Shades of Beauty(1-11/?)

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Classification: I don't know what
this is. It has parts from the
conspiracy, but is mostly in
thought-format, and is driven
by the characters. I guess I
would have to put it under X, S, V,
A, UST, possible little R towards
the end (haven't decided yet)
Jeeze, is that one screwed up
classifacation or what?

Summary: There's a killer on the
loose in IL, while young girls
are disappearing in IN.

Disclaimer: I do not own them,
never have, never will. I don't
want them either. Too hazerdous
to my health, if you ask me.
You all would want me to burn at
the stake if I ever had control
of them. Then again, you want
ANYONE who is responsible to be
burned at the stake. Ain't that
just peachy?

Author's notes: I know there are
at least four people here who have
already read this, or are in the
process of reading it, sorry to
shove it into your e-mail boxes again
guys. That being said, I feel the
need to warn you that this is a WIP,
if you don't like that, don't read
it. It isn't likely to be entirely
finished for a while, what with
college and getting married and stuff
like that.

Warnings: I put warnings in front
of any of the more grotesque chapters,
should you should be fine. One
other warning, this is going to be
a bit bizarre and Mulder is going to
be in profiling mode, please tell
me if you think the characterization
fit. Thanks.

I would also like to dedicate this
to the members of the PPoS. They
have given me termendous support
in all my writing and keep telling
me that I don't suck, even though I
know I do. Thanks guys.

Now that I have bored you all to
death with mindless dribble you
probably didn't even bother to read,
the story:

I have been waiting all day for this moment. I've been following my next act of mercy for the past week. She is beautiful, as they all are, with her fiery red hair cut into a short bob that just reaches her shoulders and frames her perfect, pale face. She has eyes that a lesser man would fall into, but not me. I know her and those like her. They try to trick you into thinking you know what's going on, and then they go in for the kill when your guard is down.

They want to be saved. They wait impatiently for someone to save them from their fate in this world. I am their savior. I will save them. I have saved many of them before and now I will save her. She will appreciate it when she finally understands what it is I do.

She likes to walk through this part of the park and pick her flowers. She loves the daisies the best, but will also acquire irises for herself. She is more beautiful then either of these. She doesn't realize it. Just as she doesn't realize that today is the day I am going to save her. She will know soon enough, and then I will save others.

There she is. Walking as if she doesn't have a care in the world, red hair bouncing on straight shoulders with a swagger in her step. Where does she think she is? On star search?

She's stopping to pick a flower. As she uses that perfect poise of hers again, a perfect daisy appears in one hand. She could undo a man with her grace, but not me. I'm stronger than that. I know her type and I know she needs my help. They all do. My only regret is that I haven't gotten to every one of them yet. There are still those in this world that need my help and I haven't found them yet. Oh, well. There's time for that later, after I save this one.

Now she's standing with the flower, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. She smells it gingerly.

"Take a deep breath, baby. I want your last smell before redemption to be perfect."

She continues to stand there, holding the flower for what feels like an eternity. She seems to be rooted in place. That won't do.

"Move, baby. Come to me. Come home to where you belong. I only want to protect you."

She doesn't hear me, but she begins to move again as if pulled by my words. She comes towards me. She doesn't watch where she's going. She's too busy smelling her beautiful daisy. That daisy is not nearly as lovely as she is, though. Her breath is flowing in and out of her lungs with purpose. She does not realize she is about to be saved.

She walks right towards me, right into my merciful arms. They always do. That's how I know my cause is just. She doesn't feel my merciful sword. She doesn't even look up to acknowledge her savior. She just crumples to the ground, the posture of the saved.

She lies out on her back, as they always do, her arms spread out on either side of her perfect body. Her movement ceases. She is at peace. Her flower falls from her limp fingers. I pick it up and place it on her chest so she will smell it when she comes back from being saved.

I ignore the deep, red blood that is pouring out from her side and give her a kiss on the forehead.

It had been a rough night. Between nightmares about Scully's and Samantha's abductions and his normal insomnia, Mulder had barely gotten any sleep. Normally, this would not be a problem, but Mulder had hardly gotten any sleep in the past week and a half and it was beginning to get to him.

He had gotten into the office at 5AM this morning because he had given up on the idea of sleep and there was nothing to do at home anyway. Things started going wrong the moment Mulder walked in the door.

First, the coffeemaker broke. It had apparently decided that today was a good day to forget how to heat water. As a result, Mulder was left drinking something that was cold and bore less than a passing resemblance to coffee. He took one sip and made a face. <Great, Scully's gonna have my head when she finds out there's no hot coffee,> he couldn't help but think sadistically.

With a sigh, Mulder put the cup down on the side of his desk and logged onto his computer. Or, at least, he TRIED to log onto his computer. His computer had other ideas. First, it took three tries to convince it to accept the password and then his email wouldn't work. <Wonderful. My computer doesn't like me either. Now what am I supposed to do?!> thought Mulder getting more annoyed by the second. He turned to his files, <At least these aren't dependent on technology.>

He saw a file sitting on the edge on his desk out of the corner of his eye. That file had not been here when he had first come in. <Hmm. Wonder where that came from.> He opened the file and looked inside. He tilted back in his chair and began to read the file. He was so absorbed that he didn't even hear Scully enter the room.

Mulder started, falling down off his perch and landing with his elbows hitting the desk hard. The force of the hit caused the substance that was trying to pass itself for coffee to fall over, depositing its contents all over Mulder's desk in a rapidly growing lake.

"Shit!" Mulder cursed as he scrambled to pull papers out of the way. He didn't quite succeed. The puddle was growing at such a rate that half the papers were soaked through by the time Mulder retrieved them from his desk.

Scully took one look at the mess and left the room. She returned moments later with a roll of paper towels and began mopping up the spill without a word.

In the meantime, Mulder was dabbing at the sopping wet papers with the paper towels, trying to salvage at least some of them. The ones that had been right next to the cup were now a light tan in coloration, not to mention, sopping wet. After Mulder finished mopping up the excess liquid, he began to separate the pages and spread them out at various points around the room to dry.

"Hey, Scully, do you have your hairdryer with you?" Mulder called without bothering to turn around.

"No, Mulder. Despite what you may think, I do not carry a hairdryer with me at all times," replied Scully in a mildly exasperated tone.

"I'll keep that in mind," came Scully's mumbled reply. Then, in a voice Mulder could hear, "Ok, Mulder, your desk is as dry as I can get it. Now would you mind telling me what you were reading before I got here that was so interesting?"

"The new case, the one you were reading right before I got here," Scully said with a patience she didn't feel. Mulder could be such a pain sometimes.

"Oh, yeah, the case," Mulder responded, reaching around Scully and picking it up to continue reading.

Scully let him go for a bout half a minute until it became obvious he had once again forgotten that she was in the room. She let out a sigh and went to stand right in front of Mulder. "Mulder," she said sharply.

Mulder looked up, slightly confused. "Wha..." Sudden realization dawned, and he continued sheepishly, "Hi, Scully. Did you want something?"

"Yeah. I wanted to know what was so important in that file that you didn't even realize I was standing right here," Scully said with exaggerated patience. She reminded herself, not for the first time, that Mulder had to be treated as a child every now and then. It was times like this when she didn't want children. Ever.

Mulder began to look even more sheepish at her light reprimand. Then he brightened as he began to tell her about the file. Scully, noticing the shift in his attitude, thought, <Oh, boy. Here we go again,> and went over to sit down and make herself more comfortable, preparing for a long explanation. Mulder did not disappoint her.

"Apparently, there have been three unexplained abductions in a single city, Greenwood, Indiana, over the past two months. In the last case, neighbors had reported seeing bright lights on the night that the child was abducted. Also, the child has consecutively gone missing, only to turn up again two nights later. In every case, upon return, the child has no recollection of what happened to them. Their last memory is of going to bed the night they disappeared."

As Mulder got more comfortable talking, he switched over in to lecture mode and began to pace. Scully just leaned back into her seat further make herself more comfortable. Mulder continued, not missing a beat, "The three abductees were all girls, ages 10, 8, and 9 respectively. In every case, they were taken at night after they had already been settled into bed. Their parents noticed nothing until the next morning when they awoke to find their daughter missing. All of them filed a missing child report with the police in the morning, but before they could mobilize a search, the child was returned.

"In the first instance, the police believed they were looking for a disgruntled father because the daughter had just been the victim of a brutal custody battle and her mother had come out on the winning side. In the second instance, the police believed there was a kidnapper on the loose, but why she was returned, they had no idea. It wasn't until the same thing happened a third time that they started to suspect something else was wrong. And then, when one of the neighbors said they had seen lights in the house the night of the abduction, people started screaming that there were UFOs and started basic pandemonium.

"The police, not knowing what to do, called in the FBI field office. Apparently, one of the agents there took a look at the file and decided I should have it. And, so, here we are," Mulder concluded the lecture by sitting back down in his seat and looking over at Scully.

"Mulder, first of all, there is no reason to believe that these children have been abducted. They could have just run away from home for a few days and, after deciding that they didn't like it too much in the real world, went back home," Scully said, trying to think up a logical argument to dissuade Mulder from his first opinion. "They could just be using 'memory lapse' as an excuse."

"Scully, the oldest one of them is 10. That's not really old enough to be considering running away. In most cases, that isn't tried until the mid-teens. Besides, it was obviously an abduction. I mean, come on, Scully, work with me here," Mulder started pleading. "The girls were 8-10 and they all disappeared one night and were returned two nights later with no recollection of what happened. We even got the bright lights. It's definitely an abduction case."

"Why three days, Mulder? Why not nine minutes?" Scully was beginning to get annoyed. "I thought abductions were only supposed to take nine minutes."

"Yours took three months," Mulder whispered looking at his desk, suddenly unable to meet her eyes.

Scully momentarily got a pained look on her face at the mention of her missing time. Just as softly, she answered, "But I wasn't taken by aliens, Mulder. I was taken by our government."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence; each of them lost in their own thoughts for about two minutes until the phone rang, causing both of them to pratically jump out of their skin. As a reflex, Mulder reached out and grabbed the phone from its cradle, secretly happy for the distraction. "Mulder," he barked into the line.

He was greeted by the vibrations of Skinner's clear baritone coming across the line, "Agent Mulder, I want you and Agent Scully to report to my office immediately."

"Yeah, he wants us up there now if not sooner," Mulder replied, not moving from his seat.

Scully let out an exasperated sigh as she got up from her seat. "What did you do now, Mulder?"

Mulder looked up at her thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't know, I haven't pissed anyone off in the last week that I'm aware of," he said, rising from his desk. "Hey, maybe we're getting a raise." Mulder gave Scully a small smile with the last quip.

"Yeah, and maybe the moon's made of cheese," came the slightly amused response. "Hell would freeze over before they gave us a raise, Mulder. But, seriously, if you didn't do anything, what are we being called up there for?"

