitely set up. There is evidence here that
had to have been planted by someone. We are presently assuming
nothing about who might have been responsible for that. We have
eliminated no one -- no one -- from the list of suspects."
The uneasy stirring across the room was easily understood. Most of
these agents had already crossed AD Skinner off the list of suspects, but
here they were being told the man was still a possible.
"Having said that, no one really thinks AD Skinner had anything to do
with it. In fact, we're pretty damn sure it wasn't any of the team
members. But we'd be irresponsible to eliminate them out of hand."
The tension in the room subsided somewhat as agents adjusted to this
new concept.
"Now, we have essentially three streams of possibilities that we see: 1) it
was a team member, 2) it was a Fed not on the team, 3) it wasn't a Fed,
but was someone who somehow had access to information and
intelligence generally associated with Feds. Agent Scully's team and
mine are working these possibilities now. We're hoping to clear the team
members quickly, although I have to say it's not a high priority. We're
more interested in possibilities 2 and 3, which seem the most feasible to
us."
Jake was pacing slowly in front of the room and it was forcing Mulder to
swing his head back and forth as if he were in a tennis match. He
suddenly understood why this pacing habit of his was so irritating to his
partner. He gave up altogether and closed his eyes, concentrating on the
man's words, trying to see more clearly how it all fit together, whether
there were gaps needing to be filled.
"In addition to investigating the access to evidence issue, we are jointly
investigating the actual evidence used in the trial, as well as interviewing
those who testified at the trial against Alvarez. It was partly for that
reason that ASAC Mulder and Agent Scully were at UTA yesterday."
Jake glanced at them as he said this and almost came to a complete halt.
Mulder was white faced and sweating, and Scully was shooting nervous
glances towards her partner. Jake decided it was time to wrap this up.
"We've gathered all evidence still in existence from the original bombings
and our labs are going over it. We've been conducting interviews in the
hopes of developing a profile. It's been difficult tracking people down.
We're continuing with it. We anticipate a preliminary profile no later than
tomorrow. Agent Scully and I will be meeting with ASAC Mulder this
afternoon and into the evening to develop it. Questions?"
Jake was relieved to see no raised hands.
"All right. You all know what you need to do by this evening. Go to it."
Jake took two slow steps forward, watching agents exit the room. He
took another slow one to stop in front of Mulder and Scully. Everyone
had left but Delano, who now was walking forward from the back of the
room. He whispered down to them, "Heads, up. SAC coming."
"Hello, SAC Delano. How are you, sir?"
Jake saw Mulder drop his right arm and sit up straight, open his eyes and
focus on him. Good. He looked lucid at least.
Delano stopped next to Mulder and looked down at the man.
"You seem to be making quite a bit of progress. Anything you need from
us?"
Mulder turned to the man, cleared his throat and considered standing,
then abandoned the idea.
"No, sir. I think we're good. Your people have been wonderful."
Delano appeared pleased at the remark and nodded, then seemed to
hesitate, eyes still on Mulder.
"Mulder, are you sure you're all right? You don't look all that good,
son."
Mulder forced a relaxed smile, shook his head in denial.
"Nah, I'm fine, sir. Nothing a few cups of that black sludge you call
coffee here in Texas won't cure. Maybe brought in by that cute little
secretary down in the...."
Delano laughed, swung his hand as if to clip Mulder on the shoulder and
hastily arrested the motion. He winked at Scully, not at all patronizing,
nodded to Mander and then left them.
Mulder let himself go, then. Let his muscles relax, his shoulder drop, his
head fall back slightly, eyes closed tightly. The strain of appearing strong
and able in front of these people was too much, too soon. He needed to
be flat somewhere, preferably the hotel. Maybe he could figure a way to
suspend a file holder from the ceiling so he could read as he lay down.
He felt Scully's hands on the back of his neck and his leg. Heard her soft
voice.
"Come on, Mulder, let's go back to the hotel for a while. There's
nothing we can do here that we can't do there. In fact, we can carry on
our discussions about motive in your room and you can have a chance to
lay down for a bit."
Scully waited patiently for a response and was relieved to finally see him
nod. He looked positively gray. She turned to Jake and gestured him to
Mulder's other side. They needed to get him vertical with the least jarring
possible.
"Okay, Mulder, time to get going."
He allowed them to lead him, not even paying attention to the agents in
the hall who stopped in their tracks as they passed by. Not aware of SAC
Delano's eyes tracking them through the bull pen. Not really even aware
as he was gently pushed into the back seat of the car, where Scully slid in
next to him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, but felt the
need to explain to his partner.
"It's not like last night, Scully. The pills don't seem to have worked. I
can't think about anything else. I can't really concentrate. It hurts."
The last came out as a hoarse whisper. He felt ashamed at how pathetic
he sounded. Was he a baby? He couldn't handle a little pain? Jesus
Christ, his father was probably turning over in his grave. Good thing the
man wasn't alive to see what a wimp he'd raised.
"It's all right, Mulder. There are other types of medication we can try.
This is one you've never been on before and it probably just doesn't
work for you. It could be that last night you were just so tired you slept
through the pain."
She leaned forward in the seat slightly so Jake could hear her clearly.
"Is there a pharmacy nearby? Or a store where I could get a prescription
filled?"
"No problem, Dana. There's one close to the hotel. Do you want to stop
now or later?"
"Now would be fine. It shouldn't take long."
Scully decided the sooner her partner got something that would actually
help with the pain, the better. Whether he spent the minutes in the car,
leaning in the corner of the back seat, or in the hotel room didn't really
matter, as long as they got the medication fast.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 12:34 p.m.
Dallas Century Hotel
Scully and Jake sat at the table, quietly discussing Mulder's earlier
hypotheses over a lunch of subs and chips. Another bag sat off to the
side, ready whenever Mulder was. He'd dropped off within minutes of
taking the new pain medication and was now softly snoring. Scully
glanced over and took in the sight of her partner, feet hanging off the end
of the bed, right arm dangling awkwardly in space off the side. He'd
moved down in the bed so that his head was just below the pillows. His
face was turned away from her, and she hoped it wore an expression of
peace. She guessed he was comfortable, even though he didn't look it.
She turned back to her conversation with Jake, considering now the
possibility that Mulder had raised earlier -- that the killer discovered that
someone was reinvestigating the original case and decided to take out the
team in order to eliminate the chance of their participating in any way.
The idea was starting to grow on her.
*******************************************
Mulder had taken the pills Scully had offered him and then laid down on
the bed, relieved to have the soft mattress cushioning his shoulder and
aching body. He'd felt Scully's light hand on his forehead for a moment
and was reassured by it. He hadn't intended to sleep, but his body had
other ideas. He'd heard Scully and Jake talking at the table, but their
words made no sense to him. The voices were soothing though, and he
slipped into sleep knowing they watched over him.
But his sleep was not dreamless. Rather, it was marred by the faceless
monster who tracked them, the monster who hunted Skinner, who killed
innocents without thought or regret.
In his dream, he was in the plane. Was in the row behind Kirsten and her
father when the bomb blew. She'd been looking out the window,
pointing down at the land so far below, looking over to her father, her
face filled with wonderment. "Look, Daddy, you can see a lake. Do you
see it, Daddy? Do you see?" Her father had leaned closer, laughed at the
excitement generated by such a simple view. He'd just replied, "I see, I
see it, baby," when their world changed into a fiery ball of heat and
flames, torn and shrieking metal, glass and flying plastic. And screams.
For just a moment, they were alive and heard the screams of those around
them, heard their own screams as their flesh was seared and torn, as their
seat was pulled from the safety of the plane through a hole too small to
accommodate it, as their heads were crushed from the impact of bone
meeting metal. And they were alive long enough to feel it all.
And Mulder saw it happening. Saw Kirsten and her father pulled into the
dark. Saw the row of seats in front of Kirsten's jerk, lose it's bolts at the
end nearest the fuselage, get sucked towards the gaping hole. And
Mulder was being pulled by the vacuum himself. He could feel wind
pulling at the skin on his face, pulling at his clothes, pulling his limbs
towards the opening. He cut his left hand as he braced himself against
the torn fuselage and ceiling and felt the blood flow into the night. And
he was surrounded by terror. Surrounded by cries and screams and
helpless pleadings. Someone was saying a prayer and he could hear
some of the words. '.... and lead us not into temptation ....' He knew it
was the Lord's Prayer and suddenly began doubting his own lack of
religious beliefs.
The plane was being thrown from side to side, up, then down, buffeted
by the winds and fighting for control after the loss of two of its engines.
And Mulder felt his seatbelt start to give. Felt it loosening. Felt himself
move in the seat, one inch, then two. And the sweat broke out on his
face despite the freezing temperatures, and he practically hyperventilated
with the loss of the oxygen in the thin air around him, with the rapid
breathing he couldn't control.
And there was someone or something hovering over him. Breathing over
his shoulder and laughing at the havoc he had wreaked. It was him. The
bomber. Mulder tried to turn to catch sight of him, tried to move his right
hand out to grab him. But his grip was tenuous, and his eyes not fast
enough to see the slippery apparition. Mulder screamed out from the
frustration, the helplessness, his own powerlessness.
And someone was shaking him and calling his name. Telling him to open
his eyes. That it was okay. And he did. And Scully was there, wiping
his forehead with a damp washcloth and telling him it was all just a bad
dream.
"Scully?"
"Hey, partner, where were you?"
He glanced around the room, still getting his bearings. Discovered his
right hand was gripping Scully's without even knowing how that had
happened. He tried to speak again and couldn't get the words out. Was
at a loss as to what the words should even be. His eyes had been
searching the room for something and he wasn't sure what. He realized
suddenly that Jake was gone and a small part of his brain catalogued it,
put it away for later consideration.
"Mulder? Are you okay?"
He focused on the face hovering over him and stared at her intently,
finally managing the words "The plane. I was on the plane when the
bomb blew." He saw Scully's face scrunch in confusion, trying to
wrestle with this new information. Trying to decide whether her partner
had lost it completely.
"I dreamed I was on the plane."
He could see that she understood now. And she was looking at him with
such kindness it almost hurt. He didn't deserve it. She smoothed the
cool washcloth over his forehead again, pushing the hair back and away
from his face, then let it rest there.
"Mulder, it's over. It's all over. Can you sleep any more? Do you think
you could try?"
"No!"
He hadn't meant for it to sound so loud in the room, to be so explosive.
But it was pulled from him involuntarily, almost as Kirsten and her father
had been pulled from the plane. He didn't want to sleep any more just
now. He couldn't face that again, so soon.
He started to sit, struggling with only one hand to help, and then Scully
was there helping him. Supporting him, then propping pillows, so he
could lean against the headboard.
"You slept through lunch. Jake and I saved you a sandwich, though."
She saw his inquiring gaze and answered the unasked question.
"Jake headed back about an hour ago. It's 3:15 or so now."
Mulder groaned aloud at losing so much time. It was the thing they
didn't have enough of as it was and here, he'd just killed three hours in
the middle of the day by sleeping.
He leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes to
think for a moment. They had almost 3 hours before the debriefing
tonight. Would it be enough time? It would if he got off his butt right
now and got moving. He pushed himself to a sitting position and swung
his legs over the bed, then turned to his partner.
"Let's go see Alvarez. Can we get clearance on such short notice?"
She didn't seemed surprised by the request. In fact, smiled slightly as if
giving herself credit for figuring something out a step ahead of her
partner.
"We're already cleared. I spoke with SAC Delano and told him we'd be
wanting to meet with Alvarez soon, possibly even today. He's already
submitted all the necessary paperwork for us. All we have to do is give
him a call with the specific time."
Mulder laughed lightly and shook his head. Wondered if maybe Scully
didn't know him too well.
"Okay. How about if you call Delano to arrange it and I'll be ready to
leave in five?"
*******************************************
Ten minutes later they were on the highway, heading towards one of
Texas' maximum security prisons, where Jose Alvarez had been held for
the past twenty two years. Mulder was awkwardly trying to eat the sub
Scully and Jake had gotten for him and was losing half of its insides on
his lap.
"Jesus, Scully, you couldn't find something for a one armed man to eat?
You trying to torture me or something here?"
Scully glanced in the rearview, then side mirrors to make sure no one was
following and then turned her gaze to her right. She smiled at the sight of
Mulder picking lettuce bits and tomato off his pants. It didn't seem to
bother him overmuch, though, because he was stuffing them right back
into his mouth.
"Why didn't you spread out a napkin?"
"That would just be giving into it, Scully. I prefer to fight bravely against
my disability."
