The feeling of emptiness, of abandonment, was so intense it took her breath away, contracting her lungs with the pain, causing her heart to shrivel within her.

It was over now. She'd been stripped of everything, everyone she'd ever had. The pain of it all, the horror was almost too much for her to bear. The loss of something so precious. That, which had been taken away from her, could never be replaced, could never be restored. She was alone, adrift, no one left to guide her, to help her. She'd been here before, but she couldn't remember when, she couldn't remember why, only the anguish, only the agony.

She felt moisture on her face... it was tears, she felt them as they coursed down her face.

Reaching out her hand in the darkness, she fumbled around, needing physical contact with something, anything. Her hand brushed against something solid-she recognized her nightstand. Her mind focused itself on finding the light switch.

By the light of the lamp she saw the blood. Blood on her hands... blood all over her, it was everywhere. So much blood. With incredulous eyes she looked down at herself and felt bile rising in her throat. There was a horrible, erratic thumping in her chest, as if a large bird was trapped inside her ribcage and was beating itself to death. Gasping, she lay in her bed, panting with terror. She was trembling all over, drenched with sweat. Long shadows, nightmare light. The sounds of screams reverberated in her ears, rebounding off her bedroom walls, finally bringing her to full consciousness.

It was her own voice she could hear, it was she who was screaming.

Then, Jeff was in the room with her, looking as shaken as she felt. He was beside her using the phone, telling her not to move, that everything would be all right. With force of habit, Scully reached over to her nightstand, and with trembling fingers picked up her cell phone. She punched in a well memorized number. As she waited for her call to be answered, she gazed unbelievingly at the marks she'd left on the nightstand; at the red smears that were now covering the number pad on her cell phone. Trying to calm herself, she remembered the words she'd said to her partner so often. "Mulder. Mulder breathe, slowly, in... out... that's it. Take it easy now."

She heard the voice on the other end of the phone sleepily identifying himself and she began to speak. "It's Scully. You need to get down here now, there's a situation." Her voice quavered as she continued, "S-sir? I think I'm in need of your assistance."

ACT I

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Saturday, very early morning

The chirping of his cell phone broke into his restless sleep, bringing Mulder relief from that nameless thing which wandered through his disturbed rest causing him to wake drenched in sweat.

"Mulder." He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, 6:02 a.m. He struggled to sit up and make sense of where he was.

"Mulder, you'd better get over here right away. There's something damned weird going on."

Mulder was surprised. He was used to his partner calling him at this hour but his stomach cramped with anxiety as he recognized his superior's gravelly voice. A feeling of dread rolled over him.

"Weird? How do you mean, weird? What's happened? Where are you?"

"It's Scully..."

Mulder was speechless for a second, incapable of anything apart from trying to get air back into his lungs and fighting the panic that threatened to overtake him. Taking deep breaths, he forced the question past his lips, disregarding any attempt at protocol in the heat of the moment. "Skinner, is...is she all right? He couldn't trust his voice further.

"She's safe Mulder, but you need to get over here at once, something strange is going on."

The reassurance Skinner gave as to Scully's safety did nothing to placate Mulder. Even as he yelled through the phone, "Where are you?", he was pulling on his pants and pushing his sockless feet into his shoes. Shit! Wrong one!

"Just get over to Scully's apartment, ASAP."

Mulder grabbed his badge and gun off the nightstand and headed for the door, tee shirt and jacket in hand.

"Dammit! Car keys!"

Snatching them off the table, he ran out of the apartment and down the stairs two at a time, to where his car was parked; dressing as he went, the early morning chill and his mounting apprehension causing a shiver to run down his spine.

SCULLY'S BUILDING
6:37 a.m.

The roads were all but empty of traffic as he sped to Scully's apartment with little regard to speed limits or traffic cops. He couldn't help wondering why she hadn't phoned him. There must be a reason and that's what scared him.

Why hadn't he insisted on staying over last night? That was their usual arrangement for the weekends of late.

Mulder picked his way through the crowd of onlookers, D.C. police and paramedics who were milling about the hallway outside Scully's apartment despite the early hour.

"What the hell...!"

As Mulder approached the door, one of a pair of officers standing outside the open door of Scully's home, stepped forward.

"Sir? Sir, I'm sorry but you can't go in there."

Mulder flashed his badge at him and addressed the other.

"I'm looking for Assistant Director Walter Skinner?"

"And you are?"

"Special agent Fox Mulder, FBI."

"So, what's the FBI's interest in this?" The officer addressed his colleague.

"She's one of their own."

Mulder decided that the sixty seconds standing there, waiting for some sort of an acknowledgement from the pair of officers was about forty-five too long, Mulder threw them an irritated glance before he took charge of the conversation. "Exactly what's happened here?"

"When we've figured it out sir; don't worry, you'll be among the first to know."

Mulder swept past them, too apprehensive to take note of the officer's sarcasm.

He felt the waves of dizziness and nausea sweep over him as he caught sight of his partner. White as milk, she sat on her once pristine sofa.

He felt a hand kindly but firmly push him down onto a chair and heard Skinner's reassuring voice over the humming and buzzing in his ears.

"She's okay, Mulder, she's not hurt. It's not her

blood, she's *all right*." Mulder took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to chase the threatening blackness away.

"I'm okay now, just need a minute." Mulder told his superior breathlessly. His continued heavy breathing must have convinced Skinner that he was hyperventilating.

"Relax." He felt Skinner's hand firmly on the back of his neck. "Relax, Mulder." His breathing started to calm. "Easy now, that's it," his boss's concerned voice both soothed and bothered him. This was all too surreal, Mulder couldn't help thinking.

As the dizziness receded, Mulder looked up at Skinner. The AD was as impassive as ever, but there was a look of strain and exhaustion about his eyes. He was a big, powerful man, but right now, his broad shoulders were slumped. Skinner sank down slowly into the chair next to him, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"She doesn't know what happened, she woke up in this state," The AD's voice was tight. "And, uh.... It was her neighbor Jeff Jackson who called this in. He was rather shaken by it all. The local boys are still questioning him," he paused, looking uncomfortable, his eyes settling on Scully for a moment before meeting Mulder's eyes again. Mulder read the uncertainty in the AD's eyes.

Mulder's eyes locked on to Scully's white, blood spattered face. He saw her bewilderment and the lack of comprehension in her eyes. Her gray flannel pajamas were covered in blood, it looked like there was gallons of it.

He dropped to his knees by the sofa and went to take her hand in his. He couldn't bear to see her like this.

"Stop, Mulder, don't touch her!" Skinner's warning stopped him dead. Mulder's eyes widened. For a moment he stared at his superior uncomprehendingly. What was going on here?

"This is all evidence. They're saying this is a possible homicide." Skinner's embarrassment as he tried to explain was patently obvious.

Mulder just managed to restrain himself. Not believing what he'd just heard, he turned to his superior for enlightenment.

"Who...? Who is saying?"

"The local boys."

Skinner was looking bad. "Sir, are you all right?" Mulder asked, Skinner was biting his lip as he nodded.

"What in God's name happened here?" Mulder looked at his partner, who appeared to be in some kind of trance.

"We don't know that yet, but we're working on it."

"Scully? Scully, can you hear me? Look at me. I'm here now. It's all gonna be okay now, everything's going to be fine" his soft tone of his voice belied his panic.

His arms ached to encircle his partner, to comfort her, to take that bewildered look from her face. Everything's going to be fine, everything's going to be fine. The phrase kept going through his head like a prayer, a mantra to chase his fear away.

She roused herself enough to answer her partner.

"Mulder...I'm...I'm perfectly fine." Her fragile, anxious voice contradicted the statement. Scully shivered, Mulder was back on his knees in front of her.

"Yeah, I can see that." Mulder had to ball his hands to keep from touching her.

Then she stared directly into his eyes, her gaze unbearably intense. "Mulder, I'm okay," she murmured, breaking the direct eye contact. Her voice wavered, telling of the fear she insisted on denying. Her voice quivered as she spoke again. "I don't know what happened, I woke up and I was covered in blood. I can't remember anything."

"It's gonna be okay, Scully, we're here now."

He saw her swallow hard before she nodded, then the shivering started shaking her fragile-looking body.

"Sir?" Mulder turned to his superior. "Can't we at least cover her in a blanket? She's in shock, just look at her." The look on his supervisor's face informed him that this couldn't be an option.

Mulder paused and turned to address one of the detectives on the scene. "Do you have any suspects? Is there any sign of forced entry? There must be evidence of an intruder of some kind." "No, we checked that one out. It appears that her door was ajar when one of her neighbors heard her screams and found her. *He* called 911. I've been in this business along time now, I know the drill. We're doing a house-to-house on the tenants at the moment," the detective huffed.

"I'm sorry detective, don't mean to step on any toes. I didn't mean to imply...."

The last thing Mulder wanted to do was to antagonize the locals, and he acknowledged he had a natural gift for doing just that. Scully was the one who normally held him in check, smoothed things over.

"Yeah, no problem, I appreciate what it's like when a colleague is involved."

Skinner moved the man to the side so Mulder and his partner could have a little privacy.

For a moment Mulder didn't know how to start, what to say, she looked so frail and lost. Her eyes had a shadowed look, they seemed haunted by the same dark fear that was in her voice. Just as a child might reach for its security blanket in times of stress, Scully's hand reached up to her neck.

"Scully, are you hurt?" He asked gently. Guilt washed over him. "I'm sorry Scully, I should have been here...."

"I'm all right Mulder, it-it's not your fault...."

Mulder tried again. "Talk to me, Scully. Can you do that?" She nodded her head.

Mulder took a long breath. "What happened, Scully?"

"I don't know. I've no idea, no rational explanation. I was so alone, so empty."

She'd told him about her planned date before they'd finished work yesterday. He tried that avenue first. "Did you go to your friend's bachelorette party? What happened to you?"

"Mulder, I don't know, I can't remember."

She paused for a moment to take a deep breath trying to control the trembling. "I keep thinking in a minute I'm gonna wake up and this all will have been a dream, a terrible dream. I'm gonna wake up and phone you and have you talk to me and tell me everything's fine. Tell me Mulder, tell me I'm just having a nightmare.... Tell me I'm asleep and this is just a bad dream. I've had dreams before. Mulder, tell me you'll be right over and everything will be fine."

The pleading in her voice was almost too much for him. Mulder felt as if he'd betrayed her when he couldn't offer her the words of comfort she so desperately needed.

This *wasn't* a dream. There was nothing he could say or do that would change that. He needed so much to hold her, to reassure himself as much as her. It *was* his fault. He should have insisted on being here for her when she got home last night.

"I'm here now Scully, I'm not going to leave you. We'll sort this out together, I promise you. Just hang in there. M-maybe you drank too much last night, maybe it's someone's idea of a sick joke."

A female officer interrupted them. "We're going to need your pajamas, Ms. Scully."

"Of course...yes."

Scully was beginning to look vague again.

"Ms. Scully, just change, no shower or bathing."

"Scully?" She didn't appear to hear him. Moving like a sleepwalker, she went with the officer.

Later, Scully came out of her bedroom, her ashen complexion more made prominent by the white police issue overalls she dressed in. The smudges of blood still on her face stood out in sharp contrast. Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder could see Skinner talking into a phone in low angry tones that carried despite the man's best efforts.

"This is absolutely inconceivable...Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions, here....I don't care...yes, of course I realize the implications...due process.... Fine. Do whatever you feel you have to do."

He glanced away from his partner, to where their superior had just slammed down the phone, a look of controlled fury on his face. Their eyes met and Skinner came over to the agents, looking very agitated, a gray tinge to his face.

"I'm sorry. Things have just gotten a damn sight worse. A homicide's just been called in. The body of a male has turned up downtown. Seems he was bludgeoned to death as he slept...they think... someone's trying to score brownie points." Mulder was surprised at the mask of quiet defeat Skinner was wearing.

Their superior was having great trouble coming to the point.

"They think you could be a suspect, Scully."

Mulder looked at his partner, his face mirroring the disbelief in hers.

Things happened so fast then. Before they knew what had hit them, two officers were ready to escort Scully down to the local P. D. for questioning.

As they led her out of the room she tried to turn toward him.

"Mulder!"

The note of panic in her voice nearly made him do something desperate and only Skinner's hold on his shoulder stopped him rushing after her. "I'll go with her, I'll see to it that she's okay. Mulder? Mulder! Damn it! Are you listening to me agent?" Skinner commanded.

Mulder tried to focus on his superior's voice.

"You're no good to her like this, Agent. You're too close to be objective. The scene's been secured downtown. I need you to get your butt down there and find out what the hell is going on. Do you hear me?"

"But...."

"But, that's an order Agent. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything."

Mulder saw he was wasting his breath. There was a moment of tense silence before Skinner eased his iron grip on Mulder's shoulder and turned to follow Scully and the officers out.

Mulder stood in the center of the room that had become a second home to him. For a moment, he felt too shell- shocked to move. God! He'd nearly blown it then. Don't panic, he thought to himself. Don't panic, Skinner's right, if you want to help Scully, you'll have to keep your cool.

LOCATION OF THE CRIME SCENE
Downtown Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 10:20 a.m.

Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, cordoning off the site. Clumps of shocked neighbors and curious passers-by distracted from Saturday morning shopping stood around outside the building as he parked the car and made his way to the entrance. The building itself, although not run down, had a slightly shabby look about it which was shared by so many others in this neighborhood.

One of the officers stepped forward as Mulder approached the house. The expression on his weary, Hispanic face told Mulder that it had been a very long shift.

"Sorry, sir..." the cop began, but stopped when Mulder produced his badge and identified himself. The officer lifted the tape and Mulder ducked under. Mulder went to introduce himself to the detective in charge, knowing that he had to make nice with the locals.

"So, what have you got?" Mulder asked.

"Not a whole hell of a lot."

"Any sign of a break-in?"

"The door was wide open when we got here, his bedroom...well, look for yourself!"

In the spartan living room Mulder paused, looking around, trying to gauge what sort of a man the victim had been. He absorbed every detail of his surroundings; the layout of the room, the ambiance or in this case, the lack of it. There were half-empty cartons from Chinese take out on the coffee table, a couple of empty beer cans overturned on the floor under the couch.

Mulder stepped through into Marcus Lowry's bedroom. The victim lay where he'd been fatally assaulted. Mulder took in the exact placement of the body, the carnage all around it. A few clothes and shoes were scattered on the floor, just where they'd been dropped.

Mulder listened to the detective's speculation. "Looks like he was asleep when he was attacked. The guy never stood a chance."

A police photographer moved in front of them, busily clicking away. The continued flashing of his camera reminded Mulder that he had the beginnings of a headache.