They were now walking to the elevator, each making sure the other looked presentable. Scully reached over to straighten Mulder's tie at the same time he reached over to smooth out her collar.

Without missing a beat, Mulder mused, "Well, I guess we're going to have to wait. Great, just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse."

"You've been having a bad day?" Scully said in mock surprise. "I never would have known if you hadn't told me."

Skinner was not looking forward to the impending meeting with his two favorite agents. When Scully heard what was happening, she was going to go ballistic. Skinner had already put away anything on his desk that could possibly be used as a weapon. <But,> he reminded himself, <Scully carries a firearm.> Regardless, Skinner checked once more to make sure the only unattached items on his desk were the papers he held in his hand.

He read the papers one more time, just to be sure he wasn't mistaken. Maybe he had missed something and he wouldn't have to do this to them. He hadn't missed anything. It was exactly what he thought it was. Skinner expelled a sigh, took off his glasses, and began to rub his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

"Agents Mulder and Scully are here to see you, sir," came Holly's melodious voice over the intercom.

Skinner put his glasses back on, took a deep breath, and carefully put on his game face. <It's show time,> he thought. Out loud, he said, "Send them in."

Skinner watched Mulder and Scully walk in the door. He took in the slightly haggard look on Mulder's face and regretted what he was about to do even more. This man could never seem to get a break.

Scully could feel Mulder's hand on the small of her back, reminding her that he was there with her. She was inordinately grateful for that touch when she saw Skinner. From the look on his face, this was going to be a doozy. The meeting hadn't even started yet and already he looked like he was so mad he could spit.

<What did you do this time, Mulder?> the unbidden question came through her head. She had been racking her brain trying to remember everything that had happened recently since she had stepped onto the elevator, trying to figure out what either of them had done that would necessitate a chewing out. She had drawn a blank. She racked her brain one more time, valiantly trying to find what incident had caused Skinner to be so upset. <We must have pissed off someone high in the chain of command for Skinner to be this pissed.> She still couldn't remember anything, and that worried her even more.

Skinner saw the nervous look cross Scully's face and thought, <Oh, boy. This is going to be fun. I really have to work on my game face.> Out loud he said, "Agents, have a seat."

Skinner noted that Mulder was also obviously nervous. He actually sat up straight in his chair for once. His eyes kept darting from the papers to Skinner to Scully and back to Skinner. He was already beginning to fidget.

Skinner braced himself for a difficult discussion. He watched as they began to squirm under his gaze. He knew they had no idea why they were here and had probably been racking their brains trying to figure out what they had done to piss off who the second they got the call. Skinner wished it were just a chewing out. Those were routine, familiar. Everyone knew their parts and played them well.

They continued to regard each other in silence for a time. Scully was the first to speak. "Why are we here, sir?" she inquired with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Skinner looked directly at her and could barely suppress another sigh. He really didn't want to do this. Seeing that it was inevitable, Skinner bit the bullet. "I have a new case for both of you."

Both Mulder and Scully visibly relaxed instantly. It was now Mulder's turn to talk. "Is that all? Just give me the case and we'll get to it as soon as we finish the current one," he said, reaching out for the folder. Skinner pulled it back, and Mulder looked up at him, confused, "Sir?"

"Before you take this file, I want to tell you a few things about it. First of all, this case is top priority, I want you on it immediately." He waited for a nod from both of them before he continued. "Secondly, I do not believe that this is an X-File." Skinner's raised hand and Scully's hand that appeared on his forearm staved off Mulder's instantaneous objection. He sat back again, exchanging a glance with Scully. Having jumped that hurdle, Skinner took a deep breath and continued. "And, finally, you are being given this case courtesy of the Violent Crimes Unit."

Mulder's face visibly paled at the mention of VCU, while Scully's grew harder. <Like a mother bear protecting her cub,> Skinner mused.

"With all due respect, sir," Scully said, trying to keep her temper in check, "Mulder is no longer in VCU."

"I am aware of that Agent Scully. I'm not the person that put him on this case," Skinner replied calmly, reminding himself that Scully was just angry and wasn't really trying to bite his head off. At least, he hoped not.

"Then who did, sir? Doesn't VCU have enough profilers?" Scully continued, not even remotely deterred by this new information.

"It was assigned by," Skinner checked the first page inside the folder, "SAC Kalin."

Skinner and Scully snapped their heads around and looked at Mulder, surprised. "You know him, Mulder?" Scully asked gently.

"Hmm?" Mulder looked up from where he had been lost in his thoughts. Seeing that Scully and Skinner were both looking at him quizzically, he realized he had voiced his thoughts out loud, so he continued. "Um, I knew Peter back when I was in VCU. He was ASAC on a few of my first cases. I haven't seen him in years, but if he's asking for me specifically, they must be making no headway whatsoever."

"That's an accurate summation from what I have read of this case so far," Skinner volunteered.

Scully looked back and forth between the two men, her gaze coming to rest on Mulder. "Doesn't this, Peter Kalin, know you're not in VCU anymore?"

Mulder looked back at Scully, incredulously. "Of course he does, Scully. If he hadn't, I would have been put on this case when it first came through..."

Mulder picked up the sentence as if had never left off, "five years ago. Wait, if this has been going on for five years..." his voice drifted off as he began to run some calculations through his head. After a moment, he looked right at Scully, and with sudden intensity stated, "I have to take this case, Scully. I'm sorry, but if this serial killer has been on the loose for over five years...do you have any idea how many people have been killed? If I can get to them and find out what makes this guy tick, I can stave off more possible murders."

"But, Mulder, you're not in VCU anymore. They have no right to tell you to drop everything and pick up this case," Scully continued to argue even though she saw the look on Mulder's face and knew she was wasting her breath. She'd never be able to live with herself if she didn't state her fears and at least try to talk him out of it, so she did it anyway even though she knew for a fact that it was a lost cause.

Mulder ignored Scully's protests, making a mental note to explain things to her later and reached out once again to procure the folder. Skinner allowed Mulder to take the folder this time.

"Thank you, sir," Mulder stated, standing up from his seat. "We'll be out in," he glanced at the top page, "Illinois by tonight." With that, he turned to leave and calmly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Scully remained in her seat, staring after his back in disbelief. <How could he be so calm?> She knew what happened to him on cases when he was forced to profile. In fact, the main reason he was in the X-Files was for just that reason. That was also the reason she had protested this assignment so vehemently, but he seemed to be taking it well. She, however, was not going to surrender so easily.

Scully turned back to face Skinner. "Sir," she pleaded, "you can't do this to him. You know how he gets on cases like this."

Indeed he did. He thought back to one particular time when Mulder had delved in to the mind of a serial killer, he had become so much like the man he was trying to catch that it had been terrifying for all involved. Thankfully, he had returned to normal, relatively unharmed. That was the main reason HE had protested this, but he had been assured that Mulder would be fine and that it was what he was used to and that he would understand. He wondered if they were right.

To Scully, he said, "I didn't want to do this, but the decision was made over my head. No one asked me. I'm sorry."

"Whatever you say, sir." With that, Scully rose from her chair and walked over to the door.

"I don't want to lose one of my best agents to this. Please bring Mulder back safely."

Skinner saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when she replied, "I'll try," and walked out the door.

Once the door was closed, Skinner let out a breath he had not realized he was holding and stabbed the button on the intercom. "Holly, get SAC Kalin on the phone."

Skinner just looked at the intercom for a moment and let out another sigh. He decided that today was going to be a long day and set to work replacing articles in their correct places on the desk.

"Hey, JJ, have you heard the news yet?" Agent Michael Forey called out to ASAC Jeremiah "JJ" Leech. Leech's six feet towered over Forey's five foot seven frame. Their hair was a stark contrast as Leech had dark brown, almost black hair and Forey had hair of the lightest blond imaginable.

"What news?" Leech asked in a bored tone of voice. He didn't have time for this nonsense; there was a killer of the loose.

"Peter decided to bring in Spooky to solve the case." Peter Kalin was the SAC at the field office in Chicago, IL. Those under his command generally saw him as an all around good guy, and it upset Leech to no end. Leech was well aware of this Spooky that Mike was referring to as well. Who wasn't? Fox "Spooky" Mulder was something of a legend in the VCU. He was said to have solved seemingly unsolvable cases in a matter of days back when he was still in VCU. That is, he had until something happened to him and he had left VCU to go chase aliens. As if that wasn't weird enough, Spooky was even called in on cases every now and again when the current profilers proved to be of no use. Having Spooky get called in on your case was the equivalent of a slap in the face, or at the very least, a severe reprimand.

The fact that another profiler was getting called in was not what bothered Leech, actually he welcomed the help. Over the last five years that this case had encompassed, they had called in just about every profiler in the entire VCU. Everyone had taken a crack at it, but no one could solve it. It was deemed to be a lost cause, but since they couldn't just say that, they kept bringing in more and more different profilers to give them a crack at it. Spooky would make number fifteen. No, that was not the problem. The problem was in the fact that Spooky wasn't even a profiler anymore. He was just a simple guy who happened to be a genius and waltzed in to take all the credit whenever he felt like it. He was a stuck up weasel who couldn't be trusted. And that partner of his, don't even get Leech started on that partner of his.

She was short and had red hair, the color of fire. From what he had heard, she was hard as nails and would bite your head off and spit it back out just as easily as she would say hello. She was rumored to be sexy but cold as ice, hence her nickname, the Ice Queen. She was not someone you would want to confront in a dark alley. He almost felt sorry for Spooky, but he decided that they deserved each other and left it at that. Besides, he had heard rumors that Spooky and the Ice Queen were a little closer than partners were supposed to be and wasn't about to interfere.

Out loud, Leech replied, "We'll just see about that. I'm going to have a little talk with Pete and see if I can't change his mind."

"Good luck," came the instantaneous reply from Forey as he went back to working on his file.

SAC Kalin was sitting at his desk trying to sift through all the paperwork that seemed to have accumulated overnight when he heard a loud voice at the door. "SAC Kalin?"

Kalin looked up and saw the face of his ASAC, Jeremiah Leech. "What do you need JJ?" Kalin asked with a sigh. It seemed that no matter what was going on, Leech always managed to find a reason that he needed to speak to Kalin.

<He probably wants to talk to me about the case,> Kalin mused. <Nothing like talking about a case that's getting nowhere fast to make you feel great in the morning.> Kalin had already called in Mulder, the former star profiler of the VCU to try and solve this mess, but Mulder was still in Washington D.C., so that couldn't be the problem. He had hated to call him in, but had seen no choice in the matter. Let's face it, the man got results, and results were something Kalin needed above all else at the moment. He continued to look at Leech with barely contained patience.

Leech, seemingly oblivious to the indifference of his superior, continued, "I understand that you have called in Fox Mulder to work on this case."