Why did this sound so familiar? Scully could swear she'd heard those
words before, or at least a similar conversation. And then she
remembered. Remembered sitting on a wet and slimy boulder in the
middle of a lake in the dark of nature's night, after their boat sank from
being attacked by a rock. Remembered her partner stating he'd always
wanted a peg leg. She smiled finally at the memory. She supposed that
completely losing function in one arm and shoulder was as close as he'd
get to his peg leg dream. She saw he was staring at her, waiting to see if
she'd gotten the reference.
"Mulder, you're still megalomaniacal."
She checked the mirrors again, although she'd pretty much assured
herself that this was going to be a more boring outing than their last.
Mulder put his right hand to his chest dramatically as if he'd been shot
and then turned towards her once again, an exaggerated look of hurt and
betrayal on his features.
"Moi?"
And then he laughed and was happy to hear his partner's laughter join his
own.
"Actually, Scully. You didn't call me megalomaniacal. You said my
search was megalomaniacal. There's a distinct difference."
"There may be a difference, but the effect is still the same, the impact on
those around you is still the same, regardless of whether its you or your
search for the Truth."
Suddenly, Scully was sorry they'd gone this route. The easy laughter
and relaxed dispositions had given way now to tension and unease.
Scully looked over to her partner and reached out her right hand to gently
touch his left shoulder.
"Mulder, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it. I didn't mean for it to
come out that way. I wasn't thinking."
He sighed heavily and tried consciously to regain some of the lighter
humor they'd so easily lost.
"I know. I know. You women -- always talking first, thinking later."
She snorted then, decided not even to respond beyond a quick glance his
way to let him know she appreciated his changing the subject.
Appreciated him letting her off the hook.
"So Scully, how should we handle the interview? Do you want to talk to
him or should I?"
They'd only been cleared for one person to speak with Alvarez at a time.
Scully considered everything she knew about the case and the man. Said
finally, "I think I should. I'll be less threatening, even though you are
presently .... disabled."
He smiled, said simply, "I agree. If he is innocent, which I'm pretty
much convinced of, he'll be pretty angry at any FBI agent. At least a ...
woman won't seem quite so overtly threatening."
Scully caught the hesitation, wondered what in the heck he'd been about
to say. Then decided not to pursue it. Her partner trusted her, depended
on her for backup, never doubted her abilities. She could afford to allow
any overtly sexist comments or jokes pass.
"Okay, so what approach should I take?"
He cleared his throat, took a sip of the iced tea he'd been nursing, and
replied, "I think we shouldn't get his hopes up. Don't let him know we
think he's innocent. It is reasonable to say that we believe there's a
connection between the Flight 72 bombing and the bombings he was
arrested for. But try not to bring in the agents' deaths unless absolutely
necessary."
They continued to discuss strategy for the next ten minutes and halted
their conversation when electrified fences and concrete walls encircled
with barbed wire intruded in their path.
*******************************************
Wednesday, 3:57 p.m.
Maximum Security Prison
Mulder watched from the observation room. Jose Alvarez was a slight
man, only about 5'9" or so in height. He was wiry, though, with
muscles well honed. He had a slight limp, due to the prosthetic right leg
that was Vietnam's legacy. His dark hair was peppered with gray and he
wore a neat mustache and beard. His accent was very slight, hardly
noticeable. He seemed quite refined and gentlemanly. Mulder saw that
the man had nodded to Scully and waited for her to sit before he did,
chains rattling at wrists and ankles as he finally did. Mulder could easily
picture this man in a suit, working for Lockheed-Martin or perhaps Ford.
Mechanical Engineering degree in hand. Best not to consider the vagaries
of life.
"Hello, Mr. Alvarez. My name is Dana Scully. I think they told you
who I am. I'm a Special Agent with the FBI in Washington, DC."
Mulder saw the man nod, unsurprised.
"My partner and I are investigating the bombing of Flight 72 on Sunday."
Mulder saw the man's eyes flash toward him, looking at what was only a
mirror from inside the room, but surmising the truth. He seemed slightly
confused, forehead creased, head tilted to the side.
"Did you hear about it, sir?"
The man snorted softly.
"It was all over the television for days. How could I not? You were on
television too, with your partner."
His eyes flicked once again to the mirror.
"But what does that have to do with me?"
Mulder could sense the slight anger, the irritation in the question.
Understood that the man thought they might somehow try to pin yet
another bombing on him.
"Sir, there are sufficient similarities of the bombing of Flight 72 to the
bombings from 1974-1976 that we felt it prudent to speak with you."
Mulder groaned internally, whispered to the glass, "Don't antagonize
him, Scully."
"You think I had something to do with it?"
Scully knew she had to make him understand without giving the most
important information away.
"No, sir. Not at all. We know you didn't."
Alvarez sat back in his chair slightly and looked at Scully searchingly.
He was definitely not a stupid man and Mulder could almost see the
pieces falling into place in the man's mind.
"What can I do? What do you want from me?"
Mulder could see that the older man had figured it out already. Had
figured out that they were indeed reinvestigating the original case. And
Alvarez was excited by it. Mulder hoped they'd be able to do right by
this man.
"Mr. Alvarez, has anyone ever contacted you about the case since the
trial? Anyone ... official?"
There were several seconds of silence as Alvarez tried to work through
the question to find her real meaning. He'd been overwhelmed by
publishers, agents, people cursing him, .... hell, even fans. But this isn't
what she wanted to know.
"I was contacted by a Liberal group once, who thought I'd been
discriminated against, said my civil rights had been violated. They kept
saying they'd bring my case to the Supreme Court and have the decision
reversed. They dropped me when some more high-profile case came
along."
He smiled at her grimly, then continued searching his memory. He
leaned forward, propping his elbows on knees, and rested his chin on
intertwined hands.
"About five years or so ago there was a man who called me on the phone.
He claimed he was a student in law and had come across my case. He
said it was so obvious that I'd been set-up by the government. That the
Feds .... uh, the FBI, just wanted a patsy and I was it. He wanted
permission to talk with me occasionally and he promised he'd keep me
filled in on his progress."
Scully felt the chill down her back, felt her breath catch in her throat.
This was it, she was sure.
"Sir, can you describe this man? Did you ever meet with him?"
Mulder had been holding his breath and let it out explosively at the
response.
"No, we only spoke by phone. But he had to have permission somehow
to make the call in the first place. He had to have had some sort of
official clearance. Anyone can't just call into a Maximum Security prison
and ask to speak with a prisoner. I thought he was on the up and up."
Scully nodded her head and tried to incorporate this into what they
already knew. Tried to figure out what this man could have wanted and
why.
"What did he call himself? What was this man's name?"
"He said it was Tom Dixon. He said he was with Harvard Law School
and couldn't travel to meet me in person, but had been cleared to speak
with me by phone."
"Could you tell me what you spoke about? What kind of questions he
asked you?"
"Well, it's been a while now, of course, but I'll try to remember. Most
of the questions had to do with the investigation and the evidence they'd
collected against me. He was trying to identify any weakness in the case
that could be exploited on my behalf."
He sat up in the chair and looked Scully straight in the eye then.
"At least, that's what he said."
Scully nodded to him in encouragement.
"Sir, could you tell me as much as you remember?"
"He wanted to know about all the interactions I'd had with the FBI team
when I was arrested. There were nine agents involved. I'll never forget
their faces. Never forget when they came into my home and arrested me,
in front of my wife and my children."
It was Scully's turn to glance at the mirror and Mulder felt as if she were
looking straight at him. Straight into his eyes.
Scully turned back to Alvarez and cleared her throat, licked her lips lightly
before continuing.
"Sir, could you perhaps tell me what you told him?"
She tried to convey to this man that she was not his enemy. That he
could trust her. But she knew that was unfair of her. He'd been in jail
for more than twenty years because the FBI had caught the wrong man.
There was no justice in that. She couldn't blame him for thinking there
was no justice to be had at all. But he surprised her and nodded.
"I told him about the team coming into my home and arresting me. Then
they took me to the local FBI office, not the police station. They held me
there for almost a day before charging me. They asked me all sorts of
questions, about my job, about what I did in 'Nam, about when I was in
school at UTA. I answered them. I was stupid, naive. I didn't insist on
a lawyer because I knew I was innocent. I figured that since I was
innocent, all I had to do was tell them what they wanted and then they'd
see they'd made a mistake. But that didn't happen. They were nice to me
during the questioning. Kept offering me coffee and food. Cigarettes.
Whatever I wanted. But at the end, they arrested me for these
bombings."
His voice had grown somewhat shaky and Scully resisted the urge to ask
him whether he wanted anything. The timing would have been a bit off
for that.
"When they arrested me, I heard a few of them arguing. I don't think the
entire team believed I had done it. At least a couple of them had
questions."
Scully shot another look towards the mirror. Confirmation, of a sort.
"Did you know which ones had questions? Were you able to identify any
of them?"
"Not really. There were a couple younger ones on the team who seemed
to be the most vocal. They came to my trial. And the older one did, too,
but not the others, except when they testified."
So Skinner had sat in on the entire trial, along with Jake Price and
perhaps Matthew Dryer or Anthony Hendricks -- maybe even both of
them.
"After they arrested me, I was assigned a lawyer. She was nice but she
really didn't know much. She was just out of law school and had never
handled anything like my case before. Hell, I don't know if she'd ever
even handled a murder case before."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead in a circling motion, seemingly
unaware of the other hand that was forced by the handcuffs to come along
for the ride.
"Anyway, she told me not to talk with anyone except her or other than
when she was present, so I never spoke with the FBI alone again.
Actually, even when I did speak with them, I didn't really speak with
them. She never let me say anything."
The silence stretched for several seconds as he reminisced.
"Sir, what else did you talk about with this Tom Dixon?"
He sighed again, looking extremely tired all of a sudden. Weary.
"He wanted to know about what the FBI team asked me during my
original questioning. Ma'am, they spoke with me for almost twenty-four
hours. I really would prefer not going over that again right now."
"Of course, Mr. Alvarez. However, sir, it is very important. Crucial, in
fact. Could I possibly ask you to write down what you remember of all
your conversations with this man? Anything at all that you can recall
discussing with him, no matter how trivial it may seem to you."
Mulder was again holding his breath, praying that Alvarez would say yes.
That he'd agree. And he did.
"All right, young lady. I can do that. But you'll have to make sure the
prison warden knows what I'm doing and why. If you want it soon, I
might need some extra supplies and time with lights on."
Scully smiled at him and thanked him, then glanced over at the mirror,
wondering if she'd covered everything.
"Sir, could you excuse me for one minute please?"
Scully stepped out of the room and approached her partner. He was
leaning against the glass wall at an angle, right side supporting him. He
turned his head towards her as she exited the room.
"So? Do I need to hit anything else while we're here?"
"That was great, Scully. One more thing, though. Ask him if he
remembers what this Dixon's voice sounded like."
Scully nodded and turned back to the room, perturbed at herself for
missing something so obvious.
"Mr. Alvarez, one other question. Can you describe this Tom Dixon's
voice for me? Did he have an accent of any kind? Were there any
phrases that maybe stuck out in your mind as being odd? Anything at
all?"
Alvarez was concentrating hard, with eyes closed. Scully was
disappointed to see him shake his head.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll think about it some more, but I can't really recall
anything unusual. It was just a voice. And at the time, I was more
interested in what it was saying than in how, if you get my meaning."
"Yes, sir. I think I understand. Thank you for your time."
"Thank you, Agent Scully."
*******************************************
Mulder glanced at his watch and sighed in frustration. Bureaucracy was
the same everywhere. They'd been sitting outside the warden's closed
office door for a good fifteen minutes. At this rate, they'd have to really
push it to make the six o'clock meeting on time. Scully was fidgeting
beside him on the couch and every move she made sent a stab of pain
through his shoulder.
"Scully, could you sit still? Please?"
She turned to him in surprise and he felt guilty at the tone he'd used.
But, damn, he hurt enough as it was. He didn't need his own partner
exacerbating the situation. He saw her expression change to one of
concern as she realized what had been happening. She moved off the
couch slowly and then over to a chair next to her partner's.
"Sorry about that. You know, it's past time for the pain medication.
How about if I track down a glass of water?"
He smiled at her and shook his head, then said, "I'll wait until after we
talk with this guy. Wouldn't do to fall asleep in his office."
The door to the warden's office opened then, showing a stocky man in a
business suit, broad smile in place. It wasn't the image they'd been
expecting and it took both Mulder and Scully a few moments to collect
themselves.
Scully was the first to stand and she turned to make sure Mulder was
managing all right on his own. They followed the warden into his office
and settled into the guest chairs in front of his desk. Before they had a
chance to say a word, the man started speaking in a twangy Texas drawl.
"Sorry to keep you out there so long. I was actually on the phone with a
few people about your request. Just hung up with Harry Delano in fact.