The blood-soaked body lay on the bed. Dressed in t-shirt and boxers, the victim lay face down on the bed, at least Mulder assumed that was the position; there wasn't a great deal left of the face or head to be positive. The attack had been ferocious, the blood spattering the wall behind the headboard. "Any witnesses, suspects?"

"We're talking to the neighbors now. So far there's not a great deal to go on. No one saw anything, heard anything. Oh, apart from one party animal. The guy from down the hall was trying to make his way up the stairs in the early hours and he swears something brushed past him, it was too dark to see clearly in the moonlight, but he got the impression it was a woman. Seemed very confused when we tried to draw him on that. Some witness huh? He was still so 'out of it' when we spoke to him, I doubt if he would have recognized his own mother. Anyway there's a security camera down in the foyer, we'll be checking that to see if we can pick something up. As to suspects, I hear they're holding a woman in Georgetown. Lucky break or what? It was probably a lover's tiff or some such."

Mulder felt nauseous. This was not the first time he'd seen so much blood, or such horrendous injuries, it was the fact that the police here seemed to feel that the case was all done and dusted, and the perp already in detention. He was glad he hadn't let these schmucks know his connection to Scully.

He went across to speak with the coroner. Forensics was still working on cross-matching the blood stains; the prints were being processed.

"This is all provisional of course. The initial exam shows this was typical of a blunt force trauma attack. There appears to have been eight or nine blows to the head; cerebral contusions with bruising to the brain, multiple skull fractures....The body had not yet attained rigor mortis when we arrived at the scene. I'd put the time of death between three and four this morning," the coroner told Mulder.

"When will you know for sure?"

"Probably later in the day, depending on how fast I can get the autopsy done and the blood and other samples processed. This being Saturday, things tend to wind down a little. I'm running a toxicology screen as well. He may well have been doped before he was attacked."

Mulder handed the coroner his card.

"Look, I'd appreciate if you could let me know..."

"Sure, no problem, I'll call you as soon as I've got anything, Agent Mulder."

The detective in charge took over. Mulder recognized several plainclothes officers from Homicide. "This is how we'll divide it. I want all phone messages checked, his cell phone, the email anything that might be of use. Interview any family, friends, work, previous sexual partners. Watkins, you've started on the neighbors?"

"Yes, sir, not much so far, other then the party-goer who was a bit worse for drink and whatever. We've got his statement already, such as it is. One of the neighbors mentioned a club the victim hung out at....'The Tiempo'."

"Griffiths, you and Pariet start checking on his social activities; get down to that club and check it out. Right, guys, let's get this show on the road."

Everywhere Mulder went he found detectives, cameras, a rush of uniformed men, and the incessant cackle of radios. He needed to be still. Mulder cleared his throat. "Mind if I take a look around?" He asked the officer in charge.

"Nope, help yourself."

He started to explore the rest of the house. There wasn't much to see. The victim was obviously a bachelor, living on his own. The state of the kitchen and fridge was only marginally better than Mulder's own. A half-empty box of stale looking cereal in one cabinet, the remains of a six pack of imported beer and some moldy cheese in the fridge.

He moved into the small unremarkable bathroom, containing only a small selection of masculine toiletries, a razor left in the sink, a toothbrush and a tube of paste which had been squeezed in the middle and lay minus its cap on the edge of the tub. A wet towel was thrown in a heap on the floor together with dirty socks and a pair of boxers. The guy certainly wasn't very house proud.

Mulder walked back into the bedroom, his footsteps loud and echoing on the wooden floor. He stood, almost mesmerized, gazing at the bloody spot where the victim had lain. Just then, one of the men examining the now empty bed called out.

"Hey sir! look at this." Using a pencil the cop carefully lifted something off the sheet, something covered in blood, something that glinted in the light as it swung to and fro from the pencil.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder saw a small black shape scoot into the corner behind the closet.

The sound of his cell phone distracted him.

FIRST DISTRICT POLICE PRECINCT
Saturday, 2:10 p.m.

Scully wanted Mulder present during her questioning, Skinner's call informed him. Mulder wasted no time getting down there.

Her relief was evident as she glanced up at him when he walked into the interview room. In those few seconds of eye contact they managed to communicate their feelings. Catching his eye Scully had questioned him with the raise of her eyebrow. A barely perceptible shake of his head confirmed that he was none the wiser now. With a crease of her brows, she asked if he was okay. Even now, when she was in such a position, the woman was worrying about him. The smile in his eyes told her that he was okay.

Scully leaned back in her seat and let out a breath slowly. Mulder could see she was mentally preparing herself for the coming ordeal. Awkwardly, he went to stand by the wall next to where Skinner sat.

The detective in charge dictated into the recorder.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder has entered the interview room, time...2:12 p.m."

Seeing Scully dressed in prison orange overalls shook Mulder, but at least she'd had a chance to shower.

"You up to this?" Skinner asked her.

Scully nodded. Looking at her haggard face, Mulder felt concerned and duly so.

Detective Foster took over.

"Right. So, Ms. Scully, let's go back to yesterday evening."

Mulder was annoyed at how quickly they'd stripped her of her title, no 'Agent Scully' or 'Dr. Scully', just plain Ms.

"I was invited to go to Jodie's bachelorette party last night." His partner started to explain.

"Who's Jodie?" she was interrupted.

"She's my friend from med school. We've kept in touch over the years. I-I went, but I decided to leave early, I had work to do.

"And what time would that have been?"

"About eleven, I had a report to finish. I needed to check it over. I wanted to get it out of the way. I was finally done about one thirty. I was going to call my partner to tell him I'd..."

"Isn't that a bit unusual?"

"How so?"

Mulder could hear the tension in her voice. She wouldn't want to make their relationship public.

"Wasn't it a little late?"

"No, Mulder is still up at that time."

"And *did* you call him?"

"No. I decided it could wait. I felt too tired. I made myself a mug of hot chocolate and went to bed."

"And this morning when you awoke?" The second officer demanded. She didn't appear to have heard him.

"I had this dream... and then I woke up. You know how sometimes you're not quite sure if you're awake or asleep....I had this awful feeling of emptiness, of loss. As if something very precious had been taken away from me.... I felt moisture on my face... tears. I reached out my hand to put the light on and there was blood on my hands...blood all over me, everywhere.... I must have screamed.... Next thing, Jeff Jackson was in the room with me." She paused to take a shuddering breath.

"Who is Jeff Jackson?"

"He and his wife live across the hall. He's a shift worker. He must have called 911....I don't understand. I was asleep, I was asleep the whole night. I was sound asleep...."

"Why did you call AD Skinner and not your partner?"

Mulder felt himself especially attentive at hearing that question; he wondered about that as well.

Scully, however, seemed surprised at the question. "I don't know, he's my superior... I don't know."

One of the officers thrust a photograph at Scully. Mulder had a quick look at the image of a man, but he didn't recognize him.

"Do you know this man, Ms. Scully?"

Scully frowned as she studied the photo. "Umm, no, I don't know him, but I have seen him... yesterday. I saw him last night at the club where the party was held. We spoke briefly as I waited for the waitress to get the drink order. I didn't get his name. Why?"

"What did you talk about?"

"It was just small talk, I was waiting for the drinks and he was waiting for his girlfriend, Annelise, to finish her shift. She was one of the waitresses."

"So you talked long enough to find *that* out. What was the name of the club?"

"The Tiempo."

The detective's tone of voice hardened. "This was Marcus Lowry, The man whose blood you were covered in. The preliminary tests have matched the blood found at both scenes," he informed her.

The SOB wasn't going to spare his partner anything, Mulder thought as he looked into her shocked face.

"Is this your cross and chain?"

"I-I don't...." Scully's fingers instinctively sought the cross she'd always wore. Her fingers blundered around her collarbones, seeking solace. Mulder saw her fighting the emotions as it dawned on her that she no longer wore the tiny cross and chain that had been such an integral part of her life for so long.

"Can you explain how it came to be found at the scene?

Mulder saw her lip tremble, saw her bite it, and a tiny bead of scarlet appeared.

Her eyes sought him out. "Oh, God, no...." How strange it was that both he and Scully had spoken in unison, Mulder thought later.

"Mulder, I swear...." The look of anguish in her eyes almost finished him. He turned away, walking toward the wall. He felt the pain across his knuckles and realized he had punched the wall.

He swallowed hard. God help him, he wasn't helping Scully behaving like this. He thrust his hands deep into his pants pockets, breathing deeply, knowing he had to calm down if he was to be of any use to her. 'I want to believe' stated the poster in their office. Yet he knew her well enough, trusted her enough to believe in her innocence despite the mounting evidence to the contrary. His vision swam. He closed his eyes.

FBI BUILDING
AD SKINNER'S OFFICE
Saturday, 6:04 p.m.

At the muffled "Come in." Mulder turned the knob and reluctantly pushed open the door.

"You requested to see me, Sir?"

"Yes, Mulder, I did," he responded not unkindly. "Thank you for coming so promptly. Please, take a seat."

The AD turned from where he'd been standing by the window, looking out through the white slatted blinds at the Old Post Office Pavilion below. He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

The AD looked ill at ease. Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Mulder got the impression that what ever was coming was going to be equally difficult for both of them.

"Listen Mulder and listen good, we're talking about a federal agent who has been accused of murder. This isn't just going to peter out. This isn't a case for your crop circle or spoon-bending philosophies."

At any other time, Mulder would have probably taken issue with the AD over these remarks, but he realized they were not said to censure him. Mulder could almost taste the man's frustration. "I need empirical proof, scientific facts. The blood on Scully's pajamas didn't appear there by translocation. And then there's the matter of what appears to be her cross and chain."

"What are you implying, Sir?"

Skinner walked around his desk to sit in his chair. He looked at Mulder rather narrowly before taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm not implying anything, Mulder. Under normal circumstances, Agent Scully is the strongest person I know. But the fact is, given Scully's highly distressed state at present, if clumsy or inappropriate psychological pressure is applied, it could lead to a confession and she could admit to anything."

Mulder tried to ignore the small, hard kernel of dread that was forming in his gut. That's what he was afraid of too. He was surprised by the look of compassion on his supervisor's face. He'd seen the AD angry, sad, scared, hurt, he'd seen him starved of companionship, but never this, never as if he were physically hurting for his agents.

And then it was gone and Skinner continued. "Mulder, she's vulnerable. We both know that Scully is wholly incapable of this. But I've been down that road, I remember what it's like. I was lucky in that I had two good agents on my side, who believed in my innocence and were prepared to fight to prove it. Let's see if we can do the same for Agent Scully. All our energy must be put into proving this to others. We need proof -- cold, clinical, irrefutable proof. We've got to find out what happened. This theory of amnesia, do you believe it?"

"What's not to believe?"

"It all seems fantastic, and yet.... Do you have any theories, Agent?"

Mulder let out a cracked laugh as the full implication of the situation hit him. "What? You mean an X-File explanation? For once in my life I've got no theories to offer, no unsubstantiated leaps of logic. Nothing, other than a gut feeling that she's being set up, that we're being set up. All I can consider at the moment is the fantastic."

"Could this have been done while she was under the influence of anything? She said she'd had a mug of hot chocolate before going to bed, could that have been doctored?" Skinner pondered.

"Let's hope that just this one time she wasn't fastidiously tidy."

"I'll get someone over there immediately. No, not you, Mulder. As far as this case is concerned we must be like Caesar's wife, seen to be squeaky clean. Before you say anything Mulder, I *know*. Your paranoia must be catching, but at this moment in time, I'm not sure what we're up against either."

Skinner was on his agents' side, Mulder reminded himself. He decided not to belabor the point, but it didn't make the situation any easier to bear.

"Forensics has confirmed that the blood on her pajamas matches that of the victim, the splatter pattern is consistent with the ferocity of the attack. And they recovered a baseball bat that just outside the building which could well be the murder implement. They're using the FBI's FINDER to check out the prints.

"Her necklace was found at the scene. The only inconsistency, the only thing in her favor so far, is Scully's size. It would be extremely difficult for someone of her stature to have the strength to inflict so much damage. The angle is all wrong, too. I can't understand it... On the face of it, it's an open and shut case...."

"Sir!"

"Mulder, go get some rest. It's been a long, traumatic day for us all. We need clear heads if we're going to help her."

"I can't see myself getting much rest while Scully's stuck in some jail cell."

"Mulder, You're not listening to what I'm telling you. I'm working on that, but for tonight, things have to stay as they are. Get your ass into gear and go home, get some rest. If you can't sleep, I don't suppose anyone would be any the wiser if you discreetly looked over some of the computer files on this."

Mulder couldn't believe his ears. For a moment he wondered if he'd strayed into one of those parallel universes that Scully always reckoned he was in. Skinner suddenly looked ill at ease. He blinked and looked away. "Goodnight, Agent."

Mulder sighed. "Goodnight, Sir."

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Sunday 1:18 a.m.

He'd managed to access some of the files, but there was nothing there that he didn't already know. He sighed and stretched, he felt as if he was stuck in one of those Escher etchings, the ones where everything looks normal, but when you look further, water is flowing up hill although it appears to be cascading down. "Yeah, one of those etchings just about summarizes things." Mulder let out a weary sigh.

Mulder wasn't surprised at how tired he was. He didn't need a lot of sleep as a rule, but this last week, he'd found it increasingly difficult to rest. Oh, he could fall asleep all right, it's just that he didn't want to stay asleep. Maybe it had something to do with his recent experiences, but that was still too raw for him to explore in any great depth. Maybe it was because he was missing Scully's presence in his bed during the week; undoubtedly that had a lot to do with it.

The dreams, although always very vague, had been increasingly disturbing, making him waken with all the symptoms of a full-blown panic attack. He hadn't said anything to Scully, not wanting her to make a fuss. She'd had her own problems to work through and deal with.

Tonight, he lay down on his couch by the light of his gurgling fish tank, his thoughts on his partner; how scared she would be in that cell, how alone. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, make her world right again. Not being able to talk with her, hold her, comfort her was killing him. Just leaving her there was inhuman.

Once he'd got over his initial feelings of...could it be jealousy? He'd been glad that Scully had been with it enough to have initially called their superior. She *was* in deep trouble with this and him, being first on the scene might have compromised things. Skinner was right on that score, but it didn't make things any easier to accept.

He'd come to understand something over the last months, this thing between them and Skinner... this cautious trust. It was never spoken of but nevertheless Mulder was sure it existed. Mulder wondered if they could ever be friends; they were friends, the three of them, in a strange, dysfunctional way. "Why spoil the habits of a lifetime," Mulder added under his breath. Though it was a tentative sort of friendship, they owed Skinner their gratitude.

But now Mulder felt powerless. He needed to prove her innocence, but for once, he didn't know how. It was as if all his investigative powers had deserted him just when he needed them most.

There was more to all this, much more. Everything dovetailed too smoothly, there was too much coincidence. If he could find that one link, he had a gut feeling that it would all lead to an explanation.

He had faith in her; he had faith in them both. The remarkable thing about faith was that it wasn't a sudden flash from the heavens or an unexpected insight. It was something that quietly sustained. "You can do your worst, but you'll never destroy her, never destroy us, ever."

The gurgling of the pump and the flickering of the muted TV gradually lulled him to sleep.

It was the scuffling shuffle that first alerted him, the whispering. There was something or someone in the room with him, he could make out a small, crouched form near the corner of the room, he saw it approaching the couch, black and threatening, growling and snarling softly.

He tried to move, tried to reach for his gun, his heart slamming against his rib cage. He was paralyzed. It was as though he was being held down.

His heartbeat threatened to choke him. His fear was such...he fought to move, to make a sound.... He heard the screams reverberating in his ears, and realized they were his. And then, he was free.

He froze, flattened against damp fabric, sweat beading on his skin, face down, afraid to move. Afraid to even breath, although his lungs were clamoring for oxygen. What? Where? He rolled over and looked around in panic. The big room with the muted TV and illuminated fish tank was quiet, save for the gentle gurgling of the pump.

He was on the couch and his living room was exactly as it had been. There was nothing. No one but him in the room.

His attempt to sit up made the room shimmer and shake around him, he sank back down sweat pouring from him. Nauseous with the panic, he tried to catch his breath and still his pounding heart.

He raked a hand through his hair, trying to gain control. The dream again, over the last few nights it had changed, mutated. It had become more explicit, more terrifying.

It was no good, he wouldn't sleep, didn't want to sleep again. He was an expert when it came to nightmares. Hadn't he had more than his fair share of them over the years? The incidents with Modell, Pfaster, Schauz had all caused him to wake up bathed in sweat. But this one, this was turning out to be the granddaddy of them all.

It had just turned four in the morning and though still trembling, he got up to shower and dress.

HOOVER BUILDING
Basement Office
Sunday, 7:34 a.m.

Mulder had been seated in front of the computer screen for several hours now and his spine was beginning to protest. He'd read up on the case of a Toronto man who had killed his mother-in-law while he was allegedly asleep. He had pulled this, and many similar cases, off the net. This sort of phenomenon seemed to be universal; there were reported cases in the UK and in Australia.

Mulder swung idly on the back legs of his chair. It was a habit that drove Scully to distraction. He felt a smile pull across his face as momentarily he visualized Scully's face whenever he did this.

He was trying to rationalize the facts. In most of the cases, the victim was in close proximity to the perpetrator, room next door, down the hall. In one case the victim lived in the adjoining house, but had left a window open. In all the cases the victim had been well known to the perp, as had been the location. There was one a lot closer to home. Hadn't Skinner been accused of strangling Carina Sayles in similar circumstances a few years back?

He swung back further, holding on to the desk with one hand, he aimed and threw another sharpened, yellow government issue pencil up at the acoustic tile ceiling overhead. It neatly joined the other dozen or so already up there. Strange how doing this helped him focus.

In Scully's case there were plenty of dissimilarities. Scully had only met the victim for a very short time and she'd met him at the club, not where he'd met his end. How was she supposed to know where he lived? She couldn't even have easily looked the address up unless she'd asked someone else his name. The most important factor was that the distance between the apartments involved a twenty-minute drive each way...over an unfamiliar route. Interesting, but how to prove it? The other factor that had him scared shitless was the cross. Was it Scully's? How did it get there?

He was going to have to see things from the point of view of someone trying to prove her guilt; that was the way to prove her innocence.

"How are you doing, Agent? I thought I'd find you down here, even on a Sunday. Haven't you got a home to go to, Mulder?"

Skinner's voice startled him. Mulder jumped, the chair wobbled backwards alarmingly, before crashing forwards onto all its four legs, almost depositing Mulder in a heap on the floor in the process. He'd been too engrossed in his thoughts to hear the hum of the elevator or the AD's footsteps as he approached the basement office of the X-Files division.

"H-how can I help you, Sir?"

Skinner had a smile on his face. "I thought I'd come down to tell you the news, personally. I've managed to persuade them to set bail for Scully."

Mulder was out of his seat. His eyes widened. "When?"

"Now, the authorities recognize the evidence is still circumstantial this point, so that's why they're allowing Scully out on bail."

"Sir, this great news, but...she's in no state to be left on her own," Mulder hesitated.

"I agree with that assessment, Agent. That's the reason..."

"The reason, Sir?"

"That's the reason I offered her residence in my guest room until this mess is sorted." Mulder's face registered the surprise that Skinner expected. "Mulder, I need you to investigate this case. If she stayed with you, she'd be left alone most of the time while you were off chasing any number of possible leads, now wouldn't she?"

Skinner paused for a moment to allow his reasoning to sink in. Then, softly and with understanding, the AD added, "I'll keep her safe for you. I promise."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Mulder glanced up, he didn't know what to say. He trusted Skinner to keep his word, to do his best...but it rankled nevertheless. This should be his job, to take care of his partner, but he also saw the truth in the A.D.'s reasoning.

Scully needed someone to find the truth and he was heir best bet at that point. Skinner would have to be the one to stand guard, while he sought out the real killer. The fact that Skinner recognized that before he did was mildly surprising.

"Thank you, Sir," he said after a moment. "I want you to know I appreciate it."

Skinner appeared to understand Mulder's reticence in agreeing to these arrangements without belaboring the reasons.

"It's no trouble. I'm glad I could help out. I'll see what I can arrange Mulder, I understand that you feel you're in an untenable position. Our biggest problem is going to get Scully to go along with this."

Skinner paused for a moment, "Oh, umm, one other thing Agent, go easy on the pencils, eh."

FIRST DISTRICT POLICE STATION
Sunday, 3:12 p.m.

Both men went to 'spring' Scully later that day. Mulder had persuaded Skinner to go to Scully's apartment with him, so that he could pack a bag for her. He was worried about the effect coming back to her home in the state it was still in, might have on his partner.

Skinner was right in his prediction that Scully would be furious over the arrangements, but the two men were finally able to persuade her, albeit over many protests, it was for the best.

It had taken an inordinate length of time to get through the paperwork to release Scully. To Mulder, it felt as though Skinner had to sign every damned form in the place in triplicate. This was bureaucracy at its best. He took this opportunity to lay all the facts on the line for his partner.

"You all done being mad, Scully?" Mulder asked her quietly, as they waited in a deserted corner for Skinner to fetch them.

Smiling gratefully, if a little embarrassed, Scully nodded "Yes." The frown evaporated from Scully's face like mist before the sun. "I'm all done."

Mulder breathed out a sigh of relief. "If you behave, I'll bring some bagel's from Katz's over tomorrow." She smiled at that. He knew in her opinion, the best bagels on the planet came from the little hole in the wall shop down the street from his apartment.

"Yeah, you're on, Mulder."

He massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was wiped out. The strain and lack of sleep were beginning to get to him. He was grateful that his partner could never stay mad at him for long.

Finally Skinner reappeared. "We're finished here, so we can leave now," Skinner said. "I think it's probably best if I help Scully get settled in her temporary quarters while you get back to work, Agent."

Giving Mulder a look of encouragement, Scully squeezed his hand. "Just so you know..." she said just loud enough for him to hear. After a few seconds staring at her, he swallowed and nodded. Their hands trailed apart as he left her side to get back to work.

It was time for some ferreting around at that club Scully had been to.

THE TIEMPO CLUB
Sunday, 7:29 p.m.

It was still very early, relatively speaking, when he got to the club. He ordered a drink and struck up a conversation with one of the waitresses. News of Marcus Lowry's death had reached here, and Fleur, the waitress who served him, although distressed, had quite a lot to say on the matter.

Marcus was a popular regular there. Recently he'd been seeing Annelise, one of the other girls who worked here. In the course of the conversation, Fleur confirmed that Annelise had been on the early shift last Friday but that she wouldn't be on duty until later on tonight.

Since the club was almost empty, he offered to buy Fleur a drink. He didn't have to ask any questions, she was very forthcoming. Mulder let her ramble on. He learned a lot, but nothing that bore any obvious connection to this whole mess.

A greater problem faced Mulder on his returned back to the basement office the following day.

HOOVER BUILDING
Basement Office
Monday, 7:40 a.m.

In the early morning mist the J. Edgar Hoover Building looked like a great concrete cage as he drove in. The area may well be the hub of tourist attractions, but at this hour of the day it was still quiet. Making his way down in the elevator to their basement office, Mulder's mind was going over yesterday's events, and trying to sort out how best he could serve Scully's cause. He'd left the promised bagels in the car, planning only to check on his emails before going over to Skinner's apartment.

He was surprised to see the door unlocked and ajar so early in the morning. It couldn't be Scully. Skinner? No, he wouldn't have let himself in like that. Mulder was even more astounded to see a short, balding man sitting at his desk rummaging through the papers and files, which have been left on the desk in their usual haphazard state.

"What's going on here?"

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, and you are?"

"Special Agent Davis. I've been called up to coordinate this inquiry."

"What inquiry is that? I don't know what it's like where you're from, but last time I checked, breaking into someone's office was deemed to be invasion of privacy."

"Agent Mulder, we're operating under guidelines laid down by the Office of Professional Conduct."

"And what has that to do with me?"

"I want you to make yourself available this afternoon."

"Available for what?"

"A formal hearing regarding Agent Scully's case to assess and determine Agent Scully's ability to continue as a Special Agent in the FBI. We will be appointing our own team of investigators to pursue any criminal case, so there will be no further need for you to investigate this case."

"Why? In case I can prove her innocence?"

"We expect to see you at the hearing at five p.m. sharp, Agent Mulder."

Mulder was seething, he still could not believe what he'd just heard. He stared at Davis's back as he left the office. The morning light was sober and pale as it filtered through the tiny window close to he ceiling. It made the room seem horribly quiet. He heard the agent's footsteps dying in the hallway.

For a moment everything felt faded, silent, and dangerously calm. Mulder turned back to see what Agent Davis had been examining on his desk. The sight that met his eyes made him shake uncontrollably. There was a black figure crouched in the corner of the room.

He shivered as he recognized the feeling of pure evil, the thing from his dreams. He blinked, and all there was on the chair was his black trench coat, just where he'd carelessly thrown it yesterday, forgetting to take it with him when he went home.

Was he losing it? He felt sure whatever 'it' was *had* been there. He still felt the waves of evil. Their malevolence gradually receded, but the stench of it left him nauseous and trembling and feeling suddenly very cold.

And yet... how could that be? That was it! With one weird thing after another, his nerves were shot to pieces. He'd started imagining things. Impossible things.

With trembling hands he reached for the back of his chair. He sank down onto its comfort, his head on his icy hands, his irregular breathing rasped loud in the stillness. He though of the dreams, his dreams...all those layers of silence on silence. In his nightmares he saw a presence. Were all the broken nights and the strain of all this getting to him?

Shit! He needed help with this, someone to bounce ideas off, someone with objectivity, someone with an open mind, who thought like him, but his partner was in no position to help, and Skinner.... Well even with the best of intent, Skinner wasn't a lateral thinker.

Then he remembered 'the Kid'. He'd worked with Kenny Andrews last fall on a case involving the systematic murder of members of the clergy. Mulder had met up with Kenny in Biloxi Mississippi, when he'd been seconded to VCS to help the young profiler. The kid had his intuitiveness, could see and feel things where other's couldn't.

Kenny was an up and coming profiler extraordinaire. Mulder's position in that case had been mainly to stop Kenny from going in too deeply, and to show him the way out once he'd crossed that line. 'To be spooky, but not lose his marbles'. It was a pity that in the course of that case Mulder was the one who 'lost it' and had shot the younger man at La Guardia airport. Knowing the circumstances, Kenny had easily forgiven him, but would he be willing to work with Mulder again?

Mulder considered various methods as to how to present the issues to Agent Kenneth Andrews, and in the end he decided that the straightforward approach was probably the best. As he searched through to find Andrews' number, he speculated that it wasn't really surprising that Kenny was so intuitive, so in tune with things. The boy had inherited his spirituality both from his Native American mother and his Irish father, and with a combination like that....

When he put the call through asking if Andrews would consider consulting on the case, he expected to have to eat a lot of crow. He was amazed when Kenny, having heard the problem, had simply said, yes. His only proviso was that Mulder lay in a large supply of Coke, but that had been a given anyway.

OFFICE OF PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT
Monday, 5 p.m.

The hearing was every bit of the complete farce that Mulder had expected it to be. They were ushered in through a set of large double doors, where they found an oval table around which several high-ranking members of the FBI sat.

The men at the table leafed through thick folders. God alone knew what they had in front of them. To Mulder it seemed they had both of their histories dating back to their very first day with the FBI. For long moments, the only sound was rustling paper. It was unnerving in the extreme.

Finally, one of the men spoke. "You are familiar with the reason that this inquiry was called?" From that point on, Scully hadn't stood a snowball's chance in hell. She stood before three other agents apart from Davis. The whole process lasted ten minutes from start to finish. The final report had been written long before any of them had stepped into the room. Do the math, Mulder. Did you seriously expect anything else, he silently chided himself.

They suspended her without pay pending investigation. He felt for her as she handed over her badge and her gun. Skinner tried to protect her as best he could. He was all business, the efficient AD in charge. But in this case his stance had gotten him nowhere, the whole thing had been a forgone conclusion. As for himself, Mulder hadn't been allowed to get a word in edgewise.

He saw the gratitude in Scully's eyes that they had been there for her, and he felt her embarrassment at them witnessing her humiliation at being censured in this way.

Looking at Skinner, Mulder saw that the man felt for her pain as much as he did.

Outside he wanted to either put his arms around her or hit someone. In the end he did neither. Skinner pinned him with his gaze, a silent warning not to compromise his partner any further. It was like having a bucket of iced water thrown over him. He had to learn to be patient, to bide his time.

He shared with Skinner the news that Kenny Andrews had agreed to help clear Scully. The A.D. appeared pleased with this bit of news. He remembered the last time those two had worked together.

"So, he's back to active duty then. He must be either very trusting or very foolish," Skinner said with a dry laugh, shaking his head.

"Neither -- for a greenhorn he's good. More than that, he's extraordinary. I explained the situation and he found it very intriguing. Apart from that, he said he owes me a consult. Though why he thinks *he* owes *me* is hard to understand."

ACT II

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Monday, 11:29 p.m.

It wasn't strictly ethical, but hell, they'd only suggested that it wasn't necessary for him to investigate the case. No one ordered him to stop the investigation and certainly no one ordered him to have no contact with his partner. There certainly wasn't anything wrong with him calling her. Mulder needed to hear her voice.

She picked her cell phone up on the fourth ring.

"Yes, Scully," she panted, her voice cracking.

"You're slipping, Scully....Scully? You okay?"

There was a brief silence and then a unsettled sigh. "Scully, are you still there?"

"Mulder.... I needed to hear you. I miss you." He could hear her labored breathing.

"What's wrong? Scully? Have you been crying?" He could still hear the hitch in her breathing. Wrong question, she'd never admit to that. "For God's sake, Scully, talk to me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. I was asleep, I was dreaming..."

"Asleep? It's just barely eleven. Since when have you gone to bed before the late news is off?" he asked, trying to make a joke of it, but failing to hide his concern. "You sure you're okay?" He didn't want to ask about her dream, but it was obviously not a happy one. With all she'd been through these last few days, it was hardly surprising.

"It's been a long day, Mulder. One I don't really care to remember." She trailed off.

As if that was an explanation, Mulder thought. He tried to change the subject, lighten the atmosphere.

"How's Skinner treating you?"

"It was good of him to offer, he's laying a lot on the line here, and I appreciate it.... It's so good just to hear your voice." She paused for a moment. "Mulder, exactly why am I here?"

"Are we talking metaphysics here, Scully?" That was always his line. It was an old answer to an old question, but he knew it never failed to make her smile, and it did this time too, he could hear it. It was the least he could do for her tonight. "Skinner thought by your staying with him, it would ease my mind so I could put all of my energy into investigating this case. And I am, Scully. I'm going to find the killer, I promise." He could hear her relaxing as he talked to her.

"Hey Scully, you remember Kenny Andrews? I asked him to come over so I could bounce ideas off him."

"Who? Oh, you mean 'the Kid'?" she responded with a smile in her voice.

"Yeah, him, we've done a deal. He should be arriving some time tomorrow. It's not a bad deal, a few six-packs of Coke in exchange for support. Say, Scully, could this go down as bribery and corruption?" He could really hear the smile in her voice now.

"You mean he's forgiven you for taking pot shots at him?" There was soft laugh.

"What's to forgive? He, better than most, understood what happened there. He's a good guy. He wants to help and I can't be seen to have anything to do with any of the evidence. I need him to keep an eye on things, to keep me in the loop."

"Mm-hmm" Scully sounded more relaxed now, almost drowsy.

"Hey. G-woman, go to sleep now. I'm only on the other end of the phone."

"G'night, Mulder. And thanks."

He smiled as he heard her yawn. "Catch you later."

"Yeah, later," Scully said.

Sleep was a long time coming to him that night. He never doubted for a moment that Scully had been set up, but why? And by whom? He worried about the way the evidence was pointing; he'd have to see if the security camera showed anything.

He missed her. Missed just being able to talk with her. Missed her questioning him, "Do you have a theory?" Missed being able to answer her with, "Me? I have plenty of theories." He missed having her refute them in the dance that was solely their own. More than anything, he missed the luxury of having her sleep in his arms.

He wasn't conscious of having fallen asleep. All he knew was that he was completely paralyzed. No, not entirely, since he could breathe, he could see. He felt the vibrations through his body, the pain in his spine. He could hear the scrabbling getting louder, coming nearer, neared to the bed. It was pulling on the bedclothes, crawling up the bed. The sound was getting louder, more terrifying.

He could make out the black shape in the moonlight that broke through the gap in the blinds. It moved stealthily towards him, panting. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. He couldn't move, he couldn't throw the weight off his chest. He looked up and saw the creature looming over him. As darkness overpowered him, he screamed and screamed and screamed. And suddenly he was free.

Gradually the ringing in his ears stopped and the vibrating pain eased. He tried to sit up, heart pounding, slapping a blank wall for the light switch as he shook from the horror. Strange shapes, unfamiliar shadows, crowded horribly around him; nothing offered any clue to his whereabouts, and for a few delirious moments he wondered if he was dead.

Then he saw the flashing, demonic red of a digital clock face. Absolute panic subsided as he saw the time, two-thirty. In the streetlight that filtered through the blind, he looked around the room, his room. The bedroom was the same as ever, nothing out of place. Yet he could still smell the rank scent of it. This was more than a dream. The knowledge scared the shit out of him. This wasn't to do with the case.

These occurrences had started before.... Skinner! Skinner had dreamt things once, and look where that had ended. What was it he'd said? "There was a presence, something or someone was in the room with me...." Skinner had dreamt of an old crone, had thought he'd seen her during the day.

Mulder shook his head, rejecting his own rationale. Imagination was a creative tool. He employed it to enhance his work, but never for total fabrication. "At least not before now," he muttered to himself. Was this all more the effects of stress and sleeplessness than he knew? Were his mind and perception so steeped in the conspiracies and lies, that he could no longer distinguish reality?

Did he want to consider the fantastic? He had once told Scully to consider the fantastic when science failed; but had he considered science at all? It worried him that he turned to this so readily in an effort to make sense of what was senseless. He got up and found his clothes. He dressed as best he could while his hands still shook then went out into the kitchen to get himself some coffee. Another night's sleep curtailed.

MULDER'S OFFICE
Tuesday, 6:45 a.m.

He was going through his old notes and files, pulling up all he could on that incident five years ago, when Skinner was going through the divorce with Sharon. Then, his supervisor had been accused of murdering Carina Sayles.

He pulled up the name of the sleep clinic that had treated Skinner. In the cold light of day, it seemed very sensible to Mulder to not only check the place out, but maybe check himself in. Maybe someone there could explain his recurring dream to him, and hopefully, rid him of it. "Do the science *first* Mulder, then consider the fantastic. Scully would be proud of you."

The chirping of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts.

"Mulder." Out of sheer habit, he was expecting to hear his partner's voice. He leaned back in his chair, the bones in his back crackling.

"Hey, Mulder. Kenny Andrews, here. How you doing, Man? Did I wake you?"

"Oh, hi, Andrews. No, I'm working." Mulder massaged the back of his neck as he spoke to Kenny.

"You sound disappointed Mulder. Look, could you do me a favor? My flight should be into National at 2:50 this afternoon. Can you pick me up?"

"Yeah, no problem, I'll wait for you at the gate."

"That'll be great. See you later."

"Yeah, later. Oh, and thanks, Kid."

Mulder wondered how he was going to explain all this to the young profiler, especially as he himself couldn't get a handle on it.

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
SLEEP DISORDER CLINIC
Tuesday 10:30 a.m.

"Hi, Dr. Cardoso. We spoke on the phone. I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. Thank you for making time to see me at such short notice."

"It's no problem, Mr. Mulder, this is a sort of slack time for us here. Business doesn't pick up till late in this department," he said with a wry grin. How may I help you Mr. Mulder? What is it exactly that you're after?"

"It's just Mulder. Um, I need to find out more about sleep disorders, recurring dreams, especially nightmares, that sort of thing."

"Anything specific?"

"Well, er..."

"Tell you what Mulder, I'll give you a general rundown, and you just tell me what else you need. Feel free to ask about anything you don't understand."

She led Mulder over to a bank of monitor screens, explaining as she went. She threw out terms like 'parasomnia' and the various types of sleep, such as non-REM sleep and REM sleep. The doctor went into detail about their differences. Finally, Dr. Cardosa began to speak of an aspect of sleep that really caught Mulder's attention.

"There is a rare type of frightening phenomenon during sleep which is not quite like a nightmare. It's called 'night terrors' or 'parvor nocturnus'. This is a severe sleep disturbance, consisting of attacks of acute terror arising in deep sleep without lucid dreaming. It's accompanied by violent body movements, extreme agitation, gasping, moaning, screaming, sweating, confusion and in some cases, flight from the bed or the room, destructive behaviour and aggression directed towards objects or against themselves or other persons. Wounds, fractures and lesions may occur in consequence. Total or partial amnesia is symptomatic of this condition."

"Are there exceptions to this rule? Could the dreamer have total recall of such dreams?

"Humm, I suppose there could be a possibility, but I've never heard of a case to be honest."

She moved over to a shelf and selected another video.

"Look, you can see with this young man. Here, the dreamer wakes up screaming and still frightened; he is covered with perspiration and is breathing rapidly. He is terrified, but has no recollection of what has just happened. Nightmares can be defined as long frightening dreams that often awake the sleeper, which tend to be more frequent during times of stress and change. In contrast, night terrors are episodes of panic that may cause the sleeper to suddenly sit up and shriek with fear. Mostly they are instigated by over-tiredness or stress."

"So I lose every which way," Mulder muttered to himself.

"Did you say something?"

"Em... sorry, no, just thinking aloud. I understand about the two different scenarios, but is it possible to experience a mixture of the two?"

"Yes there have been rare cases recorded. There have been instances where the paralyzing effect has not kicked in, and people have acted on their dreams, sometimes with tragic consequences, but as I've said, it's most unusual."

"And these nightmares, terrors, whatever, is it possible to see them in your waking hours?"

"Mmm, it's hard to say. I suppose given a high enough level of stress. The mind is a strange thing."

"How about shared dreams? Is that a possibility?"

"Ah, now, that's a different matter. It's a bit like God really, whether you believe or not, each person has a different picture in their heads. Shared idea, different perception."

It was almost 2 p.m. before he was finished at Bethesda. He had just enough time to get over to National Airport before Kenny's plane landed. Driving along the George Washington Memorial Parkway, Mulder considered how much things had changed since he last worked with Andrews. He was looking forward to seeing him again, and having someone ground some of his ideas. Without Scully's calming influence, he was afraid that some of his ideas were getting too 'out there' for his own good.

MURDER SCENE
Tuesday, 4:15 p.m.

Mulder hadn't had any difficulty spotting Kenny in the Arrivals area of the airport. With his mixed heritage, his looks were both unusual and striking. His ink- black, curly hair was longer now than when they had first worked as a team. This, together with his light copper skin, high cheekbones and angular nose, contrasted sharply with his soft, sky-blue eyes.

Mulder explained the difficulties and constraints of the case to Kenny as they drove from the airport. There was a great deal to go on. Kenny wanted to see Marcus Lowry's apartment and Mulder decided to swing by there on the way through. Seemed like Skinner must have done some ground work, as no one questioned their right to be there.

"Thanks for coming down, Andrews. You didn't have to, and I want you to know that I appreciate it. We both do," Mulder told Kenny as they moved through the apartment.

"It's no trouble, Mulder, I'm only glad you think I can be of help."

In the now bare bedroom they paused. The body had of course been removed, but the feel of death, the coppery smell of blood was still very apparent in the apartment. Even as they were looking at the crime scene, Mulder looked out of a window and spotted a pretty girl delivering flowers. She stopped to talk to the officer stationed at the entrance to the building.

When later, they stopped to talk to the officer on duty outside, they found out it was Annelise the waitress, Lowry's girlfriend. This was getting to be intriguing.

TIEMPO CLUB
Tuesday, 7:20 p.m.

Mulder and Kenny caught up with Annelise at the Tiempo Club later that evening. She was prepared and willing to talk to them about Marcus. She didn't seem as upset as Mulder supposed she might be. The reason for this became clearer as she spoke.

"He was a friend. This bunch here liked to tease me that he was my boyfriend, but he was a friend, that's all. We did have a 'thing' going but that was for a very short time and some time ago. He'd broken off with his regular girlfriend and he'd been drinking. Well, one thing led to another, but it was one time, fun while it lasted. He came in here mostly for company I suppose. And we used to sit and talk if it wasn't busy. He'd wait for me and take me home on the nights he was in. I suppose that's why most people assumed we were an item."

"So, why did you bring flowers to the apartment today?" Kenny asked her.

"It just seemed the fitting thing to do. He was a friend, and he didn't have anyone else."

"He had no family?"

"They were non-existent for all intents and purposes."

"Last Friday, can you remember if Marcus spoke to anyone else?" Mulder asked.

"Things were a bit hectic. Apart from the regular Friday-nighters, there was a bachelorette party here. It was all hands on deck here that night I can tell you. I did see him talking briefly to a petite, redheaded woman. Actually, she was really good looking. They chatted as she waited for an order of drinks but that was it as far as I know. I can't say I remember seeing her again that night."

"So what happened when you went off-duty?" Mulder asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't Marcus see you home?" Kenny inquired.

"No, he got fed up waiting. The noise was getting to him, he just said goodnight and split; said he'd call me, but he never had a chance to...."

After they'd finished in the club, Mulder called Skinner's apartment. "Sir? Just finished talking to Annelise. She's corroborated what Scully told us, and I've got Kenny Andrews here."

Skinner interrupted. "The pair of you come over. I'd appreciate a heads up before we go any further. We need to trade notes and I'd like the chance to talk with Kenny. Besides which, Scully needs cheering up." Skinner sounded almost grateful.

"Give us half an hour. We'll bring some Chinese in with us."

"Yeah, do that. Scully will appreciate the visit."

VIVA TOWER, CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA
Skinner's Apartment Tuesday, 8:30 p.m.

"Mulder, Andrews, come on in." Mulder was surprised at how pleased his boss seemed to see them.

"Did you have a good flight, Agent Andrews?" the AD continued.

"Yes, Sir, it was fine, thank-you."

"Good, good." Skinner said, nodding. "Have you had time to familiarize yourself with the case?"

Mulder was amazed. Making small talk was so unlike the Skinner he knew so well, he almost sounded nervous. Mulder immediately banished the idea. Skinner all but grabbed the take out bags from them as they came in through his door.

"Would you like a beer, Kenny? Come through to the kitchen and give me a hand serving this up."

Kenny started up the hallway. Mulder stood in the hallway needing to see his partner, and wondering how to go about it. "I need to...." He bit his lip, not knowing how to go on.

Skinner hooked a thumb towards the other door. "Go ahead, she's in there," he said, gently. Skinner was cutting the pair of them some slack.

"Yeah, thanks." Smiling gratefully, if a little embarrassed, Mulder opened the door and stepped into the living room. Skinner's furniture was dark wood - a desk, bookcases. All very pristine. Mulder remembered the curved balcony that this room led out on to. The white railings were just visible in the dark night outside, as was the panorama of the lights of Crystal City and its surroundings.

He turned his head to the center of the room. Scully was on the sofa, her face ran a gamut of expressions as she looked up and saw who it was that had come in.

"C'mere, Scully."

He opened his arms to her and she was in them, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it.

"Oh, Scully. I've missed you."

Normally she'd never allow this anywhere outside their homes. He wasn't sure if she would now, but he needed to hold her. Though she was not one for public demonstrations of affection, now was different. For a moment, she was silent and burrowed against him. He held her close, savoring the feel of her in his arms, while inhaling her fragrance.

"Just hold me, Mulder, that's all I need."

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Always, Scully, always. It'll be okay. We'll sort this thing out."

"I wish I could believe that. I'm really trying, Mulder."

"You *do* trust me on this?"

"Only you."

"The Kid's here to give us a hand. Another few days.... I promise."

She lifted her fingers to his mouth. "Shh, Mulder, don't say anything. This is enough for now." Her fingers stroked his face. "You're a good man Mulder."

There was a discreet coughing outside the door, and they sprang apart as Skinner and Kenny walked in bearing filled plates.

"Look Scully, matching crockery." Mulder said in mock amazement, trying to ease her embarrassment and his own. Scully couldn't help the smile.

"Agents? The joke?"

"'Fraid you'll have to excuse my partner, Sir, he's got no finesse. Or matching plates," she added, grinning.

"Scully?" Mulder whined, managing a theatrical puzzled look. "Have I got *any* plates?"

The ice was broken. They spent the next few hours eating, talking, making plans and going over what they'd come up with so far. Mulder didn't say anything at all to anyone about his nightmares. No point worrying Scully, she had problems enough of her own.

That Scully got on well with Kenny made Mulder glad. Some of Kenny's tales brought a smile to her lips.

Mulder looked at the twenty-five year old agent, and wondered if he'd really ever looked as young and guileless as Kenny looked now. He must be getting old, someone had once said that was how you knew -- when policemen started looking as if they were still in high school. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

Mulder and Skinner, and Scully to a lesser extent, filled Kenny in on all their non-findings. Mulder noticed how their boss's eyes kept roaming over to where he and Scully sat next to each other on the sofa. Being in each other's presence was an unexpected bonus, they shouldn't have touched each other but nevertheless, every now and then their hands would meet on the no-man's-land between them, and their fingers would twine. Mulder was surprised to see an indulgent smile on the older man's face.

Skinner surprised them with the information that the video tapes from Lowry's building showed nothing at all, literally. At the time they assumed the attack was taking place there must have been some sort of an electrical disturbance. The video film merely displayed a 'snow' effect.

Later, Mulder went out to the kitchen with Skinner to help bring in the coffee.

"By the way, Sir, thanks for easing Kenny in. I thought we'd have grief at the crime scene, but the local PD was expecting him."

"It's the least I could do in the circumstances, Mulder."

"Truthfully, Sir, how's she doing? I, umm...."

"I understand. She's restless. She didn't sleep very well last night either. I suspect Scully's never been one to enjoy being cooped up with nothing to do. Hopefully this won't be for much longer. She's even started cleaning the place."

Mulder felt his eyes rolling upwards and a grin threatened to split his face. "Yes, *that* can be quite trying," he said nodding in sympathy.

They all knew this time out of time was over. They had to get back to dealing with the realities.

When it was time for them to leave, Skinner took Kenny out with him, giving Mulder and Scully a few moments on their own to say goodbye.

"Skinner's getting very thoughtful in his old age, don't you agree?" Scully asked softly.

"Mmm. Yes, he's definitely mellowing." Mulder hugged her fiercely to him. Her arms wound around his waist as he gently tilted her face up to his and kissed her softly on the mouth. He traced a path over her cheeks with his fingers and, while still cupping her face in his hands. Finally, he closed her eyes with his thumbs.

"Hold that thought, Scully," he whispered and then dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose as an afterthought. Breathing unsteadily, he eased back from her.

Scully stood in the center of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes tightly shut as he left her.

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Wednesday, 12:15 a.m.

No matter how hard he tried, the thoughts of Scully couldn't hold his demons at bay. Her words kept running through his head over and over like stuck record.

"I had this dream... awake or asleep.... I had this awful feeling of emptiness, of loss as if something very precious had been taken away from me...."

In deference to Kenny, who was now softly snoring in the bedroom, Mulder didn't switch his TV on. It had been a very long day for the fledging profiler, and he didn't have Mulder's odd inner body clock.

Mulder squirmed around on the couch, trying to make himself comfortable. He was physically and mentally exhausted. He'd kept a front up during the evening for Scully's sake. Now alone, in the semidarkness, he wished more than anything, for a restful few hours; that and her in his arms. But then, the two things were synonymous.

A soft swishing sound in the corner of the room caught his attention, like cloth dragged along the floor. A patter, as if there was a mouse or a rat in the corner. The scrabbling got louder, coming nearer, a small dark shape, or was it a shadow, flitted around the room, first here, then over there. It seemed to grow in intensity, in darkness. He couldn't judge now if it were just a shadow, or a growing shape with illogically no shadow at all. Could it be an animal. Part of his brain was questioning this statement. What would an animal be doing in his apartment? How can a black object increase in darkness? He could make out the black shape.

He started to get up to investigate, but his legs felt leaden. He couldn't stir. He was unable to move at all, not even his head. He could see the shape only when it flitted across his field of vision, getting nearer and neared to the couch. Fear spiraled, clutching at his throat, his ragged breath felt icy against his lips.

Something was pulling on the blanket, the shifting weight moved up the cushions, crawling up toward him. The sound was getting louder, more intense, more menacing.

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. He couldn't move, he couldn't throw the weight off his chest. Its fists against his shoulders, it held him down. He saw the misshapen face looming over him, its breath rancid, coming in gasps that scorched his cheek, made his stomach turn. The pressure around his neck, squeezing, throttling, the misshapen fingers, clawing at his throat. His eyes threatened to pop from their sockets.

Darkness overpowered him, the breath sucked out of him. Scully! Oblivion threatened to crush him and he fought the malevolence with all the strength he had left in him. He felt his fist connecting with something, then he heard the grunt of pain in the darkness, followed by gasp.

In the semidarkness he saw the shape again, scuttling with a crab-like gait. Mulder twisted around on the couch to try to reach his gun. It was all around him, he could sense it, smell it, taste it. This presence was evil personified. It made his gut heave.

An arm closed around his wrist like a vise, dragging him back. The body that held him down was solid, heavier than before. Suddenly it rolled and a light snapped on.

"Dammit, Mulder! Wake up! Ya gotta wake up!" Kenny pleaded.

Kenny's frustration evaporated as he saw Mulder's helpless panic. Seeing Kenny standing to the side of him, nursing a bloody nose brought Mulder back to the present.

"Kenny? Shit, I'm sorry."

"I heard you screaming and came in to see what the matter was. So, it seems all I ever do is get assaulted for my troubles. Jeez, Mulder," he said, with a rueful smile, "I'd hate to be your enemy, if this is how you treat your friends."

Kenny looked at his former mentor. Mulder felt the terror receding, gradually ebbing away but apprehension still lingered, even now with the light on.

Kenny instinctively seemed to know. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nah...yes...I don't know. It's only some damn fool nightmare. Been overdoing it, that's all."

"Yeah, like I believe you. Look, Mulder, it's 'Spooky, Junior' you're talking to here, so cut the crap and talk. What did you dream? Something was here. I thought it was you when I first came in...but there was something else in here, I swear....I felt it, it gave me the creeps. It's cold in here!" Kenny shivered.

"Leave it, Kenny, we're both overreacting. I've been under a lot of strain recently, and you're ready to drop with fatigue. Not very good witness material, either of us."

But Mulder knew better than to try to BS his friend, so he explained what he'd been experiencing over the past week.

"So you mean that this started *before* your partner's arrest?"

"Yeah, a couple of days before, but it was never as bad as this. It's escalating. It seems so real... It scares the living daylights out of me." Mulder couldn't help the shudder that shook him.

Kenny took a long look at the older man. "Hey, Mulder, What have you done to your neck? You've got scratches all around your throat."

Mulder's fingers went up to touch the sore area. They came away spotted with blood.

It took a while for them to clean themselves up and try to fix the damage Mulder had done to Kenny's nose. It was sometime later before they managed to settle back into their respective sleeping quarters.

ACT III

WEDNESDAY, 3:46 a.m.

In the hours before dawn Mulder woke from a deep sleep. He saw the room was still dark, and shuffled back until he felt the back of the couch comfortably press against the small of his back. He did not know why he had awakened until the phone rang a second time, startling him back into consciousness. He fumbled in the semi- dark to find the instrument.

"This had better be important," he snarled into the receiver.

"It is. I'm sorry to wake you." Mulder recognized Walter Skinner's voice. He also recognized the deadly urgency in his tone. He sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed a hand over his rough chin.

"What's wrong? His tone became concerned. Silence hummed over the line, broken by intermittent static.

"There's a problem," Skinner said, breaking the silence.

"What problem? Scully?" Mulder's hand gripped the receiver so tightly the plastic nearly cracked.

"Scully's fine, she's asleep."

"So what's happened? What do you want me to do?"

"I need for you and Agent Andrews to get over here, now. There's been a development."

"Sir?"

"Just get over here, I can't discuss this over the phone."

"We're on our way," he told his superior.

VIVA TOWER, CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA
Skinner's Apartment
Wednesday, 4:30 a.m.

The AD was waiting for them at the door when they arrived. Skinner looked hard at the agents as they entered. Almost imperceptibly his piecing gaze shifted from Mulder to Kenny and back to Mulder. Skinner let out a sigh, a questioning look on his face. He eyes never left Mulder.

"You look like hell, Mulder," Skinner said as he led them into his living room.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"Try not sleeping at all."

"Hmm. You and Andrews had a disagreement?"

"Sir?"

Skinner looked pointedly at Kenny's swollen face and then at Mulder's neck.

"You know the Bureau's policy on agents brawling?"

"It's not what you think, Sir."

"I sincerely hope not, Agent."

"I was dreaming, Kenny came in to see what the noise was about, and I'm afraid I overreacted."

Skinner appeared to have lost interest in that conversation. They entered the room.

"Please, take a seat. Would you like coffee? I've just made some."

Mulder took a sip of his coffee as he sat on the couch. He used the movement to surreptitiously glance at his companions who sat on dark wood chairs at the side of him. Skinner looked as though he'd got dressed in a hurry and Kenny... well, the Kid just looked tired, bruised, and battered.

"So, Sir, what's come up? You said when you called, there'd been a development. Is Scully finally off the hook?"

"No, I'm afraid things look as if they're escalating."

Skinner unhooked his eye glasses and polished them vigorously on the edge of his white t-shirt. For some reason, this action always made Mulder anxious. He'd learned that the man only ever did this when he felt stressed. It was almost as if his superior was buying time, trying to find the right words. Skinner's eyes without the glasses were blind, unwavering and surprisingly compassionate.

"Escalating? How so?" Mulder asked.

"Annelise Gates, the girl you interviewed yesterday."

"Yes?"

"She's dead."

"Dead? How...? Why...?"

"She died under the wheels of the 11:50 Metro train on her way home at the end of her shift tonight. Thank your lucky stars that you had Kenny with you when you interviewed her. It could have looked bad as the prime suspect's partner being the last to see her alive.

"The local police force is covering the station, interviewing the witnesses. The platform was crowded. That was the last train out; a lot of people were trying to get home. At the moment the opinion seems evenly split between her jumping and being pushed. Get yourselves down there and see what else you can pick up."

The telephone at Skinner's elbow rang. As he listened, his face was grave, his comments terse. When the receiver clattered back into position, he addressed the men who waited.

"We might have a break. They're looking to see if the security cameras picked anything up."

Kenny and Mulder turned to leave.

"You're a good agent, Mulder- trust your instincts. But Mulder, for the sake of us all, especially your partner, keep a low profile. We don't need any more attention focused on us. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal." Mulder paused for moment. "Umm, I was thinking about what you said earlier. Would you do something for me?" Mulder ground to a halt, unsure how to phrase his request.

"You need me to do something," Skinner prompted with surprising patience given the circumstances.

"Uhm...yeah...er...would you to give this to Scully when she wakes up...it may cheer her up."

Mulder took out a small rectangular package, wrapped in a green plastic sack out of his coat pocket and held it out to Skinner.

Skinner's face softened as much as it could as he nodded.

"I'll see to it that she gets it, Mulder."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing."

J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
VIDEO PROCESSING DEPT.
Wednesday, 8:45 a.m.

They'd returned from the train station with little more information than they'd arrived with. But it seemed they'd finally caught a break. The incident was recorded on camera, but the images were not as clear as they would have liked. The two agents were on their way to see Mulder's technician friend to see if he could improve on the imaging.

"Hey, Danny, long time no see. We really need the favor. Wonder if you could help us out on this."

Mulder handed over the video cassette. Danny had managed to create miracles on previous occasions, especially that time Scully had been abducted. He was a whiz with computers, digital enhancement, the works. If anyone could pull clear pictures off this, Danny would be the guy to do it.

"Look, guys, this may take an hour or two, I'll need to get this freeze-framed, enlarged, whatever. The pair of you look bushed, why don't you go get yourselves cleaned up, grab something to eat. I'll call your cell phone just as soon as I've got anything."

"Yeah, right. What's it gonna cost us this time?"

"The Redskins are playing at the Jack Kent Cook Stadium in two weeks time, I could sure use a couple of prime tickets for that."

"Okay Danny, you're on, but for that, this had better be good."

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Wednesday, 9:15 a.m.

His phone rang in the living room just as Mulder and Kenny stepped through the door. Mulder moved swiftly across the room to get to the phone before the machine picked up.

"Mulder?"

"Right here, Scully."

"I just wanted to say thanks. I appreciated the loan."

"You're welcome, Scully." It always amazed Mulder how even just the sound of his partner's voice could lighten his spirit.

"You shouldn't have done it, Mulder, but thank you. I know how much that video means to you. I mean, Caddyshack *is* your favorite, along with some of those videos that aren't yours."

He grinned before answering her. "I didn't think you'd appreciate *those* ones. I just thought.... Thinking about it, I'm too tired to remember what I thought, other than it seemed like a good idea at the time." All of a sudden he felt a little shy. He changed the subject. "How you doing, Scully?"

"Other than being bored and going stir crazy? I think I'm doing just fine. How much daytime TV can a person watch before finally flipping out? You know, I'd even be happy to do some expense reports right now."

"Mmm. Things are *that* bad, are they?"

"Yeah, even flukemen are beginning to be appealing. Mulder? Skinner told me about Annelise. I'm getting a bad feeling about this. And yes, I know that's usually your department, but just be careful, 'kay? I can't be there to cover your back. I-I wish there was something I could do. Being confined is doing my head in and Skinner is so organized that there isn't anything for me to do. I even thought I'd help out a little by cleaning up a bit, but I get the impression I'm beginning to drive the guy nuts."

"I'll be careful, I promise. I'm even gonna have breakfast and a rest before I get back to the grindstone, how about that, hmm? As to flukemen, I'll see what I can find for you." He heard her laugh. "Gotta go, Scully. Talk to you later."

After he and Kenny had eaten, Mulder showered. He was dragging a razor around his face when the call came through on his cell.

"Danny here, I've got it looking as good as it gets. Come over and take a look."

FBI BUILDING.
VIDEO PROCESSING DEPT.
Wednesday, 1:10 p.m.

"I have to admit, usually at this point in the investigation, I'm a little more secure in what it is that we're supposed to be investigating. I'm hoping you'll be able to throw some light on all of this, Danny."

"I've done the best I can with this, boss. It's freeze- framed, digitally enhanced, blown up, slowed down. You name it, I've done it. Here, let me show you."

Danny ran the video via the computer onto a large overhead screen.

"Look, there she is, the train comes in, she lunges forward; she's down."

"Let's see that again. Look, look just there. That shadow. See? It seems to move towards Annelise. Just before she goes into the lunge, it recedes. Just there! Do you see what I mean?"

Danny ran the clip over a few times. Kenny shivered.

"Hey, Kid? You cold?"

"No, just felt like someone walked over my grave. Guess it's the lack of sleep getting to me that's making me jumpy. It's no big deal."

"Danny, can you blow this up further, slow it down some more?"

"Comin' right up, Mulder."

He fiddled with the settings, muttering to himself.

"What do *you* think happened, Mulder? Did she jump, or was she pushed?" Kenny inquired.

Danny was finally finished with the adjustments.

"Jeez!" Mulder couldn't believe what he was seeing here.

"Run that again!" He all but shouted at the technician.

"Look, Kenny, are my eyes deceiving me? Do I think I see what I think I see?

At this magnification and speed, the shadow had materialized into a shape, a familiar shape, a shape that haunted him in his nightmares night after night. They could clearly see it approaching Annelise, just as the train was drawing level with her, they could see her propelled forward by the black draped form, before it turned and retreated.

"Christ!" gasped Kenny. "I don't believe this! What the hell is that?"

"She was pushed! It pushed Annelise under the goddamned train! It's out and out murder! Kenny that's what I keep seeing, at night. That's the thing, the crone. Shit! Kenny I can't get my head around this."

"Mulder? Hey, are you okay, you're as white as a sheet."

Mulder ignored him.

"Danny, can you print off a hard copy of that image for me?"

"Sure thing, Mulder. Do you want me to record the clip at this speed and magnification?"

"Is that possible?"

"For you, Mulder, anything."

Mulder managed to get the AD on his private line and explained to Skinner what Danny had found.

"Sir? Listen, you've just got to get down here and see this. You're not gonna believe it. I barely can. I think this case has just graduated from plain homicide to an X-File. Please get over here and take a look for yourself."

As they waited for Skinner to come down, Kenny asked Mulder quietly, "Have you told anyone about your dreams?"

"Nah. It's not like anyone else would believe me."

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Wednesday, 10:15 p.m.

Mulder lay on his couch. Kenny had already hit the sack. Ahh, these youngsters, they just haven't got the stamina, he thought, grinning.

It had been an extremely busy afternoon and evening. In the light of the new evidence, strange as it was, a lot of things had been re-examined. Suddenly Mulder wasn't quite the persona non grata he'd been before. It's nice to know I'm so highly regarded, he thought to himself. He had no illusions as to the reason for his suddenly elevated status. All this had deepened the mystery further, but at least they couldn't try to lay the blame for Annelise's death on Scully. This in turn put a different slant on the original killing.

He and Kenny had done a lot of legwork during the afternoon, revisiting the various locations. Signing and resigning for various bits of evidence. There was one surprise for them when they went back to Lowry's apartment. Mulder had overlooked it before as it didn't seem to have any bearing on the case at the time. In he living room there was a framed etching on the wall. The print, when it caught his eye, stopped Mulder dead in his tracks.

Kenny looked up at the print. "Henry Fusili, 18th Century Italian painter. One of my professors of psychology was very heavily into art. I remember having to listen to his lectures. He'd illustrate much of his lessons with various paintings. This was one of his favorites. He had this theory that this showed our subconscious fears. The demon, crone, whatever that is sitting on the young woman's chest is a presentiment of death. See how the girl appears either unconscious or dead? He said it was fear that caused such dreams."

He looked over at Mulder who was feeling physically sick. It must have showed.

"Mulder? Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure I'm awake."

"You think this is a dream?"

"That's it, Kenny. This is what I see in my dreams, it's what I *feel*. But it's evil, Kenny, pure evil. Why do I keep seeing it? Why me? There are too many coincidences, but I can't see what my connection to all this is. I feel that somehow it knows me. I feel as though it's stalking me."

Kenny hadn't known what to say to that, but his face had told Mulder all he needed to know -- he was finally losing it.

Now, as he lay on his couch trying to rest, Mulder thought back to the incident with Skinner years back. There was a woman in his dreams too, an ancient elder, a crone; but strangely enough that one had seemed oddly protective of the man. Maybe he should talk to Skinner about this, but he couldn't see his boss opening up enough to discuss this with him.

There was nothing protective about the images that haunted Mulder's nights and intruded into his days. This was pure malevolence, something he was sure would enjoy taking his life if he let his guard slip.

He left the desk light on. It softly illuminated his living room, chasing his fears away. Maybe tonight he would be able to rest.

Mulder shot up on the couch, the air was filled with Scully's cries, cries of pure terror. His heart raced, and it took him a moment to grasp where he was. He was in his living room, lying on his couch in an uncomfortable position. Scully wasn't here, Scully was safe in Skinner's apartment.

The darkness hovering over Scully was just a dream, a figment of his imagination. The light was still on, and for a few seconds he lay motionless, trying to recapture the moments just before he'd woken up. He rubbed the waffle pattern the cushion had left on his cheek.

As he remembered, his breathing accelerated. Scully was in danger. He could feel her panic, so close, so close. Mulder wasn't sure what had happened. The sense of dread that had come over him steadily grew. Something was desperately wrong. He *had* to get to her. He got up and quietly started to pull his clothes on.

His cell phone sounded. He picked it up after the first ring.

"Mulder."

"Sorry to wake you."

"Scully? Is she all right? I dreamed...."

"My God," breathed the A.D. "That's impossible!" For a moment Skinner seemed to stunned to continue, then he appeared to think better of it. "How...? Y-you'd better get over here Mulder. She needs you, and you're the only one she's likely to listen to."

"What?"

"I'll explain when you get here, she's safe, but she's very upset." Skinner sounded distressed too. This more than anything else troubled Mulder.

"I'm on my way."

He stopped for only long enough to leave a note for Kenny.

ACT IV

CRYSTAL CITY
Skinner's Apartment
Thursday, 2:10 a.m.

As Mulder squinted against the glare of the headlights as he drove along the Jefferson Davis Memorial Highway toward Skinner's apartment, he couldn't help worrying.

Worrying? Shit, he was frantic. He looked down and saw his hands, white knuckled on the steering wheel. He hadn't even noticed the speed he was doing until he looked at the gauges to see the speedometer wavered between 85 and 90. What was he doing, he chided himself. He eased his foot off the gas a little and slowed down. All he needed now was a run in with the police.

For once his good fortune held. Luckily, at this time of night there was not much traffic. He pulled off the JD Highway in front of Skinner's glassy tower building.

It took him minutes to park the car and like forever to get up to the AD's front door. An uncharacteristically flustered Skinner opened the door to him, dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Mulder could see something was seriously wrong. Skinner's jaw was so tight, Mulder could almost see him grinding his teeth. There was a scratch mark on his cheek; the one on his arm was oozing slightly.

"Mulder, she's through there." Relief was evident on Skinner's face.

"Sir, what the hell happened here?" Mulder saw Skinner's Sig Sauer lying on the small table in the hallway. "Are you okay, Sir? You don't look too well."

"I just can't stop shaking. I must have been in a deep sleep, when I heard her screaming. My first thought was that there was an intruder, I drew my weapon automatically. She was standing outside my bedroom, it was dark and she just screamed, and then something brushed past me, black, soft. I felt...I-I can't describe *what* I felt. Danger, revulsion?" Skinner paused to catch his breath.

"Scully was totally out of it. She didn't seem to recognize me or know where she was. That's when I called you, Mulder. She's calmer now. At first, when I tried to lead her back to her room, she just went for me. She fought me, she was afraid of me. Then she sort of sagged and crumpled. I had to carry her back to her bed. She's been whimpering in the corner ever since. I don't understand what happened here.... I don't know what to do. She doesn't seem to know me."

Mulder was shocked to see the fatigue and anxiety evident in his boss's body posture, and for once he didn't try to mask it by assuming the A.D. mantle.

Mulder could see how very uncomfortable Skinner was with the situation. Was there something he wasn't telling Mulder? He kept fiddling with his eyeglasses, taking them off to polish on his t-shirt, before replacing them again only to remove them to rub his eyes.

"Uh, I need to see her, I need to talk to her..."

"It's okay, Mulder, do what you need to do. I'll leave the two of you alone. She'll be better with you. To be honest she scared the shit out of me." This admission in itself was enough to push Mulder's anxiety a few notched higher.

"Look, if you need anything, you know where the kitchen is, just make yourself at home. I'll make myself scarce. I'll most likely only upset her again if she sees me again tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

Mulder could have sworn his boss added "Good luck."

Outside her room, Mulder ran a hand through his hair And tried to work out what had happened here. Scully was rarely out of control, practically unflappable, as was their boss. Whatever had taken place here tonight had really shaken them both up.

Softly he tapped on the door. Not waiting for an answer, he went in. He was stunned by the state of his partner. She was huddled up, cringing in the corner of the bed but at least the whimpering had stopped.

"Hey, Scully. I'm here now. It's going to be all right." He tried to keep his voice quiet and reassuring.

She nodded as she recognized him, but her quivering lower lip and tear-filled eyes told him that she didn't yet share his believe that every thing would be okay.

He knelt beside her, by the side of the bed and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"Feel like talking, Scully?"

She didn't answer him at first. He saw the lone tear break free and trail down her cheek. She shook her head.

There would be plenty of time later for talk, explanations. At this moment, all Scully really needed was to be held. He couldn't deny her that. He moved over onto the bed and gathered her trembling form into his arms. At first she resisted his touch, almost as if she were afraid of him, then slowly, slowly the tension in her eased.

He sat down, pulling her gently towards him and rocked her. He wasn't sure which of them needed this contact more. He could feel all tension leaving him as he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. He didn't know how long they sat like that. Finally she moved in his arms, pulling away.

"You're going to be okay," he assured. He was loath to let her go, but she needed her space, needed to put the veneer of composure around herself. It was just the way she was.

"Yeah, I'm just...I'm just going to take a shower and then, well, try to sleep."

He looked down at her upset face, but wasn't surprised at her denial of the situation, they were masters of it after all.. "Scully, let me in, let me help you."

But it was as if she hadn't heard nor wanted to hear. He decided not to pursue this tonight.

"You want something hot to drink, Scully?"

She nodded. "Thanks, Mulder."

"Always... you know that." He smiled at her as he headed toward the kitchen.

ACT V

"Easy, Scully. Relax. It was just a dream." His fingers gently stroked her cheek, bringing warming blood back to the icy flesh. Still swimming towards consciousness, she turned towards his comforting touch. After an age she opened her eyes.

Mulder sat on her bed wearing only his jeans, his eyes red from lack of sleep. He pulled her into in his arms.

It had just turned four when the sound of her voice roused him out of the heavy dreamless sleep he'd been in. He'd rushed in from the couch in the living room, glad she hadn't woken Skinner up. She continued to whimper, trapped in her dreams. "C'mon, Scully, it's okay, I have you now."

She pulled him tighter to herself. She began to shake, her teeth chattering.

"Can you tell me, Scully? Tell me what's upsetting you."

Slowly she shook her head against his chest. She was well and truly spooked, but she wasn't ready to share with him, and he couldn't, wouldn't push her.

"I'm not u-usually like this," she murmured. "I'm always so g-good at ...at coping, but this..." She broke off, her gaze clinging to his. "S-sorry. This isn't your problem."

"You're okay. It's okay," Mulder repeated over and over as he rocked her slowly in his arms. "You're safe, now, I'm here, and it *is* my problem. I won't let anything hurt you."

"Don't go," she pleaded.

"I won't leave you, ever," Mulder answered. He hesitated, then loosened his hold slightly so he could scoot underneath the blankets next to her. She clung on to him.

"Shh, It's okay, it's okay. Come on, put your head down, you need to sleep."

"I saw it Mulder," she whispered. "I saw the blood, it was everywhere. I-I think I was g-gonna hurt S- Skinner." This disclosure sent an involuntary shiver through him, compounding the chaos that reigned in his head.

"Shh, Scully it was a dream, it was only a bad dream, that's all."

He gathered her close to him, the soft cotton of her pajamas brushed against his skin. Right, this felt so right, the feel of her against his body. He lowered his mouth to her and felt her hands move into his hair, pressing him closer to herself. "I need to hold you, Scully, to touch you."

"I need you too Mulder, but Skinner... we can't... not here..." she began to edge away from him.

Mulder shifted, then lifted her, leaning her back against his chest, trapping her between his spread legs.

"But I...."

"Shh, " he said nuzzling her neck. "Let me touch you Scully, let me hold you, please. Let me make you feel better." His hand trailed down to the waistband of her green plaid pajamas and she made a soft mewing sound. He let his fingers roam over her, caressing, reassuring. She jerked as if startled. It was so good touching her. For now this was enough for him. His mouth on hers absorbed the little sounds she was making. And still he held her, enjoying the weight of her as she covered him like a blanket.

Finally she craned her head so she could see his face. He smiled up at her.

"Go to sleep, Scully," he ordered in a gruff voice. "I'll keep the nightmares away."

She smiled. "Mmm."

She slept.

Mulder lay on his back, one arm flung across his face, grateful for the darkness. Scully's cheek was a gentle weight on his shoulder, as she lay against him. He breathed in, filling his lungs, aware of the faint musky rose scent of her body, that delicious womanly scent that was intrinsically Scully. Strangely, he felt it shroud him, protect him. Maybe she could keep him safe too, keep *his* nightmares at bay.

He started worrying about what had happened before he got there, what she'd seen. There was no way she could have killed Lowry. And what had spooked Skinner? Did he believe himself in danger from Scully? How did it all fit together? That was the mystery.

He wasn't leaving her alone tonight. To hell with precedence and protocol, and if it came to that, to hell with Skinner. Let the Bureau do its worst. His last coherent thought was, together they would be safe.

THURSDAY, 7:15 a.m.

It was the smell of fresh coffee and toasted cinnamon and raisin bagels that woke him up. He looked down at Scully, still peacefully asleep in his arms. Had last night really happened, or was it just a dream?

He moved to slide out of the bed. He'd compromised his partner enough as it was. What they did in their own time was their own business and he wasn't ashamed of it, but this was Skinner's home. He might be their friend, but Mulder didn't want to put their superior in an untenable position.

As he got up, Scully opened her eyes. Although she still looked a little dazed, the look of fear had gone from her face. He grazed his knuckles gently across her cheek.

"It's all right, Scully, I'm just going to the kitchen, Skinner seems to be in breakfast mode."

Stepping into the kitchen, he knew that there was no way that Skinner couldn't know where Mulder had spent the night.

"It's okay, Mulder, this is all strictly off the record." The older man tried to put him at ease, and Mulder couldn't quite contain the sigh of relief. He could have sworn he heard his superior say, "Last night never happened, Agent Mulder."

Skinner's remark surprised him. There was something different about their boss this morning. Although he seemed very understanding, he also seemed ill at ease, nervous somehow. "Sir, about last night, before I got here, exactly what happened?"

Mulder was taken aback at Walter Skinner's reaction. The man turned pale.

"If you don't mind, Mulder, I'd rather not discuss the matter at this time. I need to get it straight in my head first." Walter Skinner hesitated. "I think the pair of you need to talk, Mulder. Scully will find it a lot easier if I'm not here. I'm going into the office to catch up on the paperwork and there are a number of reports I need to review. I should be done by late afternoon."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate everything you're doing for Scully, for us."

"It's the least I can do for friends, Mulder."

Mulder felt strangely touched by that remark. For just a moment there, Skinner had seemed both very alone and envious at the same time. This lack of sleep was definitely getting to Mulder's thinking patterns.

Skinner had already left the apartment by the time Scully came into the kitchen.

"Come and eat, Scully, and then we need to talk."

Scully drank her coffee but only toyed with the bagels. Mulder understood how difficult this was going to be for them both.

"Come on, Scully, you trust me don't you? Tell me about the dream last night. What did you see? What happened that frightened Skinner?"

"How do you know that, Mulder?"

"It was something you said last night, that and Skinner's reaction to all this. I've...umm, I've looked into it recently. I've been in contact with Dr. Cardoso at the Bethesda Sleep Clinic. Do you remember? They helped us when Skinner was having sleep problems."

"You think that's what my problem is? That I'm likely to.... That I.... Is that why Skinner isn't here this morning? God, the one thing I *do* remember from last night was the look of fear on his face. Jesus..."

"Scully, it's not...."

"Last night Mulder, last night I woke up outside Skinner's room. It's been playing through my head, over and over.... Was I going to do to him what I must have done to Marcus Lowry? Or was I going to take his life some other way? Was that why he was so scared, Mulder? Was it all a bad dream, or did I really do that to Marcus? I can't remember... but I saw the photos. Am I capable of doing something like that to a total stranger? Mulder, my necklace was found in his bed."

Mulder heard the rising panic in her voice. "I didn't know him, Mulder, I don't know where he lived. How could I...?"

He came around the table and took hold of her. She was trembling.

"Scully? Calm down. I can't believe you're saying this; that you're even considering going down that path. Skinner doesn't believe you're capable of anything like that. I certainly don't."

"That's just the point. I feel I'm on borrowed time, waiting for something dreadful to happen."

"I'd have said the worst has already happened."

"Am I crazy, Mulder? Are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of where you're going with this, but no, I could never fear you. I trust you with my life."

"Even after you saw Marcus, even after what might have happened last night?"

"I trust you with my life. I always have, and I always will, no matter what."

She pulled away from him.

"I need to try to make some sense of all this, Mulder. I think I want to check myself into that sleep clinic. Would you take me over there, will you do that for me?"

"Scully, you didn't do it; you couldn't do it. It's not in your nature."

"Please Mulder, I need to do this. I need to know."

He couldn't deny her this. He could never deny her anything.

BETHESDA SLEEP DISORDER CLINIC
Dr. Cardoso's office
Thursday, 11:28 a.m.

Skinner had been all for the idea and it had taken surprisingly little time to get Scully an appointment. Mulder couldn't help wondering what strings had been pulled.

She asked Mulder to come in with her to see the doctor. He moved to sit next to her as the procedure was explained to them.

"After consultation with, and comprehensive evaluation by a sleep specialist, each patient is diagnosed and he appropriate therapy is determined. As part of the consultation and evaluation, a sleep study may be performed during a period of one or two nights. You understand, Dr. Scully, that hospitalization is not necessarily required?"

"I think I'd rather the tests be done here." Mulder surreptitiously took Scully's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. She did not pull away.

"That's not a problem, Dr. Scully, we can accommodate you on that. Overnight tests are completed by 7 am. During a sleep study, you will be monitored by painless, non-invasive technology."

Dr. Cardoso took them both to see one of the suites where the testing would take place.

"Apart from the recordings of all the monitors that the patient is attached to during the test, we also keep a video record of the patient. The actual observation booth is situated a little up the hall, away from the suites where the patients stay. It lessens the chance of patients being disturbed by the comings and goings of the technicians. There is continuous monitoring of course, but most patients prefer this setup. It's not quite as if we were in the room with them." She smiled.

"A sleep test, the polysomnogram, simultaneously records heart rate, brain waves, breathing, oxygenation and eye and leg movements. As you can see, this suite is state-of-the-art. Treatment for sleep disorders may include a prescription for a device to aid the patient's breathing while sleeping, medication or light therapy as well as neuropsychiatric interventions, including biofeedback. Don't worry, none of that is as daunting as it sounds. If indicated, referral to, or consultations with other specialists might be recommended to aid in diagnosis and treatment."

The doctor smiled at them, "Is there a problem with any of that?"

Scully even managed a weak smile as she shook her head.

Scully was to report back by half past eight that evening. It would give the doctor and the technician a chance to run preliminary tests and get her 'wired up'. Now that it was all set up, she relaxed a little.

"Do you mind if I come with you, Scully? I can sit with the technician in the observation booth. It won't be the first time I've watched you sleep, and at least this time you won't be drooling all over my shoulder," he quipped, and was glad to see a corresponding smile on her lips.

"Never let it be said that I'd deprive you of scintillating entertainment, Mulder."

"Well," he tried giving her his best leer. "There's only reruns on TV for the next few nights. There isn't even a decent game anywhere."

"Oh, well Mulder, that *definitely* settles it then, doesn't it."

"Well, if watching you sleep becomes too tedious, I could always catch up on writing some of those reports."

"What, and run the risk of giving our superior a heart attack?"

BETHESDA SLEEP DISORDER CLINIC
Friday, 3:30 a.m.

Scully settled for the night, and judging by the monitors and viewing screen, she was enjoying normal restful sleep.

Mulder found it very soothing, watching his partner sleep. It gave him plenty of opportunity to sit and just think.

As he repeatedly turned the events over in his mind, he began to realize that nothing was as clear to him as the fact of his own confusion. He thought he knew what he'd seen, what he'd experienced. But now, seeing how deeply these revelations had affected his partner... he wasn't sure what to think. His normally ordered, precise mind was in total chaos.

This case was really bugging him, so many anomalies. Had it been anyone else but Scully involved it would have been pretty much open and shut, but regardless of how things appeared, this couldn't possibly be so here. He knew his partner too well. Mulder chewed his lip as he considered the possibilities. How had the blood got onto her pajamas? There was no way she could have traveled the distance between the two buildings -- could there? No, he wasn't even going to entertain that theory. But if it hadn't been her, then who?

His own dreams worried him. He couldn't work out why they had started when they had. Were they some sort of a portent, or just the figment of his overactive, exhausted mind. He'd always accepted that evil existed per se, but the idea of a struggle between the forces of good and evil fitted better between the lines of some gothic novel than into his life.

Men were good, men were evil, evil thoughts, evil deeds. Yet he'd never really considered either good or evil as being a creature in its own right, a being self contained, self motivated. Up till now, he had come face to face with an entity that threatened to take over his entire being, but this creature was self- contained. It seemed now to be behind much of what they'd seen in their work on the X-Files.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Mulder muttered. "There's something I'm not getting. Something's missing.... Why her, why me? Is there a link, and if so what is it?" He cast his mind back to a week before when they were working on their last case. What was it she'd said about God choosing his own tools?

With her bias towards scientific proof and logical explanations, he was surprised in the past at her ready acceptance of the concept of evil. He would have expected her to shy away from this exotic idea, that it would make the scientist in her uncomfortable. But then, she believed in God. You had to have good if you were to have bad; it was just the way things worked.

To Scully it had been so simple, there was something out there, trying to make her do things, had maybe made her do things, waiting to get her. It terrified her, but she was prepared to go down that path to try to discover more, to resolve the problem. She had the belief. He on the other hand was so much in denial that sometimes he feared he'd never ever extract his head again.

Their roles here had been reversed, she the believer, he the skeptic. He had seen it, felt it, smelled it, yet part of his mind was still trying to rationalize it, to find reasons, to find excuses. He felt that somehow his dreams and what Scully had been experiencing were somehow connected, but how? That was the big question.

Shit, it was way too late at night to be going into self-analysis and psychology. What wouldn't he give for a night's uninterrupted sleep? Last night's rest, although short, was the most he'd had for days. There was something about just being with Scully, she always chased his demons away.

He must have dozed off then. Seven o'clock came, and the smell of the technicians coffee woke him, ending his vigil.

He'd take her back to Skinner's and then go on home to try to catch some sleep during the day. Somehow that felt safer than trying to sleep in the dark. He was going to have to try to talk to Kenny. The Kid was open minded enough not to shoot him down in flames as he tried to work a theory out.

ACT VI

BETHESDA SLEEP DISORDER CLINIC
Saturday, 1:15 a.m.

Kenny had insisted he come to keep Mulder company tonight, although Mulder could see that the guy was bushed. "Look, Kenny, much as I appreciate the show of solidarity, you'll be a lot more use to me tomorrow if you're not asleep on your feet."

He finally persuaded Kenny to stretch out on a bench in the hallway outside Scully's room. Only Mulder's promise to wake him, should the need arise, finally persuaded Kenny to rest.

It had been one of the longest weeks in Mulder's life. He spent some time in the observation booth, talking with the technician on duty. George recounted some of the funny and bizarre things he'd seen here while on duty. It helped to pass the time.

Saturday night here, unlike other medical departments, tended to be very quiet; in fact Scully was the only one in tonight. It looked like another routine night. The sound effects of the monitors got to be irritating, and after a while George turned the audio off. The visual would alert them to any thing.

By two-thirty, the technician had gone for a break, promising to bring Mulder back a coffee when he returned.

"Not that the coffee here is anything to write home about, but at least it's hot and wet, with enough caffeine to jump-start a truck on a cold morning. A cup of *that* in you and there's no chance of you nodding off." He laughed as he left the booth.

Mulder sat on his own, watching the screens as various CCTV cameras panned both Scully's room and other areas of the department. He could see Kenny asleep in the hallway. Mulder thought he really should tell Andrews to go to bed. The monitors were recording Scully's vitals, her brain wave patterns, eye movement. At least she was getting some rest, Mulder thought enviously. Maybe he should call it a night too. She was safe enough here with all the hi-tech surrounding her.

He must have dropped off himself for a minute or two, when George Hanover's gasp woke him up.

"Jeez, she's moved, she's gone. Look at the printout on that monitor! She was into an episode. Where the hell is she?"

With that, George was flipping through all the cameras, trying to get a fix on where she might have strayed. As he did so, he activated the Security measures. On the monitor, Mulder saw the room Scully had been in was now empty. The leads that had not so long ago been attached to her lay scattered.

"Shit!"

"Yeah, looks like we've got a walker..." George continued flipping through the monitors. "There. Is that her? Looks like someone's just left the building by the fire exit at the end of the hall, I can see a shadow moving away."

Mulder could see his young disciple still asleep on the bench outside her room. Scully must have walked right past him as he slept.

Mulder called Kenny on his cell phone, and grabbing his coat, moved to get after Scully.

Kenny had gotten a head start over him as he was nearer that exit. By the time Mulder arrived at the bench, Andrews was already gone. Mulder stepped out of the fire exit door onto the sidewalk into the chilly night air. He turned and surveyed the empty streets. At quarter to three in the morning, not much moved.

Where the hell was Kenny? And why the hell had he himself chosen that moment to doze off, Mulder riled. He stood for a moment looking around trying to work out which way she might have gone. He found it hard to believe that this could have happened. He saw a movement to the left, someway up the street.

Was that her? He decided to chance it and broke into a run to try to catch up with her. Should he call out to her? He'd heard somewhere that it was dangerous to wake up a 'walker' abruptly. Hopefully Kenny was somewhere close by, and between them they could head her off.

Shit! She was going to cross the street. Scully was moving slowly. She seemed to be oblivious to her surroundings and to the cold. She paused for a moment under a street lamp.

He ran hard to catch up with her, but it was as if he was running through deep, sticky mud. Everything was in slow motion and taken on a dreamlike quality. For a moment he thought he might have been dreaming, and then he prayed that he was.

Mulder knew what was going to happen even as he heard the revving of an engine and saw the car bearing down towards her. He knew before its headlights pinioned her in their glare and realized that there was nothing on this earth he could do to prevent the tragedy that was about to unfold.

He called out a warning that was too late. Like a film in slow motion, clip by silent clip, Scully teetered on the edge of the sidewalk, her bare toes curling over he curb. Then it cut to the speeding vehicle as it bore down towards her.

"Scully! Scully, for God's sake, STOP!"

For a split second he thought she'd heard him, thought she'd understood. She shook her head as though coming out of a dream. He saw her startled look, her expression frozen in shock that was drawn in stark relief by the unrelenting blaze of light. Her realization, too late, of the inevitability of what was about to happen. Then he saw the black shadow, as it appeared to enclose her like a cloak, to propel her forward straight into the path of the oncoming SUV.

"No, Scully! NO!"

In the beam of the headlights, he saw the terror in her face, saw her tumbling like a rag doll; then a black shape launched itself into the beam of light knocking Scully out of the path of the wheels, followed by the sounds he never forget. The squeal of brakes, the scream, the sickening thud of soft body contacting hard metal and the sound of splintering glass seemed to be amplified out of all proportion, as it shattered the quiet of the night.

Finally he was able to move, the thick cloying feeling had gone. He raced down the street to her. His cry distorted with anguish

"SCULLY!"

Lights flashed on in the building across the street, faces appeared in windows.

"Scully! Oh my God! Scully."

He was on his knees, a finger at her pulse. He was grateful beyond measure for the telltale signs of life. The beat against his fingertips was thready, but all he cared about was that it was there at all. With the stench of oil and gas rising around him, he forced himself to look for the worst.

She lay so still as he knelt down beside her on the asphalt, the light of the headlights accentuating her pallor, clearly showed the small cut that marred her temple. His fingers automatically went to tuck the stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Short of more abrasions and contusions, his careful, fearful search found nothing. No trails of blood warned of cranial injury, no arteries spurted, no veins trickled. There were no bones twisted at odd angles. Her breathing was slow but not labored.

"Scully." He hardly recognized the anguished whisper as his own voice.

Mulder pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

As he covered Scully with this coat, the driver of the SUV approached them.

"I'm sorry, God, I'm *so* sorry. I didn't see her; she just fell out in front of me. I tried to brake, I swear...." He turned away gagging, only to throw up in the gutter a few yards away from them.

To be honest, Mulder wasn't concentrating about the driver who'd done this to Scully, he was far too concerned about how still she was, how pale.

"Scully, please be all right. Hold on, please, just hold on, help's coming. Hang on, Scully." Tentatively he stroked her face. He wanted so badly to hold her, but didn't dare move her in case he made her injuries worse.

He heard her sob even as he wondered what he should next.

"Mulder...?"

"Hush Scully, I'm here, it's gonna be okay. The ambulance is on its way. Hang on, they'll be here in a minute. No! Don't move!" he gasped, as she tried to grasp his hand. His fingers trailed across her cheekbone.

"Gentle," she murmured. Her gaze was blurring, her lashes fluttering. "An angel."

She was making no sense to him. His only thought was that she was lapsing into confused gibberish. There was no reason, nor time to think differently as she moaned softly against his palm. Shock. She was shivering. He gently pulled his coat closer around her trembling body. "Hush, Scully, help's coming."

"Mulder...what happened? I saw a bright light, falling...then something cannoned into me, pushed me out of the way. Mulder...I felt the hand of an ang..." Her voice shuddered on the sob.

"No, you were pushed. Right under the wheels of that SUV. I saw it, Scully. I stood frozen, I couldn't move, I couldn't help you. There was nothing I could do to stop it."

There was a faint, weak moan from the darkness beyond the range of the headlights. Mulder turned to investigate and pulled his penlight out of his pocket.

The sight that his eyes beheld froze him.

"Mulder... what is it, Mulder?" He heard his partner's voice cut through his horror of the sight illuminated by the faint, narrow beam of light.

"God, Kenny!"

The kid's crumpled, bloodied body lay in a heap on the asphalt, his arm and leg at unusual angles.

"Mulder, is he all right?"

"I don't know, Scully, I don't think so. Christ, what have I done?"

He turned to see Scully struggling to sit up.

"Scully! No!"

"But I'm a ..."

"Don't move Scully please," he begged her. "We don't know how badly you're hurt."

The sense of what he said must have overridden the doctor instincts in her. "Take the coat Mulder, he needs it more than I do...."

Mulder couldn't remember when he'd prayed so hard before in his life. Please let the paramedics be quick, please let them both be okay.

Someone came out of the building carrying blankets. They covered Kenny over to keep him warm.

"You okay?" a voice asked.

Mulder felt himself led back to the curb. As the adrenaline rush dissipated, he felt his legs crumbling beneath him. Someone made him sit down next to Scully, pushing his head down between his knees before they wrapped a blanket around him too. The movement made him feel light-headed. Then reaction set in, he was shaking like leaf. The deepening chill of shock, racked him from head to toe.

He had to fight this, he had to be strong for them. They needed him. He had to let their boss know what had happened. He took his cell phone out again and dialed Skinner's number.

"Sir? Sir, you'd better get down here, there's been an accident...yeah, it's looking pretty bad. Scully's hurt, but the k-kid.... I-I don't know...no.... Gotta go, Sir. I can hear the siren, so the paramedics are on their way."

Then he turned away to heave and part company with his last meal, and some of the fear went away with it.

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
Saturday, 4:46 a.m.

Skinner and Mulder has been pacing the hallways for the past few hours. The doctor had taken his own sweet time checking her out. God, how long could a set of x-rays take? That Scully hadn't been killed or at least severely maimed was thanks to the hand of fate in the guise of Agent Kenneth Andrews.

They could only presume that, somehow, in the extra few moments head start Kenny had over Mulder, he'd circled around and was approaching from the other side of the street. Had he not positioned himself where he had, Scully's injuries would have amounted to a great deal more than grazes, contusions, sprained ankle and slight concussion that the doctor finally confirmed she'd suffered.

She was resting at the moment, best let her sleep the nurse had told them. Skinner was surprised that Mulder did not insist upon seeing his partner no matter what. When he mentioned this to Mulder, he'd replied that at least they knew that Scully was safe and not in pain, "Kenny, on the other hand...." Mulder hadn't been able to finish.

No, their biggest worry was Kenny. In the best case scenario he'd suffered a broken arm and leg. In the worse.... He was still in surgery and there was nobody there who was prepared to commit themselves to any sort of opinion at all. Mulder wasn't sure if that was in spite of or because of the A.D.'s presence. No amount of badge waving would elicit any further information. The waiting was killing them both. Neither of them knew what to do. In the end Skinner took matters into his own hands.

"Come on, Mulder, let's get some coffee into you, you look like shit."

"With all due respect, Sir..."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before; now move it, Agent."

Mulder was too tired to argue. The two of them nursed bad hospital coffee as they sat in hard hospital chairs waiting for word on Kenny.

MULDER'S APARTMENT
Saturday 5:32 AM

He got back to his apartment by a confused, circular route and fell onto his couch without taking off his coat or his shoes. The lights were on and he felt weirdly exposed and vulnerable, but he didn't want to turn them off. The couch seemed to be rocking a little, like a raft, and he kept one foot on the floor to steady it.

Then he fell asleep and slept soundly for a couple of hours until he was awakened by a knock on the door. Seized with fresh panic, he fought to sit up in the tangle of his coat, as the knocking became more insistent. Then Mulder hear Skinner's voice calling his name. He momentarily lay back on the cushion, so relieved he felt like laughing.

"Are you okay?" Skinner asked once he gained entry. Upon seeing the younger man's nod, the A.D. said, "Come on, I'm driving."

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
Private room
Saturday, 8:29 AM

Both Mulder and Skinner knew that when hospital authorities put you in a private room to break the news to you, that news is usually of the worst kind. Mulder, having seen Kenny at the site of the accident, had no illusions about how seriously hurt his friend might have been. Now, as they stood in the center of the antiseptic room, they were both growing increasingly concerned that the young agent might not survive. Mulder was mentally preparing himself to hear the worst when a doctor stepped in to join them.

The list of injuries was horrific. Apart from head injuries, Kenny suffered a bad break to his femur, his left arm, and his nose. There was also damage to his pelvis.

"He must be the luckiest man alive," the doctor said, "It was touch and go for a while. It's as though someone up there is looking out for him."

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
Side room
Saturday, 9:20 AM

As Mulder sat by Scully's bedside, he marveled on the nature of love and friendship. They were in a relationship, but when was the last time he'd said those words to her and told her how much she meant to him?

"Mulder?" Scully's voice echoed around the small hospital room, bringing him back to the present.

"Who else were you expecting?" Mulder tried to joke.

He went over to sit on the side of her bed and grasped her hand in both of his, so relieved that he had her back safe and sound. "How are you feeling partner? You had me scared back there."

"Don't worry Mulder, I had *myself* scared back there. How's?...Is Kenny?...T-They wouldn't tell me, Mulder. Did-did he get through the surgery?"

"Kenny's one tough agent, although I can't see him ever wanting to work with me again. He was *so* lucky. The doctors said it was almost as if he were protected, you know. At first they suspected skull fractures, major internal trauma, the works.

"He looked real bad when they brought him in. He got away with a broken arm, leg, and pelvis, as well as some minor head injuries, which included a broken nose. His poor nose certainly took a beating on this case. His condition is serious, but the prognosis is good. He had a good team working on him."

Mulder turned her hand over in his and appeared to find the lines on her palm extremely fascinating.

"Scully, umm...Do you remember what happened out there? It's just that what I think I saw and what you said just after you got hurt, well umm...there are differences. I was following you, Scully. I just could never seem to catch up. I saw you poised on the edge of that curb with the SUV coming directly towards you.

"The driver seemed to be traveling too fast, but I found out later the poor guy was going the speed limit; it just seemed too fast. From where I stood, you seemed to still be a safe distance away, but then suddenly you were covered by blackness, and I saw you being hurtled towards the vehicle. You didn't step out, you were pushed with a great deal of force."

Mulder could hardly bear to go on. The memory was too painful. He'd stood by impotently watching his partner face death, and he couldn't move nor do anything to save her.

"And then you seemed to fall backwards towards the curb, and the next thing I see is Kenny lying badly injured in the street. I saw it all, Scully, I just don't understand it."

He felt her cover his hand with her own, gently stroking with her thumb. He finally looked up at her.

"What happened, Scully? Do you remember? I need to know. You said something strange back there...."

"I remember," she began hesitantly, "seeing lights to the left of me, and as their intensity grew, I felt myself falling. But at the same time, I kept hearing my name being called, yet it seemed so far away.... And then I looked up and the car was just there. I knew that was it, that I would never see you again. It made me feel very sad, but there didn't seem to be any urgency to anything, like everything was happening in slow motion.

"Then I felt it on me. There was a bright white light and a black shape, not horrifying like before, not evil at all, but sort of warm and good like a gentle hand. For a moment I thought I saw an ange_, I-I thought I saw something. But then suddenly I felt pain as the car slammed into me, and I was falling backwards. I must have hit my head as I landed.

"Mulder, it was Kenny who saved my life. He saved my life and came so close to-to losing his own."

As Mulder pulled her into his arms and held her close, he rested his head on her hair. He acknowledged to himself how close again he'd been to losing her. Thank God for Kenny. The kid was almost like a gift from God. He couldn't stop the self-deprecating smile. Scully must have felt it, for she pulled away to look up.

"Mulder? What is it?"

"I don't know how I even entertain the thought, Scully. Guardian angels?"

But she didn't laugh, didn't even smile. Perhaps that's where he needed to look. In a strength beyond his own. To a source higher than Scully's science or his logic. To a source of faith, grace and power. But was he ready for such a journey? Scully had invited him to join her. The very notion was difficult for him to comprehend. Scully had been traveling that path for a long time now, although she was loath to admit it either to herself or to him.

He saw it in her eyes now, heard it in her voice and felt it in her touch. She, unlike him, had no problem with the idea. Maybe it was this faith of hers that protected her, them, that ultimately kept them both safe, even in the greatest of perils. He could see where her hope stemmed from.

"What happened to you, Mulder?" her voice was soft as she asked him after a while.

He was silent for a moment, not wanting to revisit his experiences of the past week for the moment. He settled down next to her on the bed, shivering a little at the thought. Scully pulled him back into her arms, he was thankful that she was still here to be able to do it.

He took a long breath. "I don't know where to start, where to go with this. We owe Kenny a great debt, Scully. And Skinner, he's a better friend to us than we'll ever know."

"I know that," which surprised him.

He had to tell her, had to explain about the dreams he'd been having, but he needed time. This was as near as he could go at the moment.

There was a soft knock at the door and Skinner walked in interrupting what Mulder was about to say.

"I think we need to clear up some lose ends here, Agent Mulder."

"What do you mean?"

"Jeff Jackson has just been in to see me. He's been feeling very bad about something."

"Jeff?" Scully was puzzled.

"Yeah, something he didn't say when he was first interviewed. He was in shock at the time; he thought he was hallucinating. Later he kept quiet because he didn't know what he'd seen or what he'd imagined. He didn't think it was important, but it kept niggling at him, till he had to do something about it."

"I don't understand," Scully said. "Where is this leading?"

"It's something that he believes he saw, believes he felt when he came into your room."

"The black shadow, the presence," Mulder filled in.

"Mulder? Sir? What are you talking about?"

Mulder went on as if she hadn't spoken. It all came out; his nightmares, the black shape he thought he saw, no, that he *knew* he saw during the day and when Kenny was at his side during the night.

"It's over, Scully. Somehow this ties in with everything else. I don't know how or why, but I can't feel that feeling of dread any longer."

For once both Scully and Skinner didn't refute his theory, didn't ask for scientific proof to back what he'd told them.

Later, when they stopped by the precinct station, they were both surprised to learn that Scully was now officially off the hook. The blood on her pajamas was not the perfect match as was thought at first, further DNA testing had shown that the two samples were not a match. There were no fingerprints on the assault weapon.

Both Mulder and Skinner looked perplexed, and the officer on duty looked extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable as he explained that it had been a rookie who'd run the fingerprints through the FINDER. He apologized profusely for the mistake.

There was a ton of paperwork to fill in. The only thing about it that made Mulder smile the was that Skinner had more than his fair share of it to do.

EPILOGUE

BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
Side room
A week later.

All three of then came in to visit with Kenny. His recovery rate had astounded both the doctors and his friends alike. Although he would be out of action for a few months yet, his predicted stay in hospital was now down to three weeks.

Kenny could remember nothing after seeing Scully teetering on the edge of the curb. But he *did* remember what happened immediately before. He remembered the wizen face of the black crone as she appeared behind Scully.

"I must be the luckiest man alive. I still can't remember exactly what happened or how- maybe it's just as well," Kenny confided to Mulder.

Mulder smiled when he saw Andrews blushing as Scully placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Kenny." There was nothing else she could say.

"You're welcome, Dana. I'm glad I was there."

Mulder came over to him and shook his good hand. "I'll always owe you one, pal, you know that, don't you? Though I'm sorry you got hurt again, you're a good man to have on a team, and I'm proud to have worked with you."

Kenny smiled as he said, "Remind me to up my insurance if I ever work with you again, Mulder. In fact next time, email me first, and I'll make sure I head off in the opposite direction. Besides, I don't think Kerry would ever okay another team-up."

All of the agents remembered fondly Kenny's long time girlfriend. "No, I don't suppose she would, but if there's ever an emergency, you just let me speak with her, okay?" Scully assured them confidently.

Skinner spoke up. "There's no getting away from it, Kenny. You're a hero. I've made recommendations that your bravery be rewarded in a fitting manner. Your contribution to this extraordinary case will be noted in your files." Kenny, as seen by the color of his face, was more embarrassed then ever.

A nurse pecked at the glass.

Mulder smiled. "We've got to go. Guess they just don't respect credentials around here. They just throw you out when the time's up. See you later, Kid. Take care, you hear me?"

As they went out to the car, Scully stopped and touched the tiny cross around her neck. "Mulder, I didn't lose this at the club. I still had it around my neck when I undressed that night."

"How can you be so sure Scully?"

"Because a thread from my shirt caught in the chain and I had a job to untangle it."

FIN
28/07/01
Finally!!!
So. What did you think?
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