"Where did you hear that from?" Kalin asked guardedly, trying to figure out how Leech could have heard about it so fast, no one was supposed to know until tonight after they were already here.

"I heard it through the grape vine. It appears that you don't trust me with the knowledge of who the next profiler is going to be."

"No, JJ, it's not that, it's just that I hadn't told you yet so I wanted to know who had told YOU," Kalin asked, trying not to sound impatient.

"It doesn't matter where I heard it from, I don't think you should have called in Spooky," Leech said, spitting out the name Spooky.

Kalin decided to appeal to reason, "I had no choice, we need him. He can solve this. I can't just sit back and watch another girl die over something as stupid as not liking the man. That's unprofessional," Kalin finished with running a hand through his strawberry blond hair. He really needed to get a haircut.

"Good, now I have work to do," with that, Kalin dismissed him. Leech walked out the door in a huff and Kalin released a sigh. He was as upset about having to call in Spooky as Leech was, but for different reasons.

Kalin had worked with Mulder on four different cases during Mulder's first year in VCU. The first thing that had struck him about the man was that he was a loner. He had never seen Mulder even attempt to carry on a conversation with any of the other agents under his command; he kept entirely to himself. Kalin couldn't tell if that was born out of hatred for his fellow agents or simply the knowledge that he would be gone in days. Either way, he had struck Kalin as being a very lonely person.

Despite being lonely, Kalin had found a profiler, parallel to none inside Mulder. Here was a man who understood killers better than they understood themselves. Kalin had never seen anyone know that much. But, although he had seen the brilliance of this talent, Kalin had also seen the cost. He had seen the blank looks, the haunted eyes, the undernourished body, and the tired eyes take precedence over the young agent's body.

Kalin had stood by silently as this young man wasted away, in front of him. He had watched in awe, just like everyone else, while this new shining star in the Bureau profiling field made connection after connection. Some of them were bizarre while others were just plain unbelievable. That is, until they found the killer. They would always match. Always. The MOs were so identical that it was...well, spooky.

Over the years, he had watched Mulder's progress. It had been laughably easy to do. All you had to do was hang around the water cooler and you could find out exactly which case he was on at the moment. He was on everyone's minds and his name was heard on everyone's lips. There were those who hated him with a passion and there were admirers.

Kalin had been an admirer. He had watched the progression of Mulder's work with a sense of awe. He had watched every leap, every catch with a look of wonder in his eyes. He had found a hero. Then, nine and a half years ago, it happened. Mulder received a case that brought him to his knees. He finally cracked under the pressure and was taken out of the game. Kalin would never forget that case.

WARNING: This chapter contains Mulder's last case in VCU. It is not a pretty picture. It deals with infanticide (the killing of infants) in very gross ways. If this bothers you so much that you cannot read it, skip this chapter and go on to the next one. You can still follow the story if you do not read this chapter, but seeing as it is not that graphic, I think you should be able to handle it. If you don't think you can, continue reading at Chapter five.

It had been a case of infanticide. Over the course of a year, an unknown killer had been murdering infants and children under one year old at a rate of approximately two or three a week all across the continental United States. With 206 dead infants, Mulder was finally called in and informed that he had less than a week to catch this guy before he killed again. Mulder was given no choice but to create a profile.

It had taken the current team of profilers over two months to link the killings and then another two months to compile the information they had into a profile. They had been trying to catch this guy for the past eight months with a profile that had been created from all that hard work and were having no luck at actually catching the guy.

Their main obstacle was the differences in location. It took them close to half a year to even realize that the same person was doing all these killings. They still couldn't find any rhyme or reason as to how the locations were being picked and that was the reason they had called in Mulder. While they had been given months to figure out a profile, Mulder was being given days.

SAC Dan Stamer was skeptical that Mulder would be able to pull it off, but Mulder's direct supervisor, Bill Patterson insisted that he could handle it and that the killer would be apprehended by the end of the week. Upon hearing this, Stamer turned over the case to Mulder with a hopeful, but cautious heart. He let Mulder try to take a crack at this lunatic that no one else had been able to find yet.

To this extent, Mulder looked through the pictures of the 206 victims over and over again, sorting them into piles that made no sense to anyone but himself and searching for similarities of any sort. The pictures were grotesque. The tiny children they portrayed were inexplicably mutilated. Their throats had been slashed; their eyes dug out of their sockets. Their tongues had been cut from their mouths and their fingers and toes had been removed from the rest of the body. It was a display of the unimaginable horrors that one human being could do to another, with one exception, these were helpless babies, tiny infants who had been loved in life and mourned in death. They had done nothing wrong that was worthy of death and yet they were being punished as if they had committed a horrendous crime. Mulder could barely stand to glance at the pictures, let alone look through them properly, but he knew he had to. He even briefly considered telling them that he wouldn't do it, but he couldn't do that to the parents whose children were still in danger, he couldn't let down the parents who had already lost children to this monster. No, he had to continue for their sake. Besides, the next baby was counting on him to keep him or her alive.

So, Mulder pushed on through the pictures despite all of his misgivings and forced himself to look at them a little more closely. He made himself continue to strive to get a little farther into this mad man's head. He knew that he lost a piece of himself with each step, but there was nothing he could do about that, there was a child depending on him. He refused to let that little child be hurt the way he had allowed his little sister to be hurt. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let these children die without catching the bastard who was killing them.

It became an obsession for him. He was up all hours of the day and night, sorting through the pictures. Always sorting. He would pick up one, seemingly at random and put it into a pile with no apparent method. He would then take his piles and start all over again. He would stare at pictures for hours at a time and then read the reports with only the aid of coffee. He refused to talk to anyone and would not even show that he was aware of your presence. He scared the entire section and worried Stamer even more as each day went by.

No matter how hard Mulder tried, there seemed to be no connection. There were boy as well as girl babies on the list. The babies ranged in skin color from Black to White to Asian to Hispanic. There were no overwhelming physical similarities that Mulder could make out. He killed during the night, after the child had been put to bed and the parents were asleep. He would sneak in silently and the parents would awake the next morning to find their baby's body decimated in the crib. The sheets and mattress would be soaked through with blood and a pile of the removed body parts would be placed over in the left, bottom corner. Half of them screamed while the other half fainted. In any case, there were no connections. At least none that were readily apparent.

In three days, 72 hours of unabated time of trying to get into the mind of this killer, Mulder found a rather tenuous connection. Every one of the parents worked. Down to the letter, all of them left their child at daycare while they went to work. With this confirmed match, all the pieces began to fall into place.

The killer had been brought up by a mother who ran a daycare center out of her house. Neglect was his constant companion. Apparently, while the mother had been paying attention to the other children, she had been ignoring her own son. From her child's perspective, a never-ending stream of infants came in and demanded all of her attention. As he got older, it only became worse. By the time he was a teen, he hated babies with a passion. He had controlled his hate and kept it unnoticeable for a long time. At least, until he got married and had a child himself.

With the birth of his son, the horror had begun for him again, as he watched his wife give all her affection to this grabby, loud infant and ignore him just as his mother had done. He became enraged at the thought of this little being containing all that power. His first murder was of his own son.

Due to his job, he was constantly traveling. He looked upon himself as an avenging angel. As this avenging angel, it was his duty to find those who were oppressed by the infants in the childcare system and free them of their burdens. Everywhere he went, this was foremost on his mind. He would get rid of two or three unwanted babies in every city before moving on to the next town, the next point of business.

He had taken a total of 208 lives before Mulder was able to stop him. Mulder had worked as fast as he could, but to no avail. Those last two babies had still died before he could reach them. He had never forgiven himself for that.

Kalin shuddered at the memory. Carl Katner, he would never forget that name as long as he lived. After Mulder had found this guy, Kalin had been curious as to what Mulder would do next. To everyone's surprise, Mulder took six months off.

Mulder hadn't officially requested the time off, but he had basically shut down. He stopped responding to anyone and the Bureau just gave him the time off because they didn't know what else to do. Mulder would stare blankly at walls for hours without moving a muscle. People would talk to him and he wouldn't hear them. They would stand right in his line of sight, but he wouldn't see them. He would sit in a room, not moving. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't do anything but stare. He was dead to the world.

Kalin had lost track of him after that. He seemed to have just...disappeared for about six months. During those six months, rumors ran wild in speculation of what was happening to Mulder. Kalin had heard everything from Mulder having put a bullet in his head to him being in a loony bin to him having become a serial killer himself. This last made Kalin shudder. If Mulder became a serial killer, there wasn't a soul alive that would be able to stop him.

Then, six months later, Mulder had shown up again out of the clear blue in the X-Files division. Outwardly, Kalin had been as appalled as anyone else, but inwardly, he rejoiced. He had sincerely hoped that this young man would find some peace in his work outside of the VCU.

Apparently, his prayers had been answered. With the addition of his new partner, one, he checked his sheet, Dana Scully, Mulder had not only stayed on top of his game, but he actually appeared to be doing even better there than he had in VCU, if that was even possible. Kalin didn't want to shatter that. He really didn't. It was just that he had been left no other choice. He was sure Mulder would understand.

Kalin hoped against hope that this new partner of his would be able to keep him on base. Kalin wasn't sure what he would do if she couldn't. He didn't want to be remembered as the man who had finally broke Fox "Spooky" Mulder. That kid deserved more out of this life than to wind up in a sanitarium. They all did.

His trip down memory lane was interrupted by the sharp sound of his secretary over the intercom. "Sir, there's an Assistant Director Walter Skinner on the line for you."

Kalin started with surprise. Mulder wasn't even going to GET here before tonight at the earliest and already his AD was calling. <Maybe something's going on that they're not telling me about,> Kalin thought to himself. Out loud he said, "Patch him through," and picked up the phone.

"Assistant Director Skinner, what can I do for you?" Kalin asked hesitantly. He had heard rumors about this particular AD. According to said rumors, Skinner was a no-nonsense, incredibly strict boss. Kalin wondered how Mulder could have survived under his jurisdiction. The fact that he was calling already sent up warning signals in the back of Kalin's brain. <Maybe he's just worried about his agents. Yeah, and maybe pigs can fly,> Kalin thought to himself.

"SAC Kalin, I believe you are aware of the reason for this call," Skinner said over the phone, gruffly.

To Kalin, this didn't sound like a guy whose bad side he wanted to get on. Kalin swallowed as he realized that the rumors had been right. Putting a confidence that he did not feel into his tone, Kalin replied, "This is about Agent Mulder isn't it, sir?"

"Yes, I wanted to know why you felt it necessary to pull one of my best agents into a profiling case while he is not even a member of the VCU currently. He has other cases that have been put on hold because of this little assignment of yours."