Good man. I've interacted with him often. So, he explained a bit about
what's going on. Asked me to pave the way for any requests you might
have. Tell me what you want and I'll do my best for you. Maybe you
can fill me in on your investigation and how it has to do with our man
Alvarez."
Mulder jumped in quickly, deciding to head such requests off at the pass.
"Thank you, sir. Actually, we don't have a great deal of time right now,
since we have to be back at the Bureau for a meeting at six. What would
be a tremendous help, though, is if you allow Mr. Alvarez any kind of
writing supplies he might need, even access to a computer or word
processor if possible, as well as sufficient time to write over the next day
or so. I realize this is an unusual request, but he may have information
that will help us identify the bomber of Flight 72."
Mulder was stonefaced. He refused to give away details of their
investigation to this man. He prayed they'd get cooperation without
having to go to AD Skinner.
"All right, Agent ... Mulder, I believe it was?"
Mulder nodded, knowing he'd been the topic of conversation between the
warden and Delano.
"I can arrange for Alvarez to have both the supplies as well as the time he
needs. Should I communicate with you when he's done or with Harry
Delano?"
The man's eyes flicked to Scully, as if to question her role in this.
"You can contact me or Agent Scully. If neither of us are available,
please contact Agent Jake Mander. You can leave a message with SAC
Delano if the three of us are unreachable for some reason."
Mulder had struggled to a standing position, dug around in his suit pocket
and pulled out a card. He'd already scribbled the local cell phone
numbers on the back. He handed it over to the warden and watched as
the man slipped it into his own suit jacket without even looking at it.
Mulder had no idea what that meant. He could only hope this man would
truly be as cooperative as he was claiming he'd be.
Mulder reached his right hand out then, saying, "Thank you for your help
on this."
He got a nod and shake in return and watched as the gesture was repeated
with his partner. He ushered her out of the room, anxious to get on the
road back to the Bureau. As they walked down the corridor, away from
the office, he leaned towards her and asked, "So what do you think?"
She looked at him curiously and said quietly, so no one but her partner
could hear, "About what? The warden?"
He nodded quickly, eyes scanning from right to left.
"I don't know, Mulder. He seemed genuinely helpful, if somewhat
nosy. Why?"
She saw her partner's face scrunch up and couldn't interpret the
expression.
"Why, Mulder?"
"I don't know. He felt .... screwy somehow. Off kilter. I don't know."
He turned and smiled at her then.
"Just a spooky feeling, Scully."
She adopted an equally joking manner when she replied, "Oh my God,
Mulder. It's an X-File."
Their laughter followed them down the hall, and echoed off the concrete
block.
*******************************************
They had a little more than a half hour to make it back in time. When they
settled in the car, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called Jake to let
him know they might be late and to start without them. They conversed
for a few minutes more and then Mulder pushed the antenna in and
flipped the phone closed. Dropped it in his right suit pocket. Then
rummaged around in the same pocket for his pain medication. Pulled it
out and shook the bottle noisily.
"Hey, Scully. How about finding a place to get something to drink?"
"Actually, I'm pretty sure there was a gas station just a mile or so away.
We'll pull in there. I think we need to fill up anyway."
Mulder nodded and closed his eyes, laying his head back against the
headrest. He could wait that long.
Scully saw the station ahead and glanced in her mirrors out of habit.
There was a car behind them in the distance, something gray and shiny,
but it continued past without slowing as they pulled into the gas station.
No one else was around. In fact, she wasn't sure at first whether the
station was actually operational.
Scully rolled the windows down, turned off the engine, and got out of the
car, looking for an attendant. Saw the wave from inside and went to the
rear of the car to start the pump. Then she leaned in the driver's window
so she could see her partner more clearly.
"Hey. I'm going inside to get something to drink. What do you want?"
He opened his eyes slowly and sighed. Rolled his head against the
headrest just enough to see her and said, "Anything, Scully. Iced tea or
water would be best."
"Okay. Be right back."
He dragged his head up again, feeling as if it weighed way too much for
his neck to support adequately, and took in the surroundings. There were
no cars at all except the one that just passed on the road heading to the
prison. No others for miles in either direction.
It was hot in the car, even with the windows down and Mulder shoved
his door open in the hopes of enabling a little better circulation. The
sweat coating his back, dampening his armpits, his neck, the backs of his
legs, proved it wasn't sufficiently effective. God, he wished he could get
his suit jacket off. But the sling wrapped around it and the only way to
be free of the thing would be to remove the sling. No way would that
happen until he was ready for bed.
Scully returned with two bottles of water, both already dripping with
condensation from the heat. She knelt by down by her partner, put one
of the bottles on the ground temporarily and opened the other.
"Here you go. How about if we trade?"
She held her other hand out for the pill bottle and efficiently opened it and
shook two into her palm. She then returned it to her partner's suit
pocket, took the bottle of water from him once again, and placed the pills
in his hand. He downed them quickly and reached yet again for the
elusive bottle of water, finally able to take a big swig to wash the pills
down.
"Thanks. This one armed stuff really stinks."
"Hey, what are partners for?"
She retrieved her own bottle and stood up then, closing his door carefully
so as not to shake the car. She topped off the tank and grabbed the
receipt from the automatic pump, then slid into the car. The air
conditioning was the first thing she adjusted. How in God's name could
anyone have survived in this place before air conditioning. Actually, it
should have denoted the start of a new calendar -- B.A.C. and A.A.C.
Worked for her.
They were barely on the road again when Mulder started discussing their
meeting with Alvarez.
"So what did you think of Jose Alvarez, Scully"
"I think .... I think he's innocent and a part of him still believes that fact
alone will be enough to get him released, eventually. I think he's had his
hopes raised too many times in the past. I think .... I wouldn't want to be
responsible for dashing his hopes again. I think he's remained a nice man
despite being locked away unfairly. I think he'll spend the next several
hours at least, if not days, trying to recall absolutely everything about his
phone conversation with this Tom Dixon and about the original
conversation with the FBI team."
She came to a stop in her summary finally and tried to decide whether to
add anything. It was sort of a meandering list of thoughts, but her
partner had been vague with his question so she figured she had the right
to be vague in her answer.
"I agree. But I don't want to rely on the good will of the warden to let us
know when Alvarez is done with his journal. Let's make sure we check
back tonight and tomorrow, and as long as is necessary."
Scully nodded, agreeing with him, but still not understanding this feeling
of suspicion he had towards the warden. She trusted his instinct, though,
and would back him up on this.
"So, Mulder, who do you think this guy was? Any chance he could have
been legitimate?"
"I suppose. It'll be easy enough to track down. In fact -- hang on."
Mulder reached into his suit pocket again and pulled out the cell phone.
He used his teeth to pull out the antenna and engaged the talk button with
his thumb, then quickly dialed in Jake's number.
"Hey. Listen, we need to track down a guy who phoned Jose Alvarez
several times something like five years ago. His name was Tom Dixon
and he claimed he was in law at Harvard. Whether he was a student or
professor or what, I'm not really sure. Could you initiate a search on that
name for that time period? Be generous with spellings and dates, go a
couple years back and a couple years forward ....... Yeah....."
Mulder propped the phone to his shoulder and glanced at his watch. It
still felt strange looking at it on his right wrist. It was 5:43 and there
was
no way they were going to make it on time.
"No, I don't think so. We'll probably be fifteen minutes or so late.......
Yeah, okay."
Mulder went through the process of putting the phone away, then turned
his head towards his partner.
"Jake says no problem on the search. They might have something
confirmed by the time we get back. He said his team unearthed some
interesting information today. He'll save his team's briefing to last so
we'll have a good chance hearing it first hand. He's also going to start a
few minutes late."
Scully nodded and then decided to explore a thought she'd had.
"Why didn't you ask the warden about the phone calls to Alvarez?
Wouldn't he have had to clear them? Or whoever was warden then?"
She turned to see Mulder smiling guiltily, as if caught with his hand in the
proverbial cookie jar.
"I was wondering when you were going to nail me on that. I don't
know, Scully. There was just something about him. I don't trust him. I
can't really put my finger on anything. It wasn't anything specific."
He leaned closer to her and then whispered, "Spooky, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah. You can't pull that Spooky crap on me, Mulder, I know
you better than that."
Scully scanned the mirrors again, as she had been the entire trip and noted
the car in the distance. It was another light color car, silver or gray.
They were starting to near the city, though, so it was natural that traffic
would be picking up. She tried to make out more specific details and
couldn't. It was too far away.
She turned to look at Mulder again and saw he had leaned his head to the
side, against the glass. His eyes were closed and he could have been
asleep. Leave it to Mulder to fall asleep within moments, when he was in
pain, in a cramped and confined sitting position, but not be able to get
through a few lousy consecutive hours sleep in a nice comfortable bed.
She shook her head at the dichotomy and reminded herself not to even
attempt to understand it. Enigmas could not be understood by definition.
She turned the radio on softly to keep her company and finally found
something other than country western music. She took the turn off to
bring them back on the interstate and again swept the mirrors. Her
partner's paranoia had long ago worn off on her. The silvery car was still
back there and looked remarkable similar to the one she'd seen leaving the
prison just after she and Mulder had. But it had passed on by and would
be well in front of them now.
Mulder was fast asleep now and she hesitated waking him for something
so silly. She decided to run a trial first before deciding whether to wake
him. She looked to her left and saw a gap, pulled into it without putting
her blinker on, then pulled into the far left lane. She sped up, passed two
cars and checked in her mirror again. Damn, the car had pulled into the
middle lane and was now moving into the left.
"Hey, partner, wake up. We might have company."
Mulder jerked his head up and pulled himself straighter in the seat,
grimacing at the pain the abrupt move initiated.
"Who? Where?"
"There's a silver car about three back from us. Looks like it might be a
Le Sabre, something in that class. It's hard to tell from this angle. It was
with us on the road from the prison and just crossed two lanes of traffic
when I did. I'm going to move back into the right lane, gradually, see if
he follows."
Mulder had fiddled with the side view mirror switch on his side,
adjusting it so he could see more clearly.
"That looks like the car that passed on the road heading towards the
prison while you were inside the gas station."
"That would explain it. Right out from the prison I saw a car but it
passed on by when we stopped. When I saw this one, I figured it was a
different car."
Mulder took another long look in the mirror, watched as the car moved
back to the right lane just after theirs did.
"I don't get it, Scully. Who the hell is this guy and why would he be
following us? It's the same questions from yesterday. It just doesn't
make any sense."
"Maybe we're closer than we think. Maybe UTA and Alvarez are more
important than we've realized. Maybe he's afraid we'll find something
out that has remained hidden all this time."
Mulder considered it, nodded finally.
"Okay. That makes sense. It also fits with the hypothesis on why he
started eliminating the team. But I don't see what he hopes to achieve by
following us. We're going back to the Bureau, for God's sake. It's not
like we'll be hard to find."
"But maybe he doesn't know that. Or maybe he wants to try to eliminate
us because we've gotten too close."
Mulder looked into the mirror again, trying to decide the best course of
action.
"I'll call Jake and see if he can get us a tail. He should still be in the
command center."
Mulder pulled out the phone quickly now and pushed the numbers,
relieved when he heard Jake's voice.
"Hey, me again. Look, Scully and I picked up a tail. We're on Interstate
50 heading north. We just passed the Grant exit. The next one is ....
Pineview in about four miles. See if you can arrange for a couple cars to
check this guy out. He's in a silver town car, possible a Buick Le Sabre.
He's in the right lane, three cars behind us. You have our info......
Okay, I'll hang on."
"He's got DPD on line and is coordinating with them. He's also
scrambling some of our own people. They'll be able to pick us up at the
Bureau exit, so don't get off."
Scully nodded, glanced in the mirror again. He was still there. Just
following. She glanced over at Mulder who was slouched slightly so he
could see into the mirror more easily without turning his body. He didn't
look at all sleepy now. In fact, it was times like these, when he was on
the hunt, that she thought his name appropriate. He turned and smiled at
her with satisfaction as he took in Jake's comments on the phone.
"Okay, we just passed Pineview. .... Yeah, I'll hang on."
He turned to his partner to fill her in.
"They're set, Scully. DPD had a car on the highway already. It's
waiting at the Jackson entrance, just a couple miles up. We need to let
them know when it's in sight and they'll pull on at the right time. Jake
also has two cars that'll join us at the highway entrance before the
Bureau. So we do want to pull off at the Bureau exit after all. He has
another two cars waiting at the exit. He's coordinating with DPD, so
they know what cars are where."
Mulder looked back again, still unable to identify anything specific about
the car. He saw the exit ahead and got back on the phone.
"Okay, Jake, it's in sight."
