Matrix
by Humbuggie
Based on an idea by Roxcatje
(c) 2001

Situation: This story has been written for 
'Virtual Season Nine'. 

Rated R for some explicit language

Type: Profiling X-File, M/S MRS

Story: New York City's Finest cannot stop a 
serial killer from running havoc throughout 
the city, leaving his mark on the city. Fox 
Mulder is contacted by an old friend and 
asked for help, thus turning the killer's 
attention on him, and forcing him into a 
deadly cat & mouse-game across town. But the 
agent has no idea the price he has to pay is 
very high.

Disclaimer: Do I need to remind you that our 
beloved FBI duo is not mine? They belong to 
CC. But since he's not using him to the best 
of his abilities, the XF fanfic writers are.


First we'll take Manhattan,
Then we'll take Berlin
-- Leonard Cohen

Matrix

Teaser

Day One, December 8, 2001
New York City

For the occasion he drove a white '89 Chevy. 
Stolen.  He left his comfortable home outside 
of town to drive up to her house in 
Manhattan. Crossing the George Washington 
Bridge he found himself staring at the 
skyline. 

He had no respect for the one he was going to 
kill first. She was just to draw attention. 
She would bring the crowd to the city and 
make sure they feared him. He had chosen her 
carefully as his first victim, knowing she 
would live up to his expectations. She lived 
in Manhattan, the heart of the rich city. He 
met her during fundraisers. He had watched 
her the day before at the Franklin Mason 
Benefit. And he knew he would kill her.

She always used the remote to enter her 
garage. She did this night too. Immediately, 
the garage door opened. She drove inside and 
turned off the engine. 

The garage door was already closing when he 
slipped into the darkness of the large space, 
hiding himself for one moment behind the 
Beamer. He dropped the bag soundlessly on the 
floor, and waited until she opened the car 
door, sliding his own body from behind the 
Beamer until he stood right before her. She 
didn't hear or see him coming. If she had, 
she wouldn't have had time to scream. He 
grabbed her by the arm and wrist, pulling her 
further out of the car. She nearly fell, but 
he held her firmly. 

"Start walking," he hissed in her ear, 
planting her firmly on her feet. Pushing her 
forward towards the door he watched her every 
move, knowing there was an alarm set and that 
she would need to type in the code to get 
inside. She changed it every week and he knew 
it would not be same as when he had once 
spent the night there.

"Open the door," he ordered, "one wrong move 
and you're dead, Susannah. You know I'll snap 
your neck just like that."

Her hands were shaking while she opened the 
door, tapping in the code as quickly as she 
could. He memorized it. Then she used her key 
to open the back door. He shoved her inside 
and closed the door quickly behind him. She 
grimaced and turned around quickly. 

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked as 
she caught her breath. 

He didn't respond.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Sex? Is that 
what this is about?"

He slowly nodded his head. "I'm afraid you've 
got it all wrong, lovely Susannah," he 
whispered in her ear. "I didn't come here for 
the sex this time. I came here to get other 
pleasures."

She paled and swallowed away the lump in her 
throat. Her soft voice changed its tone. For 
the first time in her life she knew she 
didn't have the power over someone that she 
thought she would have forever. She became 
afraid.

"It's not too late, is it?" she asked 
nervously.

He sighed. "I'm afraid it is."

He grabbed her wrist to keep her in the room.
"No, please," she whispered, her voice 
changing its tone. He looked into her eyes, 
staring into the fear. He concentrated on her 
thoughts and captured them with the powers 
that made him so special. Then he went into 
her mind and caught the name of the person 
that she thought of at that exact moment. She 
screamed because his intrusion cut through 
her brain like a knife. Her head seemed to 
burst and her agony was so strong that she 
forgot for one second that she was going to 
die. And he smiled.

"Thank you," he said, "you just gave me my 
next victim."

He suddenly let her go, and she fell. She 
crawled and struggled to get up, but his 
hands were already around her throat, 
squeezing the life out of her until she 
passed out. He stopped. He didn't want to 
strangle her and have it over with yet. 
Carefully, he placed her on the couch. 

When he was finished, he kissed her softly on 
the lips again.  He said goodbye to her 
sleeping form, and then left the way he had 
come, using the code to seal off the house. 
His leathered hand pushed the automatic 
garage door button. He walked out and waited 
for the garage door to close before he left 
into the night.

Inside the house the telephone was ringing 
loudly.

Susannah vaguely became aware of a sound 
outside of her dreams. She forced her eyes 
open, reaching immediately for her sore 
throat, moaning when she moved her damaged 
wrist by accident. Oh god, she remembered it 
all in an instant. Her head felt dizzy, she 
had to claw into the fabric of the couch she 
was lying on. 

The last thing Susannah heard was a deafening 
noise in her ears, and the last thing she saw 
was the immense fire that blew up in her 
face. A sharp sound penetrated her ears and a 
pain, worse than anything she had experienced 
before came to take her away. Then her body 
blew up with the rest of her house, leaving 
nothing but shattered pieces of flesh and 
bone and fabric all over the place. Leaving 
her with nothing but blinding loneliness 
where there was nothing left for her but 
death.

Act 1

Day Two, December 9, 2001
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, DC

Special Agent Dana Scully knew they were in 
desperate need of vacations, but it would 
still be another sixteen days before Christmas 
arrived, and even then it wasn't so sure they 
would actually be enjoying some time off. It 
was about time though, she thought. It seemed 
forever since they had some time to 
themselves. Last week she was still trying to 
stop Mulder from going insane, and now - 
despite the fact it was rather quiet at the 
office - it felt as if they couldn't simply 
wind down and relish the fact they were both 
still well.

Funny, how time passed so quickly in these 
offices. Even more comical was how quickly 
they both recuperated after going through 
such ordeals. It seemed so easy at times that 
it frightened her. Sooner or later they 
wouldn't be that fortunate and they would not 
forget. But last night at Mulder's, it had 
seemed as if all was back to normal and they 
were both getting over last week's disaster. 
It was behind them and once again they were 
moving on.

The phone rang shaking from her from her 
thoughts. "Scully," she answered, listening 
to Kim who invited her and Mulder to come see 
Skinner instantly. "Mulder's not here," she 
explained, "but I'll leave a note."

She hung up, scribbled a note that she left 
on his desk, and hurried to Skinner's office. 

She arrived just as Mulder stepped out of the 
elevator and walked over to her. He seemed 
distraught and tired, probably just like she 
was. They really did need to catch up on 
their sleep.

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his 
wrist for a second while glancing nervously 
down the hall. Her little gestures could give 
their relationship away but she couldn't help 
touching him. That single gesture always told 
him how much she cared, and when he smiled 
back, she knew she had just made his day.

"Hey," he said back. "Skinner wants to see 
us?"

"Yeah, you were pretty quick. Did you beat 
the world-record reading little notes to get 
up here?"

He smiled. "I didn't go to the office. I just
bumped into Kim downstairs in the lobby making
a Starbucks run, and she told me. Do you know 
why he wants to see us?"

"Since I know it's not tickets to Hawaii, I  
guess we'll have to wait and see."  

He grinned. "If you're feeling bored, Agent 
Scully, I can always give you a case of a 
headless monkey born out of the belly of a 
dog with paranormal powers."

She stuck out her tongue before opening the 
door to the small reception area, "No thanks. 
I'll take Skinner's case at any time."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Agent 
Scully," Skinner said from the doorway as he 
watched his agents enter. "Come in. We don't 
have much time."

"We, sir?" Mulder asked, curious as to who 
else would be waiting for them inside the 
man's office.

Skinner invited them in. Mulder looked up 
surprised as Assistant Director Frank Smythe 
got out of his seat before the desk and 
offered his hand. Reluctantly Scully shook 
the man's hand. She realized instantly they 
were up for a Violent Crimes Section case. A 
rofiling case. About a month ago she had 
first met Frank Smythe during a briefing. 
Smythe had been introduced as Tom Alexander's 
replacement after Alexander's unexpected 
death. 

Smythe seemed like a decent enough man, but 
right now Scully couldn't really be grateful 
for the assignment, especially since they 
were both so tired and had just been through 
a difficult run of cases. 

Smythe smiled politely and sat down again as 
the others took a seat. "Agents, I think I 
might have an interesting case for you. I 
have run through the file with AD Skinner and 
he has confirmed to me that he's willing to 
'lend' you two for a couple of days to sort 
this thing out for us."

"What kind of case?" Scully asked, already 
dreading the answer. "Serial killer?"

"Not exactly." Frank shoved the file in 
Mulder's direction, catching the agent's eyes 
as Mulder opened it surprised. He wasn't 
prepared for the first photo and blinked a 
couple of times before closing the file 
again. Smythe saw him wince and nodded, "I 
had the exact same reaction when I first saw 
it. It's horrible, I know."

Scully reached for the file and opened it. 
She too felt a knot in her stomach as she 
stared at the photo of what appeared to be a 
deformed corpse, missing bits and pieces as 
it had been blown to smithereens. The body 
was black and hardly in one piece. There was 
nothing left of it to declare it human. Yet 
it could be identified instantly as a corpse.

"Lovely," Scully muttered. "A bombing?"

"Yes. Right in the center of New York, can 
you believe that? The city is turned upside 
down. Everyone is in uproar because of this. 
People are talking political bombing again. 
They want blood. Fortunately we calmed 
them down a bit by stating we would put our 
best men on it. Didn't you hear about this on 
the news last night and this morning?"

"I didn't listen to any news," Mulder said 
almost at the same time as Scully. The two 
glanced at each other.

"I'm sorry," Mulder continued, "why exactly 
are you coming to us with this? If this is a 
terrorist action, shouldn't their Task Force 
be doing this?"

"This isn't a terrorist action," Skinner 
said. "This was murder."

"With a bomb?" Mulder asked surprised.

"Yeah," Smythe said. "With a bomb. There are 
no terrorists involved, Mulder. The target 
was a civilian, a woman who had many admirers 
and enemies. Someone chose her for this 
repulsive death but not because she was of 
political importance. The mayor knows that by 
now, as does the Senate. But this is already 
a high profile case and you will be watched 
from the moment you step into it. You should 
be aware of that."

"That still doesn't explain why you've come to 
us with this case," Scully remarked.

Smythe smiled. "I know, Agent Scully. This is 
officially not an FBI matter ... yet. 
There's someone else that is interested in 
solving it, but he specifically asked for you 
even though he's in charge. He sought FBI 
assistance and came to me to request you. He 
says he's an old friend of yours. In fact, 
I've had the pleasure of working with him in the 
past, too."

"Who?" Mulder asked curiously as he leaned 
forward a bit. His interest was caught, 
Scully saw, and she feared that he would take 
a case that wasn't even theirs to begin with 
just because the right person was involved. 

"Jack Campbell."

This time Mulder's attention was caught and 
won over by Smythe. Slowly the agent rose out 
of his chair and said, "No way." 

"Someone you know?" Scully asked.

"Oh, yeah," Mulder said with a grin and a nod.
"Jack was a profiler, we started out together.
Then he up and left, went to work for New York's
Finest.  I lost track of him, I don't know
what he's been up to recently."

"You can ask him yourself," Smythe said. "He's 
on his way down from New York to see you this 
morning. In fact, I think he might already 
have arrived and is probably waiting in your 
office right now."

"He is?" Mulder asked even more surprised. 
"He flew out from New York this morning?"

"Yes. I told him to go to your 
office and meet you there."

"I still don't understand why he wants me 
on this case," Mulder said, shaking his head.

"That is a question you should also ask him," 
Smythe said. "I gather that you are taking 
this case?"

Mulder didn't respond, but his eyes sparked 
with the knowledge that he would see a lost 
friend again soon.

*******

Day Two, December 9, 2001
Federal Bureau of Investigation 
Washington, DC

A tall, slim man with blonde hair sat at 
Mulder's desk, looking at the office that 
seemed strange to him. He had heard rumors 
that Mulder had been involved with paranormal 
activity, but he had never thought it was 
true. Yet when he called a few friends at the 
Bureau the night before they had confirmed it.

Jack Campbell was a man of impulse. Ten years 
ago he had changed his FBI outfit for an 
NYPD outfit, choosing New York because he was 
born and raised there, and the police 
department because he felt he was doing no 
good at the FBI. Before he had been recruited 
for the Bureau, he was destined to become a 
cop anyway. His father had been one, and his 
grandfather before him. When he was 
recruited, they had been upset.

Jack had been very good at his job.

The NYPD had been difficult. But in the end 
his track record showed he was worth the 
effort, and he received a promotion again 
within the year, this time running six other 
detectives in his own little Homicide 
Investigation Unit.

Finally the door opened but instead of 
Mulder, the petite, female agent entered 
first. She was talking to Mulder and then 
stopped, surprised that their guest was 
sitting at Mulder's desk. Campbell knew her 
name was Dana Scully and that she had been 
Mulder's partner for years, but he stopped at 
her attractiveness and candor. He liked her 
instantly and when her eyes caught his, he 
knew she liked him too.

Mulder came in behind her and Campbell 
smiled, almost in relief, as he recognized 
his old friend instantly. 

"You see, Scully?" Mulder quipped, "I knew 
there was a reason to keep my New York Knicks 
T-shirt."

Campbell grinned widely and fished inside his 
pocket, delivering three tickets that he 
waved in the air. "I knew I could still bribe 
you the same old way," he smiled. Mulder 
stepped forward and embraced his old friend. 
Jack accepted the embrace and patted Mulder on the back.

"Next time you shouldn't wait ten years to 
pay off your debts, Campbell," Mulder 
grinned, tucking the tickets in his pocket.

"Yeah, well, it took me a while to pull some 
strings for these seats," Campbell answered 
as they let go of each other. Mulder turned 
slightly and said, "Jack Campbell, meet Dana 
Scully. Scully, this is Campbell, the terror 
of New York."

"Nice to meet you," Scully said, shaking his 
offered hand. "I can't say I've heard much 
about you though. In fact, your visit comes 
as quite a surprise."

"To all of us, Agent Scully," Jack said as he 
leaned comfortably at the edge of the desk. 
"Believe me, I didn't know I was going to be 
here yesterday either, but I do need your 
help and I had to find a way to stop you from 
refusing."

"You could have asked me over the phone," 
Mulder said. "Of course I would have come. 
Now that you're here though, tell me what's 
going on."

"Actually, I sent you a short email yesterday 
to tell you I was on the way. You should 
check your mailbox more often," Campbell 
grinned. 

"Sorry. I'm usually out chasing aliens. Now, 
speak."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss the 
case with AD Smythe and your boss at the same 
time. It's a long, difficult story to 
explain, and we don't have much time to go 
through the details. Our flight leaves at 
two. I know I might have gone too far in 
assuming you are going, but I couldn't wait 
for the bookings. This case is too important 
and needs your help."

"That sounds serious enough," Mulder said. 
"Actually they're already expecting us. 
Skinner said they would be waiting for us."

Campbell opened the door for Scully and let 
her walk out first. He followed next to 
Mulder who found his friend had changed. 
There was a haunted look in Jack's eyes. He 
hid something.

As they took the elevator, Campbell asked how 
his friend was doing.

"As good as can be expected," Mulder said, 
who couldn't help but stare at Scully 
standing right in front of him. Campbell 
caught the glance, feeling a sting in his 
belly. He too glanced at someone this way 
years ago. And now that person was dead and 
he was on his own again, wondering how he 
could change his life for the better. 

Campbell blinked and shook his head slightly. 
He shouldn't be daydreaming like this. That 
was then and this was now, and now he needed 
to solve a case as soon as possible.

Walter Skinner immediately took a liking to 
Mulder's friend as they were 
introduced. Earlier that morning, Smythe had 
used scanned prints of the murder scene, but 
now Campbell opened his debriefing with the 
original photos. There were six all together, 
taken from different angles showing the 
damage done to the house and victim.

"Her name was Susannah Delany, age thirty-
four. "This is her when she was still alive 
and kicking. And this..." yet another photo 
going into Mulder's hands, "this is her when 
she died. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you 
that. I saw the real thing and haven't felt 
much like eating since."

"You are handling this as a murder case?" 
Mulder asked. "You told the AD that they were 
first talking terrorists?"

"Yes. Fortunately I was able to calm down the 
Mayor's Office and the Governor's. The 
explosion could be heard miles away. The 
house was blown to kingdom come, taking two 
other houses with it. There were no other 
victims. The bombing was most definitely 
focused on Susannah. The bomber used an 
inventive wiring system to trick her. She was 
trapped inside her own home. When she picked 
up the phone, she triggered the bomb and left 
nothing of her. If she would have touched the 
door, she would have died too."

Mulder glanced at the photo of the beautiful 
woman who smiled into the camera. She looked 
like the All-American girl. Yet someone had 
killed her in the cruelest way possible. For 
someone to do that, he or she must have felt 
a huge resentment toward her.

"She was a well known figure in New York 
society," Campbell said. "I met her a couple 
of times as well. She was popular amongst a 
certain crowd but she was also nicknamed 'The 
Slut' in some circles. She led a very complex 
life."

"So what are your thoughts then?" Mulder 
asked. "Surely you must be following a 
certain direction?"

"Right now we're still exploring, Mulder," 
Campbell confessed. "But we need a profiler 
on this case and I thought of you instantly."

"Why me?" Mulder asked. "We've got a few 
profilers working in New York."

"I know, but I wanted you for the job because 
I know your style and how you think. I 
believe that together we might have this 
solved within a few days. If I have to work 
with a profiler I'm not familiar with, it 
might take a while and we might be grasping 
at straws. With everyone breathing down my 
neck, I cannot afford that. So basically, I 
need you, Mulder." Campbell smiled. "And of 
course you knew those tickets didn't come 
cheap."

Mulder didn't smile back, still wondering 
what Campbell was concealing from him. It was 
strange that he would come back for him after 
ten years, believing he was still doing the 
same job at the same office as if those past 
ten years hadn't existed. And how could he 
still remember every detail of his work while 
so much had happened in between? No, there 
was a catch. But Mulder would find out soon 
enough what it was. He could tell that 
Campbell was eager to talk to him in person 
without others watching them.

"Okay," Mulder said, "I'll do it."

Scully opened her mouth to protest, but 
realized she couldn't stop this. She only had 
to take a look at the photos to realize what 
disaster had been caused. 

"We've got ourselves a madman, Agent Scully," 
Campbell said softly. "And my gut feeling 
tells me he has just begun. A man who does 
this will not stop with one kill. We need to 
go through details today before tomorrow he 
kills another one. He knew this woman, yet he 
killed her. Shouldn't we stop him from going 
through his list of 'friends' before -"

"Wait a minute," Scully said, "he knew her? 
How can you be so sure?"

"There was an alarm set. She couldn't have 
put it on because she was trapped inside the 
house. He knew the alarm and set it before he 
walked out again. He could only have done 
that if he knew her. She never gave out that 
code to anyone." 

Mulder glanced at his watch. It was nearly 
noon. In two hours their flight would leave. 
He thought of the overnight bag that he had 
used when he spent the night at Scully's. It 
was set to go. He got up and looked at 
Scully. "You are free to stay here, Scully," 
he said formally. "But I'm going to accept 
this case. Though it is a profiling case, I 
could use your help for the autopsy and 
details."

Scully got up, knowing she would not let 
Mulder go on his own. "Let's go then," she 
said. 

Campbell smiled and said his goodbyes to 
Skinner and Smythe. Then Skinner got up as 
well and followed the agents outside. Mulder 
looked surprised at him as he said, "I'm 
going too."

"Sir?" Mulder asked surprised.

Campbell grinned at Mulder's surprise. "Your 
boss gave his permission on the condition 
that I would book him a ticket too. He's in 
charge of the two of you."


Two hours later two agents, an Assistant 
Director, and a New York cop got on a flight 
out to the Big Apple where a killer awaited 
them.


ACT 2

Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

He knew by watching the news they were 
investigating. 

For tonight however he had already chosen his 
next victim. No, Susannah had chosen him. 
Her mind had given him the way to the man 
that might have been the only one she ever 
truly loved. Why else would he have been the 
last person on her mind before passing out?

He knew the man by name and in person. 
Stephen Wells was his name. He was forty-
seven years old and a bachelor. He was a kind 
man, in fact, the opposite of what Susannah 
had been. He didn't deserve this death, yet 
it could not be avoided. Susannah had picked 
him out.

Wells lived in luxury but only to an extent. 
He worked in an office on the other side of 
town where he always worked late. There he 
would die. Every morning he arrived around 
ten o'clock after his daily jog. At night he 
often stayed until nine, unless he was 
entertaining or invited to a party. He didn't 
have many other hobbies other than that. He 
supported charities and had been at the 
Franklin Mason Benefit. 

That morning the killer had walked into the 
office building in as if he were an employee 
of the CPA Corporation on the third floor, 
but instead had taken the elevator up to the 
tenth floor where Wells worked. There he had 
taken a quick look around and muttered an 
apology to the receptionist when he got 
caught being on the wrong floor.

He had hurried back down and knew that 
tonight he would come back around eight, when 
everyone was at home except for Wells. Anyone 
else that would be there was out of luck. 

The killer looked up at the TV-screen when 
Jack Campbell was mentioned as being in 
charge of the case. The reporter also 
mentioned an FBI profiler was now on the 
case. An interview with Campbell followed. It 
had been taped the night before, right 
outside Susannah's shattered house. The 
killer raised his glass and got out of his 
seat, tapping it against the television 
screen. "Here's to you and your profiler, 
Jack. May the best man win."

Then he picked up his ready-made bag and left 
for the office. Tonight would indeed be a 
victorious night.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

Mulder deliberately chose the seat next to 
Campbell, glancing apologetically at Scully. 
She nodded, knowing he had to talk to his 
friend. After the plane took off for the 
short flight, the agent spoke. 

"Now tell me, Jack, why did you really 
contact me?"

Jack looked aside, not even surprised with 
the question. "You really cannot accept that 
I picked you out because of your expertise, 
can you?"

"I read your email, Jack. You practically 
stated in it that you experience paranormal 
experiences. I've got this feeling they have 
a lot to do with why you contacted me."

Jack sighed and rubbed his head, trying to 
escape the headache that seemed to come and 
go during the day. He knew he wasn't meant to 
lie to Mulder, but how could he explain his 
reasoning when he didn't even understand it 
himself?

"I knew you weren't a profiler anymore," Jack 
whispered. 

Mulder glanced towards him curiously. "You 
knew?" he asked. "Then why -?"

"I thought that you, with your expertise in 
the paranormal, would understand me better 
than anyone else. I didn't ask you for your 
profiler skills, but because of your 
paranormal expertise."

Mulder leaned forward and whispered, "Are you 
saying this is an X-File?"

"If you want to call it that way. Yes and no, 
I don't know, Mulder. There's something about 
this case that I can't explain. I know we 
have the bombing. The evidence is there. 
The murder happened in a natural way. She 
died because of that bomb. Yet there's 
something I can't put my finger on. I don't 
know what it is. It's been bugging me since I 
got the call yesterday about her death."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Campbell laughed. "Come on. You know they 
would take me off at once. You of all people 
should know what it's like to fight against 
those with preconceived notions." 

"What makes you think this is paranormal?" 
Mulder asked. "You said it yourself: All the 
evidence is there. There's nothing abnormal 
about the case, and -"

"Look." Campbell glanced behind him, hoping 
that Skinner and Scully couldn't hear. He 
didn't know them well enough to confide in 
them just yet. He wanted to keep his little 
secret between Mulder and himself. "There's 
something you should know, Mulder. Something 
that might change the way you look at our 
friendship."

"You're a woman," Mulder remarked quasi-
shocked.

Campbell laughed. "No, it's not that bad."

Mulder grinned. "So you can't surprise me 
anymore. Now tell me."

Campbell sighed deeply and looked forward. "I 
was recruited for the Bureau, not because of 
my skills or expertise or brightness, like 
you. I was recruited because I had visions as 
a child, teenager and young adult and they 
knew about it."

Mulder leaned forward even more. "You're 
psychic?" he asked surprised.

"I used to be."

"Come on, Jack. Once a psychic, always a 
psychic. Spill the beans."

"All right," Campbell admitted. "I am still 
psychic, if that's what you want to call it 
but it's not strong anymore. It just happens, 
usually at night. I envision events. People 
say I'm good at what I do. But if they knew I 
use ninety percent of my instincts to catch 
my killers, I wouldn't be so believable 
anymore. They would call me a fraud."

"And you had a vision about Susannah Delany?"

"Yes, I had. After the bomb, I went to that 
house and I had a vision of her being trapped 
in there with a man - her killer. He did 
something to her that I cannot describe. He 
seemed to pick her brain and then he went 
away. The vision was very blurry and strange, 
and I don't know how to describe it any 
better than that. I believe that he too is 
psychic and that we connected 
somehow. I picked something up from his 
actions."

"And because you can't use that vision, you 
turned to me, hoping that I could," Mulder 
remarked.

Jack smiled. "I know, it sucks, but that's 
how it is."

"I see," Mulder said slowly, trying to figure 
out what to do next. His first urge was to 
convince Jack to have his ability further 
explored, but he knew his friend would not go 
for it. 

"All I ask of you, Mulder, is that you treat 
this case as a profiler. But keep an open 
mind. And don't tell anyone about this, I beg 
of you." 

"I won't," Mulder vowed. "But you need to 
realize and accept that your ability is not a 
curse but a gift. And anything that you see, 
you must tell me if it affects this case. If 
not, we're through."

Jack promised and watched as Mulder opened 
the file and started making notes to profile 
their killer. The two words that sprung to 
mind were "cold-blooded" and "vindictive." 
Those words alone made Jack shiver. He sensed 
trouble.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

The Federal Building in downtown New York had 
25 floors, so Skinner didn't have difficulty 
arranging for a few adjoining offices at the 
VCS. AD Norris, who ran the New York 
division, was a good friend of his and had 
been warned of their coming. Of course, 
everyone knew the stakes. 

"This way," Jack said, walking to the 
elevators. He pushed the button to the 
eleventh floor and led the agents to two 
small, conjoined offices on the right. A man 
in his fifties waited for them and got up as 
they stepped inside. "Good to see you, 
Walter," he said, shaking Skinner's hand. 

"Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, may I 
introduce you to Assistant Director Donald 
Norris?  Mulder, Don took over for Linda 
Harper," Skinner said, knowing the memory of 
the missing AD would haunt his agents for a 
good long while. Mulder and Scully stepped 
forward to greet the new AD. Jack already 
knew Norris.

"It's a pleasure, Agent Mulder," Assistant 
Director Norris said. "I've heard quite a lot 
about you."

"You have?" Mulder asked with a hint of 
surprise. "I wouldn't believe everything they 
told you, sir."

Norris smiled, and invited them to sit down, 
explaining to them they could use these 
temporary offices to get settled in during 
the next few days. His own office was on the 
tenth floor but he would always be at their 
service if they needed any help.

Everyone took a seat at the conference table. 
Norris was a busy man with twelve agents 
working for him. His specialty was serial 
murder. As a rookie-cop he had been involved 
in the Son of Sam-case years ago before 
joining the Bureau. 

"I understand you've done other cases prior 
to this," Norris started as he directed 
Mulder, " AD Skinner told me that you're a 
good profiler with an excellent record." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"You do realize this is not a paranormal 
case?" 

"Yes, sir, but even a killer can use 
paranormal activity. In 1993, we solved the 
case of Eugene Victor Tooms, a man who 
extracted human livers in order to hibernate. 
This was a serial killer who had been active 
for over a hundred years. There was also a 
man named Virgil Incanto who lived on the fat 
of obese women in order to survive 
physically." 

"I think I get the picture, Agent Mulder," 
Norris interrupted. "As long as you 
understand that this case involves a regular 
man, I'm okay with it."

"Thank you, sir."

Norris got up and put his hand on the file 
that lay on the middle of the table. "I have 
a meeting in about ten minutes," he said, "so 
I'm going to leave you to your own devices. 
Walter, you know where to find me should you 
need one of my men. Just let me know how we 
can help you. Of course you can also contact 
AD Smythe for questions or information."

"I appreciate that, Edward," Skinner said, 
shaking hands with his colleague. "We'll keep 
you informed."

"Thanks." 

Norris left, closing the door behind him on 
the way out. Campbell turned towards the 
others. "I suggest that we start working. 
Where do you want to begin, Mulder?"

"I'd like to autopsy the body tonight if 
possible," Scully answered in her partner's 
place. "I suppose it has been held for me?"

"It has," Jack confirmed. "Even though the 
coroner's office wasn't too pleased with 
that. I had to pull a lot of strings to 
persuade them to wait."

"I'd like to see the crime scene first," 
Mulder said. "Get a feel."

"We can do that," Jack said. "But we also 
need to make a courtesy call to the mayor's 
office. We need to settle some issues there 
before the mayor steps in and takes over. He 
has the power to make our lives miserable if 
we don't act discreetly."

Jack glanced at his watch. It was after five. 
If they were going to act, they didn't have 
much time left before dark. "I'll call the 
mayor from the car and set up the autopsy for 
you, Agent Scully. I suggest that we profit 
from the little time we have left before it 
gets too dark."

"I'll stay here," Skinner said. "And get in 
touch with the other authorities. Remember, 
I'm only here on an administrative basis. 
This is your case, but I'm backing you up 
should the heat get turned on."

"We understand, sir," Mulder said.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

The house was one big pile of debris to put 
it mildly. Absolutely nothing was left of the 
Victorian home, except a couple of walls; in 
between lay the remains of the first and 
second floor. The fire department had shored 
up the walls and was still cleaning up the 
mess when the agents got there.

"Most of the evidence has been taken to a 
police compound," Jack complained. "We're 
trying to go through details there because 
it's too dangerous to hang around here. 
Pieces of debris keep falling down."

Mulder took a look at the neighboring houses 
and noticed they too had suffered greatly 
from the bomb, but they were not beyond 
repair. "We asked the owners to find 
temporary shelter," Jack explained. "The 
Mayor's Office is helping them out until they 
receive their insurance benefits."

Jack carefully made his way through the 
debris and stepped inside what was left of 
the living room. The cracked piano that had 
been in one of the photos still stood there 
as a memento to a woman's life that had been 
completely ruined with a crushing bomb.

"Where did they find Susannah's body?" Scully 
asked, following in Jack's footsteps.

"Over there." Jack pointed towards the 
remains of a wall covered by a whole lot of 
wood and stones. From his pocket he got out a 
map of the floor plan, provided to them by 
the architect who had renovated the house 
five years ago before.

"The area in which she was found was the 
living room. It had an L-shaped form, you 
see? You can still see the remains of the 
couches, the TV, stereo, all that stuff. All 
the electrical equipment exploded in the 
fire. The short end of the L was her dining 
room. It was a large room with two steps 
leading to the front door. There was also a 
stairwell in the back, going to the first and 
second floor. She didn't use the second 
floor. The kitchen had another stairwell, 
probably used by her housekeeper." 

"She had a live-in housekeeper?" Mulder 
asked.

"No, there was a woman that came over twice a 
week and spent a whole day at the house. 
Susannah didn't want to be disturbed by her 
and they had very particular arrangements for 
her work."

"The kitchen had been a spacious, modern 
room," Jack continued as they walked over, 
showing them photos of how it used to be. It 
had two doors leading outside; one going to 
the back, which was being used as a service 
entry door. And there was a second one 
leading up to the garage. Both doors had an 
alarm."

"Was the garage secured?" Mulder asked. 
"Automatic door?"

"Yeah. She had the automatic door installed 
after the renovations. The garage could hold 
two cars, which were both accounted for. She 
drove a Jaguar and a compact BMW. According 
to the housekeeper she changed the alarm code 
once a week and she was the only one that 
knew it. When the housekeeper came over, she 
had to ring the front door and was allowed in 
by Susannah. If Susannah wasn't at home, the 
housekeeper couldn't get in."

Jack waited as he watched Mulder think. "We 
believe that the killer made his entry 
through the garage door. He probably slipped 
in and waited until she got out of her car to 
grab her. He forced the alarm off her, no 
doubt."

"Was there a silent alarm?" Scully asked.

"No." 

"You mentioned earlier that the bomb had been 
set off by the telephone. Did the bomb squad 
examine the device yet?"

"They have," Jack said, glancing at one 
of the firemen that looked very curiously at 
him. "But I suggest that we discuss this on 
our way to the mayor's office. Have you seen 
enough for now?"

"I have," Mulder confirmed, thinking about 
the details he would put in his report. He 
had seen enough for now. Pure hatred lived in 
this debris. And there was an urge to end up 
in the news by killing this way. He had 
succeeded.

Right now anything was still possible. 
"Destroy and mutilate," Mulder mumbled, as he 
left.

"Our killer definitely gets off on what he's 
doing," Mulder said as they returned to the 
car. "He took his time to set this up. He 
took risks, but he didn't care." 

"Go on," Jack said, listening to Mulder's 
nearly monotone voice. He could see the man 
was talking without thinking, as if he wanted 
to say it before it was gone out of his mind.

"He wants us to admire his handiwork, that's 
for sure. He had two reasons to use this 
bomb. He wanted to destroy everything that 
was dear to her; not alone her physical being 
but also the place she had put her stamp on, 
as if he wanted nothing left of her to be 
remembered." 

"Do you think he'll kill again?"

Mulder looked at the others. "We'll know soon 
enough."

Mulder's words shocked the other agents, 
realizing he was right. Right now there was 
no way of telling if the killer had already 
chosen his next victim. There was no trace 
leading to another potential victim.

"Let's get out of here," Scully said. "Can 
you two drop me off at the coroner's office?"

"Sure," Jack said as they made their way back 
to the car. Across the street still stood a 
crowd gathered to see who was rummaging 
through the debris. Mulder saw a few cameras 
and reporters. He spotted them a mile away 
and knew they would want to get answers soon.

"Can you get those reporters to hand over 
printouts of the photos taken last night?" he 
asked. "Might come in handy."

"Already been done," Jack said, "standard 
procedure."

Scully and Jack made their way out but Mulder 
stopped before the outer wall, turning and 
staring at the debris. Suddenly he was back 
at the bombing in Dallas. Back then the 
bombing had taken place to cover up several 
strange deaths. What if this bombing had 
taken place for the same reason? If not to 
destroy one's life, why would anyone plan 
such a horrid death? 

He shivered. 


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

In the car Jack got a call from the forensics 
office.

Preliminary reports showed that the bomber 
was an amateur. The device was set up simply; 
it worked when a trigger was set off by a 
certain move. He didn't use new, 
sophisticated technology to get the job done. 
He used the old tricks, like hobbyists did. 

"He must have had help to do this," the 
expert said as he explained over the phone 
what he found. "That, or he used 'Bombings 
for Dummies' on how to set a bomb."

"What about the Internet?" Mulder suggested 
when Jack hung up. "There are chat rooms and 
forums for just about anything. There 
probably are on terrorists and bombs as 
well."

"How to create the perfect, destructive 
bomb," Campbell said. "It's sick, but it can 
be done. It shouldn't be too difficult to 
find that out. I'll have someone do a search 
on the Internet. Who knows, we might get 
lucky."


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

The office building was dark, just like he 
had expected it to be. The reception area was 
empty but the outer doors were still open. He 
would need a badge to go up now, and he 
didn't have one. He pushed the button of the 
tenth floor and waited until a male voice 
asked, "Yes?"

"Stephen," he said, "it's me. Can you let me 
in?"

There was a silence on the other side and 
then the man who worked on the tenth floor 
said, "Sure." The killer smiled, knowing 
Wells didn't know whom he was letting in. 

The office at the end of the corridor was 
brightly lit. That was Stephen's office. He 
had seen that this morning while making his 
stroll through the building. Stephen was 
there alone. The man looked up when he walked 
in and said, "Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Of course you do, Mr. Wells," he said. 
"We've attended several benefits together, 
haven't we?"

"Of course we have," Stephen said hesitant, 
offering his hand. "How are you? What can I 
do for you? I'm sorry, I thought I let one of 
my colleagues in."

"I know," he smiled. "I took the risk of 
coming here, hoping you would be by yourself. 
You are alone, aren't you?"

Wells looked nervous. "I'm sorry but you 
still haven't told me what you're doing 
here."

"We need to talk, Stephen."

"About what?"

"About things that you've done. About people 
that you've been with." He took a seat at the 
edge of Stephen's desk and took a paperweight 
off the desk. It felt heavy in his hand. He 
toyed with it as his eyes focused on Stephen 
who became agitated.

"What are you talking about?" Stephen asked. 
"What things have I done?"

"Why are you at work, Stephen, when you 
should be mourning Susannah's death?"

"Susannah?" Stephen Wells laughed bitterly. 
"Is that what this is all about? You're here 
because of Susannah? You're a reporter, 
aren't you? You came here because you found 
out about us and now you're trying to get a 
story out of it. Get out!"

"I'm not a reporter," he answered calmly.

"Are you trying to blackmail me then?" Wells 
muttered as his face turned red in anger. 
"Get the hell out before I call security. How 
dare you come in here right after her death 
and do this to me? We had a good thing going. 
You can't use that against me. Get the hell 
out before I kick you out myself!"

He smiled. "I'm not leaving, Stephen. I've 
come here to kill you."

Wells' eyes changed expression when he saw 
his 'guest' wore leather gloves. The man's 
eyes were as cold as ice. And his facial 
expression was blank. Suddenly, Wells felt an 
excruciating pain inside his head, and he 
screamed as he moved away from his chair, 
putting his hands up his head as he shrieked. 
It felt like someone was cutting into his 
head with a knife, taking out all the 
thoughts and dreams. His eyes locked with the 
killer's and it felt like he would never be 
the same again.

Then the pain stopped suddenly and the killer 
smiled. "Thank you for handing me my next 
victim."

Wells stumbled backwards, nearly tripping 
over his chair as he came to the realization 
he had signed his own death warrant. And then 
the paperweight came up and smashed him over 
the head, cutting deep into his skull. Wells 
slumped backwards, pulling a stack of paper 
onto the floor with him. There he remained, 
out cold.

The killer removed the man's cellular phone 
and tucked it into his own pocket. He would 
leave that outside the room where Wells 
couldn't use it.

The killer moved quickly now, shutting the 
office door and switching off the lights so 
that only the dim nightlights remained on. 
Using the same MO he had used on Susannah, he 
triggered the phone and fax. Then he wired 
the rest of the room. Closing the door, he
placed the bomb right outside the room and
set the trigger. Every single action the man
inside did would kill him. And if someone tried 
to save him, he would still die. 

A few minutes later, he was downstairs and he 
left the building in utter darkness. 

Inside the room, Stephen Wells woke up 
slowly, reaching for his bruised head. He 
sighed deeply as he tried to grasp at what 
had happened to him. The world danced before 
his eyes. He touched his temple, feeling the 
deep cut made by his own paperweight. Then he 
remembered. He knew who that man was! That 
struck him the most. He had seen him before 
and knew of his political ambitions. And he 
was also a killer.

He had to tell someone! And then there was a 
vague sound, like a phone ringing. The sound 
seemed too loud in his bruised head. His 
fingers reached for the phone, picking it up. 
A sharp-pitched sound pierced his skull. He 
saw the wires. And then nothing anymore. 

When the fire ended, the entire top floors of 
the office building had gone to hell. 
Underneath the debris on the ninth floor, 
which had suffered too during the blast, laid 
the unconscious body of the security guard.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

The mayor's office buzzed with activity as 
Mulder and Campbell arrived. It was seven-
thirty in the evening, yet all the personnel 
still seemed present. Some of them were 
dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos.

"There's an AIDS benefit tonight," Campbell 
said. "I was supposed to go too, but with all 
that's been going on, that's not going to 
happen. Not that I'm unhappy with that; I 
hate those events."

"Don't let your father hear you say that," 
Mulder remarked, remembering the former 
Chief of Police whom he had met twice. 

"Detective Campbell," the mayor's secretary 
said, as Jack knocked on the glass door that lead 
to a small but beautifully decorated 
reception area. "The mayor is expecting you."

"Thank you," Jack said as they walked in. 
Inside another, classically decorated office, 
a man in his late forties awaited both men. 
Mulder had seen the mayor on news bulletins 
and in newspapers. Rumors had it that he was 
going to try for the Senate during the next 
elections and that the eligible mayor's seat 
was up for grabs. 

It was no secret the mayor was a very cocky 
man who didn't like it when things didn't go 
his way. He wanted to exert his authority 
over the NYPD and FBI during high-profiled 
cases, but when he found out he hadn't, he 
got nasty. 

"Close the door, Ellen," the mayor said. "And 
tell David that I'm going to be running late. 
He should warn Congressman Mitchell."

"Yes, sir," the secretary said as she shut 
the door. The mayor didn't offer them coffee. 
He made it very clear he didn't want to spend 
much time discussing the case with the two 
men who were supposed to solve it soon.

"Look, Campbell," the mayor said, ignoring 
the fact for now he saw this man on a 
personal basis as well and at times even 
liked him. "I'm not going to beat around the 
bush here. I want results and I want them 
yesterday. I appreciate you bringing in the 
FBI, but you're slowing things down. What are 
you doing to get this guy?"

"We have gathered all the evidence and are 
exploring Miss Delany's past, sir. You must 
understand that it will take time."

"We don't have time. Everyone's breathing 
down my neck. They all want to know how this 
could happen in my city. They believe some 
crazy bomber is terrorizing the city. I have 
a press conference in the morning to tell 
them this is not the case. Please tell me 
this is a one-time thing, Jack."

Jack opened his mouth to speak but stopped 
when Mulder interfered. "There is no telling,  
Mr. Mayor," he said quickly. "We might have a 
serial killer on our hands. But he's not a 
terrorist. I can guarantee that much."

"How can you guarantee that?" the mayor asked 
angrily acknowledging the answer he didn't 
want to hear. "There's not much you know 
about him yet, is there?"

"That is correct, sir," Mulder said. "That's 
why I'm here. I can guarantee you that I will 
do everything in my power to identify him."

"Good," the mayor said. "Because if you do 
not, I'll make sure you never work at the 
Bureau again."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Mayor?" Mulder asked 
coldly.

"No. Call it warning. I know the Director 
quite well."

"As do I, sir. And I can tell you that he 
will not appreciate the remark you just made. 
Right now, you need us more than we do you. I 
suggest that you keep that in mind." Mulder 
rose from his chair and turned his back 
toward the mayor who sat numbly in his seat, 
not able to utter another word. Quickly, Jack 
left as well, shutting the door behind him.

"What the hell was that?" Campbell asked, 
suddenly bursting into laughter at Mulder's 
angry features. "You don't really know the 
Director personally, do you?"

"Of course not," Mulder said, calming down. 
"But I don't think the mayor's going to 
contact him either. He needs us and he knows 
it. He needs the FBI to keep his city calm 
right now. If he screws that up, he loses all 
credibility himself."

"You like to taunt people, don't you Mulder?" 
Jack asked. "You haven't changed a bit."

Mulder's smile faded. "There's a lot you 
don't know about my past, Jack," he said 
seriously. "You have no idea what it's been 
like to work at the Bureau, knowing that 
everyone there wants to get you fired. 
They've been ridiculing me and laughing at my 
work because they don't understand it. And I 
get so tired when that happens outside the 
Bureau as well. That man in there doesn't 
have reason to threaten me, but he thinks he 
can because he runs this city. So it's my job 
to set the record straight."

Jack patted Mulder on the back. "I know what 
you mean," he said. "Believe me, I do. Let's 
get out of here and go see Scully. She should 
be working on that autopsy right now."

"I hope she's finished," Mulder grinned. "She 
loves to slice and dice, but I don't like to 
watch."

"Don't tell me you're squeamish!"

"Of course I am. Every regular person should 
be."

The two men walked outside to Campbell's car 
and got in. Suddenly Jack froze, rubbing his 
eyelids forcefully as he sunk deeper into his 
seat. Mulder looked askance at him, but chose 
not to disturb him as the detective sat 
quietly in his seat.

Finally Jack relaxed and looked up.

"You had a vision, didn't you?" Mulder asked.

Jack nodded and looked aside. "I can't be 
sure," he said as drops of sweat poured down 
his face. "But I think there's been another 
one."

At the same time Jack's cell phone went off. 
And Mulder knew it was going to be a long, 
long night.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

Mulder called Scully on the way to the office 
building that had been under attack and asked 
her to arrange for a rental car and meet them 
there. She agreed and said she would arrive 
in about an hour or so, after finishing the 
autopsy. She still had some work to do.

The two men sat quietly in the car, not 
wanting to discuss the second murder. But 
Jack wanted to talk about the vision. "It was 
that man again," he said. "I can't help but 
think that we somehow are on the same level. 
I see what he's doing but I can't see where 
or when. It's like I'm picking up some of his 
thoughts; the ones that he perhaps wants me 
to see."

"Do you have any idea if he looks familiar to 
you?"

"I can't see his face. I don't know who he 
is. It's all too blurry. This vision doesn't 
work at all, Mulder. It's just a nuisance. 
It's a joke."

"It's not," Mulder said, trying to calm his 
friend down. "Look, you said that the FBI 
recruited you because of your visions. Did 
they know about it?"

"I don't know. What I meant is that they 
thought I had insights no one else had. They 
were right of course. But I wasn't tested on 
those visions nor did anyone discuss them. I 
just felt as if I was cheating when I used 
them. I thought that by joining the NYPD I 
could make better use of them, but there, 
too, I discovered that they always came too 
late."


"I understand now," Mulder said. "But that 
still doesn't change the fact that you can do 
some good with that psychic ability of yours. 
You have the power to help people, Jack. 
And believe me, I know what you are going 
through. You have to learn from what you can 
do."

"You call it a gift, a power," Jack said 
somber. "But I call it a curse."

"You won't know what it's like until you let 
me help you."

"Let me think about it," Jack said. "Okay?"

"Fair enough," Mulder said, feeling victory 
was almost his. Then the agent looked ahead 
and muttered, "Jesus." 

"What the hell," Jack muttered, parking the 
car right in front of an office building with 
ruined top floor. Dozens of people were 
running about. Several fire department 
vehicles were already there. There were 
police cars and ambulances. It looked like 
World War III.

Mulder and Campbell rushed out. All hell had 
broken loose and it seemed nothing would ever 
be the same again.


Act 3

Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

Quietly Mulder walked alone through the 
ravaged tenth floor. In the back office, the 
remains had been found of Stephen Wells, the 
apparent victim of the second bombing in two 
days. Just like Susannah Delany before him, 
Wells had been the target of a vicious 
murderer. And just like with Susannah, his 
belongings had been destroyed.

The man's death was just as horrible as 
Susannah's had been, allowing Mulder to 
believe that the killer had deliberately 
picked this man to die. But what was the 
connection between Delaney and Wells? Why 
would he choose two people that apparently 
had nothing in common?

"There was a second victim," Jack reported as 
he walked towards Mulder. "They found the 
security guard a floor lower. He's hurt but 
not in any danger. He was making his rounds 
when it happened."

"Have they found out how the bomber got into 
the building yet?" Mulder asked. "He must 
have had a badge or something."

"The security system is still to be examined, 
but at first sight it seems that Wells let 
him in. He must have known him."

"There was no one at the reception area?"

"There never is at night. The receptionist 
leaves around seven and there's only the 
security guard. Everyone who works here late 
at night has his or her own badge. So when 
there's a guest at night, he or she needs to 
be allowed in."

"Is the badge system checked?"

"Yeah," Jack confirmed. "They'll go through 
the badge lists tonight to see if anyone 
gained access that way. But at first sight it 
seems that that's not the case."

Mulder nodded. "He would give himself away 
instantly. He wouldn't do that."

"So Wells must have known him."

"Most likely," Mulder said thoughtfully as he 
stood in the center of what had been Wells' 
office. The bomb squad confirmed the phone 
had been wired, alongside the fax machine and 
door. Wells' cell phone had been found on one 
of the other desks. It was obvious the killer 
had wanted his victim to pick up the phone.

"What are we going to do, Mulder?" Jack 
whispered. "We've got a deadline now. If he 
kills again tomorrow, we need to be there to 
stop it."

"Go do some good old fashioned police work 
and work your way through the details and 
suspect list," Mulder said. "Scully will pick 
me up here. I'll make the profile tonight. 
I have enough information to 
work with."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely," Mulder said. "Can you do me a 
favor and book us into a hotel? Just give me 
a call and let me know what you come up 
with."

"Okay," Jack said, saying goodbye to his 
friend. Mulder looked at the firemen who were 
still cleaning the floor and turned his back 
towards them, concentrating on the scene. 
More and more he became convinced the killer 
had a reason for destroying his victims like 
this. It wasn't just the viciousness. There 
was something else.

"Hello?" A man tapped on what remained of the 
doorpost and walked in. "I'm sorry, I'm 
looking for Detective Campbell."

"He just left," Mulder said. "Sorry, you are 
-?"

The man walking into the room was dressed in 
a tuxedo and seemed completely out of place 
in the destroyed room. He was in his late 
thirties and good-looking. His bright dark 
blue eyes took in the environment and he 
seemed nervous to be in the room. It seemed 
to be the last place he wanted to be.

"I'm sorry," he said. "My name is Alec 
Thompson. I'm a friend of Jack's and work for 
the mayor. I was on my way to a benefit when 
I found out what happened. The mayor's 
assistant called me and told me." Thompson 
smiled wryly. "I guess he thought I would 
find out more than the mayor did."

"I'm Special Agent Mulder," Mulder said, 
shaking the man's hand. "I'd be more than 
happy to tell you how our investigation is 
going, but the mayor already knows everything 
he needs to know."

"I gathered as much," Thompson said. "Can you 
tell me if Jack is around?"

"He went downtown."

"Oh. I'll call him then." Awkwardly Thompson 
remained in the room, staring at the debris. 
"How could anyone do this to another human 
being?"

"Good question," Mulder said. "One that I 
cannot answer for you."

"I'm sure you can't. Well, it was good to 
meet you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Mulder watched as the man left, 
wondering about this strange visit. He made a 
mental note to check out the man. One just 
never knew. Mulder walked to the staircase 
and went down. In the reception area he 
bumped into Scully who was just about to go 
up.

"You just saved me a long walk up," she said. 
"How was it up there?"

"Horrible," he said. "Let's get out of here, 
Scully."

"Where to?"

"The FBI Field Office. We need to talk to 
Skinner and put together what we've got. 
There are a lot of things to discuss."

"I agree," Scully said.

Mulder glanced at her curiously, knowing she 
had something to tell.


Day Two, December 9, 2001
New York City

It was nearly midnight. The day had been 
quite long but the night would become even 
longer. The second murder had clearly shown 
they were working against a time limit they 
had to keep in mind. The profile that rested 
in the agent's head still needed to get on 
paper. And there were a lot of details to 
discuss.

But Scully was first and got to explain the 
details shown during the autopsy. Her voice 
sounded professional and her words were to 
the point, yet Mulder could see how repulsed 
she must have been while performing the 
autopsy.

"I'm afraid there was more going on than just 
the bombing," Scully started.

"Oh?" Skinner said surprised. Her partner 
didn't seem so shocked.

"Susannah Delaney showed massive brain tissue 
damage; damage that could not be caused by 
the bombing. Believe me, it took me a while 
to figure this out. Her face and head were 
damaged beyond recognition, as you can 
imagine. Her face was practically blown away. 
But when I took a sample of the brain, I saw 
that all the small blood vessels had 
exploded; she had been subjected to something 
that would cause this before she died."

"Something like what?" Skinner asked. "A 
machine?"

"No," Mulder said. "Not a machine. A person."

"Excuse me?" Skinner said. "Can you explain 
yourself, Agent Mulder?"

"I know this might sound difficult to accept, 
sir," Mulder said, "but I have reason to 
believe our suspect is psychic, or at least 
has psychic abilities that allow him to do 
this. He uses these abilities for some reason 
that I'm not aware of yet, literally causing 
the explosion of the brain cells before the 
actual death."

"That would leave his victims dead before the 
explosion," Skinner said. "Wouldn't it, 
Agent Scully?"

Scully hesitated and glanced at Mulder. She 
had no idea why he came up with this, and she 
had no reason to believe his theory. Yes, the 
victims suffered from brain damage that might 
have eventually caused their untimely deaths, 
but to state that the killer did this with 
psychic abilities? That was stretching it a 
bit too far.

"Scully?" Skinner repeated. "Could this be 
possible?"

"If you ask me whether they could have 
survived this sort of ordeal, then I'd answer 
yes. But if you ask me if this is caused by 
using psychic abilities, I'd have to say no."

"I knew you were going to say that," Mulder 
said, not angry with her at all. She wouldn't 
go for his theory, so he had to defend it 
without revealing Jack's secret. He had 
given his word. He groaned lightly and 
shifted in his seat. "I haven't anymore proof 
to validate this theory yet, sir," he 
continued. " You are going to have to trust 
me on this one."

"What do you want me to say, Mulder?" Skinner 
said as he got up and put his hands in his 
pockets, turning his back towards the agents. 
"Do you want me to go to the Deputy Director 
with this story? Do you want the press to 
find out about it?"

"No, sir. Officially, I'd go with the crazy 
bomber story. Unofficially, I would find out 
if this man is truly psychic and if this case 
falls within our X-Files-department. But 
I'm pretty sure that - if and when we catch 
him - we will know that he indeed is not a 
regular serial killer."

Scully glanced at her partner, not knowing 
whether or not she should be angry with him. 
He was holding something back from them, and 
she wanted to find out what it was. It had 
something to do with Jack. She knew that. But 
when was she going to find out?

Mulder saw her discomfort and gave her a warning 
look. She knew better than to argue with him. 
She didn't feel like doing so. It was too 
late in the evening and they were not one 
step further than they had been in the 
afternoon.

"I suggest that we break for tonight and 
proceed in the morning," Skinner said. "It's 
late and we're all very tired. Agent Mulder, 
I suggest that you give your theory a rest 
for now too."

"Yes, sir," he said.

On the drive back to the Field Office
Jack had called and said they were
all booked into a Holiday Inn. He gave Mulder 
the address and told him he would pick them 
up in the morning. He was also on his way 
home, even though his mind wasn't set to 
sleep. Too many events still lingered in the 
back of his head.

Skinner took his own rental car and followed
Mulder and Scully back to the hotel, where
they'd booked three separate rooms.  Before 
Skinner's eyes the partners said goodnight,
but Mulder knew he would see her again that night.  

After taking a shower, Mulder changed into 
sweats and a T-shirt and turned on his 
laptop. The events were still fresh in his 
mind and he knew he could not sleep before he 
had put his profile on paper.  The TV was 
playing in the background.

A soft knock startled him and as he opened 
the door, Scully stood there, also dressed 
casually in jeans and a T-shirt. "Hey," he 
said, letting her in. She smiled and kissed
him as soon as he closed the door. It wasn't 
a hungry kiss. They weren't in the mood.  
Tired she glanced at the laptop and said,
"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I can't," he said. "I still have some work 
to do."

"Can I help?"

"No, you've done enough for tonight." His 
voice sounded serious. She knew he didn't 
like it when she worked late, like he did at 
times. She also knew he was working on his 
profile, something she couldn't help with. 
Hesitant, they stood opposite each other. She 
cupped his head in her hands and kissed him 
again, softly and smoothly this time.

"Would you mind staying?" he suddenly asked. 
"I still need to finish this, but I would 
love it if you could keep me company."

"Sure," she said, retreating to the bed. She 
laid herself down, throwing off her shoes.  
She found a comfortable position and 
watched him as he sat by the table and typed 
his profile. Next, she flipped channels and 
read the magazine a previous guest had left. 
Around two she finally fell asleep.

Mulder sighed deeply and wondered how in the 
world they would ever combine this 
relationship with their professional careers. 
Then he smiled and realized they had been 
doing exactly that over the past 9 years. 
They might not have been sharing their beds 
for that long, but their affair had been 
going on for quite some time. They both would 
be liars if they denied that.

The agent took a deep breath and returned to 
his work, only to finish up around four. 
Startled he glanced at his watch, took off 
his shoes and socks, and slid underneath the 
blanket with her. Scully groaned, the turned
and embraced him in her sleep. 

He fell asleep with her face next to his, her 
nose almost touching his. She was the last 
thing he saw. She would also be the first 
thing he would spot in the morning.

Four miles away the killer stayed awake and 
watched the news. He was content with the way 
things were going. The kick of killing was 
only starting to grow.


Day Three, December 10, 2001 
New York City

Take time to catch your breath and choose 
your moment
Don't slide



Early in the morning Mulder woke up at his 
usual hour, only to be surprised by Scully's 
glance. Her face was still very close to him 
and it seemed that they hadn't moved a  bit 
during the night. They were still entangled 
in each other's arms.

"I have to go," she said as if they had just 
shared a valuable night and were forced to 
say goodbye. "Jack will be here soon to pick 
us up."

"I know," he responded with regret, but there 
was no objection. It was too soon to let the 
world know. Right now there was just their 
attention for each other. It was too precious 
to throw away with a single wrong movement.

She slid off the bed and knelt down and 
kissed him goodbye. "See you in a few," she 
said and left the room with her keys in her 
hand. He looked at the door, wishing she 
would come back, but knowing that she 
wouldn't. There were silent agreements 
between them, and they both lived up to them.

Mulder washed up and brushed his teeth. 
Around eight he turned on the local TV 
channel, only to be inundated with the amount 
of press interest. There was a ten-minute 
story on last night's events. The mayor was 
interviewed at last night's benefit, and his 
right hand, a man named David Lane, explained 
to the gathered press that they had faith in 
the FBI and police working together.

Suddenly Mulder stared at the screen, 
recognizing his image as the center of a 
profile story.
 
His Bureau history and track record were 
mentioned, as were previous cases he had 
investigated as a profiler. There was also a 
slight mention of the X-Files. Humored, 
Mulder finished dressing, wondering how long 
it would take before the press got their 
hands on him and forced him to give 
statements he didn't really want to.

Before long, Skinner stood before his door. 
He had already warned Scully as well that 
Campbell was waiting in the lobby. They would 
take a quick breakfast and be on their way. 
Campbell looked worried when they came 
downstairs.

While they were eating breakfast, Campbell 
explained. "Your hotel was leaked out to the 
press. They're eager to talk to one of you," 
he said. "I'm not really up for it. I don't 
want to alarm this guy. But I guess it can't 
be avoided." Jack handed Mulder a document 
that the computer spit out the night before. 
"I've done a bit of tabloid research," he 
explained. "Susannah Delaney was kept track 
of, and it seems that Stephen Wells has been 
spotted with her several times during the 
past few months."

"They had an affair?" Scully asked.

"Looks like it. But ironically enough, this 
was one of the relationships that could be 
discussed out in the open. If you were to 
read all the other articles on her, you would 
see that there are some high profile people 
on that list, from the Senate and the mayor's 
office."

"We're still assuming someone she dated 
killed her?" Skinner asked, glaring at Mulder 
whose facial expression didn't change. "Is 
that what we are going to tell the press?"

"It's a good story," Mulder said. "But it's 
not the entire story."


Mulder only smiled and turned his face to 
Skinner. "Don't worry, sir," he said. "I'm 
not going to screw things up. I'll make sure 
the FBI is not discredited or damaged by my 
story." Mulder straightened his back and 
walked outside, immediately surrounded by 
several reporters that all fired their 
questions towards him.

"Agent Mulder," a woman said, pushing a 
microphone under his nose. "You're on a live 
television. Can you tell us how the progress 
on your investigation goes?"

"I can't tell you many details about our 
investigation," Mulder said politely. "I have 
created a profile on our suspect that will be 
distributed to all law enforcement agencies. 
We have reason to believe there was a strong 
connection between the deaths of 
Susannah Delaney and Stephen Wells, and that 
they were not chosen randomly."

A short silence followed. Then everyone tried 
to shout his or her question.

"Is this the work of a terrorist?"

"Is the killer going through New York's High 
Society?"

"Did Miss Delaney have an affair with Mister 
Wells?"

"Did Mister Wells kill Miss Delaney before 
committing suicide?"

Mulder didn't answer any of the questions, 
simply excused himself and walked past them. 
Then a man grabbed his wrist and he turned 
around. The reporter who had touched him 
asked, "Do you think the killer is 
challenging the FBI with his actions? After 
all, there have been bombings before against 
law enforcement agencies."

Mulder stopped and thought over his answer 
carefully before turning towards the camera 
as if he wanted to look straight into the 
killer's eyes. From where she stood Scully 
could clearly see her partner's eyes as he 
coldly said, "I know how he's doing it. Now 
it's just a matter of stopping him."

Then Mulder simply walked further until he 
reached the rental car. Fishing out the keys 
Scully had given him the night before, he got 
in and waited until Scully slid in next to 
him. Jack Campbell used his own car, as did 
Skinner.

"Why did you challenge him?" Scully asked.

Mulder raised his shoulders and shook his 
head. "People like that should know they 
cannot get away with murder."

"He already has, Mulder."

Yes, Mulder thought, he already has. But if 
he got the message, he knows by now that I 
know how he's doing it.

Sitting before his television set, the killer 
felt anger bottle up inside of him. The agent 
knew. He could tell by the way that he looked 
into the camera. It had been a message for 
him. A message to let him know he was on to 
him.

The killer nodded slowly. If this was a 
challenge, he was up to it. From now on he 
had but one opponent: The Profiler.

Day Three, December 10, 2001
New York City

"Are you okay, Mulder?"

"Hmm?" He looked aside only to find his 
partner gazing anxiously at him. She had 
that look in her eyes again that proved she 
was concerned for him. He didn't want her to 
worry. There was no need for it. But he had 
been sitting quietly in the car, and she 
wondered where his usual smart remarks were.

"I was just thinking about these two 
victims," he said, "I wonder if they knew why 
they were killed."

"We will only know that when we find 
their killer. He's the only one that knows 
that right now. But I'm guessing that they 
knew. People usually die for a reason, 
Mulder. Isn't that what your profile states 
as well?"

"Of course it does," he answered. "But human 
nature keeps on surprising the hell out of 
me. At times I just wonder why someone does 
what he does. And I just want to know why 
we're here. Why is this person doing the kill 
the way he is. And why am I here setting up a 
profile and why are you performing yet another 
autopsy while we should be having fun."

She smiled. "Isn't this your idea of fun? I 
thought you were such a workaholic?"

He grinned and looked aside, letting his mind 
drift away from the traffic for a second. 
"Since I've got more than my share of you, 
I've adopted other ideas of enjoyment."

She smiled, tracing the line of his mouth 
with her finger. In the solitude of the car 
it didn't matter what they said or did, and 
he responded by resting his face against her 
hand for a second to allow the warmth of her 
flesh comfort him more than any of her 
words could. She felt like teasing him but 
knew better than to do so. Instead she pulled 
away her hand reluctantly when they arrived 
at the Field Office.

"Damn it," Mulder said, as the parking lot 
seemed closed up. A guard walked over to them 
and looked inside. "Sorry, Agents," he spoke, 
"we've got mechanical problems - can't seem 
to get the system to unlock this morning. 
There's a reserve parking lot around the back 
though. Just go around the corner and drive 
up the small parking lot to the left."

"Thanks," Mulder muttered, doing as the man 
had said. When he parked the vehicle a second 
car drove up the lot. Campbell had followed 
them and drove up behind him. The two 
Chryslers stood next to one another.

"Make sure you get the right car tonight," 
Scully said. Jack made a face. "Hey, I've got 
the luxury edition. Let's go."

The agents walked to the front entrance of 
the building, hoping that there wouldn't be 
any press waiting for them there either. 
Fortunately the guards had chased most of 
them away. "Before I forget to mention it 
again, Jack," Mulder said as he used the 
badge to make his way in, "someone came to 
see you last night at the Wells' crime scene. 
A guy named Alec Thompson. He said he was an 
old friend of yours and works for the mayor."

"That's right," Jack said surprised. "But I 
haven't seen him for ages. And he came to the 
Wells' site?"

"Yep."

"That's odd." Campbell stepped into the 
elevator and pushed the button. "Why would he 
come and see me there?"

"Perhaps he had something to tell you," 
Mulder said.

"I wouldn't have a clue as to what that might 
be, but I'll give him a call." Jack leaned 
back against the glass and stared in front of 
him. It was obvious he was wondering about 
that unexpected visitor. Mulder stared at 
Scully, hoping that she might not ask too 
many questions. 

She understood his look and excused herself
when they got out of the elevator. The night
before she hadn't asked Mulder about Jack.
She knew her partner would tell her when the 
time was right.

"What's going on, Jack?" Mulder asked as they 
walked down the corridor to the offices at 
the end. He closed the door behind them and 
watched as Jack walked straight to the window 
and looked outside, his hands tucked in his 
pockets like Skinner always used to do.

"I had another vision last night," he said. 
"They come more often now and they frighten 
me. I feel like they're trying to tell me 
that we're getting close, but that we're 
running out of time. These latest visions 
scare me because they're unlike the ones I've 
had before. In the past I felt like I could 
help people with what I saw. Now I can only 
guess at what is happening."

"You are the conduit," Mulder tried to 
explain. "It's through you that we must 
proceed in finding him."

"But what if he uses me the same way?" Jack 
asked desperately. "What if he too has those 
visions and only allows me to see what he 
wants me to see?"

"We can only assume that you alone have those
 visions, through some connection that you 
have with him," Mulder said slowly, suddenly 
realizing he had been through the same thing
 years ago with John Lee Roche. The connection 
had been there, and it been two-way. "No," the 
agent said out loud. "We cannot assume that."

Mulder took a deep breath and concentrated on 
Jack. "Tell me what you saw."

"It's complicated."

"Just try."

"There was a large building and a lot of 
people inside. They were all dressed in 
tuxedos and evening dress. It was some sort 
of party or benefit. There was a huge sign 
out front. Wait, it was a sign for the AIDS 
benefit.  He moved and then stopped and 
looked around. There were a lot of different 
people that I saw, all very blurry faces. I 
couldn't make them out. But there was a 
female hand that stretched out. I didn't see 
her face, but I caught a glimpse of her dress 
and the ring on her finger. It was a special 
ring."

"Do you think you would be able to recognize 
that ring and dress?"

"I think so."

"He chose his next victim," Mulder said. "He 
was at the AIDS benefit and picked out the 
victim Wells gave to him. He's moving 
forward. If the past two days are any 
indication, tonight he will try to kill his 
third victim."

"Wells?" Jack asked surprised.

Quickly Mulder explained his theory on the 
psychic ability of their killer. Jack 
listened in surprise, realizing at last that 
he couldn't grasp what was going on. No one 
really could. He sighed deeply and rubbed his 
head. He was so tired of these visions. All 
he wanted was to lead a regular life and 
forget he ever saw anything inside of his 
mind. 

Mulder put his hand on the man's shoulder and 
said, "You did well, Jack. I promised you 
help and I will give it to you. Just hang on 
for a bit longer and try to see the best of 
it."

Jack smiled wryly. "You're forgetting I'm not 
so experienced with this paranormal stuff. 
You're the expert."

"You're learning quickly," Mulder responded. 
"Now then, can you get us a list of attendees 
at that party?"

"Of course," Jack answered, tiredly.

"We need to concentrate on that ring and 
dress. First priority now is to find our 
victim. Do you think that ring was custom-
made?"

"It must have been," Jack said, "I had never 
seen anything like it."

"Can you try to get a list of jewelers in 
town that could do this?"

"I'll have one of my men on it. He's quite 
good at that sort of thing. I'm sure he'll 
find it quickly."

"Good," Mulder said. "Because time is running 
out on us. Can we compare the list of the 
guests of last night's benefit with the 
guests of other well-known benefit parties 
that occurred just recently - let's say 
during the past two months?"

"Of course," Jack said. "Mulder, what exactly 
are you thinking? Is our killer a high 
profile man? Is he attending all of those 
benefits as well, choosing his victims 
amongst his friends?"

"The victims let him in. He knew their 
habits. He was most likely a friend or 
acquaintance. It does make sense. He most 
likely had an affair with Susannah Delaney 
too. Since that list is quite long, it might 
take us a while to go through all the names, 
and then we can only hope that their romance 
was known."

"Is all of that in your profile, Mulder?" 
Jack grinned.

"Most of it," the agent responded. "Let's see 
if we can pass the profile on, shall we?"

Within half an hour Mulder's profile had been 
approved by Skinner and sent out by email to 
all the law enforcement agencies in town. 
Every FBI agent knew what kind of person they 
were looking for. But that still didn't make 
things easier. The most confidential note in 
the profile was that the killer most likely 
lived in the 'better parts' of town, probably 
leading a double life. Mulder had not 
mentioned the Jekyll & Hyde syndrome but had 
implied it.

Skinner was more than satisfied with the 
preliminary report and profile. So was 
Washington. But the killer was still on the 
loose and as noon passed and snow began to 
cover the streets, everyone felt the tension 
grow.

Day Three, December 10, 2001
New York City

Scully left to complete the autopsy of
Stephen Wells. "Here I go again," she
had muttered while leaving. Mulder and 
Campbell worked like crazy going through the 
lists of attendees of several high profile 
local benefits. It was no good. Several names 
popped up on every list, including the 
mayor's.

Another team was going through the tabloids 
trying to gather a timeline on Susannah 
Delaney's love life. Jack also placed several 
calls with different newspapers and a society 
reporter who told him with whom Susannah had 
been seen. So far about nine names had popped 
up. There were different timeframes that 
couldn't be accounted for, and since her 
hunger for one-night stands with young studs 
was no big secret, everyone could only guess 
at the correct amount of men she'd had.

From the timeline, six names appeared on the 
guest lists of all the benefits as well. 
Skinner called it a long shot but worth a 
look. None of the names meant anything to 
him, but both Jack and Mulder uttered a 
surprised shout when Alec Thompson's name 
popped up again. At one of the benefits he 
had taken Susannah as a guest.

"So Alec knew her," Jack muttered, looking up 
as his eyes darkened.

"Don't you think you should have a word with 
him?" Mulder asked.

"I guess so," Jack said. "Who could have 
thought this would ever happen."

"What do you mean, Jack?  What's so 
surprising about this Thompson guy?"

"I'm not sure at this point; just suffice it 
to say something isn't right, and I'm getting 
a bad feeling about this," he replied 
morosely.

Mulder didn't understand why Jack was so 
upset but let his friend be. There were other 
things to consider now

Before long Scully returned and on her hair 
danced snowflakes. "It's freezing out there," 
she said, blowing in her cold hands. Her nose 
had turned a red tint as well. Mulder looked 
at her and his heart made a quick jump before 
he was able to concentrate on his work again.

Finally, around three o'clock Jack's 
colleague Chris Morgan called and said he 
might have found the ring. From his vision 
Jack had made a rough sketch that he had 
faxed to his colleague downtown. With that 
sketch Chris made his way around New York's 
most expensive jewelers, hoping that the ring 
had been a product of The Big Apple.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

"Definitely."

"Let's go then," Jack said, grabbing his 
jacket. Mulder and Scully followed. Out in 
the cold the three pulled their coats tighter 
and rushed through the snow to the parking 
lot. The cars were covered in snow.

"There's our car," Scully said, pointing to 
the Chrysler that was parked near the exit.

"Just follow me," Jack waved before he got 
in. Mulder and Scully got in the other car 
and waited for the detective to leave, but he 
didn't. Instead he got out and took a look at 
the left tire. He waved with his hand towards 
the agents.

"What's wrong?" Mulder asked.

"I've got a flat. Damn it! I'll have to get 
that fixed."

"I'll tell the guard," Mulder said. "Maybe he 
can arrange to get it fixed."

Mulder walked to the guard and explained him 
what had happened. The guard nodded and said 
he would make arrangements. At Mulder's 
insistence Jack slid in behind the steering 
wheel and drove. 

At the jewelry store Chris Morgan waited for 
them. "The jeweler is pretty sure he made 
that ring," Morgan explained. "I showed him 
the sketch and he has a photo of the original 
that looks a lot like it. I suggest that you 
take a look at it."

The jeweler was polite and showed them a 
picture of a ring he had specially designed. 
Jack took one look at the photo and knew that 
was the ring he had seen. "This is the one," 
he said. "Whom did you design it for?"

The jeweler seemed uncomfortable to give away 
personal information but he had two FBI 
agents and a cop standing before him. How 
could he refuse? "I designed it for 
Congresswoman McPherson," he said. "She's one 
of my regular customers and inherited the 
diamond. She wanted a unique design for it. 
Her husband gave it to her as an anniversary 
gift."

Jack looked at the others. "If what we think 
is right, she might be the next victim."

"Or it might have been a waste of time," 
Scully said, hoping she was wrong.

"We have to get in touch with her and put her 
in protective custody," Jack said as they 
walked out. "But what story are we going to 
use? We can't just go up there and tell her 
we feel she might be in danger."

Scully asked Jack, "Do you think you might 
find out if she was involved with Stephen 
Wells?"

Jack hesitated before saying softly, "No. She 
couldn't be involved with him."

"She's his sister, isn't she?" Mulder said. 
"Stephen Wells had a sister, Sophia. She's 
the one he's after now. He wants to kill her 
too."

"That's right," Jack confirmed. "She is his 
sister."

Mulder felt a shock surge through him as he 
suddenly realized he now had confirmation of 
how the killer chooses his victims. "He picks 
out the last person in one's mind before 
death occurs," Mulder said slowly. "That's 
how he does it. He feeds on people's 
emotions, choosing that one person that means 
more to you than anyone else; the one person 
you would think of before dying."

"Wait," Scully said, ignoring Chris Morgan's 
stunned look. "Are you now officially calling 
this an X-File, Mulder?"

"It has been since the day it started, 
Scully," Mulder said. "And now we have the 
proof."

"Why, because he goes after the sister having 
first killed the brother? What proof is that? 
It means nothing, Mulder. There is a 
connection between all these people and it's 
down to earth. Don't go looking for things 
that aren't there. We need to pursue this the 
logical way. We cannot afford to turn this 
into an X-File."

"It is an X-File," Jack said as he stepped 
forward. "We need to pursue it that way. When 
we find Congresswoman McPherson, we will find 
him."

"Fine," Scully said,  "I just don't want to 
be the one to tell Skinner."

Mulder smiled, knowing he had practically won 
her over. The evidence was there. Now all 
they had to do was put the pieces together 
and see how it explained the reasons behind 
the heinous acts.

"Track down Congresswoman McPherson," Mulder 
said. "We need to talk to her before he finds 
her and kills her."


Act 4

Day Three, December 10, 2001
New York City

Later, when night settled in, everyone 
felt the tension as they waited for more 
bad news to come.  But it didn't. There 
was no new attempt. There was no new bombing.

In a safe house, Congresswoman McPherson 
waited with her husband. She knew she would 
not see her bed that night. They had 
persuaded her, convinced her that she was in 
mortal danger. And she had run while her 
heart was filled with grief over her 
brother's death. He had died by the hands of 
the man that was now going to try and kill 
her, they said. And so she had not thought it 
over. She simply did what they told her to 
do.

That night her house stayed empty. There was 
no one present but the police officers that 
kept an eye out, hoping that he would show 
up.

But he didn't. Because he had known they were 
there. He had heard through his office. 
Anger had settled in his heart when he stayed 
at home that night, seeking revenge. He 
wanted to punish the man that was after him. 
He wanted to stop him.

And finally, when he went to bed in his 
apartment, which he used when meetings ran 
over  too long and felt too tired to go home, 
he knew he was going to kill him.

And he had found just the way.


Day Four, December 11, 2001 
New York City

Even at a time like this when the morning 
seems so far
Think that pain belongs to you but it's 
happened to us all
It's all right to make mistakes you're only 
human
Inside everybody's hiding something


After he dropped Jack off at his apartment 
about two blocks from the hotel, Mulder and 
Scully arrived back at the hotel around 
midnight. Skinner was already there but 
nowhere in sight. He had probably gone to bed 
after debating for a long time with the mayor 
and his assistant. 

The two agents had a light meal together.  
Again it was too late to eat properly.  
Scully sighed while she ate her salad, plucking 
at the vegetables on the plate. It was the 
only meal the kitchen had to offer them at that 
late hour.

They sat alone in the dining room and the 
constant chatter of the female cook and one 
of the waitresses sounded like white noise to 
their ears. The two agents said quietly 
together at first, both too tired to do much. 
It seemed that it was going to be a very 
short night once again.

"What is it?" Mulder asked.

She didn't respond at first but finally put 
down her fork and looked at him. "I've got a 
bad feeling about this," she said. "I feel 
like we're being watched. Our every move is 
being recorded."

"That's the press for you. They know where 
you are and what you're doing. Fortunately 
it's just a one-time thing," Mulder said 
lightly, realizing he, too, wasn't hungry 
anymore. They were all very tired but at 
least they could rest assure that tonight's 
victim had not died.

"I'm not talking about the press," Scully 
said. "I'm talking about him."

"Do you feel he's watching us?"

"Yes, and it gives me the chills," she 
admitted. "Mulder, in all these years we've 
seen a lot of gruesome things. We've seen 
murders that were beyond humanity. I know 
there are bombers out there that don't 
hesitate to kill off hundreds of people if it 
serves their political purpose. But it's just 
hard to grasp that someone deliberately does 
this to make a person suffer. Every bit of 
humanity inside that man is gone. He doesn't 
feel anything anymore. He uses his 
intelligence and financial means to do this, 
and he has the freedom to do this. I can't 
rest properly until I know he's behind lock 
and key."

"I know," Mulder said, placing a hand on 
hers. "It's difficult to work on this case, 
but it's going to be worth it when we get 
him. And I promised you that vacation. Okay? 
When we get out of here, we're taking off. I 
don't care what anyone says about it. It's 
going to be our vacation."

"As long as you don't take me to Vegas, I 
don't care where we're going," she smiled.

"It's a deal." He smiled and his fingers 
lingered long on her hand. "Let's go," he 
said. 

They pushed their chairs back and walked 
to the elevators. When the doors closed 
behind them, Scully felt her partner's lips 
on hers and she opened her mouth eagerly.

They knew they weren't going to spend the 
night together. In the morning Jack would 
come to the hotel to drive to the police 
station with them, where the search for the 
killer continued. But it was after one and 
they needed the rest. At Scully's door they 
said goodbye. With regret Mulder shut the 
door behind him and took a shower.

He glanced at his watch. He was awake and not 
eager to get to sleep. Sighing, he settled 
down on the bed and went through the file for 
the fourth or fifth time. He knew it by heart 
now. He knew every single detail on the 
killer and couldn't help but wonder what they 
had missed. But they had a list now of 
potential 'candidates'. In the morning they 
would contact all the suspects and go over 
their stories one by one. There would be a 
break soon. The killer would slip up.

In the morning he would go for a run; that 
always cleared his head. Central Park was 
nearby. He had running shoes with him. Yeah, 
a run would do him good.

With that thought Mulder finally fell asleep, 
only to wake up around six-thirty. He got 
changed and scribbled a note that he slipped 
under Scully's door. Jack was picking them up 
around eight, so there was still plenty of 
time.

Day Five, December 12, 2001
New York City

It was freezing cold out. For a second Mulder 
regretted having gone out but his body 
adjusted quickly. Warming up to a smooth pace 
he left the hotel around the front, passing 
the parking lot where a car with a running 
engine idled beside his. The man inside the 
vehicle glanced at Mulder as the vehicle 
drove off. All the cars in the lot were 
frozen, except for the one that just left. In 
the dark, the vehicle's lights pierced into 
Mulder's eyes for a second.

Mulder picked up the pace and jogged to 
Central Park.

Scully woke up around seven-thirty, for a 
while having difficulty remembering where she 
was. She had slept like a log from the moment 
she put her head down on the soft pillow. She
opened the curtains, and though it was still
dark out, dawn was slowly breaking. She switched
on one of the bedside lamps and caught sight of
something that lay in front of the door. She
yawned, slipped out of bed, and read the note
that Mulder had written her a note saying he
was out for a jog.

Great, Scully thought. He hardly sleeps, and 
then he jogs when he should be resting. That 
must make me one very lazy person. What a 
combination! She smiled at the thought of 
living together one day. Then she blushed. 
There was no way they could move in together 
just now. They had hardly come to terms with 
their newfound feelings. Moving in together 
seemed like something still too far away to 
consider. And besides, she still liked what 
little space she had to herself. It was going 
perfectly well the way it was.

She washed up, brushed her teeth, and combed 
her hair. Mulder would be back soon, and 
Jack would be arriving around eight. 

Mulder's feet could hardly keep up with the 
pace he was forcing upon himself in Central 
Park. He couldn't remember how long he had 
been running like that, going so fast he 
could hardly catch his breath. His body was 
warm despite the freezing cold, but he didn't 
remove his sweater, knowing that could be 
lethal to a runner.

His mind drifted away from everything he was 
working on. He forced himself to keep up the 
pace, passing a few other joggers on the way 
when dawn finally arrived. His head suddenly 
spun, his body reacting to the strain he had 
put himself under.

Someone watched him while sitting on the 
bench, as he made his run through the park. 
He had followed Mulder from the hotel, where 
their paths had crossed as well. The man's 
glance followed him as Mulder slowly 
approached him. The agent was slowing down 
now. The killer got up slowly and walked 
towards him, making sure their paths would 
cross again.

Mulder suddenly stopped, breathing heavily in 
and out. He leaned forward, putting his hands 
on his thighs as he forced his body to relax. 
He opened his mouth as his head pounded and 
his lungs filled with cold air. His back and 
legs were sore from exhaustion.

The man passed him nearby and for a second 
his hand touched Mulder's back. The touch, 
like wind brushing through one's hair, was so 
light it could have been ignored. Then the 
touch was gone and the man walked forward. 
Mulder blinked, looked up, and started 
walking again towards the exit.

Before he reached the hotel, Jack walked 
towards him. "Thought I might find you here," 
he smiled. "You're still quite the runner,
aren't you Mulder?"

Mulder had caught his breath again and 
smiled. His eyes blinked. The run had done 
him good. He had to change quickly now before 
he started shivering with cold. Jack picked 
up the pace and walked with him. "We need to 
talk, Mulder," he said before they entered 
the hotel.

Mulder stopped and looked at him. "What 
about?"

"This case. The way we're handling it. Your 
input."

"You're not happy with my input?" Mulder 
frowned.

"Of course I am," Jack said. "It's just that 
- I've got this feeling you're taking things 
very personally. I was thinking about it last 
night and I'm not so sure that I've done the 
right thing getting you here." Jack's excuse 
sounded weak, Mulder thought. He wondered 
what his friend was really trying to say.

"You look tired, Mulder," Jack continued. "You 
don't sleep that much, do you? Did you eat 
anything at all last night?"

"What are you - my mother?" Mulder muttered 
as he started walking again. The hotel lobby 
was busier now than before. Mulder ignored 
the other guests and walked to the elevators. 
Jack had difficulty following now.

"Look," Jack said, "I talked to Smythe last 
night. He called me for a report and asked
 me to keep an eye on you. It seems that
you've got this habit of getting in too 
deep, and I don't want that on my conscience. 
I asked you here because you are a fantastic 
profiler, but I don't want you hurt."

Mulder pushed the elevator button. "No, you 
asked me for advice. You got me in on this 
case knowing it was an X-File. Technically, 
that means I could take over, but I'm not 
going to. It's your case and I'm helping you 
out. You still have to live in this town, 
Jack. I get to go home when it's over, and 
I'll watch from a distance how you'll get 
your promotion. And I'll also watch when you 
refuse to give in to your ability to do more 
good than you're already doing. Since you've 
already made your decision about ignoring 
your gift, there's not much more I can say, 
is there?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked. 
He paled, realizing Mulder was right. He 
hadn't come here to persuade Mulder to take 
it easy. He came here in order to find an 
excuse not to proceed with an ability he had 
tried to ignore most of his life.

"You know what it means," Mulder said as the 
doors shut behind them. "You do what you want 
with your life, Jack, but if you have another 
case like this because of your visions, I 
suggest you seek other ways to go about solving
it."

"Are you accusing me of abusing our 
friendship?"

Mulder leaned tiredly against the glass. 
"Call it what you like. I'm not in the mood 
to argue while we should be out there finding 
our killer. So if you came here to tell me I 
should back off, think again. You asked me to 
work this case with you and I am, to the best 
of my ability. Smythe knows something about 
my habits and the way I work. Now you do, 
too. If you don't like it, you can always 
send me back to Washington, but I suspect that 
you won't. You need me too much right now."

Jack paled even more and didn't walk out the 
elevator with him. "I'll wait downstairs," 
he said as the doors closed behind him.

Day Five, December 12, 2001
New York City

Scully waited patiently until he returned to 
his room. She could hear him slamming the 
doors, and then there were noises coming from 
the bathroom. He was in the shower. She 
decided not to disturb him, but left for the 
lobby instead, leaving a note on the door 
that she was waiting downstairs.

Jack was downstairs as well, looking very 
glum. She could tell there had been an 
argument. She walked over to him. "Hey," she 
said. "How's it going?"

"Besides from the fact I'm an ass, 
everything's going well," he said. "Where's 
Mulder?"

"Getting changed. Did you have a fight with 
him?"

"Let's just call it a pathetic attempt at 
trying to avoid my responsibilities," Jack 
sighed as his fingers touched his temples. 
"I'm sorry, Dana. I should have known better, 
but I'm just tired and took it out on 
Mulder."

"He'll forgive you," she said. "We've got 
other things to concentrate on right now. 
We've got a long day ahead of us and 
hopefully our killer at the end of it. Are 
you driving with us?"

"No. My car is fixed - I got a call from 
security. I hope you guys don't mind."

"Don't be silly. Skinner should be down any 
minute now too." Scully turned and saw 
Skinner and Mulder come downstairs. At the 
breakfast table not a word was spoken. Mulder 
was still angry, but Scully could see he was 
calming down when he noticed Jack's 
apologetic glance. By the end of breakfast 
they were talking again.

"We're going to work on that list of suspects 
this morning," Mulder said, taking out the 
printout he had made the day before with the 
names of men that might have been involved 
with Susannah. "Sir, if you can, we need your 
help too."

"Of course," Skinner said. "I suppose we're 
splitting up in two groups?"

"That's right," Jack said. "I have my team 
going through the extensive list of attendees 
at the benefit as well, hoping that they 
might bump into a coincidence. This afternoon 
I will be talking to Congresswoman McPherson 
to see if there are mutual acquaintances with 
her brother that might be considered 
enemies."

"Good," Skinner said. "We're progressing. 
Mrs. McPherson will remain in protective 
custody?"

"Yes, sir," Mulder said. "We are assuming 
she's still high on the hit list. But if he 
changes his MO there's not much we can do 
about it."

"I'll try again to get through to Alec 
Thompson," Jack said. "I still need to find
out what he was doing at the Wells' crime
scene. The whole situation is quite odd, but 
couldn't get through to him yesterday. Hopefully, 
I'll have the chance to speak with him today."

"Good," Skinner said. "Let's get to work 
then."

The four got up and walked to the reception 
area. Before getting out the hotel manager 
walked over. "We will arrange your cars for 
you," he said. "They'll need defrosting."

"That's very kind of you," Mulder said. "But 
not necessary."

"Please, we insist. Unfortunately we don't 
have an underground parking lot and we always 
serve our guests."

"All right then," Mulder said, handing over 
the keys. Skinner did the same. Two bellboys 
hurried out with warm coats to warm up and 
fetch the cars. Scully had already gone 
outside and was walking while on the phone 
with the coroner's office. She had a meeting 
in about an hour to discuss the final 
results. Mulder watched as she walked over to 
the car.

Mulder turned to the manager. "You don't have 
an underground parking lot?" he asked.

"That's right, sir."

"So basically every car that is parked here 
at night has to be frozen?"

"I guess so," the manager said surprised.

Mulder frowned. "Is or was there a guest here 
that drives a black Sedan who left early this 
morning?"

"I can check, sir," the manager said. "Is 
there a problem?" The manager hurried to the 
desk and checked the computer file with guest 
entries and vehicles registration numbers. 
All the vehicles that stood on the parking 
lot were signed in. He looked up at a very 
nervous Mulder.

"Jesus Christ," Mulder said as he glanced 
towards the bellboys that had reached the two 
cars. There had been a car parked next to his 
rental earlier that morning. It hadn't been 
frozen and it wasn't from any of the guests.

"Jesus Christ," he repeated as he rushed out, 
to Skinner and Jack's surprise. Mulder 
practically flew, shouting Scully's name. She 
was still on the phone and didn't hear him at 
first. In the back, the bellboy had slid into 
the car, putting the key in the ignition.

"Scully!" he screamed as his tired legs 
refused to go any faster. She turned, still 
holding the phone in her hands. Her eyes 
looked at him, surprised. Then she was in his 
arms as she dropped the phone and he dragged 
her with him, making the decision to save 
her. It was too late to warn the bellboy.

The car started. Mulder thought he could 
actually hear the click as the device armed. 
Then there was another click, followed by an 
enormous blast that knocked them to the 
ground. He threw himself over her as they hit 
the ground, hard. The blast was so big that 
Mulder could feel the flames on his back, but 
they didn't scourge him. There was a strange 
numbness through his body. Scully lay deathly 
quiet beneath him.

The next moment the world seemed to be on 
fire, and then all went black.

To be concluded ..