Kalin began to raise his eyebrows when he heard the words "best agent" being used to refer to Mulder. Mulder had been called a lot of things in his day, but "best agent" was not one of them. However, Kalin's eyebrows hit his hairline when he heard Skinner's tone of voice. He actually sounded concerned for Mulder's well being! That was almost unheard of, Mulder tended to tick off anyone who was his advisor. They usually wanted to get him out of their hair as quickly as possible, but this Skinner person didn't seem to want any harm to come to Mulder as a person, not just an agent. <Interesting,> Kalin thought. <Looks like Mulder has managed to make some friends in high places.>

Kalin realized that that would have been just like Mulder. Make a few friends who would stand by you until death while ticking off the rest of the general population. He began to wonder if Mulder's partner was one of the supporters or if she was just looking for the fastest way to get rid of Mulder, too. He hoped she was a supporter because the other agents stationed here weren't all that keen at having Mulder on the force. He suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long case. Out loud, he said, "I had no choice, sir," hoping against hope that he had read this man correctly and was not about to get his ass chewed out.

"Why not?" came the demanding voice over the phone. This conversation was not going well from either man's perspective.

Trying to stave off what Kalin felt was the inevitable ass chewing in the near future, he began to try to explain. "Sir, I was informed that all the normal profilers were busy right now with their own cases and I was running out of options." This excuse sounded flimsy and lame even to Kalin's ears, but he decided to wait it out and see just how made Skinner was.

Skinner, for his part, was not about to be deterred, "This case has been open for five years and you're only now asking for a profiler? Are you sure that's what this is really about?"

To Kalin's ears, that sounded like a direct accusation. He had heard of the government conspiracies that Mulder was so insistent upon, but he hadn't thought that Mulder would have gotten to his boss too. Then again, this Skinner person seemed to be fairly sure about what he was talking about, so maybe this had happened before. Kalin shuddered at the thought.

Kalin realized at that moment that he would have to tell this man the truth. He sighed, took a deep breath, and began his tale, "Actually, we have had a profiler working on this since we got the case four and half years ago on a more or less permanent basis. Since then, just about every profiler in the VCU has been out here to try his or her hand at it.

"Nothing has worked yet," Kalin said with a sigh. "We have tried everything. So far, we have about twenty different profiles that we're working with and none of them are getting us anywhere. Meanwhile, the killings continue, the profilers leave, and this monster is still on the loose.

"The main problem with this guy is that he contradicts himself. He'll act one way at one scene and another way at another scene. I thought maybe there was more than one killer, but I keep getting told that there isn't. No one can get a working profile going because it only applies to that one scene, the next one that we find has none of the identifying marks that match the profile. We even tried to figure out if it was someone from our department that was doing this. Everyone checked out. We're all at our wit's end here and I'm beginning to think we're never going to catch this bastard.

"Mulder is our last resort. If he can't do it, this guy is going to run free for the rest of his life. I can't live with that, and I know for a fact that Mulder can't live with that. I didn't want to call him in," Kalin realized how that sounded and quickly added, "but not for the reasons you probably think.

"I've known Mulder for years. I knew him all the way back when he first started in VCU. He was good, too good. No one in VCU had ever seen someone with as high of a solve rate as he had. He was an oddity, he was..."spooky" for lack of a better term," Kalin said with a dry laugh at the nickname that had been given to Mulder by the other agents in the bureau. He still remembered the day Mulder had been dubbed Spooky.

It had been a hard case for all involved. They had been working endlessly to try and find the elusive unsub with no luck. Then they had gotten the call from the bureau, a new agent was coming on, someone named Mulder. Everyone had laughed at that despite the reassurances that he was good. They had all seen these "good" profilers that VCU kept digging up. Couldn't find their own nose without a road map. Yet, Mulder had come along.

He had sat down in one room with all the evidence that had been gathered for three days straight. No one ever saw him leave to eat or sleep. They all just assumed he was slacking off and sleeping inside the room trying to make it look like he was working. After those three days, however, Mulder had walked out of the room, unshaven and all skin and bones and told them exactly what the unsub was like. The profile he had given was accurate to the T. Since that case, Mulder had been dubbed "Spooky" and the name had stuck.

Coming back to real time, Kalin continued to speak without missing a beat, all humor void from his tone, "I had the opportunity to work with him on four separate cases, he knocked the socks off everyone with his quick, but correct profiles. He was seen as the golden boy and was constantly being shipped from assignment to assignment. All the bureau seemed to care about was the results. That worried me.

"So, while everyone else was watching the results, I found myself watching the man. I saw in Fox Mulder an undernourished, tried young man who couldn't or wouldn't say no. He had the determination of few men that I have ever met and seemed to deal with each and every case as if it was the most important one in the world. There was no doubt that he was a genius. Anyone who had worked with him for even a short time could tell that.

"I tried to report my concerns for his well being to my supervisor, but nothing ever came of it. It was then that I realized for the first time that a man could be on his deathbed and as long as he could still help create a profile, VCU didn't care. It was unbelievable. Since then, that has been my one major problem with VCU in general. By the time I realized that nothing was going to be done to rectify the situation, Mulder had already moved on to another assignment.

"Were you aware they had him averaging a solve every four days year round? That's inhuman, sir," with that, Kalin finished his speech and waited to hear the pure anger come spitting out of Skinner's mouth at the thought that HE, little Kalin, could know what was good for his fellow agent. What he actually heard surprised him so much he almost fell out of his chair.

Instead of a major reprimand and curtly being told to mind his own business, Skinner said, "It sounds like you've been following Agent Mulder's career for years. You really care about him don't you?"

Kalin just nodded his head, not knowing what to say, then he remembered that he was on the phone and said, "Yes, sir," very quietly.

"Good, just keep an eye on him. I'll be in touch, SAC Kalin." With that, Skinner hung up.

Kalin just sat there at his desk holding the dead receiver. He couldn't bring himself to move, he was so shocked. He shook his head and replaced the receiver to its cradle. This was going to be an interesting experience.
-------------------------------

The only problem with being a savior is that your work is never done. As soon as you finish saving one person, three more step in to take their place, all needing to be saved just as badly. There seems to be no end to the number of people that you are required to save. I am glad that I have all the time in the world. There is no need to hurry, the righteous arm of their savior will wait until the time is right.

So, now, scarcely a day after I have saved my fiery haired daughter, I am on the prowl for the next lucky soul to be saved. I sit here in my favorite spot and watch the world pass by in front of me. I don't worry that I will miss her, she will tell when she comes. She will tell me that she is the one. I just have to be patient and vigilant. I cannot let my concentration waver one moment or she will be gone and I will have failed at my duty.

The world passes around me, unaware of who sits in their midst. If they knew that I was here, they would all crowd around me and beg to be saved. But they just continue on about their business, unaware that their salvation sits less than a foot away. Too bad for them. I would almost feel sorry for them, but that would be silly. If they were to be saved, they would have shown themselves.

I watch all of them pass me without a word. Some are young, some old, some women, some men, some white, some black. It makes no difference to me. None of them are the ONE. It is not their turn to be saved. Maybe one day, but not today. Being saved is not for everyone. I watch them pass me for scarcely an hour before I see the ONE.

She has slightly wavy brown hair that extends down to her waist. It swings back and forth just the slightest amount while she walks, the strands playing in the gentle breeze of the morning. There is a slight sway in her walk as she approaches me. She walks right by without saying a word or even acknowledging my presence. But that doesn't bother me, she doesn't know who I am yet. She is as yet unaware that she is about to be saved.

<Wait, is that a smile I see? Maybe you DO know you're going to be saved. Smart girl.>

I watch her silently as she walks away, unworried about when I'll see her again. She'll come back. They always come back. They pass by every time just to catch a glimpse of me. I don't blame them, they are just curious about their fate. It's no matter. I'll be here to see her tomorrow, same time, same place.

Tomorrow, I'll be ready. With my camera in hand, I'll come with you. I'll follow you and find out all about you. Only then can I figure out an appropriate way and place to save you. I have to get that video to prove that you needed to be saved. Just to be on the safe side. We wouldn't want the savior to be put into a prison cell now would we? Some people just don't understand what it is that I do. They are not worth considering, however, so I do not let them take up my thoughts.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. Wear your best clothes, you're going to be on television."

I watch her fade off into the distance, unaware of my scrutiny, and sit back and sigh. Sometimes being a savior is worth all the trouble.

As soon as the elevator door closed on Mulder, he allowed his facade to disappear. He had had to appear calm before Scully and Skinner or else they would have taken it as a sign that he was going to fall apart on this case. He remembered the last time that had happened and never wanted to put them through that again. For, while he realized the necessity of the work, he also dreaded it with every bone in his body. But they must not know that or he would be yanked off this assignment so fast his head would spin and this murderer would escape, uncaught, into the night.

As Mulder leaned his back up against the back wall of the elevator, he sighed. He had been right this morning. Today just seemed to keep getting worse and worse. First there's no coffee, then there's no e-mail, then coffee gets spilled all over the paperwork, and now there's this case to profile. <Yep, things are only going from bad to worse, I should have stayed in bed this morning.>

Despite acting nonchalant in front of Scully and Skinner, Mulder was absolutely terrified of this case. Profiling was the reason he had gotten out of VCU in the first place. He had hoped it would have been for good, but that did not appear to be a viable option. They still looked upon him as the person who can form a profile on anyone, and they expected him to. <Sometimes it's a curse to have such a great rep.> Mulder thought about it for second, <No, USUALLY it's a curse. Especially in this line of work.>

Mulder looked up with an air of someone about to attend their own funeral when the elevator dinged. He glanced at the file that was in his hand just to make sure it was there and that this wasn't some bad dream. Seeing it, he sighed and stepped out of the elevator. <Damn! I was hoping for a bad dream.>

Mulder stalked down the hall and threw the file onto his desk. He started to go over to make coffee, and then he remembered that there wasn't any coffee. "Dammit," he cursed in a soft voice, turning back to the file.

Stalling for time, Mulder sat down in his chair and got comfortable on his perch. He glanced to the door to see if Scully was there yet. She wasn't. Mulder sighed again and looked at the file suspiciously. From the way he was looking at it, you would expect him to be wondering if it was a poisonous snake or not. He reached out a tentative hand and grabbed it by the corner. Pulling it closer, still not letting it leave the surface of the desk, Mulder looked to the open doorway once more, but Scully failed to appear. <Hmm, I know I left her and Skinner speechless, but she should still be here by now.> It never even occurred the Mulder that she might be defending him.

Mulder shook his head slightly and tried to dispel the panic that was beginning to seep into his consciousness. It had always been that way for as long as he could remember. If he didn't know where she was or she wasn't where she was supposed to be when she was supposed to be there, he started to panic. It was completely irrational and he kept telling himself to ignore it because Scully was a big girl and could take care of herself, but it refused to leave.