He kept his eyes on the car following them, was relieved when it didn't
get over into the exit lane. And then at the last possible moment it
happened.
"Fuck!"
Scully almost jerked off the road at Mulder's expletive, it surprised her
so.
"What?!!?"
Scully and Jake were screaming at him in tandem.
"He got off. He made the trap somehow. He pulled off at the last
moment and tore down the exit going seventy at least. Get the DPD on it.
Tell them what happened."
Mulder let the phone drop from his ear, let it fall into his lap, still on,
and
sat up straight in his seat once again. He rubbed his temples for a
moment and then ran his right hand through his hair. His hand dropped
against the dashboard, then pounded it in frustration, as he yelled again,
"Fuck!"
He tried to collect himself, breathed deeply a few times, then put the
phone back up to his ear. He heard Jake speaking on the other phone and
understood that DPD had lost the guy. He pulled it away from his ear a
few inches, waiting until Jake could come back to him. He turned to
Scully again.
"How'd he know, Scully? How the hell did he know?"
Scully had been trying to figure it out herself and the answers she kept
coming up with were disturbing.
"Number 1, it was broadcast on the DPD band and he heard it, number 2,
someone on the team or the force specifically called and told him, number
3, he heard it in the line of duty from someone on the team or the force,
or number 4, he picked it up off our cell phone."
Mulder had come to the same conclusions himself, glanced at the phone
in his hand with disgust.
"Jake, hey Jake, are you there?"
There was silence for several seconds and then Scully saw her partner
tense.
"Okay, look Jake, don't sweat it. But find something out for me. Find
out how the DPD spread the word, whether it was an open frequency,
police band, whatever. Also, tell me how you were communicating with
our people. This guy found out somehow, Jake. He knew he would be
picked up at the next exit and he got off in such a way that we couldn't
track him...... Yeah, I'll wait."
Scully was taking the right exit now. She saw two cars waiting to the
side of the ramp towards the end. Saw one pull out in front of them and
the other pull in behind. They had an escort home. She recognized
Dowd and Mayne in the car in front, Smith and McCulley in the car
behind. They all looked grim.
"Jake, we're almost there. I'll touch base with you in a few minutes.
Let's meet in the command center to discuss this before the debriefing
with the team. We'll push it back to six-thirty. Okay, bye."
He closed the phone again and for the first time realized they had an
escort.
"Makes you feel important, doesn't it, Scully?"
She snorted, replied, "Yippee."
*******************************************
Wednesday, 6:23 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder slammed the door behind him and sank into one of the chairs,
grateful for the padding. He barely looked at the surroundings, focusing
all his attention on Jake Mander.
"So how'd he find out?"
Jake looked disgusted and shook his head. He stood leaning against one
of the few clear spots on any of the walls, arms crossed in front of him.
"Beats me. Could have happened any number of ways. He could have
listened in on your cell call, could have heard the DPD over their police
band, could have listened in on our own cell calls. Or ... someone could
have told him."
Mulder sat with his head back, right arm hugging his left, eyes closed.
"Scully what do you think is most likely?"
"I think he was listening in on our calls."
Mulder's eyes flew open as it dawned on him. Calls, not just call. He'd
made other calls in the car earlier.
"Shit! So he probably knows about our search on Dixon. God damn it
I'm an idiot."
Scully was used to this. Used to the fact that this man seemed to blame
himself for everything. It was partly arrogance, but mostly ingrained
guilt. His family had certainly been good at the guilt part. She'd seen
enough of their interactions to reach that conclusion pretty quickly.
"Mulder, there's no way we could have known. It's done now. We just
need to make sure it doesn't happen again. The Dixon information
wasn't that critical. It would have come out pretty soon anyway."
Mulder nodded and collapsed back in the chair, eyes closed once again.
It was obvious to Scully that he was still mentally berating himself. She
took in the fact that he seemed to be running near empty and made a
decision.
"Mulder, why don't I run the meeting tonight? Jake and I can handle it.
You can just sit and listen. Take it easy for a bit."
She saw the forehead crease slightly, the lips purse, as if in distaste.
Then Mulder rolled his head towards her and stared for a good five
seconds. It made her nervous and she began to wonder if she had
unintentionally offended him. Then he grinned and closed his eyes again.
"Okay, Scully. It's all yours. I feel like shit. You know, if you really
want to help me out, though, you'd hurry up and solve this thing so we
can go home."
Jake laughed and looked back and forth between the two agents. Yes
indeed, he envied them their relationship, their friendship. But he was
happy for Mulder. He had known this man for several years while they
were in the VCS together. And Mulder had always been too much alone.
It pleased him that the man had finally found someone to share himself
with. He'd needed it in his life. And it seemed that Dana Scully needed it
as well.
*******************************************
End Part 5 of 8
*******************************************
And Then There Was One - Part 6 of 8 (6/8)
by Kronos
*******************************************
Thursday, 3:07 a.m.
Dallas Century Hotel
The monster had come for him again. Mulder dreamed he was in the
airplane after the bomb had blown. The plane was being tossed about as
if it were a child's toy in an untamed hand. The passengers screamed and
Mulder heard a baby crying for its mother, over and over. Screaming
"Mama, Mama, Mama" as if the woman held the gift of miracles in her
hands. The man three rows up was praying, reaching across the aisle to a
woman whose lips moved silently in counterpart with his.
They were all so clear to Mulder. He heard them all, saw them grab for
each other, for anything that would hold them in place or provide comfort
to them. And he sat alone, fighting against the pull of air, of the wind
god who taunted him, and played with his existence.
And Mulder felt his seatbelt start to give. Felt himself move in the seat as
the belt loosened, inch by inch. And his left hand pushed against the
fuselage even harder, slipping with the blood that flowed. His right was
wrapped around the arm rest, his feet were dug into the floor, trying to
find the friction necessary to overcome the wind's terrible pull. The
sweat flew and his fear was tangible.
And the monster laughed at him. The monster responsible laughed from
over his shoulder. Laughed at his futile fight against inevitability. The
monster laughed as Mulder was pulled finally from his seat and through
the jagged opening into the dark and lonely night.
He was falling and he was terrified. He was falling and still the laughter
surrounded him and followed him. There was no escaping it. He was
falling and there was nothing he could do. Not this time. He saw the
plane above him and it didn't look so seriously damaged from this angle.
And then he was tossed in the air and saw the ground rushing up below
him. Made out the fields, the houses. And he couldn't scream, couldn't
find the breath to scream. But inside his head he was screaming at the
injustice. And he saw the ground come closer now and he closed his
eyes against the sight. He didn't want to die this way.
And he didn't. He should have been dead by now but he wasn't. He
wasn't falling anymore, he was sitting. He opened his eyes and he found
himself inside. He was in a classroom with computers. He was in the
last row, in the corner, and he could see all the students in front of him,
working on their computers, leaning towards each other to confer, raising
their hands to ask the teacher questions. He didn't know how he got
there but he looked at the screen to try to understand it. There was a
picture of an airplane wing, and it was broken up into hundreds of little
pieces. And it made no sense to him. But then there was a noise that
made him look up. There was the laughter again. And it was coming
from the front of the room this time.
He stood and looked, moved forward to search it out, determined to find
the monster who taunted him, the monster who destroyed lives. Mulder
was standing by the teacher now, searching for the monster. He felt like
a ghost, invisible to the class, because no one took notice of him. He
stood next to the teacher and searched the room with his eyes, attempting
to determine where the monster had gone, when the teacher leaned down
and turned his computer on. And the world was once again filled with
exploding death.
In front of his eyes, Mulder saw the teacher's face ripped off, leaving
nothing but a bloody, unrecognizable pulp in its place. Pieces of
computer had acted like hundreds of shards of shrapnel and had ripped
out the man's eyes, his throat, his chest, leaving brain matter, bone, and
blood in a tear drop shape on the wall behind him. And Mulder saw it
happen as if in slow motion. And he was helpless to act, helpless to
prevent it. And still the laughter of the monster surrounded him.
He turned to the door and saw a shape. Saw a man dressed all in black.
And the laughter went with him. Mulder turned and ran, chased the
monster through the halls and down the stairs. He was in the Mechanical
Engineering building at UTA. He wouldn't lose the monster this time.
He was only two floors away and still, the monster was in sight. Mulder
was out the door of the stairwell and turning the corner for the exit in less
than a minute. And he caught sight of him. He saw the man dressed in
black. And twenty yards away, he saw his partner, standing on the
sidewalk, waiting for him. Scully was there and she didn't see the
monster bearing down on her.
Mulder tried to scream and again couldn't find the breath for it. He had to
protect her from the monster. He saw the apparition ahead of him raise
his left hand and there was something in it. The sun glinted off it and he
knew it for what it was. It was a gun and it was aimed at Scully's head.
And he found his breath finally and screamed "No!!!" But it was too late.
Scully turned as the monster put three shots into her head and then
disappeared. And Mulder screamed "No" again, but there was no one to
hear him. Scully lay dead on the ground at his feet. There was no one
left in the world to hear him scream. But he did anyway. He screamed at
his own impotence, at the unfairness of life, at the injustice that robbed
him of his lifeline.
And someone heard him. Someone had come to him and was saying his
name, over and over. And the voice seemed familiar to him. And
something in him responded and he forced himself away from the dark
despair that threatened to overcome him. Forced himself to listen to the
voice. The voice that was telling him to open his eyes. And he was as
terrified at what he wouldn't find as at what he would, but he opened
them anyway. And she was there. Scully was there and he sobbed in
relief that she hadn't left him alone.
"Oh God, Scully."
He was crying and he couldn't stop. Scully was there, she was alive, but
he couldn't stop crying.
"It's okay, shhh, it's over, Mulder. Whatever it was, it's over. Shhh."
And still he couldn't stop, partly because he knew it wasn't over. It
wouldn't be over until they caught the bomber.
Mulder rolled to his right side and pulled his knees up, wrapped his right
arm across his left. His head was buried against Scully's leg and she
didn't seem to mind. He welcomed the physical touch, discovered he
needed to feel that she was there with him and alive. She was telling him
it was all right, that everything would be okay, and he wanted to believe
her. Her hands were stroking his forehead, rubbing his back and he
knew she was scared.
She'd seen him cry when his mother lay near death. She'd never seen
him break down other than that one time. And it was scaring her, but he
couldn't help it. He couldn't stop. He was powerless to stop.
"Mulder, it's all right. I'm here. I'm here and I'll help. Please, Mulder,
let me help. Shhh. Please, tell me how I can help."
Scully was practically in tears herself now and it was this realization that
finally allowed Mulder to start collecting the tenuous strands of his almost
shattered control.
He rolled away from her to lie on his back once again and pressed his
right arm across his eyes. He concentrated on breathing, simply
breathing. In, out. In, out. But he kept gasping and sobs of despair
would creep up on him unawares. He finally stilled enough to trust his
voice, to trust revealing himself to her. And he removed his arm from
across his face, trying to wipe away the evidence of tears with it.
Mulder looked at his partner then and saw tears rolling down her cheeks,
saw the wet spots on her shirt where they had fallen to her chest. He
knew she cried for him, for his pain and hurt, even though she didn't
understand it. It didn't matter to her. She only cared that something had
caused him pain.
His voice was raspy as he said, "Oh, Scully. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She was shaking her head at him and he knew she didn't yet trust herself
to speak. He saw her raise her hand to wipe her eyes, her nose, and it
was such an innocent, childlike gesture that it touched his heart.
"Mulder, what happened? What was it? Please, tell me."
Mulder closed his eyes tightly and drew in a deep shuddering breath, and
put his hand to his eyes once again. He couldn't do this yet.
"I can't yet. Please. I'm sorry."
She accepted it without argument and he could see her drawing up her
own defenses again. Could see their well practiced masks falling into
place. And he regretted it. He closed his eyes and turned his head away,
concentrated on getting his heart rate down to something approaching
normal.
"Mulder, you're sopping wet. It looks like you just came out of the
swimming pool. Let's get you into the shower and then you can move
into the other bed."
He became aware of his body suddenly. Realized that he was in his
boxers and the sling and nothing else but bandages. And he was
freezing. He'd kicked off all the covers during the dream and the air
conditioning in the room blowing across his sweat-drenched skin was
seeping the body heat from him.
He nodded to her and allowed her to help him sit up. He had to stop for a
moment, he was so weak. His head fell to his chest and he breathed
heavily as if he'd just run a race. The dream had leeched the energy from
his body and left him feeling almost frail.
"I'm so tired, Scully."
"I know you are. But you can't go to sleep like this. You'll get sick.
We need to warm you up and get you into a dry bed. Come on, I'll
help."
Scully helped pull his legs over the side of the bed, and allowed him to
rest once more before standing. He was shivering now, shaking so hard
the entire bed vibrated in frequency with his shaking body. She pulled
his right arm over her shoulder and dragged him up. He had to lean on
her heavily, but she didn't seem to mind.
She got him seated on the toilet, then reached out with one hand and
turned on the water, getting the temperature right. She hoped it would fill
fast.
"Mulder, your sling is wet, too. We'll rinse it out so it'll be good to go
tomorrow. I can bind your shoulder now to keep it in place. Let's also
change these other bandages."
She efficiently removed the bandages from both hands and his arm, then
reached over to check on the water.
"Let's get you into the tub. Come on. You can just leave your boxers on
for now and I'll get you some dry clothes in a minute."
Mulder was freezing and could actually feel his teeth chattering. He could
care less whether his boxers were on or off, as long as he got warm
soon. He allowed himself to be led and lowered himself gratefully into
the blessed water. The blessed hot water.
He was holding his left arm tightly against his chest, trying to avoid
jarring the shoulder with any sudden movements. The water was like
heaven and he leaned back and closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth
surrounding him. His shivering was starting to taper off now.
Scully was saying something to him, but he was having difficulty
focusing. He felt water on his head suddenly and realized she had a
washcloth and was pulling it over his head and face, his shoulders and
upper arms. Anything that wasn't immersed. She had a hand behind his
head and was propping if forward so she could run the washcloth over
the back of his neck. When she lowered his head again, he discovered
she'd put a towel there to cushion it. The shivering was almost
completely stopped now and he felt some of his strength returning. He
could hear again, hear and have it make sense. He heard Scully speaking
to him.
"Mulder, I'm going to get you some clothes and I'm going to get some
bandages and something to bind your shoulder. I'll be back in just a
minute, okay?"
He cracked his eyes open and nodded to her. Saw her smile at him.
Then he closed his eyes again and prayed for this feeling of warm
contentment to continue. He dozed off then and was roused a few
minutes later by Scully's voice.
"I'm going to wash out your hand and shoulder wounds. They're
healing nicely, but it might hurt a little."
He felt her pick up his right hand and put something in the palm, spread it
with her fingers and the washcloth, gently. She poured water over it to
rinse it out, then let it drop back into the water. She repeated the process
with the left hand, being careful not to move his arm. Then he felt her
carefully dabbing the stitches on the upper arm, careful not to pull at
them. She was always so careful not to hurt him.
"All right, Mulder, let's get you out of here."
He opened his eyes again and was confused. He was so warm. It was
comfortable. Why couldn't he stay?
"We have to get you dried off and into bed. The last thing you need is
pneumonia."
He agreed with that, although he didn't fully see the connection. He was
so tired. Every movement required serious forethought.
"Okay, here we go. I'm going to help you move forward so you're
sitting up, then I need you to hold onto my arm and push with your legs.
I know you're exhausted, Mulder, but we have to get you out of here.
Okay? Are you ready?"
He forced a nod and a soft "uh huh" and helped as much as he could. He
was standing on the bathmat all of a sudden and just as quickly, sitting
again on a towel Scully had put on the toilet seat. She had one towel
draped across his shoulders, and another on his head. She grabbed down
the last dry one to drape over his legs.
"I don't want you getting chilled now, Mulder."
He felt almost incapacitated. He couldn't summon the energy to help.
And Scully didn't seem to mind. He felt his eyes drag shut again and his
body start to tilt to the side. Scully was there, and let him lean his head
against her as she continued to dry him.
"Mulder I need you to stand up now. You have to take your shorts off.
Come on, I have the towel up."
Part of him was alert enough to be amused. Scully had seen him in
various sorts of undress numerous times. But he just stumbled to his
feet, grabbed his shorts with his right hand and pulled as far as he could,
felt the towel wrapped around his waist, felt Scully helping to shed the
poor soggy things the rest of the way down and off. He heard a squish
that he assumed was the result of wet boxers meeting the porcelain of the
tub. He still had his eyes closed and couldn't seem to force them open
for anything.
"Let's get you into the other room. Come on, this way."
He felt her pulling at him, pulling at his right arm. He still had his left
arm gripped tightly across his body. He was gently pushed to a sitting
position and he felt the bed beneath him give with his weight.
"You have some nice bruises there, Mulder. I don't remember you telling
me about those."
He couldn't help smiling at that. Trust his partner to get upset because he
didn't share all his aches and pains with her.
"I'm going to do the hands first. Then the shoulder. The stitches on
your right arm are looking pretty good. I'm not going to wrap those right
now. We'll see how they are in the morning. Let me start with your left
hand."
He felt her hands taking his, felt her fingers running lightly over his
palm, then felt the spray analgesic and the antibiotic ointment. Then came
the gauze, feeling so light, so feathery against his skin. She repeated her
ministrations with the right hand and then moved his left arm slightly to
position it correctly.
He couldn't stop the intake of breath or the tears that came involuntarily to
his eyes.
"I'm sorry about that, but it has to be in the right position. It's okay
now. Just hold it there."
She removed the towel from around his shoulders altogether then and
started binding his arm to keep it in place. He breathed a sigh of relief
when it was done.
"Okay, Mulder. I've got some sweats here for you. I need you to stand
up, I'll help you. All right, now I want you to step into them."
Mulder felt like a wind up toy, or maybe a marionette. Tell him where to
go and what to do and he responds.
He felt her take away the towels and again was amused at what he
construed to be her sudden prudishness. It was something to give her a
hard time about when he could string two words together. She was
pulling at him again and now he just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.
What the hell else did she have planned for him?
She pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed and then
he felt a sweatshirt pulled over his head, felt his right arm pushed through
the corresponding opening. She'd evidently decided there was no
purpose in her talking anymore. He realized suddenly that he missed her
soothing voice.
She pushed him back then, ever so gently, guiding him to the pillows,
and he relished in the feel of the soft mattress cushioning him. He was
practically asleep already. He hardly even noticed the socks being pulled
onto his feet, his legs being carefully moved under the sheet and blanket.
Didn't notice at all when they were pulled up to his chin. But he was just
aware enough to feel her hand smooth back his still damp hair and then
brush across his forehead. Just aware enough to hear her soft, "Sleep
well, Mulder." And he did.
*******************************************
Scully was exhausted. They'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour, for a
change, but she'd only gotten about four hours sleep when she'd been
yanked out of bed by her partner's screaming. Just the one word, over
and over. "No! No!" But seeming to be ripped from the depths of his
psyche.
She had been terrified by his tears. She was so used to his strength, even
in the midst of pain and hurt. The almost inconsolable sobbing and tears
had torn at her heart. She couldn't imagine what he could have dreamed
about that would have had such a devastating affect on him.
She was concerned about him, even now. Even after she'd gotten him
changed and warmed and put to bed. It had been more than a half hour
since she'd left him, taken her own shower, and she discovered she
couldn't sleep now without checking, just to be sure he was all right.
Scully slipped out of bed and opened the connecting door carefully. She
poked her head inside and then allowed her body to follow. She went
over to the side of the bed and knelt down, pulled the blanket up again,
felt his forehead lightly to be sure there was no sign of fever, and then
stood. She surveyed the dimly lit room and realized there were still a
couple towels on the other bed. She picked them up and folded them
once, then hung them over the shower bar in the bathroom.
She headed back to her room, pausing a final time at the threshold to
glance at her partner. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, for a
change. She headed to her own bed, and prayed that they would both be
blessed by dreamless sleep.
*******************************************
Thursday, 8:19 a.m.
Dallas Century Hotel
Scully had reset the alarm for 8 a.m. and had already hit the sleeper
button three times. She decided that was probably her limit and finally
rolled to a sitting position. God, she was so tired. She reached her hand
out and pushed the alarm switch to off. She sat on the edge of her bed
for a moment, slumped over as if she were seventy. Scully stretched her
back out then and reached her arms over her head, hearing the muscles
and bones fighting for position, especially along her spine.
A sound from the next room spurred her into action. There was no way
she would let Mulder be ready before her. But it was too late. She heard
him shout through the connecting door to her.
"Hey, Scully. Get your rear outta bed. We need to get to the Bureau."
She paused on her way to the bathroom, shooting daggers at the almost
closed door. *Sure, Mulder, you scare the living daylights out of me at 3
a.m., keep me awake for another hour an a half after that, and you're
telling me to get moving.* She knew her thoughts weren't generous so
kept them to herself. She couldn't quite help the fact that the bathroom
door slammed just a little too hard behind her.
Ten minutes later she was ready for the day, and stood stuffing files into
her briefcase. She arrested her movements and glanced up as Mulder
knocked lightly at the connecting door.
"Hey, Scully, you decent?"
Gee, that sounded familiar.
"Come on in."
He walked in boldly then, sporting a crooked smile. He held his tie out
to her in his right hand, almost as a peace offering, and stopped a few
steps away from her.
"Tie it for me?"
Scully dropped the briefcase back onto the table and turned towards him,
took a couple steps forward and took the tie from his hand. This had
become their mode of operations for the past couple days.
"Bend down a little."
He had already put the sling on, over shirt and suit jacket so she had to
fight with the shirt collar a little to get the tie around his neck.
"You could have waited on the jacket and sling you know."
"You were moving too slow this morning."
She finally got it under the collar and then moved the ends of the tie so
they were in the right relation to one another.
"The fat end needs to be a little lower, Scully."
She smiled at this, then made a minor adjustment, and said, "Who's
doing this?"
Two loops, up, down and through. Then she was adjusting the knot so it
wouldn't choke him. She moved both ends under the sling and jacket,
smoothing them down one last time.
"The button?"
She reached for the cuff of his right shirt sleeve and pulled it away from
the jacket far enough so she could get at the button. She buttoned it
quickly, then shoved the cuff back inside the jacket. She took a step back
to survey her work and nodded, ignoring Mulder's chuckle.
"You do good work, Scully."
"Yeah, and I don't get paid nearly enough for it, either."
"You ready to go?"
"Yeah, I just need to finish packing up."
Scully walked back to the table and quickly stuffed the last of her papers
inside. She hesitated before turning, not sure whether it was the right
time to bring it up or not, and finally decided what the hell. When she
turned towards her partner, she saw he was still standing where she'd left
him, patiently waiting for her to gather her things. He had an odd
expression on his face and although she tried to decipher it, she really had
no idea what he was thinking.
"Mulder...."
He didn't give her the chance to bring it up.
"Come on, Scully. We need to go."
She decided to let him off the hook, at least for now. But not forever.
There were going to talk about it if she had to tie him down and force
him.
"Okay, I'm ready."
*******************************************
Thursday, 8:54 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Evidently, CNN was at it again. The network had been promising an
update on the 'drama' surrounding the Flight 72 investigation at the top of
the hour. They'd moved a television and VCR into the command center
so they could be outraged in relative privacy. Jake, Mulder and Scully sat
working out tasks for the teams while keeping at least one eye on the TV
at all times. A few minutes before 9, the phone rang and Jake, being
closest, picked it up.
"Mander."
Mulder could tell by the quick glance at him and Scully that AD Skinner
was on the line.
"Yes, sir, they're both right here."
Jake held the earpiece out towards Mulder, saying, "AD Skinner would
like to speak with you."
Mulder had already been moving in that direction and took it from Jake
within moments.
"Hello, sir, how are you?"
"Fine. Do you have CNN on?"
"Yes, sir, we're watching now."
"All right, I'll call back when they're done."
"Yes, sir."
Mulder turned to the two other agents, both of whom wore surprised
expressions at the short conversation.
"Wanted to be sure we were watching. He'll call back after the report."
As he sank back into his seat, he caught his own image, along with
Scully's on the television. It was a shot of them getting out of their car in
front of the Bureau yesterday evening. Damn, they'd have to be sure to
park in the garage at all times, regardless of the circumstances. Mulder
hadn't even seen any reporters yesterday.
"Looks like we're on, folks."
Jake reached over and started taping, then turned the sound up.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder, shown here at the Dallas FBI yesterday, was
injured in a shoot-out on the University of Texas at Arlington campus two
days ago. His partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, was also injured
slightly. It has now been confirmed that the two Special Agents are
investigating a tie-in of the bombing of Flight 72 to a series of bombings
that occurred in the 1970's, for which Jose Alvarez was arrested and
found guilty. It has been confirmed that Agents Mulder and Scully
visited Alvarez in the Dallas Maximum Security Prison yesterday. It has
also been confirmed that the target of the bombing of Flight 72 was
Walter S. Skinner, an Assistant Director of the FBI in Washington, DC."
The reporter looked into the camera then and flashed a smile, as if he had
just reported on a sighting of Santa Claus.
"We'll keep you posted as more news develops on this exciting story
evolving in Dallas, Texas."