He could usually contain himself and refrain from sending out a search party for her, but sometimes it got to be almost too much to bear. That time with Phaster was one, as was the time with Duane Berry. He tired not to think about either of those times too much because they were too painful of memories. All they did was serve to remind him that if she is not where she should be, it is quite possible that something bad happened to her and she's dying while he sat there and did nothing. He shoved that thought aside. <She is inside FBI Headquarters, this is probably the safest place in the world for her to be, she's fine.> This didn't quell all of Mulder's fears however, for he knew that no one was really completely safe, ever.

The only thing that kept Mulder from going out to find her himself was the sure knowledge that he would get chewed out for being overprotective. He hated that. Being overprotective was part of his nature, he couldn't just stop wanting to make sure she was all right at the drop of a hat. It didn't work that way. Besides, she was an extension of him and if he wasn't allowed to protect himself, who was he allowed to protect? Mulder almost smiled at the logic, it sounded so much like something Scully would say. It was funny.

Ignoring his insecurities as to Scully's well being for the moment, he picked up the file. After one more glance to the door, <Still no Scully.> he regarded the file in his hands with distaste. He really hated doing this kind of stuff. He hated the way it made him act and he hated the way it made other people act towards him. When he was in his 'Spooky Mulder' mode, he almost commanded a level of respect. They knew that he could do what they could not and generally looked upon his profiles with awe. <Why can't they do that with my normal work, hungh? Why do they have to like it so much when I'm trying to drive myself to the point of becoming a psychopath? Maybe I should just become a psychopath to make them happy.> Mulder pictured the look on Scully's face if he ever actually decided to become a psychopath, he shuddered. He could never do that to her. So, being a psychopath was out, <at least while my Scully's still alive>, and he was back where he started, preparing to rip out his soul for these people who would only laugh at him once he left.

He found that he was staring at the file in his hands blankly. <It really is a nice shade of tan,> Mulder thought. <Woah! Where did that come from? I must be losing it already.

<I wonder if I could talk Scully out of coming. If I'm this bad already and the case hasn't even started yet, how bad am I going to be by the conclusion? Yeah, I should just tell Scully that she doesn't have to come and go without her,> Mulder thought, starting to pale a little at the idea. <No, wait, I can't tell her that she can't come or she'll count it as ditching. I promised to try not to ditch her anymore. I can't do it.> Mulder heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't wanted to go it alone, but was really concerned for Scully's safety. The truth of the matter is, he didn't want to go without her for two simple reasons: #1 He needed her. #2 She kept him sane. She would never let him go by himself, at least, he hoped not. Mulder didn't know what he would do if she ever left him. <Probably end up right back in that psych facility,> his brain happily supplied.

Mulder glanced at the door once more before sighing and resignedly opening the file in his hands. He flipped past the first page without even a glance. All it would tell him was the contents and he was about to look at them anyway, so it didn't really matter if he read the cover-page or not. As Mulder scanned the pages, he came upon the autopsy reports. Taking these out carefully, he placed them on the edge of the desk for Scully to look over. He was glad he didn't have to read them. Despite the way that he had to handle death on a daily level, Mulder was still a little queasy at the sight of what exactly happened to the victims. He was jealous of Scully, in a way, because she could look at the descriptions and remain unaffected. On the other hand, he wasn't so sure he really wanted that ability. Maybe being able to get inside the mind of the person who had created these injuries was bad enough. He felt an irrational surge of thankfulness at the thought of how Scully would never have to be subjected to the inside of a killer's mind. Then the fear came.

He was afraid, once again, that he would hurt someone, Scully to be exact, when he went inside this mad man's mind. He had a very hard time controlling it when the feelings started to rush over him. This was the main reason for his standoffishness with the other agents. He was afraid he would hurt them. As much as he disliked most of his colleagues, he still did not wish to hurt them, but sometimes, when he got deep enough, he couldn't control the urges. He had always locked himself into a room, alone, before, but he knew that Scully would never allow that. He was fearful of what he might do to her if he got too deep. He didn't want to hurt the woman he loves. <Just don't get in too deep. Keep yourself close to the surface this time.> Mulder almost laughed at the idea his own mind was proposing. <Stay close to the surface? As if that ever happened. If I've profiled once, I've profiled a hundred times. Staying close to the surface is not my style of profiling.> He heard a soft voice inside his head come in response, <Well, maybe you should make it your style.>

This stopped Mulder for a moment. He had never even considered it as a possibility. <If I change my style, Scully will be safe. I won't have to worry about hurting her or anyone else, but will I still be able to solve it?> After pondering it for a few moments, he decided to give it a try just to see if he could do a different style of profiling. With this in mind, he looked back down at the pictures and began to go through them, just glancing at each one before passing on to the next one, counting to make sure they were all there.

They were. All 185 pictures of the victims were there. Many of them would have been considered to be beautiful in life, but they were all bloody and broken in death. The number of victims was truly staggering, even for the amount of people who lived in Chicago. That the killer was still on the loose was unbelievable. A renewed sense of urgency came over Mulder. He knew that he would have to solve this as quickly as possible. With a death rate of one every two weeks or so, he had less than a week before the killer struck again. <Five years. He got away with this for five years.>

After counting the pictures, all of them were there. He picked them up again to do a rough sorting. Forming four piles, one with slit throats, one with lengthwise slits, one with slit stomachs, and one with stabbed hearts, Mulder tossed the pictures into some sort of order. He tried to remove himself from the images that the pictures portrayed, and, in doing so, became a sort of machine, mechanically processing the pictures and categorizing them without even realizing what he was doing.

From somewhere deep within him, Mulder realized that he was beginning to slip into this case. It terrified him. Despite all his resolutions and everything he had stated to the contrary, Mulder had always known that it was only a matter of time before he slipped into profiling mode. The fact that he did it now instead of later, only served to frighten him more. He wasn't even in Chicago yet and already he was getting in the deep end. He was so caught up in his study of the photos that he didn't even notice when someone appeared in the doorway.

After the meeting with Skinner, Scully had rushed back down to the basement. She wanted to check up on Mulder and make sure that he was all right. She was still puzzled by the way he had been acting earlier up in Skinner's office. She had expected him to put up more of a fight. Despite how many times Scully tried to tell herself that Mulder was a grown up and quite capable of facing his enemies by himself, it still pained her to watch.

She couldn't stand it when the other agents began to poke jibes at "Spooky". The fact that she had once done the same, shamed her through and through. Now all she wanted to do was yell at all of them to shut up because they didn't understand, they didn't know, they could never feel loss such as Mulder's. They didn't see how hearing the cruel nickname hurt him. Scully could. It was all she could do to remain quiet while Mulder was around, when he wasn't...well, let's just say that they very quickly learned that calling Mulder "Spooky" within Scully's range of hearing was not very conductive to keeping your head on top of your shoulders. After the fifth time Scully royally railed one of their fellow jesters, they decided it would be better to not say it when Scully could hear, either. That was also about the time when they began calling her "Mrs. Spooky", but that's another story entirely.

Some people thought it was odd that Scully would immediately scream at anyone who so much as mentioned the name "Spooky" in her presence, but just sat there silently while she was being called the "Ice Queen". Scully never really thought about it much. She had learned at a young age that you had to ignore the taunting. Growing up in a house of four kids did that to a person. Besides, if you were seen as being withdrawn, nobody ever bothered you. It really wasn't all that bad, at least, that's what she told herself later while she was alone in bed and remembering the horrible things they had said about her. She would tell herself that after a particularly bad day when the tears just started to flow down her cheeks for no reason while she was in the shower. She told herself that when she caught the glances and whispers every time she entered a room. She told herself that when she watched others looking like they were having a great time with their friends just hanging out without a care in the world. Sometimes it just got to be too much, but she was Ahab's girl. She was his Starbuck. There was no way she was going to let him down and cry and sob over something as trivial as being called "Ice Queen" and being despised. She was stronger than that, she was stronger than them.

Yet, she still found herself looking forward to the time away from the office. The times when they were on cases, when no one knew whom they were but each other. That was a time when they could work without being held back by the rumors that had been spread carelessly by people who didn't understand them. All they saw was a couple of agents with no lives who were workaholics and enjoyed chasing aliens. Scully sighed; they might have been able to get away with looking slightly normal if it hadn't been for Mulder and his little fixation on aliens. No matter what the evidence to the contrary; he's always so ready to tell me all about how they actually really do exist. Scully thought with a small smile and a shake of the head.

Idly, Scully wondered if the agents in Chicago had heard of all the nicknames that had been given to her and her partner. If not, they still had a chance of getting some form of respect from the agents. If they had, Scully sighed, it would be an uphill battle all the way. The fact that Mulder personally knew one of the agents was not a promising thought. Scully thought with a ghost of a smile. No matter how other things changed, one thing was always constant, Mulder was a pain in the butt and if you were his superior, he inevitably found which buttons he needed to push to set you over the edge. Scully was mildly surprised that Skinner had yet to kill Mulder. <Maybe Skinner likes Mulder more than he's letting on. Yeah, I know how that is,> Scully thought with a self-deprecating smile.

Scully looked up when she heard the ding of the elevator reaching its destination. She waited for the door to open impatiently and took off at a fast clip through the underground passageway that would lead to their office. When she got to the door, however, she stopped in her tracks. She just stood in the doorway for a moment looking on in a type of morbid fascination. She had never seen Mulder like this before and never wanted to again. The fact that this had probably happened in the past did nothing to calm her feelings of anxiousness.

Mulder was sitting at his desk with a pile of photos in his hands. This in and of itself was not unusual. Scully knew that he often sat for hours looking at crime scene photos trying to pick out the relevant details. No, this was not the problem. The problem came into effect when she saw HOW he was viewing the photos.

It was no secret that Mulder disliked looking at anything that would make a person squeamish. The irony that he loved to hunt for the absurd but couldn't stand to stay for the autopsy hadn't missed Scully. She knew after this many years of working with him what he could and could not handle. The pictures he was looking at definitely fell under the 'could not handle' category. That wasn't the only thing that bothered Scully, however. The thing that bothered Scully was when she noticed that he was looking at them without any interest whatsoever, almost as if they were just the scribbling of a five year old which weren't meant to be looked at too intently for fear of trying to find meaning and coming up shorthanded. Mulder also appeared to be in a type of trance while he was viewing the photos. His eyes were glazed over and Scully had the irrational urge to go check him for a fever. He almost appeared to be in a coma.

The only thing that told her he was not in a coma was the constant flinging of the photos into one of four piles. From her vantage point she could not tell what was in each of the piles, but Mulder appeared to be flinging them at random. Scully had never seen him so out of it. It scared her. This was one of the reasons she had not wanted him on this case. <Damn those people who thought putting Mulder on this would be a good idea. Damn them,> Scully thought bitterly. They wouldn't have to stick around to pick up the pieces if this all went to hell, she would. Not that she minded, of course, but she'd really rather not have too.

Scully took a deep breath and another step closer. She could now see the pictures. It took most of her willpower not to show her disgust openly. It wouldn't do for Mulder to see her looking weak, that would be just the reason he would need to make her stay home and there was no way in hell she was going to do that. She belonged here by his side and even though she knew that Mulder just wanted to protect her, it still got on her nerves. He always thought that she needed the protecting, yet he refused to let her protect him. Well, to be fair, he did allow her to protect him from some things. <Just not anything he really needs protecting from, like this case.>

Scully forced herself to look at the pictures. When she did that, she realized that Mulder's seemingly indiscriminate throws were actually very discriminating. She watched as he idly threw picture after picture into his assigned piles. She realized with a slight jolt that they were being sorted by method of death. She had to admit that it was a good system, even if it disgusted her. Seeking refuge from the horrible sight, she looked up once again into Mulder's face. No recognition. No acknowledgement of her presence. She tried to look into her eyes but encountered only a dull gray and blankness. As she was trying to make eye contact, she caught the movement of his hands in her peripheral vision. He was reaching out for the pile of victims that had had their throats slit.

Not finding any recognition that she was even in the room whatsoever, Scully pulled back slightly. As she watched, horrified, Mulder started to separate his new pile of photos. This time it was by race: African, Caucasian, Asian, and Hispanic. Each of the piles grew before Scully's eyes. She found herself in a type of a trance herself, mesmerized by the rhythm of Mulder's movements. She didn't even realize it until about a minute later when Mulder had already worked his way through the slit throats and was on to those that had been slit wide open like a melon.

Wanting nothing more than to stop this madness, Scully tried to get Mulder's attention. She called his name softly, not wanting to scare him. He didn't respond in any way to her voice. She called, "Mulder," again, still trying to keep her voice down and not startle him. He still didn't respond, didn't even blink an eye. After a few more attempts at trying to softly call him out of his daze, she decided that he must not be able to hear her. This in mind, she called his name in her regular voice. He still did not react to her. In fact, he reached over and began sorting out the slit stomach photos.

Seeing that Mulder was not responding to her voice, Scully decided that touch might be a better alternative. She switched her voice to soft and lightly touched the hand that was tossing the photos. She again called out his name, gently. She really didn't want to startle him. The instant her hand touched his, Mulder took a long blink. Scully quickly pulled her hand away and just stood there, waiting.

Mulder slowly looked up from where he was working and, seeing her standing there, said, "What took you so long? I was about to send out a search party."

"Mulder, I have been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes," Scully said, her annoyance coming through clearly in her voice.

Mulder suddenly looked sheepish and ducked his head. "Oh. Sorry 'bout that. I just get a little caught up in my profiles."

"Speaking of your profiles," Scully began, "what on earth were you doing when I just walked in?"

Mulder looked down at the pictures on the desk as if in confusion as to how they had gotten there. "Umm, I was sorting them. You know, trying to find the similarities, the differences, that kind of thing."

Momentarily forgetting her earlier worry and annoyance, Scully asked curiously, "Have you found anything yet?"

"Well, not really. Not yet anyway. You see how he not only uses different methods but he also kills different races?" Mulder glanced up to Scully for a nod before he continued with his lesson. "That is highly unusual. There are almost no cases where the killer crosses racial lines, it just isn't done. Kind of like a conduct code among murderers, you know," Mulder looked up with a half smirk playing on his lips, seeing that Scully wasn't noticing the irony, he continued. "I also can't help but think that there is a reason why he chooses one method of death over another. There usually is. Actually, this is probably why this guy isn't behind bars yet, no one knows what to make of him."

"And you think that you can figure it out?" Scully asked, suddenly uneasy at the thought.

Mulder took one look at Scully and realized just how scared she was for him. <What did I ever do to deserve her?> He instantly heard the responding voice inside his head, <Not enough, not nearly enough.> Mulder suddenly felt the urge to just reach out and pull Scully down onto his lap so that he could hold her and tell it would all be fine and that everything would work out in the end. In fact, the only thing that stopped him from carrying out this plan of action was the knowledge that he would be dead in the next two seconds if he ever actually did such a thing. Still, it was a nice thought. Instead, Mulder merely said, "That's why they call me Spooky. Rumor has it that I'm on a first name basis with all the nuts in the wonderful US of A. Isn't it nice to be wanted?" Mulder had tried to sound upbeat to quell Scully's fears, but it didn't appear to be working. He decided to try a different approach, "Look, Scully, I may or may not be able to catch this guy, but I have to try. I owe that much to the victims and their families. Do you understand why I'm doing this now?"

Scully nodded her head solemnly. She probably understood better than anyone what Mulder was getting at. It was, after all, one of her main reasons for joining the FBI in the first place. She had wanted to help people and make a difference. She wasn't sure how much her actual work had to do with either of these goals, but she understood them, none the less. Scully considered telling Mulder how worried she was after he was so open and honest but decided against it. One look in his eyes and she knew that he knew her fears already and that was all that mattered. Instead, Scully asked, "When's the flight?"

"This afternoon at three." Seeing Scully cringe, Mulder quickly added, "You can still get out of this if you want to, there's really no reason for you to come." Mulder shrank inside from his own words. He began to pray that she wouldn't take him up on his offer and leave him on this case all by himself. The relief that rushed over Mulder when Scully looked shocked at his offer was almost overwhelming.

After Scully had thoroughly convinced Mulder in no uncertain terms that she was coming whether he liked it or not, she decided to suggest the next sane thing, "Mulder, how about we go home and get packed?"

"Sure, Scully, I'll be fine," Mulder said with a dismissive wave, picking up the photos again.

In fact, he was so busy looking through the pictures that he didn't catch Scully's, "That's what I was afraid of," as she walked out of the office and quietly closed the door.

Due mainly to her job and how often she traveled, Scully liked to consider herself to be a champion packer on occasion. In most instances, she could be packed and ready to go anywhere in less than twenty minutes. However, that was not in the stars for today. Instead of the usual twenty minutes, it took her almost an hour to pack. She reflected that this was most likely due to the longer nature of this trip than many of her others. Instead of the expectation of only being gone for about half a week, it would probably be more of a month long journey. Scully shied away from the thought of staying a motel for an entire month or more. She didn't like to stay in good motels for very long, but the motels that Mulder managed to find them, best not to think about that too much.

Having completed her packing, Scully sat down on her sofa, and, putting on her glasses, spread out the autopsy reports on her coffee table. Well, at least she TRIED to spread out the reports, there were so many of them that she quickly realized it would be a nearly impossible task. So, instead of spreading all of them out, she just spread out the first five in chronological order and got up again to get a notepad. She sighed with the realization that it was going to be a long case. Notepad in hand, she began to look for any similarities in the autopsy reports.

When Scully reached the twenty-fifth victim, she decided to take a short breather and stretch. As she reached her hands above her head in an attempt to relieve the tension from the taunt muscles, she glanced at the clock. It was 1:45pm. <Better call Mulder and tell him to get a move on.>

Scully tried to reach him at home, first. All she got was his answering machine. <Maybe he's already on his way,> Scully thought hopefully. She decided to wait a minute or two before trying to reach him on his cell phone.

As the minutes ticked by, Scully grew more and more worried. It wasn't like Mulder to be this late, a few minutes, sure, but not almost a half an hour. <He should be here looking over my shoulder and bugging me about being bored by now. Where is he?> Scully tried to push away the horrible thoughts that threatened to surface in her mind. They were telling her that Mulder was hurt somewhere and in trouble and there was nothing she could do to stop it. They whispered to her of kidnappings and murders and abductions. Scully tried to push them all out and tell them to shut up, but she knew that, until she heard from or saw Mulder, she would never be able to get the voices to leave her alone. That's just the way it was. She had thought she had it under control, but every now and then, whenever Mulder was doing something she had no knowledge of, they came back with a vengeance. This was one thing she had never told Mulder about. Sure, he knew that she hated to be ditched, but he had never known WHY. He had no idea of the tormentors that were inside Scully's head that only came out when he was gone. He had no idea of how much she worried about him. <And he never will. That would be showing too much weakness.>

Scully glanced at the clock in worry again. 1:48pm. Only three minutes had passed. It felt like a lifetime. <Well, I don't care what he thinks. I'm going to call him. Just to make sure he's on his way of course.> With this rationalization in mind, Scully picked up the phone again and dialed Mulder's cell phone number. It rang once, twice, with each progressive ring, Scully became more and more worried, "Come on, Mulder, pick up the phone." She released a soft sigh of relief when Mulder picked up in the third ring.

The voice that came through the phone and said, "Mulder" was not the one she had been expecting. Sure, it was Mulder, but his voice held a different quality than it normally did. It was almost as if he wasn't even really here talking to her, he was just saying the words from out of the bottom of a pit with no end in sight. Scully's fears about Mulder being on this case resurfaced with a vengeance.

Along with these new fears came a question, she decided to voice it right away. "Mulder, where are you?"

The slight pause that came before Mulder's answer caused her to momentarily think that he had zoned out on her like he had done early when she was in the office. Then she heard the hollow response, "In the office, Scully. Why?"

Having had her suspicions confirmed, Scully asked, "Mulder, do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, it's te...Oh, shoot!" on these last two words, Mulder's voice finally returned to normal and Scully could hear the clattering of the desk chair falling over as he stood up too quickly. "I'll be over there in fifteen minutes." This time Scully could hear papers being shoved into folders as Mulder tried to get out of the office as quickly as possible.

She gave a silent sigh of relief when she realized that Mulder was indeed back in the land of the living. It did much to calm her fears. It also gave her the presence of mind to make her next statement, "Mulder, there is no way you can go home, pack, and make it over here in fifteen minutes. How about this: you go home and pack, I drive over to your apartment, and we go to the airport from your place?"

"Sounds like a plan." With a click, he was gone. Scully looked back at the autopsy reports that were sitting on her table still and sighed. It had already been a long day and they hadn't even made it to Chicago yet.

<Damb! I promised myself that I wouldn't get caught up in this case. How did I lose over three hours?! That's not supposed to happen!> Of course, Mulder DID know why he had lost that time. It always happened when he was profiling. He would get so caught up in a case that he would forget everything else: food, sleep, meetings, even to control his temper on some occasions. That was one of the reasons why he was going to try so hard not to get caught up on this case. He didn't want to yell at, or worse, hurt Scully while he was in the mind of this maniac. He had never thought about it before, but, then again, he had never had anyone who he cared to protect from his wrath before. Well, maybe 'protect' wouldn't be the best word. He knew from past experience that if he scared away all his fellow agents in the first few hours before he was really gone, there would be no one around that he might accidentally hurt when he was actually INSIDE the killer's head. But Scully, he wouldn't be able to scare Scully away. She wasn't afraid of him. <Although she should be. She has no idea as to what she's getting into.>

She had never heard about the time when Mulder had punched and kicked one of the green agents repeatedly simply because he had had the bad of luck of having to go 'collect Spooky' for a meeting. Nor had she heard about the time when Mulder had slapped his boss across the face for asking him when he was going to have the profile finished. Mulder wasn't exactly proud of any of this and the only reason it had never made report was because he was Patterson's boy and Patterson had a lot of say in what went on report and what didn't. Mulder just hoped that he didn't hurt Scully in this. He didn't even really want to bring her into it in the first place, it was too dangerous for her.