Jake turned the sound down and the VCR off, leaving the television on.
"Congratulations, guys. Twice in three days on CNN. That's the big
time."
"Ha, ha, asshole."
Mulder 's cell phone rang and without thinking he flipped it open,
extended the antenna, and pushed talk.
"Mulder."
He was fully expecting to hear Skinner's voice, and was momentarily
surprised at the husky voice that said, "This isn't about you."
He'd been sitting with his chair turned sideways, his legs bent, feet
propped against the chair in front of him. As the words sunk in, his feet
hit the floor hard and he jerked upwards sharply, consciously ignoring
the shooting pain it evoked. He propped the phone against his shoulder
and neck and waved towards Jake and Scully.
"Who is this? What do you want?"
"This isn't about you. It's not supposed to be about you."
And then the connection was terminated.
"Damn it! It was him. The asshole fucking called me!"
Mulder was up and pacing, phone still clenched in his right hand. Jake
put the phone in the corner down and turned to the two agents..
"I didn't have enough time. It's not traceable."
Mulder was angry, felt like he had to hit something or go crazy. He
discovered the cell phone still in his hand and threw it across the room,
where it made an anti-climatic clatter and fell to the floor, still in one
piece.
Scully had been sitting silently, but now looked over to her partner and
said calmly, "Feel better?"
Jake and Scully were saved from his response by the ringing of the land
phone in the corner. Jake once again answered it.
"Mander."
There were several seconds of silence before Jake responded, "Yes sir, I
was on it. I'll let Mulder tell you about it."
Mulder took several deep breaths and tried to control his raging emotions.
This man was his boss. This was the guy's target. He had to stay
focused. His voice was remarkable calm when he finally picked up the
phone.
"Mulder here."
"Agent Mulder, what's Mander talking about?"
"I received a call from the man I believe to be the bomber, right after the
CNN report. Agent Mander was trying to trace it. Unfortunately, it was
only a few seconds long -- untraceable."
There was silence as Skinner digested this news.
"Could you repeat the conversation for me?"
"Of course. I answered 'Mulder' and he said, 'This isn't about you.'
Then I said, 'Who is this? What do you want?' And he said again, 'This
isn't about you. It's not supposed to be about you.' That was it. Then
he hung up before I could say anything else."
Mulder heard the sigh at the other end of the line.
"Do you think it was in response to the CNN report?"
"Yes, sir. I think he's upset that I'm getting more press than he is. Hell,
I'd love for it to be otherwise, but I don't have a lot of control over that."
Skinner heard the rising frustration and could imagine his agent's reaction
to the call.
"I know that, Mulder. Just try to keep a low profile. It's still possible
that he's turned this into something about you. Remember -- don't trust
anything he says."
Mulder found the conversation calming, somehow. Was actually not
nearly so ready to throw his remaining arm through a wall.
"Yes, sir. I'll remember."
"And, Agent Mulder..... be careful. Both you and Scully."
"Yes, sir, we will."
He was actually smiling by the time he placed the handset back in the
receiver. He walked across the room without a word, knelt down to his
cell phone and picked it up, turning it this way and that. He pulled out
the antenna, flipped it open and hit talk, put it to his ear and heard a dial
tone.
"Damn, these things are well made."
He turned it off again and smiled slightly at his partner to let her know
he'd sufficiently calmed down.
"Did you hear?"
Scully nodded, understanding somehow that her partner was asking
whether she'd heard what the guy who'd called Mulder had said. Jake
looked confused so she said, "The phone conversation." She turned back
to Mulder and asked, "So you think he's mad about the press coverage?"
"What else could it be? He said it wasn't about me. Then he said it
wasn't supposed to be about me. And it came right after the CNN story
about me and you."
"Yeah, I know all that, but still..... there might be another interpretation."
"What?"
"I don't know, Mulder, I just think we shouldn't jump to any conclusions
about it just yet."
"All right, all right. Fine."
Mulder shook his head and slumped into the chair, leaning his head back
tiredly. And it was just a little after nine in the morning, for Christ's
sake. He closed his eyes briefly and considered what he believed to be
the trigger for the phone call.
"So what about the CNN report?"
Jake jumped into the conversation for the first time.
"I don't think it hurts us. The link to Alvarez was going to happen
eventually anyway. They already had Skinner. There's nothing there
that'll hurt the investigation."
Scully nodded to him in agreement.
"In fact, they still don't have the Alvarez connection to UTA. Lorraine
must have managed to keep quiet, Mulder."
Mulder chuckled and opened his eyes, pulling himself straighter in the
chair.
"Yeah, we ought to send her a thank you card."
Mulder pulled a pad with his scribbled notes in front of him and glanced
over it, then said, "Let's talk about these suspect lists we've been
generating. I've started making progress on a profile and it's time to
begin cross-matching."
Scully took a big sip of coffee and pulled out her own notes. It was
going to be a long morning.
*******************************************
Thursday, 1:18 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Room 314
Mulder was leaning in the corner of the room, one of the few spaces with
available wall space. His right arm was again wrapped around his left,
giving the appearance of crossed arms. Four members of the team were
crammed into the little office, in various states of agitation. They'd
reorganized the teams and these lucky four had drawn the short straw
called 'Analysis'.
"Okay, the point is that we'll be getting the list from our people in DC of
all possible agents and associated personnel who would have had the
opportunity ...." Mulder paused for a moment after the word
'opportunity' to be sure they understood he wasn't suggesting motive.
"...the opportunity either through regular assignments, requested duty, or
personal or sick leave days, to have killed the eight agents."
He pushed himself away from the corner and dropped his right hand into
his suit pocket. He fingered the little bottle of pain pills and wished he
could get this over with soon. His shoulder was killing him and he was
already well past an hour overdue.
"We develop another list with anyone who could have had access to the
plane in Vegas, the hotel where AD Skinner and I were attacked, the
garage where the fake bomb was planted, the UTA campus the other day,
and the prison yesterday. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's
either an agent on leave from his posting, an agent on this case, or
someone assigned to Dallas. But we won't assume any of those outright,
just yet."
He dropped back against the wall, discovering he needed the support to
keep himself upright.
"We compile a list of all the Bureau personnel who received a degree in
Engineering or an Engineering-related field. This includes the Applied
Sciences and, I would say, Computer Science."
Mulder pulled out the remaining chair from against the wall and sank into
it, rolling his right shoulder and neck in the hopes of staving off the
headache threatening to overtake him.
"We also have the issue of who set up the phone meetings with Jose
Alvarez five years ago. That's not a trivial thing. There has to be
paperwork somewhere, and in lieu of that, there has to be at least a list of
those who could have arranged it. We need that list. Jake's team will
handle tracking down the paperwork."
"But, sir, why can't we just wait until his team does that? Why should
we waste our time dickin' around with a list that we probably won't even
use?"
"We leave nothing to chance, Khalak. Nothing. Even if the paperwork's
there, he won't have been stupid enough to use his own name. We need
the list."
Mulder had compiled a list of all the lists he wanted for cross-referencing,
but didn't need to consult the piece of paper. It was ingrained in his
memory, the words floating in front of his eyes to be recalled on demand.
"All right, we also need a search initiated on any Bureau car that might
have sustained damage commensurate with a hit and run, but logged in as
some sort of accident in the line of duty concurrent with the time of
Hendrick's death."
Mulder took a deep breath and looked around at the four agents in the
room. He pushed the chair back so it was tilted and leaning against the
wall. He dropped his head back for a moment before continuing.
"Okay, we also need a list of anyone in the Bureau who might have a
background in ammunitions and demolitions."
There were snorts from everyone there at this and it made Mulder angry.
These people weren't stupid but they weren't keeping open minds. They
wanted to take short cuts, and Mulder knew that would mean the loss of
the case for all of them.
"Look, I'm not talking about who had weapons certification here, I'm
talking about serious knowledge of ammunitions and, particularly,
bombs."
"But ASAC Mulder, we're only four people. How do you expect us to
manage all this?"
Mulder glared at Colleen McCulley, and forced himself to count to ten.
Tried to remember she was young and that this was her first big case. He
tried not to think about why Delano had seen fit to saddle him with such a
green kid on something so important.
"Look, Agent McCulley, I don't expect you to draw up these lists.
That's what we have analysis people for back in DC. I expect you to
coordinate the searches, stay on top of the DC people, wheedle, whine,
cajole, inveigle, threaten ... whatever approach you want to take, I don't
care, but you get these lists for me by tomorrow at the latest."
His voice had climbed throughout his little speech and now Mulder
noticed finally that the young woman had turned positively white. He felt
like a complete and total shit. If anyone had ever told him he'd one day
be chewing out a young agent in front of her peers, he would have
laughed in their face. But here he was, doing what he never would have
guessed. He took another deep breath and sighed, then looked at her as
kindly as he could manage.
"Agent McCulley, I apologize. I realize you aren't a mind reader and you
couldn't have known what I wanted from you."
He panned his gaze around the room again, taking in the serious
expressions. They'd been working their asses off on this case and
deserved better from him.
"Look, I know it seems overwhelming, but I am positive the name is
there. If we can get these lists, cross-match them, then compare to a few
others we've already ordered drawn up, like the one of all applicants to
the schools that were bombed in the 70's and all companies using the
laser printer cartridges and bond paper from the fake bombing, I know
we'll nail this guy. And I have a sense that he's starting to feel impatient,
so I'd rather it be sooner than later."
He knew by their faces that they'd do their best. For him, for AD
Skinner, for the Bureau. But mostly, because it was the job and justice
was at stake.
*******************************************
Thursday, 1:52 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Scully had tracked Mulder down and forced him to come eat some lunch.
Jake was meeting with his team to continue picking apart the evidence that
had been used to nail Alvarez. They were trying to identify what types of
individuals could have arranged for the set-up and had been making
significant progress.
Scully was filling Mulder in on her morning, which consisted of drawing
together the numerous strands of qualitative data and impressions from
phone interviews conducted to ascertain whether the murdered agents had
interacted with or met with anyone prior to their deaths. A few spouses
or other family relatives thought they might remember such incidents.
Agents with the various local Bureaus had been dispatched to do more in-
depth personal interviews. Those reports would start arriving the next
day.
Scully's team had also been reviewing the forensics reports from the
original bombings, but couldn't really add anything to the present body of
knowledge. Mulder had hoped she would learn something new about the
devices used by reviewing the autopsy reports of the victims. No such
luck.
Scully completed her overview and took a good look at her partner. He
was slouched in the chair again, head back, legs stretched straight in front
of him and crossed at the ankles, seemingly his favorite position. He had
finished only half the sandwich, pushing the rest back a good five
minutes ago. He'd nibbled on some pretzels, but hadn't really made
much of a dent.
He was pale, but that wasn't really unusual considering the last few days.
She'd helped him with the pill bottle, so knew the pain medication had to
be kicking in by now. It certainly seemed to wipe him out. But she still
wanted to talk with him about last night.
Scully pushed her files away, as if the extra room would somehow help
her broach the subject they'd both been avoiding so carefully. She
squirmed in her chair, then cleared her throat. But her partner spoke first.
"Go ahead and ask, Scully."
She sighed then. Sighed at the resignation in his voice, the fatigue, and
the obvious trepidation. But she had to ask, and he knew it.
"So?"
"Not a valid question, Scully."
"By who's rules? You always make up rules as you go along, Mulder. I
think it's valid."
He smiled a little, for just a moment, before the serious expression settled
once more to his face. He knew he couldn't avoid it and there really was
no purpose to further delay.
"I dreamt I was on the plane again. And the bomber was there, laughing
at me. And then I got pulled out and I was falling to the ground and it felt
just like when I fell off the building and it was like it was happening all
over. I saw the ground rushing up at me and I was certain I was dead."
Mulder paused and took a couple breaths, swallowed hard.
"I closed my eyes, Scully. In my dream I mean. I didn't want to see it."
Scully wasn't sure why he thought it was important. She could guess
though. He probably thought it made him look cowardly. Trust Mulder
to think such thoughts.
"But I never hit. And when I opened my eyes I was sitting in the
computer lab at UTA."
Scully could tell he was fighting to keep his voice even, keep it
unemotional. But the emotions were there, under the surface, trying to
fight their way up, fighting internally for dominance. He cleared his
throat softly. He still hadn't opened his eyes or even moved.
"The laughter was still there and I went in search of it. I saw something
up in the front of the room and went that way. The teacher was up there
and he turned on his computer and...."
He swallowed again and licked his lips before continuing. She could see
his chest heaving now, in tandem with the shaky breaths.
"The computer blew up and killed him. And out of the corner of my eye I
saw a black shape leave the room so I followed."
Scully knew he was sanitizing it. Knew her partner dreamed vividly, all
senses contributing fully to the visions that plagued him almost nightly.
She could imagine his terror and the feeling of helplessness as he was
forced to watch this play unfold.
"I ran after him, down the stairwell and to the front of the building."
She saw the sweat on his forehead now, noted the rapid breathing, the
fight to remain in control. This pause was the longest yet and she knew
the worst of it was coming. The part of the dream that had so distressed
him. The part of the dream that had reduced him to sobs for more than
ten minutes the night before.
"And you were there, Scully. I couldn't warn you. I couldn't speak or
shout. He raised his hand and he had a gun and he shot you. Shot you
in the head three times and then ran off. Disappeared. And you were
lying in a puddle of blood, just like before, with Linda Bowman, and
there was nothing I could do."
His voice was tinged with hysteria and this last admission had caught her
by surprise, the realization that the thing that had unnerved him so had to
do with her. But then she knew she shouldn't have been surprised. She
was as much his weak spot as he was hers.
His eyes were still shut tightly, his forehead creased in unnatural lines.
His right hand gripped the chair arm so tightly she was surprised he
hadn't dislodged it. Scully rose and walked to him quickly, then knelt
beside the chair on his right side. She covered his right hand with hers,
twining her fingers with his, and gripped his shoulder with her left hand.
She wanted to take the visions away, remove the possibility of them ever
appearing to him again. But she didn't have that power.
Scully dropped her head forward until it rested lightly on his shoulder,
next to her hand. Her words were soft when she spoke.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to make it stop. I'm
sorry you had to fight the monster alone. But I'm here now, alive and
well. I'm your partner and I'm here. You don't have to fight him alone."
She knew the words weren't really adequate, but it was all she had in her.
She pressed her head tighter against his shoulder and squeezed his hand
hard, feeling the knot in her stomach start to loosen when he squeezed
back.
*******************************************
Thursday, 2:47 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder leaned against the wall, partly covering photos pertaining to the
death of Agent Richard Valez. He felt the pins jabbing him here and
there, but ignored them. He wanted a good look at the wall across the
way, where photos, evidence, selected reports, and miscellaneous items
were displayed pertaining to the eight bombings from the 1970's. There
was something about the photos that was important. Not really the
photos, something else. And it had to do with his dream. He felt the
tenuous connection out there, just beyond his reach, running from him
every time he got close.
He'd been staring at the wall ever since Scully left, ever since Jake had
come for her. Their teams were coordinating on evidence pertaining to
Alvarez' trial. And so he took the opportunity to view the wall. To try to
perceive what he knew was there for those with eyes to see. He shook
his head finally and decided he'd have to continue to think about it in the
background. It would come to him when it was ready to.
He moved to the phone in the corner then and dialed the warden's office
at the Dallas Maximum Security Prison. He wanted to know how
Alvarez was doing with his record of the phone conversations he'd had
with Tom Dixon, nonexistent law student or faculty member, some five
years before. After ten minutes of double talk and run around, Mulder
made a decision. He glanced at his watch to be sure there was time and
then tried to decide whether there was anything he needed to coordinate
before leaving.
Scully walked in then and stopped in her tracks at the look he gave her.
"What?"
"Come on, get your stuff."
"What?"
"The warden at the prison's hiding something. I want to go there."
"Now?"
"Yeah, Scully, now. Besides, I'd bet you anything Jose Alvarez is done
with his little writing project."
Scully considered whether she could afford the loss in time and finally
nodded in resignation.
"All right. But let's fill Jake in and get SAC Delano to smooth the way."
"We can call them, Scully."
"Mulder, do you remember what happened the last time you made
important calls on your cell phone?"
He opened his mouth, closed it hard.
"All right, let's find them. Fast, though."
They were pulling out of the parking garage fifteen minutes later. They'd
found Delano quickly and he was on the phone before they even left his
office. Jake was a bit harder to track down and harder to convince. He
hadn't wanted them going alone. Mulder had held firm and finally made
it an order.
They were two blocks away and in position to take the Highway on-ramp
when Scully noticed Mulder fiddling with the side mirror. She glanced in
the rearview and her own sideview, seeing nothing.
"Mulder?"
He glanced over to her quickly then waved his right hand in dismissal.
"There's nothing there. Just getting ready in case."
It dawned on Scully finally that he was partly expecting to be followed.
At least some part of him even wanted it to happen. She was irritated that
he would be so cavalier with their lives.
"Mulder, I have a bad feeling about this. Why don't we arrange for an
escort?"
He sat a little straighter in the seat then and considered his answer
carefully.
"Scully, I still haven't completely figured out what this guy's about. I
know that he's pissed about us getting his press and getting in the way of
Skinner. Skinner keeps insisting this guy's going to come after us.
Maybe that's right. Maybe he will. But I don't see the purpose beyond
revenge."
"But Mulder, what if all this is about revenge? Or eliminating obstacles?
We've become a pretty hefty obstacle to him."
"I know that. And I do believe that's part of it. But this guy's a shadow.
He hides in the background, but I have a feeling he also hides in plain
sight. We have to take some chances if we're going to catch him."
"It would have been nice if you'd discussed these chances with me,
Mulder, instead of...."
"Wait! Hold on, he's there. Four cars back, one lane over. Do you see
him?"
Scully swallowed her anger and irritation, realizing she no longer had a
say in the matter. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen.
The players were in motion, rushing towards a meeting whose ending
would hopefully be dictated by them, rather than the one who followed.
"All right, what do you want to do?"
"I think it's time for us to become the trackers, Scully. Let's play the
'brake and pass' game."
"No way, Mulder. Too many other cars. Someone'll get hurt."
Scully envisioned the twenty car pile up that would result if she slammed
on her brakes to make the following car pass them. No way would she
do it in this traffic. She heard Mulder release an explosive breath in
frustration.
"Yeah, you're right. Okay. Look, the Pineview exit's coming. Take it
at the last minute. It's got that sharp turn to the right. Just beyond the
turn, pull over. He'll either have to fly on past or back up onto the
highway again. If he does that, we'll call it in."
Scully nodded, realizing the plan was workable, even if not very elegant.
Sometimes bold and obvious was the way to go.
They were approaching the exit fast and Scully was keeping track of the
cars around her, making sure the hole would be there for her to slip
through when she needed it. It was there. She took the opportunity and
pulled hard to the right. Cut across two lanes and barreled around the turn
so fast she almost lost paint against the barricade. Tires squealed and
horns honked. Then she pulled over to the right shoulder, slammed on
the brakes hard and waited, hardly able to breathe. To remember to
breathe.
She glanced over at her partner and saw the grimace of pain he couldn't
hide. The sharp turn and abrupt stop had to have been painful. But he
looked at her and smiled grimly. He had his gun in his hand and his cell
phone in his lap. He was ready for either possibility. She looked back in
the mirror again and saw the glint of sun off chrome and glass. The
silver car was barreling around the corner much as Scully had. It seemed
to pause for a second, as if time and space warped to allow him to move
at a different pace, and then it sped up even more. And Scully saw a glint
from inside the car this time.
"Gun! Down!"
They threw themselves down below the level of the window as best they
could with the seat belts restraining them. A fraction of a second later,
the inside of their car exploded with flying glass as the driver's side
window shattered from the bullet fired their way. They heard the car roar
past, tires protesting and then both agents were upright in their seats once
more. The car was already out of sight and Scully wasted no time in
starting after it once more.
Mulder had to shout to be heard over the street noise from the open
window, the complaints of the overtaxed engine, the glass still falling out
of Scully's window.
"You okay, Scully?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I'm really getting pissed at this guy, Scully."
"I'd say it's safe to call it in now."
Mulder was already dialing, trying to catch street signs as they raced
passed them in pursuit of the silver car. He could see it ahead of them
again. It was only a block away. But it was a busy block, they were all
busy blocks, with cars pulling into the street from store parking lots,
people waiting to cross, completely unaware of the drama being played
out in front of them.
Mulder had Jake on the phone now and was trying to give as many details
of the car as possible. The license plate was obscured with mud. There
were no distinguishing features. And it was still far enough away that
they couldn't see what kind it was or who was inside.
The driver was taking chances -- big chances -- weaving in and out of the
cars around them, occasionally crossing into oncoming traffic to try to
escape his followers. They'd been incredibly lucky with lights so far, but
Mulder knew it was only a matter of time before the light would be red.
The light would be red and Scully would either decide to go through it or
stop. He took another deep breath and prayed she'd make the right
decision.
Scully was intent on keeping the car in sight at all costs. Her hands were
slick with sweat and she had to anchor them between the little struts
running to the center of the wheel so they wouldn't slip. She saw the
silver car go through the tail end of a yellow light and knew it would be
red by the time she got there. She prayed the cars in the intersecting street
would be slow to start through the light and gunned the gas pedal, slipped
into the oncoming traffic lane to clear the cars coming to a stop and raced
for the other side of the intersection. She narrowly avoided being hit by a
truck when she went through the red light, then almost crashed into a car
parked on the street when she took a corner so fast their car slid across
four lanes of traffic.
Mulder had put his gun in his right pocket, and braced his right arm
against the ceiling to help keep him in place. He still gripped the phone,
so that an observer would think he was reaching it towards the sky.
Every turn, every bump, every time Scully put her foot on the brake or
accelerated, forced him against the seat belt. Forced his left arm and
shoulder to move. Pulled at it and pushed at it and sent sparks of pain
through his entire body. They were on a straight stretch for awhile, so
Mulder once again put the phone to his ear, yelling instructions to Jake.
"No, he's still in sight, but we don't have lights or siren. We're in a
fucking rental. We won't be able to keep this up for long."
Scully took another sharp turn, forcing Mulder to put his right hand up
against the roof of the car again. He could hear Jake yelling in a small
tinny voice, but had to wait it out. After a few seconds he put the phone
to his ear to hear what Jake was saying.
"Jake, Jake, we just took a left on Alexander. Copy that?"
He heard muffled sounds at the other end and knew Jake had at least one
other phone to his ear, coordinating with the police.
"Okay, Mulder, we're set. Hang in for another few minutes if you can,
but we've got several teams heading your way. We won't lose him this
time."
The silver car took a sudden turn down an alley, leaving half its paint on
the brown brick wall. The alley was a ten foot wide opening between
two tall apartment buildings, nothing more. They had to have been seven
or eight stories tall at least, effectively cutting off the sun to the narrow
little street. Scully didn't make the turn this time. Had to slam on brakes
and compensate. By the time they made it into the alley, their suspect
was out of sight.
"Where'd he go, Mulder?"
Scully felt the adrenaline coursing through her system. She was
completely aware of every movement, every breath, every nerve ending
in her body.
"I don't know. We'll find him again. Keep straight. When we come
out, I'll look right, you look left."
They were blind in the alley. They had no idea where it led, what
happened at the other end. They didn't know whether it ended in a T,
dumped out in a busy street, or even dead ended. But it was a safe
assumption it went somewhere since the silver car had disappeared.
"Sunlight ahead! Take it down a notch, Scully."
The alley ended abruptly, spilling them onto a six lane road with a
divider. A semi truck was bearing down on them and Scully expertly
maneuvered around it and the other cars barreling towards them at fifty
miles an hour. She joined the traffic quickly, eyes scanning now to pick
up the silver car. And they still had it in sight. It was just two cars
ahead
and one lane over.
Mulder had seen it at the same time and knew they had to catch this guy
soon before he disappeared on them. Or before they got themselves or
someone else killed.
"Floor it!"
"I got it."
Scully was on top of it, already changing lanes. Mulder had the phone to
his ear, giving their new location to Jake.
"He's turning again! God damn it, this is pissing me off."
Mulder had his hand against the ceiling again, trying to keep the belt from
pushing at his shoulder. Every time Scully took a turn, the belt cut into
it, sending a shooting pain up his arm, through his shoulder and neck. It
was starting to wear very thin. In fact, he had just about convinced
himself that this was a really bad idea and was preparing to tell Scully to
drop back when she took another corner. This time it was a turn to the
left and as soon as it happened, as soon as they'd made the turn and were
slipping sideways across the road, Mulder knew they'd been had. They
guy had set them up.
They were heading for a ramp that would take them God knew where and
there was no way to maneuver and no way to stop in time. Mulder
caught sight of the silver car to the left of them, already slowed and in
complete control.
Scully was screaming, "Fuck! Fuck! Hold on, Mulder!"
And then the car was flying. It left the ground and was flying through the
air, tilting towards the right. Mulder had long since dropped the phone
and had his right hand up, trying to brace himself against the ceiling. His
legs were straining against the floor and he had an eerie flashback of his
dream, of sitting in the plane and fighting being pulled out the opening
made by the exploding bomb. He was straining just as hard now. He
had an irrational urge to throw his left hand out across Scully's chest to
help hold her in place, would have done it without even thinking if his
arm hadn't been restrained by the sling.
Scully still had both hands on the wheel, in the hope of possibly gaining
control once again if they managed to hit the ground relatively upright. It
was not to be. They were in a loading area, lined with rows of wooden
crates and metal containers. The right back tire of their car hit the ground
first followed by the right front. They were still tilting, still out of
control, and Mulder knew they were going to crash. It was inevitable at
this point.
He saw the crates coming fast and knew Scully would be unable to avoid
them, wouldn't have the time to avoid them. And she didn't. They hit
the stack of crates hard, at sixty miles an hour, producing an explosion of
wood, packing materials, and glass. The passenger side hit first and
Mulder's window exploded as wood lances forced their way through the
car, narrowly missing his head.
The car was miraculously on all fours now, but sliding sideways, barely
slowed by its flight through three of the wooden crates. And then Scully
saw the metal container, ten times bigger than the crates. And Mulder's
side of the car would make contact first.
She had just enough time to scream, "Mulder!" before they hit, the kinetic
energy of their car plummeting at well over fifty miles an hour being
converted in a heartbeat to an explosive impact energy that had no where
to go, no way to be absorbed by the fragile metal skin surrounding them.
And the car was practically crushed in the impact, the passenger's side
folded as if it were tin, buckling so that Mulder's right arm and legs were
pinned against the car's metal side and dash.
And somehow the airbag on Mulder's side was triggered, even though
there had been no forward impact yet. The sheer violence of the crash
caused a fortuitous damage to the sensors, so that when the second
impact occurred head on into yet another metal container, he had some
protection against it. But Scully was not so lucky. As the car hit head-
on, finally coming to a screeching stop, Scully's head cracked against the
steering wheel, sending her into blessed unconsciousness.
Mulder became aware of the sounds first, or maybe the lack of sounds.
For what had seemed an eternity, he had heard only the screech of metal
against metal as the car was crushed in the impact, as the automobile
became an unrecognizable mass of metal struts, skin, and glass. And
now there was nothing. No sound at all. And he was actually alive
somehow. But he couldn't move. His right arm was pinned between
what remained of the crushed door and his chest. The air bag had given
him a bloody nose and he could feel it dripping down his face. He knew
his legs were trapped under the metal, but he could feel them and believed
them to be all right. He licked his lips, tasting his own blood, then spit it
out. He managed to turn his head to take in the sight of his partner. The
sun shown through what remained of her window, almost blinding him.
He could manage only a hoarse whisper.
"Scully?"
He was alarmed at what he could see of her. He couldn't tell whether she
was breathing or not. She wasn't moving. Her head was turned away
from his, slumped forward over the seat belt to the left. Blood flowed
down her face from a gash on her forehead and he could see it on the
wheel, on her shirt, pooling in her lap. Her arms hung loose at her sides.
His voice was leant strength by his panic.
"Scully? Scully. Can you hear me?"
Mulder knew that Jake would have teams out to them in minutes, but
wasn't sure if Scully had that long. He tried to move, tried to loosen an
arm so he could get to her, but he was completely confined. And then he
saw him. He saw the monster from his dreams, the man in black.
Mulder could see the shape through Scully's shattered window, and it
was approaching the car. It was a shadow only, coming out of the sun.
A piece of glass some five or so inches long and about four inches wide
still clung to the top of Scully's window, but it was a network of cracks,
spun by a crystalline spider. And the sun shone through it, sending
reflected colors of rainbow through the car. Mulder was angry suddenly.
Angry because it wasn't right that the sun should so betray them to hide a
monster.
Mulder blinked his eyes, trying to clear them of the glare, of the tears
caused by it. And the monster was closer and had something in its
upraised hand. It was a gun and he was aiming it at Scully's head. The
shape was still thirty or even forty yards away, but Mulder could see the
sauntering approach. They had a minute, maybe two if they were lucky.
"Scully! Wake up!"
He was screaming as loud as he could now.
"Scully God damn you. Wake up!"
Mulder was helpless again. Helpless like in his dream. The monster was
coming and there was no escape. Not this time.
"Scully, wake the fuck up! He will kill us if you don't wake up!"
Mulder didn't know what frightened him more. The fact that she didn't
even twitch at his screaming or the fact that the guy was now only twenty
yards away. Mulder searched frantically, jerked to free his arm, and felt
no movement. He had to do something to save them. There had to be
something he could do.
Mulder forced his left arm to move. The sling had long since loosened
with all the jerking from their car chase. He had one chance and he had to
take it. His gun was still in his right pocket. He couldn't reach it. But
he could reach Scully's. Maybe.
He pulled his arm out from the sling, ignoring the pain, and then relishing
in it because it meant he was still alive and there was still a chance for
them. For him and Scully both. He forced the arm to move then,
concentrating with every ounce of his being, every neuron focused on
sending the electrical impulses that would move his hand. Move it
through the glass, through the pieces of wood, and shards of metal that
lay scattered across the drink holders and emergency brake. His hand
was at Scully's waist finally and her gun was there. All he had to do was
pull it out of the holster.
He felt the snap give, heard it -- loud -- reverberating through the car.
Almost as loud as his gasping. He could still see the wavering shape
approaching them, slowly, languidly, as if the monster had all the time in
the world. And Mulder's left hand was around the gun. His sight was
shimmering as the sweat dripped into his eyes, and the tears he tried to
ignore made themselves known.
And the gun was up finally, pointing past Scully's face and towards the
shattered window, at the monster coming towards them. And he was
crying now, sobbing from the pain and the knowledge that he might be
fighting only for his life alone. That it might already be too late for his
partner. And he fired -- once, twice, three times before his arm collapsed
at the repeated jerk and the sheer weight of the gun, overtaxing a shoulder
and arm not meant to be used yet.
And the monster was gone and there was a new sound. A sound other
than his sobbing, his gasping breathing. Sirens. There were sirens and
Mulder knew the monster had been staved off for a short time at least.
But Scully still hadn't moved. Even with the gun firing less than a foot
from her face she hadn't moved. The gun dropped out of his fingers and
down to Scully's lap. His shoulder screamed in agony, but Mulder
forced his arm to move, forced it up, to Scully's shoulder. He reached
his fingers out, brushed the copper hair away and felt at her neck for a
pulse.
He'd been holding his breath, holding his breath in fear of what he'd
find. In fear of what he wouldn't find. But it was there. The pulse was
strong and steady and he allowed himself to breathe finally, allowed
himself to drop his arm once again and lay his head back against the
headrest. Allowed himself now to cry out of relief, rather than fear and
sorrow.
And his hand lay on Scully's seat, turned upward as if in supplication,
fingers lightly curled. He felt Scully's fingers against his, still
unmoving, and forced his arm to move one last time, to move the inch
necessary to allow him to wrap his fingers around hers.
Mulder closed his eyes and listened to the sirens approach. Listened to
them get closer and closer and suddenly someone was at his door, telling
him he'd be all right. That the emergency vehicles were on the way. He
realized he was still crying, that the tears fell from his eyes, mixing with
the blood on his face, and he knew it was in relief. Relief that Scully was
alive, relief that they had both survived, at least for now. And then there
was a voice he recognized. There was a voice speaking to him, softly,
gently and it was a voice he trusted. He trusted this voice. Trusted it
enough to open his eyes.
Skinner was there by what remained of his window, was leaning in and
had his left hand behind Mulder's head, supporting his neck and his right
hand on Mulder's chest, as if holding him upright and in place. Someone
had cut the airbag away and Mulder could see down to his legs. Could
see them trapped under the crushed dash.
He was confused suddenly. He knew this was wrong, knew there was
no way for Skinner to be there. Skinner was in the safehouse -- was
supposed to be. But now he was here. Mulder licked his lips, tried, but
managed only to lick at the blood that was pooling there. The coppery
taste made him gag and the smell turned his stomach.
He rolled his head towards Skinner slightly and managed to ask, "What?"
Skinner must have understood. Must have interpreted correctly because
he answered, "I got a call. He told me I could find your remains here at
the loading area. I got Henderson and Chadwick to drive me here and we
arrived at the same time as Mander and the rescue teams."
Skinner saw his agent's look of confusion then and decided to take
control of this. He had to get Mulder calmed, get the younger man's
mind off his boss' safety.
"Mulder, you shouldn't talk. And you shouldn't move. You could have
internal injuries. We'll get you out of here soon, I promise. And don't
worry about me. Don't even think about that right now. Chadwick and
Henderson are looking out for me as is most of the rest of the team. The
place is crawling with FBI and police. He won't show his face here."
Mulder tried to take it all in, tried to understand. But there was really
only one thing he was interested in right now. His eyes felt leaden and he
had a hard time opening them again after trying to blink.
"Scully?"
He could barely hear himself and was surprised that Skinner had
understood him.
"She's okay, Mulder. They already checked her out and will be moving
her first. She's easy to get to. Looks like a concussion, but they don't
think there's serious damage."
Mulder forced his head to turn, to look at his partner. Felt Skinner's
hand, trying to keep his head still, so that Mulder had to fight him to see.
They had her door open, had a collar around her neck and were already
pulling her out of the car, a backboard ready. Then Mulder heard voices
to his right and once again forced his head that way.
Someone was speaking to Skinner and gesturing. Skinner leaned close
again, moved his left hand to Mulder's forehead, stroking it soothingly,
as if he were a child with a temperature. And as Skinner spoke to him,
someone else was leaning towards him from where Scully had sat,
circling his own neck with a collar.
"Mulder, they have to cover you with something now so debris won't hit
you when they cut off the door. I'm going to move around to the other
side. I'll be there in a just a second. Okay? I'm not leaving you,
Mulder."
Mulder couldn't find the energy to respond. He felt the man's hand leave
his head and it tried to roll of its own accord over to the left, but moved
only infinitesimally because of the brace -- the collar surrounding it. A
drape was being placed over him and it was covering his face. He felt
like he was in a body bag and started to panic, feeling unable to breathe.
But then Skinner was there again, sitting on the broken glass and metal
bits left in Scully's seat. He held the drape up so Mulder could see again
and could breathe. Mulder dragged his eyes open and out of the corner of
his eyes, saw them taking Scully away, beyond Skinner's shoulder. And
she was all alone. There was no one with her and Mulder knew that was
wrong.
"Sc....Scully."
Skinner was looking at him in confusion, not sure now what Mulder
wanted or meant.
"Go with Scully. Alone."
Mulder saw the flicker of emotions cross the man's face as his boss
thought through the implications of Mulder's words. Skinner leaned
down so he'd be on a level with his agent when he spoke.
"I'll send some agents with her. They have to take you and Scully to
different hospitals. There was a serious accident on the interstate and the
trauma wards are a bit full up right now."
Mulder was alarmed now. Alarmed at the thought that Scully would not
be protected. It gave him strength where none was before.
"No! Please. Please, go with her."
Skinner nodded to him, said "All right. It's okay. I'll go myself. I'll get
Mander over here to stay with you. Okay?"
He knew he was crying again, could barely see Skinner a foot away, but
he was reassured by the knowledge that his boss would be there for his
partner.
He heard the man yell over for the nearest agent. Heard the rapid-fire
directions. Then Skinner was close to Mulder once again and shouting
over the screeching of metal as it was being pulled away from the car on
Mulder's side. He felt Skinner's hand on his own, then the other on his
forehead again, gentle and reassuring. Mulder hadn't even known he'd
closed his eyes again until he discovered he couldn't see his boss, that
there was black only. So he forced them open.
"Mulder, I'm going now. Scully will be fine. I promise."
He felt a light squeeze of his hand and then Skinner said, "Jake Mander's
here. He'll be with you Mulder."
Mulder felt his eyes close again, on their own, tried to nod but it was
impossible. He felt Skinner's hand leave his forehead, heard him get out
of the car, and it was as if he'd lost a lifeline to reality. But then
another
familiar voice was there with him. And another hand was on his.
"Hey, guy. I guess you were shooting for another top of the hour story
on CNN, huh? Hate to tell you this, buddy, but there are lots easier ways
to get your face on TV."
Mulder knew his lip curled slightly on its own. He felt himself slipping
away. Felt the noises start to fade, as if a knob had turned slowly, to turn
the sound down. Jake's voice was still there in the background, but he
couldn't make out the words any more. Scully was going to be okay,
Skinner was watching over her, protecting her, and Jake was looking
over things for him here. So Mulder let go finally and stopped resisting.
Stopped resisting the pull of oblivion that had been calling to him in an
enchantress' voice. And there was nothing but silence and blackness.
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