Losing his temper was not Mulder's only concern, however. Mulder knew that he had the distinct tendency to lose large chunks of time as well. Once he really got into a case, he would often lose hours, days, even weeks at one point with no conscious knowledge of it. He had always assumed it was the price he had to pay for his 'gift'. <Curse is more like it. Who in their right mind would actually WANT to be able to get into the mind of a serial killer? Guess that's why it's up to good ol' Spooky to do this. Man, I hate being good at my job.>

Mulder could remember one case clear as day when he had reportedly lost a week and a half. The very memory of that case made him shudder. It had essentially involved young girls who were kidnapped, raped, and then left for dead in the middle of the woods. It had horrified him as few others ever had. As far as Mulder could recall, he had solved the case in three days. However, everyone else insisted that he had been working on it for a week and a half. He had tried to argue, but it only got him weird looks and a few comments about 'Spooky'. He really hated being called 'Spooky'. And it didn't really help that he had had nightmares about that case for three years straight before they began to dissipate. Now, even though he still had a nightmare about it every now and again, for the most part it was, out of sight, out of mind. He never wanted that kind of unknown time loss to happen again. Ever.

With this newfound determination, Mulder picked up the scattered pictures and shoved them into the folder as best he could. They were sticking out all over the place and he knew that he was sure to get a lecture from Scully about neatness, but Mulder simply picked it up the way it was and put it under his arm like a football. Taking the stairs because the elevator was too slow, Mulder reached his car in no time.

Ten minutes later, Mulder was in his apartment throwing things into his already-packed suitcase. Like Scully, he had a suitcase that was ready to go at a moment's notice, but it was only packed for a few days, a week at most. As he was just throwing in a few extra shirts, he heard the knock on his door. It came in two sharp, evenly spaced knocks and Mulder knew it had to be Scully. She always knocked like that. Then again, Mulder reflected, she was just about the ONLY person who actually knocked to be let into his apartment, most others just let themselves in. Sometimes Mulder wondered why he even bothered trying to lock the door seeing as everyone seemed to be able to get by them with no problem. <Maybe I should get a deadbolt. No, then they would just bust the whole door down, at least now they only pick the lock.>

Mulder walked over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, there was Scully. "I'll be ready in just a second, Scully. Come on in. Make yourself comfortable," Mulder said, closing the door behind her.

Scully stood in Mulder's doorway as she waited for him to finish packing. As she did so, she glanced around the room. It was a mess, as usual, but even more so now with the file from the office carelessly dropped onto the table. Few of the papers were still actually INSIDE the file. A vast majority of them looked like they had fallen down to claim the floor as their final resting-place. Picking up the loose papers and returning them to the folder, Scully began to glance through them. Having reorganized the file for the most part, she started to read one of the previous profiles at random.

"Mulder! Stop doing that!" Scully screamed to try to cover up the fact that he actually HAD scared her for a second. It wouldn't do to let Mulder know how badly he had shocked her. If he had any idea, she knew she would never be able to live it down, and it would only lead to more torment. To late, he had noticed.

Trying desperately to stop the blush she knew was rising to her cheeks, Scully attempted to defend herself with, "I didn't jump. I was just getting ready to go out the door."

Scully saw the glint in Mulder's eyes and knew he wasn't buying it for a second, but, thankfully, he let the matter drop. Momentarily. He went over to where he had dropped his suitcase and as he began to pick it up, Scully raised the file she was still holding. "Mulder, someone has already DONE a profile, why are WE going out there?" She was still trying to find some way, any way that Mulder wouldn't have to get involved in this case. If she could convince him that his help wasn't necessary, she might be able to do something about getting him off this before it went too far.

Mulder glanced over at her, saying, "You didn't look hard enough, Scully. There are actually fourteen profiles in that folder."

"Yep, fourteen different profiles. Every one of them different and just as useless as any of the others."

Seeing a possible opportunity to get out of this case once again, Scully took it. "So, what makes you think that YOU can write the profile that will catch this guy when fourteen other people have already tried and failed?" As she talked, she tracked his movements with her eyes, watching him pick up the suitcase and head to the door. Her following slightly behind.

"I'm 'Spooky', remember?" Mulder tossed back over his shoulder in a bitter voice, leaving the apartment.

Ang waited patiently as her mother tucked her into bed and smoothed down her auburn curls for one last goodnight kiss. She could tell just from the expression on her mother's face that she was worried about her. Ang couldn't understand why.

True, her friend, Bobbie Sueter, had been taken from her home only to be returned later as if nothing had happened just last week, but Ang wasn't scared. No, Angieann Luder wasn't afraid of anything. Her older brother, Christopher, had already taught her how to fight and, at the age of eight, she was one of the most feared little girls at her school. Bobbie had actually come to her after she was returned to receive instruction on how to fight and Ang had accepted eagerly. She was very eager to have a pupil of her very own to teach seeing as it was just her and her brother and he never let her teach him anything.

Ang watched the door close silently and waited until her mother was a good way down the hall before getting out of bed. Once she was sure the coast was clear, Ang slipped out of the covers and creeped over to the window. There she stood, clad only in her 'I Want To Believe' T-shirt and alien boxer shorts and proceeded to hunt for UFOs. Bobbie had told Ang that she thought aliens had abducted her and Ang agreed. After all, the evidence pointed to it. So what if all the parents thought it was a bunch of baloney? What did they know anyway?

While gazing at the stars, Ang began to wonder what it must be like to be on one of those huge ships. <It's probably a lot of fun,> she decided. <All those new creatures and sights, Bobbie must have had a blast. I wish I could go, too. That would be so much fun.> With this thought in mind, Ang picked out the brightest star she could find and made a wish on it, "Oh brightest star up in the sky, grant me a wish, don't ask why. Please let me go on a little trip aboard and alien spaceship."

She waited for several minutes, what seemed to her to be an eternity, for her wish to come true. Finally, she decided it wasn't going to happen and that she had better get back to bed before her mother came to check on her again. Laying back down into bed, Ang quickly fell into a dreamless sleep. She never saw the light engulf her room.

he thought angrily while searching the crowd. <I mean, come ON, an agent fresh out of the academy would be able to perform this duty just as well as I can. I KNEW I shouldn't have ticked off Leech so bad, but it wasn't even MY fault! So now I'm stuck here have to wait for these two people from DC to disembark and decide to grace me with their presence. Great, just what I wanted to do with my time.>

He wasn't really all that mad about the assignment, or at least he wouldn't have been if it wasn't for one thing: they had just gotten a new girl, Jenna Maserits, and that made him one rung up from the bottom, being a year her superior. He had thought that having her around would alleviate the need to have HIM do all the needless tasks around the office, but, no, she was back in the office writing a report while he was here playing chauffeur for one simple reason. He had gotten on Leech's bad side.

As he continued to scan the swarms of people in the airport for his charges, he thought back to how he had gotten this stupid assignment in the first place.

It had begun just like any other day. Robert Rashen had just walked into the office and he could already hear Forey's voice down the hall. Rashen laughed to himself as he shook his head slightly, there was a rumor going around that Forey was actually a woman in disguise because he gossiped so much. If you ever wanted to know anything about ANYTHING that was going on around the office, all you had to do was ask Forey and you could get the whole story. (Or at least HE always swore it was the whole story. Whether or not it actually was the whole story was pretty much up to interpretation.)

Rashen was just about to go into the coffee room to get his early morning caffeine fix, but changed his mind when he saw who was in there. It was Leech, looking like he was about ready to bite someone's head off and spit it right back out at him or her. Rashen tried to sneak past the doorway without being noticed, for being caught by Leech in a bad mood was considered to be punishment worse than death by some of the more senior members of the office. There were horror stories of the duties they had to perform just because Leech was in a bad mood. It was generally considered best to just stay away from him when he was like this. And, not being a fool, that was exactly what Rashen was trying to do.

He had almost made it to the other side of the doorway when he heard Leech cry out, "Rob." The sound of Leech's voice cut through the air like a bullet, stopping Rashen in his tracks.

<Dang it! Almost managed to get past without him noticing me.> Rashen turned., feeling like he was in slow motion, and cautiously regarded Leech. Fearing for his life, or at the very least, his career, Rashen hesitantly answered, "Yes, sir?"

Without even sparing him a glance, Leech spat out, "Where is the report that was supposed to be on my desk this morning?"

Rashen couldn't recall any report that was due today, or even tomorrow, for that matter, but he didn't want to ask Leech. That would be like ringing your own death bell. But, try as he might, Rashen could not find any other solution to his problem than to ask Leech what report he was referring to. So, he took a deep breath and braced himself while saying in the most even and professional tone he could manage, "What report, sir?"

"The report on how well Edmonton's profile worked," Leech recited incredulously, still not looking at his underling.

Rashen gulped, he could suddenly see his death in vivid color. That report wasn't due until two days from now. He hadn't even started on it yet. Trying his best to remain calm, he attempted to explain this fact to Leech.

At that particular point, Leech decided to turn and, looking Rashen straight in the eyes, asked coldly, "Are you telling me that I don't know what I assigned and when I assigned it, Agent Rashen?"

Before Rashen could form a reply, Kalin walked into the room. Sensing the tension in the room, Kalin immediately asked, "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

"Just clearing up a misunderstanding," was Leech's clipped reply as he stalked out of the room, sending Rashen a glare that could have struck him dead, that is, if looks could actually kill. Rashen was never more happy than then that humans, at least, did not possess this ability. But even as the tension left Rashen's body, he knew it was just a matter of time before Leech took out his revenge. It was then that he heard the news from Forey about a new profiler coming to town. It was none other than 'Spooky' Mulder.

While his thoughts wandered, Rashen kept scanning the airport for Spooky and the Missus. He had seen their FBI pictures, but that really wasn't enough to go on in this type of a crowd. He recalled Kalin's words of advice, "Just look for a short, redhead and a tall, lanky guy. Piece of cake." <Yeah, piece of cake, my eye.> He had been trying to find them based upon the red hair for the past ten minutes, but if she was really as short as they said she was, she wouldn't exactly stick out. Then he tried looking for him and realized that unless he was close enough to see his face, there were way too many guys in the lobby that looked like him. Rashen was considering giving up and facing the consequences when he spotted them.

Now that he knew where they were, Rashen found it difficult to believe that he had not noticed them right away. Kalin was right, they DID stick out like a sore thumb. Not only were they both dressed in suits, but the contradictions that their forms made were so stunning that it was practically hilarious. It looked as if God had made one of them and then went out of his way to make the other one exactly opposite. One tall, one short. One fair skinned, one tanned. One redheaded, one brown-headed. One lanky and awkward, the other graceful and petite. It took all of Rashen's will power not to laugh at first sight. <So this is the great Spooky and the Missus. Not exactly what I was expecting. Especially not her, too bad she's the Ice Queen, I could really go for taking a beauty like her on a date.> Rashen sighed at the thought. According to everyone at the office, attempting to get close to her was like attempting to melt an ice berg with a match. It just didn't work.

Lost in his own thoughts, Rashen continued to observe them from across the room for a few more minutes. He watched as Mulder bent down to Scully's ear level and whispered something in her ear. Scully nodded and began to proceed purposefully through the crowded room towards the baggage claim. While Scully was standing there, Rashen watched Mulder come up beside and stand so that their hands were just brushing each others. He watched as Scully leaned over to whisper something to Mulder and then gaped in amazement when she reached out to squeeze her partner's hand.

Taking a deep breath, Rashen moved towards them and called out, "Agents Mulder and Scully."

He then watched with a little bit of shock when both agents turned to him as one with a surprised look on each of their faces. The surprise quickly turned to suspicion when their gaze fell to rest upon him. It almost made Rashen wish he were back in that room with Leech this morning.

He watched as they exchanged a loaded glance and mentally released his breath when Scully said to him in a normal tone, "I'm sorry, but who might you be?"

"Agent Robert Rashen, Chicago field office," he replied equally as calmly while taking out his badge for her inspection.

"And what are you doing here, Agent Rashen?" Mulder asked, causing Rashen to turn his head over to the right.

"I'm here to give you a ride to the office, of course." Rashen watched the looks of surprise appear on their faces once again and saw them exchange an incredulous look. He couldn't understand what was wrong with these two. EVERYONE he knew got escorted to the office on their first day there. It saved a lot of trouble on trying to get through the traffic and cut down on the number of cars that had to find parking space. But these two had obviously never received this kind of treatment before, at least, that's what Rashen gathered from their reaction. <But that's insane, Spooky is one of the best profilers we've every had, surely he has been chauffeured at one time or another.>

As this was running through Rashen's mind, Mulder and Scully had come to a decision. Scully faced Rashen again and stated, "We need to get our luggage and then we'll come with you." At which, Mulder and Scully promptly turned around as one and continued to look for their luggage on the carrousel. Rashen took one look at their backs and decided that he was in for a LONG trip.

As he was driving, Rashen kept glancing into the back seat of the car. It hadn't really surprised him when Mulder had decided to sit next to Scully instead of him. The only real problem as far as he was concerned was that no one was talking. Mulder appeared to be spacing out the window while Scully spent her time glancing between Mulder and Rashen with an occasional look out the window.

The next time Scully looked up at Rashen, he caught her eye through the mirror and favored her with a smile. Scully made a half-hearted attempt to return the smile and that was all the encouragement Rashen needed. "SAC Kalin is going to be waiting for you at the office. He wanted to get you started right away."

Rashen waited for Scully to nod before continuing. "After the meeting, this car is yours. There's a Motel 6 right down the road with reservations already booked." He thought he heard a small sigh escape Scully's lips, but couldn't be sure. Deciding to try and get on her good side, Rashen said, "A word to the wise, stay off Leech's bad side."

"Jeremiah 'JJ' Leech. The ASAC at out here. I suppose he's OK, as long as he's not all that mad. I mean, normally, he's a great guy, you can joke with him and kid around and it's all in good fun, but when he's angry, I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Course, you happened to hit him on a down side."

"He's mad as hell at everyone at the moment. I think it might have something to do with your partner." Rashen looked up and saw the look that Scully threw over at Mulder who was still staring out the window, apparently oblivious to the goings on in the car.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied with a shrug. "Probably nothing. Leech just gets like that sometimes. Actually, it probably has something to do with the fact that they sent him out here in the first place. I mean, sure we got this killer on our hands, but that's no reason to call in the spook, ya know?"

Rashen held up one hand to signal surrender. "Hey, hey, that's just what everyone calls him. *I* never said he was a spook." Scully looked like she was going to respond, but then Rashen saw Mulder reach over a hand and place it on top of hers at which she promptly closed her mouth. At this movement, Rashen's jaw dropped. <He's been listening this whole time? Shit! I thought he wasn't paying any attention to us.>

Deciding he should address Mulder, Rashen glanced at him and said, "A lot of the guys at the office are a bit ticked off that you're coming here. Something about it being a spit in the face. Leech happens to be one of those people." He glanced over at Mulder again, but Mulder was still staring out the window looking for all the world as if he hadn't heard a single word that had been uttered in the past half hour. When he looked over at Scully, however, he saw fire in her eyes. <Oh, great, what have you gotten yourself into now?> Much to his surprise, Scully withheld her remarks and just sat there.

"Look, it's not that we're not grateful for the help, we are. It's just that quite a few of the people working here have been on this case for years, it's their baby, ya know? They don't want to give it up that easily."

"How long have you been here, Agent Rashen?" Scully queried, trying to keep her anger out of her voice.

"Please, call me Rob. Everyone else does. And in answer to your question, about a year. I'm still pretty low on the food chain." He shrugged. "But, at least I'm not the greenest agent there."

Scully looked at him curiously, "I always thought the newest agents were given the job of ferrying people around."

"Yeah, 'oh' is right. He went ballistic on me this morning. I haven't even started the report yet. I have another two days to get it to him. He's insane. Take my advice and avoid him as much as possible. OK?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Scully said in a distracted tone. Looking into the mirror again, Rashen saw Scully gazing worriedly at her partner again. <Yeah, you should worry about him, Leech is gonna burn him bad.>

Realizing that Scully wasn't going to offer any more in the way of a response, Rashen mumbled under his breath, "At least, I hope that's what happened."

"Why do you say that?" Scully was once again looking at him through the mirror. <Damn, she heard that.>

"Well, I got this assignment for one of two reasons. Either Leech is mad at me or he's sleeping with Maserits and was just making up a reason to get angry." He glanced back into the window to see Scully's shocked face. "Oh, come on, don't look so surprised. Didn't YOU sleep your way up?"

<Damn, I am NOT looking forward to this,> Mulder thought, looking out the window. He hadn't really been paying attention what was going on in the car, instead, opting to turn his thoughts inward. He still had his doubts about this case. While it was difficult enough to find a killer, he now had the added worry of making sure he didn't hurt Scully.

Sighing silently, Mulder caught the word 'Spooky' coming out of their driver's mouth. He was instantly back inside the car. <Funny how that one word can put me on the alert,> thought Mulder. He could feel the waves of agitation rising off of Scully like a mist and calmly put a hand on one of hers. She stilled and calmed and Mulder decided he could once again return to his peace, looking out the window.

Having no more distractions, Mulder found that his thoughts had turned to Peter Kalin while he watched the gridlock directly outside his window. Despite Mulder's honest joy at his friend's promotion, he couldn't help but think, <That could have been me, if only I was stronger.>

This thought prompted pictures of various murders to flash rapidly through his head in all their technicolor glory, stopping for a moment at each one before moving on to the next. Mulder had to open his eyes, which he had not even realized were closed, and concentrate on his breathing so he didn't throw up about half way through the memories. Once he had sufficiently calmed down his stomach, he realized that he was not alone in the car. Casting a hidden glance at Scully and Rashen, Mulder was pleased to see that neither of them had caught his little show.

Deciding that listening in on their conversation was a much better idea than going back to his own thoughts, Mulder tried to pick up the topic. Rashen was complaining about getting stuck with this awful assignment, and it was all Mulder could do not to laugh.

While Mulder was laughing silently to himself, he caught Scully's sharp comment, "Why do you say that?" and Rashen's responding, "Well, I got this assignment for one of two reasons. Either Leech is mad at me or he's sleeping with Maserits and was just making up a reason to get angry." Beat. "Oh, come on, don't look so surprised. Didn't YOU sleep your way up?"

Before he even fully realized what he was doing, Mulder had reached between the two metal bars connecting the headrest to the rest of the seat and grabbed a hold of both of Rashen's collars from behind. Yanking back, he leaned forward and whispered with a deadly calm into Rashen's ear, "If I ever hear you say anything like that again, I will rip out your tongue and make you eat it." Mulder pulled back tighter on the collar for emphasis, "Is that understood?"

At Rashen's frantic nod, Mulder released him and sat back down in his seat. Mulder then caught Rashen's reddened face and wary eyes in the mirror and said, "Good, now apologize to the lady," with a deceptive peace in his tone.

Having been sufficiently chastised, Rashen said, "Sorry, Agent Scully, I meant no offence," and went back to driving in silence.

The second Scully heard Rashen's question, or rather, his implication, her jaw dropped and she sat there in dumb shock. She had been accused of a lot of things, from being a cold-hearted bitch to being a stuck up snob, but she had never NEVER been accused of sleeping around the FBI. The very thought was ridiculous. Who would want to sleep with HER, Mrs. Spooky? Most of the people she ran into avoided her like the plague just because of her association with Mulder. All she could think was, <Who the hell thought THAT rumor up?>

Scully was knocked rather forcefully out of her stupor by Mulder's arm shooting across her to reach Rashen's collar. She knew that she should really tell him to let go and she almost did, but then she heard his tone. He was speaking in his death-voice. She had only herd it on one other occasion and it had scared the living daylights out of her then. It still had the same effect.

While Scully sat, still, listening to Mulder's tone more than his threats, her breath caught in her throat and she could feel her heart rate sky rocket. For heaven's sakes, if SHE was having this severe of a reaction, she could only imagine what Rashen must have been going through. Scully was just about to try and convince herself once more that she needed to stop Mulder when he suddenly sat back down.

The next thing she heard was something that sounded like a, "Sorry," from Rashen, but she was no longer paying attention. Her gaze was once again on Mulder as he returned to looking out the window. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought he had never ceased. The only sign of the preceding argument was the light flush still present in his cheeks and the fidgeting of nervous energy working itself out on his leg through his fingers.

On an impulse, Scully reached out and stilled Mulder's hand. At the touch, Mulder looked over at Scully and gave her a sheepish smile. His eyes asked her, 'Forgive me?'

Suddenly the sheepish smile on Mulder's face grew into a full fledged grin and Mulder returned to his window gazing.

Taking yet another poll. (Don't ya just LOVE them?) Would anyone be adverse to Mulder dancing on a chair? Or is that just too out of character, even for him? Sorry, trying to decide if I should even bother to type up the next part or if it is just TOO bizarre. Thanks for all your help. Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated.