(1/4)

Fox Mulder's Apartment

Tuesday, 3:00 am

Mulder was on the verge of orgasm, and seeing the lovely face below

him on the bed, her head thrown back, her mouth parted in passion,

moved him even closer. Then he felt her orgasm like surging waves,

and heard his name on those beautiful lips, and he was lost. With a

growl that began deep in his chest, he roared out his own release as

he came.

"Oh...God...Ahhh..." he had never had such an intense sexual

experience. The woman under his body seemed to shimmer, becoming

almost dream-like and insubstantial for a heartbeat in time. Finally

spent, he nuzzled the throat of the woman with his nose and murmured

little reassurances as they both came down from the incredible

overload of sensations.

He was vaguely aware that the telephone was ringing, but he ignored

it. The caller would just have to leave a message on the recorder.

At any rate, it was probably Scully, and he thought he could just

make out her voice as she left her message.

A pleasant lethargy was invading his body and he was content to

snuggle deeper into the bedclothes with this marvelously warm, soft

female. Her head neatly fit against his shoulder, under his chin, and

their arms were wrapped around each other. He must have dozed off,

because when he opened his eyes to an insistent knocking, he was alone

in the bed.

Slightly confused, he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. He

could hear the door to his apartment opening and Scully's tentative,

"Mulder??"

Fully awake now, Mulder grabbed his boxers and tee-shirt, slipped into

them, then went to the door of his bedroom.

"Scully?" he said, blinking in the light she had turned on.

Scully was dressed in work clothes; an elegant beige pants suit.

"Good, I'm glad you're here. Skinner has been trying to reach you,

but your cel phone was turned off."

He rubbed a hand across his chest and asked, "What's going on?"

"We have an urgent case. Why don't you go splash some water on your

face and get dressed? We have to leave pretty quickly."

"I really need a shower. Why don't I grab a quick one and then you

can tell me what this is all about while I get dressed?" He didn't

wait for an answer, but turned and headed down the hall to the

bathroom. He had expected to find Rachel there, but the bathroom was

empty, with no sign she had ever used it. He stood, perplexed for a

few seconds, then quickly got on with his shower.

Scully had been amazed that Mulder had actually been in his bed (so he

*did* have one!) instead of on his couch, where it seemed he spent

most of the dark hours of the night. Curious, she peeked into the

bedroom while he took his shower, and saw an unremarkable room. But

that odor - Christ, it oozed sex in here. It came from the tumbled

bedclothes, and she could see two indentations on two pillows - oh,

shit, she had almost walked in on Mulder in bed with some bimbo.

She nervously looked around, afraid that a naked woman would suddenly

burst out of a concealed place, and realized that she was being

foolish. The woman was obviously gone...or was in the shower with

Mulder.

Scully quickly walked into the living room and perched on the couch,

unexpectedly angry and mortified at the same time. But why this

reaction? Mulder was allowed to have sex with anyone he chose; he was

a grownup, single, unattached. She closed her eyes and a plaintive

cry echoed in her mind, "Then why does it hurt so much?!" Deep down,

she recognized the jealousy for what it was.

When did I start caring for him that way? she wondered. She heard the

shower stop, and a few minutes later he came padding down the hall

with a towel around his waist.

"OK, Scully, shoot." He entered his bedroom, clearly expecting her to

hang around near the door and tell him about the case.

She took a shaky breath and moved closer, then began. "Senator Peter

Sanders' wife Elizabeth has been raped and murdered, and their eight-

year-old daughter has been kidnapped. Senator Sanders has asked the

Bureau for help. The director called Skinner and specifically asked

that we be assigned to the case, even though it isn't an X File. He

agreed, especially since he is aware that we have no new cases

lately."

She stopped to see whether he wanted to interject some word of wisdom,

but all was silent.

"The crime scene is being held untouched until we get there. They

haven't even moved Mrs. Sanders' body yet. The house is in Virginia,

in fox-hunting country." She smiled.

Mulder strode out of his bedroom, knotting his tie, and sat down to

put his shoes on. Scully leaned over him and straightened an errant

lock of hair without thinking, and was surprised when he jerked away

from her.

Mulder said in an apologetic tone, "You startled me."

Scully shrugged and went to stand by the door, waiting for him. She

was hurt and wondered whether his avoidance of her touch had been

deliberate and if so, why. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears,

so she turned away from him when he headed toward the door.

"You driving?" he asked as they exited his apartment.

She just nodded.

They rode the elevator in silence, walked in silence to the car, and

rode in silence to the Senator's house.

Before they got out of the car, Mulder put his hand over Scully's on

the steering wheel and said, "What's going on, Scully?"

She deliberately misunderstood him, and said, "A murder/rape, and a

kidnapping, Mulder," and pulled her hand away to unbuckle her seat

belt.

He sighed and followed her into the large stately home, having to

display their IDs several times along the way. Mulder was thinking

that he shouldn't have jerked away from Scully like that, but he had

been deep in thought about Rachel. He was worried about her - where

could she have gone at three in the morning?

Jill Carver, a young black lieutenant from the Commonwealth of

Virginia's attorney's office, introduced herself and showed them into

the upstairs bedroom where the Senator's wife lay sprawled across the

bed. It always surprised Mulder how much blood the human body could

hold - and lose - when he saw one of these bloody murder scenes.

His eyes met those of the victim, and they seemed to stare accusingly

right through to his soul. "Rachel," he gasped.

Scully's head turned toward him and she saw his complexion go so pale

that it rivalled that of the corpse. He swayed, and Scully led him

into a nearby chair before he could topple over.

Gently but firmly pushing his head down to his knees, she hoped that

he wouldn't pass out. When he finally sat back he was panting, trying

to stay focused. She placed a comforting hand on the back of his neck

and said quietly, "Tell me."

Breathing easier now, but looking sick, he said, "I knew her. It was

a shock." His gaze avoided what lay on the bed, Scully noticed.

Lt. Carver was taking all this in with great interest, and Scully

wondered what she was making of this little display.

Scully gave him a final pat on the shoulder, then walked over to the

bed to do her job. Gloves in place and a canvas apron covering her

suit, she examined the body, vaguely aware that Mulder was moving

around the room, presumably back into investigation-mode.

They eventually met by the door, Scully pulling off and discarding her

bloodied gloves and apron. She threw them into a nearby plastic waste

bag, left for that purpose. Mulder did the same with his gloves, then

asked her, "What did you discover?"

She glanced at Carver and said, "Excuse us a minute," and led Mulder

by the elbow into the next room.

Quietly she recited the raw facts. "Mrs. Sanders was brutally raped;

anally, vaginally and orally. Then she was stabbed repeatedly and

viciously, probably with the butcher knife found on the floor by the

bed. Death was apparently caused by a thrust of the knife into the

heart. I'll need to check when I perform the autopsy, but that was

probably the final of half a dozen stab wounds. I'm figuring the time

of death at 2:00 am, with the attack beginning twenty minutes or so

prior to that."

By the time she finished speaking, Mulder was as white as a sheet and

had fallen back into a nearby chair. "Scully, that's not possible,"

he weakly protested.

Eyeing him warily, she said, "Just a minute." She went out into the

hall and told Carver that the body could be removed. She would

perform the autopsy later that afternoon.

Lt. Carver nodded, and said that homicide detective Anthony Fontanova

was currently the officer in charge of the crime scene and she would

go downstairs and let him know.

"Could you tell me where the daughter was when abducted? Or do you

know that?"

Carver replied, "She was in her room down the hall, probably asleep,

when she was taken." Carver pointed down to their left. "I say that

she was probably asleep, since there doesn't appear to have been much

of a struggle."

"OK, we'll take a look in a minute."

Carver said, "Senator Sanders wants to speak with you and Agent Mulder

as soon as possible. He'll be downstairs in the library."

"Good. We'll want to speak with him, too. We'll just need a few

minutes to discuss the case, then we'll take a look at the daughter's

room, and we'll be down."

Carver looked as though she were going to say something, then just

nodded and left.

Scully sighed and returned to Mulder. He looked pretty much as he had

a few minutes earlier - shaken to his core with grief and with

something like fear in his eyes.

Scully's voice was harsher-sounding than intended. "What the hell is

going on here, Mulder?"

He gave a tentative smile, then abandoned it for a sobbing, shuddering

intake of air. "It's...difficult."

Scully didn't know if he meant the situation or his telling her about

it. Probably both. She knelt by his chair and lay her hand on top of

his, where it clutched his knee.

He looked down into her eyes, and began to speak. "I met her four

months ago at one of those mandatory cocktail parties given by Senator

Matheson and his wife. Remember; I dragged you along to one of them

once."

She said, "Once."

"Yeah, they're pretty boring. As I recall, you couldn't get out of

there fast enough. Anyway, I was standing on a little out-of-the- way

balcony I had discovered, when Rachel was suddenly there by my side.

She glanced at me, then stood looking out over the city with a

melancholy expression. I figured she was just as bored as I was."

Scully got up and pulled a chair next to him so she could be more

comfortable. He seemed to need a tactile connection, since he reached

out and took her hand in his.

He continued. "We began talking, and from the first, there was a

strong physical attraction between us. She refused to tell me her

name, though, except for 'Rachel,' and I suspected that wasn't what

she normally was called. At one point she pulled my head down and

kissed me on the lips and said, 'Fox Mulder, I'll be seeing you

again.' Then she left. I tried to follow her, but she disappeared

into the crowd. I didn't see her again until this morning at 2:00."

Scully's eyes widened at that. "But..."

"I know. You're placing the time of death at 2:00 am."

He released her hand and sat back with a sigh. "I was asleep for a

change when a knock came at my apartment door. The clock was just

hitting 2:00, and I couldn't imagine who it might be at that hour. I

thought at first that you had come by for some reason, but you would

have called first. When I looked through the peep-hole, I saw Rachel,

and let her in. She was distraught, and threw her arms around me. I

could feel her shaking, so I just held her and tried to soothe her as

best I could."

Mulder hesitated, then went on. "One thing led to another, and we

wound up in bed." Scully closed her eyes, but opened them again when

he touched her arm. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to embarrass you,

Scully. Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head and said, "You're not embarrassing me, Mulder. I

know this is difficult for you, but you need to tell me everything.

That woman is dead and her daughter is missing. You're saying that

she was lying dead here, while she was also..."

"Fucking me?" He seemed comfortable with the crude word, but Scully

was momentarily shocked with his using it here and now. "Yeah, that's

what I'm saying. I was vaguely aware of the phone ringing, but

ignored it. Finally, you showed up, but Rachel had disappeared; I was

confused, because I hadn't thought she had left the bed."

He paused, then looked puzzled. "I *always* use condoms, Scully; for

some reason, it never even occurred to me that I would need one with

her." He shook his head, clearly at a loss. "It just wasn't my

normal behavior. And contrary to what you may believe, I'm not in the

habit of bedding someone I hardly know."

"Mulder, the victim had bits of skin and blood under her fingernails.

I have to ask; do you have any scratches on your body?"

Mulder's grave stare made Scully cringe.

"Scully, I didn't kill her."

"I know that, but you of all people know that I'll need to check, and

also get a sample of saliva, blood and semen for comparison."

He continued to regard her with an unreadable expression, then stood

up and began removing his tie.

"Wait; you need to do that at the lab so we can get samples at the

same time..."

"No! We do this now. I'll go by the lab later and let them run me

through the whole rigmarole."

His coat followed the tie, then his shirt, then his tee shirt. With

his torso nude, he then started on his belt buckle, but Scully said,

"That's enough, Mulder."

She looked over his strong chest and followed it down to the slender

waist, then walked behind him to see his back. Mulder heard a sharp

intake of breath.

"Mulder, you have some bad scratches on your back."

"Well, what can I say? We were having really good sex, Doctor

Scully." His tone was bordering on nasty.

She picked up his tee shirt and handed it to him. "Get dressed and

I'll meet you in the room at the end of the hall to your left. We

need to see where the little girl was sleeping when the kidnapping

took place. Then the Senator is still waiting for us downstairs."

She left the room, having never once made eye contact with Mulder

during the little speech. But her hands were trembling slightly.

The child's room was much neater and cleaner than most children's

rooms that Scully had ever seen. Of course, this was the daughter of

a Senator. Probably should check with the household staff; this

"country estate" should have several, at least, she thought.

She noticed a smear of blood on the wall near the door, and another

shocking smear, across the white sheet. Scully was willing to bet it

was the mother's blood, but she made a note to have it analyzed. She

prayed it didn't belong to the little girl. What *is* her name!? No

one had mentioned it, but always referred to her as "the daughter."

On the night stand was a book; "Little Women," by Louisa Mae Alcott.

Scully looked inside after snapping on some gloves. The childish

handwriting on the flyleaf read, "Property of Rachel Faye Sanders,

May 21, 1996."

So that's where the mother got the pseudonym of "Rachel."

She hadn't noticed Mulder since they had entered the room. Looking

around, she saw that he was intently studying a photograph of

Elizabeth and Rachel Sanders in a happy mother/daughter pose. His

finger reached out to touch the photo and he moved it slowly over the

features of the little girl, rather than that of the mother. That

surprised Scully, considering the nature of the recent relationship

between Mulder and Elizabeth Michaelson.

"Scully, do you think it strange that she had a photo of her mother

and herself, but none of her father displayed?"

She didn't know what to make of the question. Is he leaping to the

conclusion that the Senator is the bad guy here, just because his

daughter didn't have his picture up in her room? So she answered

simply, "No."

She walked up to Mulder and handed him the book. "Her name is on

the fly leaf, which may be of interest to you. I'm going to check

the closet."

He took the small book into his hands and turned it over several

times, as though getting a feel of it. Then he opened the book and

studied the name written inside, nodding as if he weren't surprised.

"She loved that book, and was re-reading it for about the third time."

The voice came from the doorway, and Mulder looked up to see a tall,

trim man in his late forties, with an anguished expression in his

brown eyes.

Scully suddenly appeared from the depths of the walk-in closet and

approached their visitor. "Senator Sanders? I'm Special Agent Dana

Scully and this is Special Agent Fox Mulder from the Bureau. We were

almost done here and were about to come downstairs to see you."

He started to shake her hand, but saw it was covered in latex, and

arrested the automatic movement. He seemed tightly wound, as if he

would go flying off in several directions at once if the wrong thing

set him off.

And suddenly Scully was very afraid that Mulder would be that wrong

thing.

"Senator, didn't the police tell you that this area is off-limits to

everyone but authorized individuals until all the evidence is gathered

and the investigation is complete?"

The Senator just stared at Mulder, his mouth frozen open in surprise.

"Uh, yes, I suppose they did."

Scully quickly spoke up. "We'll come downstairs with you; I believe

we were finished up here anyway." She looked at Mulder with her

eyebrow raised.

He gently set the book on the nightstand with no further comment, and

followed them out into the hall. He saw that the body had been

removed when he passed the master bedroom, and Lt. Carver was talking

with an official-looking guy with a badge and a uniform.

Mulder abruptly made a detour and re-entered the room, startling the

two, who broke off their conversation. They watched as Mulder walked

around the room, inspecting the walls, the carpet and, finally, the

bed. He never touched anything; he just devoured every inch with his

eyes.

Carver couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Are you looking for

something, Agent Mulder?"

He seemed surprised that she was still there. He focused on her and

replied softly, "Always."

She was caught by the depth of feeling in his eyes, and suppressed a

shudder. If she were the murderer, she would not have cared to know

that Agent Mulder was on her trail. There was so much intensity and

passion in his gaze, as well as a kind of...hunger.

"Excuse me," was all he said, as he left the room to find Scully and

the Senator.

A helpful man in an suit pointed the way to the library, and Mulder

walked in on an interesting scene. Senator Sanders was apparently

sobbing out his grief on a sofa near the fireplace, and Scully sat

next to him, rubbing his shoulder and speaking soothing words.

Mulder stopped dead in his tracks, not knowing what to think. They had

encountered bereavement in so many of their cases, but he could never

remember Scully initiating any physical contact with a family member

of the victim in order to provide comfort.

He approached the sofa and put his hand on her shoulder to let her

know he was there. She shrugged it off. Now he really didn't know

what to think, nor how to act. What the fuck was this all about? Was

this some childish retaliation for when he had reacted to her brushing

the hair from his forehead? Then he felt ashamed for the thought;

Scully wasn't that petty. Something else was bothering her. Then he

staggered slightly from the thought that she might think he actually

could have raped and murdered...

He sat down in a chair that faced the Senator, and said in forceful,

clear tones, "Senator, where were you tonight when your wife was

attacked and murdered, and when your daughter was abducted?"

He ignored the furious look Scully was aiming at him, and concentrated

on the tear-blotched face of the Senator.

"I was...God, I was with George Garrett, my campaign manager. We had

a late session in Washington, then we drove out here in his car, since

Beth...since Beth, my wife, had taken the car earlier to go shopping.

George dropped me off at 2:30 or so, and went home. He didn't come

in." He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep sobbing

breath.

Mulder's expression didn't change, and he asked, "Please give names,

addresses and phone numbers to Agent Scully of anyone who can verify

where you have been from yesterday evening, up until now. We'll also

need the list of any household staff, and whether any of them were on

the property up until 3:00 am or so. And I'll have to ask you to let

me check your body for any scratch marks."

Scully was handing the Senator some paper and a pen for the names, but

at the last statement, she started and dropped the pen. While the

Senator leaned over to retrieve it, she locked gazes with Mulder,

slowly shaking her head.

Mulder got to his feet and walked over to Senator Sanders. "Sir, I

need to give you the standard Miranda warning." He proceeded to

recite the thing by rote, while keeping a wary eye on Scully. When

he finished, he gently but firmly held the Senator by the elbow as he

helped him to his feet, then led him toward the door.

"Is there a room nearby where I can check you for marks, sir?"

The Senator seemed dazed, and led the way next door, where he allowed

Mulder to look at his unmarked back. Unsatisfied, Mulder had him

completely strip down, and was disappointed to find nothing more than

an old scar on his knee "from football at Notre Dame years and years

ago."

As they returned to the library, they met Carver, Chief Tyler from the

Sheriff's office, and Detective Fontanova coming down the stairs. They

all gathered in the large room, and, after introductions, Mulder said,

"I'm leaving Agent Scully to coordinate things with you. I've got

something to check, and it can't wait."

She watched him while he called for a taxi and made a second call to

someone, then excused herself to talk with him in private outside the

front door.

Mulder's jaw clenched, anticipating the dressing down that was

coming.

(Continued in Part II)

Part II

Senator Sanders' Front Porch

8:00 am

As the door clicked shut behind them, and Scully began saying,

"Mulder...," he closed his hand around her upper arm and led her to

the side of the porch where there were some chairs and a table. They

sat down, and he held his index finger up to his lips for a second in

a "quiet" gesture.

"Scully," he began, "there are several things I need to say before you

justifiably chew my butt. First of all, I sincerely apologize for

being an asshole upstairs with you. I was out of line, and I'm truly

sorry."

She could read the apology in his eyes as well, and could only nod.

"Secondly, I didn't kill that woman, or take her eight-year-old

daughter who, I'm sure you noticed, bears a strong resemblance to

Samantha."

Scully blinked at that. She hadn't noticed.

"I've never been to this house before, Scully. And I certainly didn't

realize that the woman in my bed this morning was Mrs. Peter Sanders,

a U.S. Senator's wife." He briefly closed his eyes, then went on.

"You need to know that I am sure in my own mind that the good Senator

was responsible for this horror, whether he had a direct or indirect

hand in it."

At her intake of breath, he quickly spoke up to forestall what she had

to say.

"I know, I don't have one iota of proof. I'm also afraid that the

little girl is dead, and we may never find her body. We have to look,

of course; there's a possibility she's still alive, but I don't think

so." He looked so sad at this, Scully thought his heart must be

breaking to say it.

"I need to go see someone, and also need to report to the State labs

for the samples they'll need for testing. You can let them know

that," and his head nodded toward the interior of the house. "I think

it would be better to have them do the testing; then there won't be

the suspicion of a coverup as there might be if the Bureau should run

my samples."

Scully started to say, "But what if..." she looked aghast at what she

had begun to ask.

He smiled grimly. "What if everything matches the crime scene, and

they arrest me?"

She whispered, "Yes."

"Well, be prepared. It *will* match, and I'll need your support if

I'm going to make it through this."

He stood as the taxi arrived, and touched her arm again as he said,

"Let them know that I'll have to remove myself from the case because

of my connection with the deceased. And I suppose we'll have to tell

Skinner about what's going on sooner or later. Call me after the

autopsy and we can arrange to meet at the office."

She watched him walk down the steps, then turned and re-entered the

house. She immediately took Lt. Carver and Detective Fontanova aside

and told them that Mulder was voluntarily providing personal forensic

samples to the State since he recognized the victim once he arrived at

the scene. She was someone he knew intimately. Scully told them that

he would remove himself from the case for that reason, but she would

like to stay on it and perform the autopsy as soon as it could be

arranged. Unless there was an objection.

Detective Fontanova had no problem with it, although he obviously

didn't like the situation. Lt. Carver pondered the ramifications and

touched base with the Assistant Commonwealth's Attorney. She told

Scully that they had no objection to the way it was being handled.

They would welcome her expertise in the case, but agreed that Mulder

would have a conflict of interest whether or not he was implicated in

the crime itself.

After a pause in the conversation, Lt. Carver stated, "Agent Scully,

Detective Fontanova, I suggest that we don't tell the Senator about

this development. At least not unless it becomes relevant to the

case. Being told right now that his wife was unfaithful, and with

whom, could send him over the edge."

She received no argument with that plan, and Scully excused herself.

She left a message for AD Skinner at the Bureau, and then drove back

into Washington to interview the campaign manager, George Garrett.

Following that, she needed to perform the autopsy. It promised to be

a long day.

-------------------

Mulder went back to his apartment to retrieve his car, then submitted

to the unpleasant task of providing the bits and pieces of himself

that the lab would need for their tests. He found the clinical

detachment shown him by the technicians to be welcome; he couldn't

have emotionally withstood a more personal attitude toward him and

his problems right now.

It took Mulder forty minutes to reach Senator Matheson's. His home

was very nice, but quite a bit more modest than his fellow Senator's,

Peter Sanders. After ringing the doorbell, he only waited a few

seconds, and the door was opened. Matheson was dressed informally,

looking as if he were headed out to the golf course.

"Fox - come in." He graciously ushered the agent into a cozy living/

sitting room, and offered him a drink before settling into a chair

across from him.

"Sir," Mulder began, then faltered.

Senator Matheson spoke up. "I've heard about the Sanders case, Fox;

as a matter of fact, I'm the person who recommended you to Peter. I

told him that if anyone could find his daughter and solve the case,

you could."

Mulder was astonished. He had no idea that his mentor had shoved him

into this nightmare. Of course, Senator Matheson probably didn't know

it *was* a nightmare when he recommended him.

So Mulder filled him in on the whole story, including the apparent

time discrepancy. "I realize how this sounds; Elizabeth Sanders was

dead when she was visiting me in my apartment. She was raped and

murdered there in her own bedroom just minutes before she showed up at

my door. That's impossible."

"Sounds like a ghost story."

"Yeah, but the physical evidence is going to turn the investigation

towards me, unless I can prove who committed the crimes."

Senator Matheson studied Mulder in silence, then merely said, "Tell me

what you need."

----------------------

Scully was furious. George Garrett was a pig. How could he survive

in the 90s with a sexist attitude like that?

She had been talking with Senator Sanders' campaign manager, George

Garrett, at his office, and was ready to get up and walk out. To hell

with the investigation. Then logic took over and she tried once more.

"Sir, what time did you leave Senator Sanders' house?" The man must

have played football when he had been in college; probably a

linebacker. He was huge, and used his bulk to intimidate. Right now,

he was hovering over Scully while she sat in a chair near his desk.

"I wasn't looking at a clock, but it must have been well past 2:00 am;

maybe 2:30 or later. Are you sure you wouldn't care for a drink? A

pretty little thing like you must get tired of all this police work."

"No, sir, but it does get tiring when it's so difficult to obtain the

information I need." She smiled sweetly.

The comment sailed right past his head. He leaned over her, putting

his hands on the arms of her chair. His breath smelled like salami,

and Scully's stomach lurched. She had skipped lunch, and now was glad

of it.

"Excuse me," she said, "I need to get up."

He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, brushing his other arm

against her breasts as he did so. "There you are, little lady. Not

leaving me so soon, are you?" He leered down into her face.

Unable to speak without spitting in his face, she turned, grabbed her

briefcase, and walked to the door. She finally managed, "I have an

appointment," and fled. She had come so close to permanently maiming

the dipshit, but reason had prevailed. Just barely.

-------------------

Five hours later, the two weary agents met in their basement office.

Each thought the other looked tired and somewhat damaged from the

day's events. Scully, still smarting from the mauling she had

received from Garrett, moved silently past Mulder to go to her desk.

He reached out to touch her more for his own reassurance than

anything, and she flinched. And suddenly she could see something snap

in Mulder's eyes.

"Goddammit," he roared. "All your talk about trust, Scully, and when

the chips are down, you won't have anything to do with the partner who

probably rapes and kills? Is that the idea? You really think that I

could commit such abominable acts?"

With one angry, dismissive motion, he made a disgusted sweep of his

hand, not seeing that she had moved closer to him, concern on her

face. As his hand swept downward, his fingers caught in her fragile

blouse, tangling in his fingers, and it tore like delicate rice paper.

In pulling away, she slammed hard against the file cabinet.

Her eyes were huge, and he staggered back in complete shock at what he

had done. One lacy bra-covered breast was exposed, making her look so

vulnerable in the office setting.

He choked, "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry, Scully. I didn't mean for that

to happen." He took his coat off and put it over her shoulders,

careful to avoid touching her trembling body.

He collapsed into a chair and put his head into his hands.

Scully's quiet voice reached him.

"I'm sending a forensics team to your apartment, Mulder. And I'm

going to ask Detective Fontanova to send someone to take you into

custody. The autopsy and all the tests show that you were the person

who had intercourse with the victim, and your skin and blood were

under her fingernails. I suggest that you get a lawyer at this

point."

He just nodded, not moving his hands from his face. Then he was aware

of her nearness and felt a gentle touch on his wrist. He moved his

hands and saw that she was kneeling in front of him with a troubled

expression on her face.

"Mulder, I know you didn't commit those crimes. You could never do

something like that. Please believe me when I tell you that I'll do

everything in my power to get you cleared and find the answers."

"You know that I don't deserve you," he huskily replied. "I act like

a real ass to you, then I rip your clothes and shove you around, and

you still stick by me."

She smiled and said, "I never said I was smart. And the caveman

approach has it's merits."

Mulder took in the picture of his half-dressed partner, kneeling in

front of him, one hand on his knee. She was aware of his scrutiny,

and he saw that she had seen it, and looked as though he expected to

be slapped, but gave her a shaky grin of bravado instead.

She gave him her Scully-look and, using his knees as a fulcrum, got to

her feet. "Sex fantasy number 72 is now over. I need to make some

calls, and I have to tell you about my interview with the campaign

manager." She looked down at herself. "But first I had better take

care of this."

She retrieved her suit jacket, put it on, and buttoned it all three

buttons. She made some shifting and adjusting movements with her

blouse, but it didn't look right.

"Turn around, Mulder."

He complied, although protesting all the way. "I've seen you in your

bra before."

Ignoring him, Scully took her jacket and blouse off, tossed her blouse

into the garbage, and put her jacket back on. With the buttons

fastened, it would work, although her breasts were tantalizingly

exposed just enough to make the outfit very sensuous.

"Ready yet, Scully?"

"I guess so."

He turned around, and breathed deeply at the sight. He placed a hand

over his heart and said, "I'm in love."

She flushed a becoming pink, then turned to pick up her notebook.

Turning the pages, she told Mulder that neither the Bureau nor the

local cops had come up with any clues as to the whereabouts of the

little girl, Rachel Sanders.

He frowned, and said, "Tell them to concentrate on the grounds of the

Senator's estate. Dead or alive, I don't think there was time to

transport her body any great distance."

She made a note, then said, "I talked with Skinner. After I filled

him in, his first question was to ask how you were holding up." She

smiled at his surprise to hear that their boss was concerned about his

most irritating agent. "But then he slipped back into character and

demanded that we keep a handle on the media."

Mulder gave a snort of amusement. "Yeah, good Bureau publicity,

having a rapist and murderer on staff, who also claims to fu...

experience intercourse with ghosts."

Scully noted the change in wording, and realized that he had been

aware of her shock at the language he so casually used for his

relationship with the dead woman.

"Mulder," she began, "What is your theory for what happened here?"

"You really want to know?" he replied, with a wry expression.

"Yes."

"Well, I think that Elizabeth felt a strong connection to me. When

she came to see me this morning she told me she was in an abusive

relationship and it had gotten out of hand; it probably extended to

their daughter, which may have been the last straw for her."

He started pacing. "In any event, something precipitated the rape and

murder. It may have been that Elizabeth was going to leave him

finally. She was probably killed before the daughter. In an attempt

to get me involved - with our emotional connection and my job at the

FBI she may have thought I could save her daughter - she made the

transition from death to a substantial ghost in my arms." At Scully's

incredulous stare, he said defensively, "You asked!"

"Why didn't she help her daughter?" Scully asked, not buying into the

story.

"I don't know. Are ghosts omniscient? Maybe Rachel was murdered

while we were...busy. Elizabeth may have been so devastated by that

discovery, she went on to wherever ghosts go when they leave this

plane of existence." He shrugged.

Scully's look of disbelief was not a new expression to Mulder. He

said, with a sidelong look at her for a reaction, "What's so hard to

accept, Scully; the ghost, or the fact that she could be interested

in me?"

Her quick reply of "Both, Mulder," pleased him for some obscure

reason.

"I'll go turn myself in, Scully; save them the trip." He got up and

began slipping into his suit coat, and paused, turning to his partner.

"Just tell me, Scully; why did you flinch when I touched you just

now?"

There was such pain in his voice, along with an underlying fear to

hear the answer, that she went to him and reassuringly put her hand

on his arm.

"Mulder, if you had just spent a half hour with the man who invented

the term 'chauvinist pig,' you would be jumpy, too."

His smile lit up his face, and he asked, "You didn't deck him, did

you?"

"Mentally, but not in reality, darn it."

"You have better armor against the bastards of the world than I have,

Scully," he said, and she was reminded of the times he had lost his

temper and punched Krycek and Roche when they were prisoners. Yes, he

had a temper that was becoming more and more difficult to contain.

She hoped he could keep it in check over the next trying days and

weeks.

"So, you coming along to watch the fun?" He looked a little nervous,

as if he hoped she would be there to give him some support.

"Of course, Mulder. I have to show off my new fashion to the media

and law enforcement, don't I?" She gave a lopsided smile, and he had

to laugh.

"There'll be more than one chauvinist pig panting over your bodice

today, I guarantee."

"Bodice? Don't tell me that you read those silly romance novels or

something, Mulder? Bodice!?"

"What! You'll just hit me if I say bazongas."

As they walked to the elevator, she asked about his lawyer. "I have

Dave Rodgers on standby. He's a criminal attorney I've know since

Oxford, and he just set up practice here in D.C. He had been in

Boston, but decided there were more crooks in politician- land."

The elevator door opened, and they were suddenly inundated with

badges, handcuffs and guns. There must have been a dozen law

enforcement officials surrounding them, reading Mulder his rights,

patting him down, removing his gun from the waist holster and the one

from his ankle holster. Scully was shoved against the wall in the

crowd, but her eyes and Mulder's met and held for a long poignant

moment.

Then he was ushered back into an elevator, leaving Scully with an

apologetic Detective Fontanova.

"Sorry, Agent Scully, but the orders came from on high to get him

under lockup immediately. There was no time to set up anything

more...humane."

"We were on our way to your office so he could give himself up,"

Scully bitterly said. "I need to see the Assistant Director..."

"My boss is up there right now, filling him in on what's happening.

We can follow your partner in my car if you want to come along."

"Yes, please. I'll call his lawyer on the way; he can meet us."

As it turned out, Scully wasn't able to see Mulder again until the

next morning, in his cell at the temporary State holding facility near

Fairfax. He was waiting for the paperwork to go through, and then he

would be transferred back to Washington, D.C., to the Federal lockup.

Scully went through the standard frisking and finally stood before the

cell door, seeing Mulder in a familiar pose. He was sitting on the

narrow bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. The difference this time

were the shackles on his ankles with a chain linking them. He looked

up when the guard opened the cell door, and a beautiful smile lit his

face.

"Scully," he said, as he stood and she came towards him.

Ignoring the guard who she knew was watching, she put her arms around

his waist and hugged him to her. Mulder seemed to crave the physical

comfort, as his arms went around her shoulders and his head lay

against hers for a moment.

They separated then, but he kept a firm grasp of her hand as they sat

side by side on the bed.

"How have they been treating you, Mulder?" she asked. "And why do

they have those things on you when you're in a cell?" she said

bitterly and nodded down at his ankles. He ducked his head and

shrugged his shoulders, not meeting her eyes. "I guess I gave

them a little trouble earlier. But it's OK now."

Scully supposed that meant they had run him through the full gamut of

humiliating, demeaning, and sadistic procedures. At least they hadn't

put him in with the general population; a fed wouldn't last long, and

they both knew it.

"I tried to stay with you last night, but they wouldn't let me

anywhere near you. Did your lawyer ever get in touch?"

Mulder nodded. "Dave didn't get here until a couple of hours ago; he

had been over in eastern Maryland, visiting family, and that was the

quickest he could make it. He's trying to have me released for the

time being." He fidgeted.

Scully was positive that something beyond the obvious was bothering

Mulder, and he would tell her about it in his own good time.

Pestering him would make him clam up more, she knew.

He turned to look at her then, his eyes dark with some emotion.

"Scully, I have to get out of here. It was a mistake to put myself

into their hands so agreeably; I should have fought it. I won't get

out of here alive. Sanders is too powerful, and he knows now that I

was involved with his wife. He also knows I didn't kill her and is

afraid that I can expose him as the murderer."

"What can I do, Mulder?" she asked, worried with this new development.

"While Dave is working his end, try to get Senator Matheson on the

phone; he's already up to speed on this case. He was going to do some

digging on Sanders from his colleagues' points of view, but now I'll

need his influence to set me loose as his first priority. You might

see what Skinner can do, also. You never know."

The guard came to the door and told Mulder that his attorney was

waiting to see him again. There was a secure visiting room, and

he was to accompany him there. Scully was invited to leave.

She looked at Mulder with the worry clear in her eyes, and he pushed

his own fears down to give her a tentative smile, saying, "It's OK;

just try to get things rolling for me."

She was ushered down the corridor behind Mulder and two guards, who

were forced to go slowly because of the shackles. Scully's temper

flared at the thought of how they were treating him. His feelings

were fragile at the best of times, and she hated to think what this

was doing to Mulder.

At an intersection in the hallway, Mulder was turned toward the left

branch, and Scully toward the right. She looked back over her

shoulder and saw the trio enter a room, and the door was slammed shut.

But not before she caught a glimpse of Mulder violently recoiling

from something, and his muffled cry.

(Continued in Part III)

Part III

Scully immediately turned and ran to the door, her escort close

behind, saying something that sounded like, "What the hell...!!?"

The door was locked, of course, so she confronted the guard,

demanding that it be opened instantly. He said, "The prisoner is

with his lawyer and isn't to be interrupted."

"Bullshit. They're violating my partner's civil rights at this

very moment, and if you don't let me in there, you all will land in

jail cells of your own."

He looked indecisive for another moment, then punched some numbers

into a keypad by the door. There was a "snick" sound, and the lock

was released. When Scully pushed the door open, she and the guard

with her could only stand frozen in shock at the scene before them.

Then Scully reacted by grabbing the stunned guard's weapon from his

holster and screaming at the other two guards, "Get away from him

now!! Release him or you're both dead!!"

They had stripped Mulder and handcuffed his wrists together behind his

back. What looked like a sheet had been twisted into a thick rope,

and a loop had been tightened around his neck. One of the guards held

the end of the sheet pulled taut from across a conference table so

that Mulder's naked torso was held flat against the table's surface.

The other guard was preparing to rape the helpless agent. Mulder was

feebly struggling for air.

The guard standing behind Mulder turned toward Scully and leered at

her. "Hold your horses, I'll get to you, too, babe." He turned back

to Mulder. Scully moved quickly, slamming the gun against the side of

the guy's head. He fell bonelessly to the floor. The guard with the

sheet dropped it from his hands, but Mulder was still entangled in the

noose and was in serious trouble with his breathing.

"Get some help!" she yelled at her escort, who was still standing like

an idiot, gaping. He obediently turned and ran out of the room,

hopefully to do as she asked.

"Get that thing away from his neck," she instructed the guard at the

conference table. He slowly reached out and untwisted the material,

finally pulling it free.

"Now turn around and put your hands up against the wall. Then stay

there and don't move; I'm so close to shooting you, asshole, that

you'd better not even twitch." She watched while the guard complied,

then reached Mulder's side. She was relieved to see that he was

shakily taking in gulps of air and would probably be OK.

Scully picked up Mulder's discarded institutional clothing, and found

that the pants had apparently been cut off with a knife, probably to

get them over the shackles. The shirt appeared whole, so she wrapped

it around Mulder until she could find something better. She leaned in

close to his ear and whispered, "It will be all right, Mulder. I'm

getting you out of here. Just hang on a little longer." She ruffled

his hair and stood up straight as half a dozen people entered the

room.

One very tall, sandy-haired man in a dark suit hovered over Mulder,

barking out orders to release the handcuffs, to get his own clothes

for him, to let him lie down...he finally was satisfied for the

moment, and his eyes sought out Scully's. He walked over to her

and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm Dave Rodgers, Fox's attorney, and I'm going to get him out of

here, I promise you that." His normally open, friendly face was tight

with anger and his eyes didn't try to hide the contempt he was feeling

for the officials responsible for this inexcusable event.

"Can you give me the details on what happened?" he asked Scully.

She told him, and added, "I believe that Mulder was right; he told me

earlier that Senator Sanders would have him killed while locked up in

here. The Senator somehow paid off those guards or brought in his own

men."

Rodgers' shocked look made her pause, but her mind was busy working

through what must have happened. "They were making it appear as though

Mulder were raped by prisoners, then either hanged himself, or was

murdered by the rapists. They were probably going to leave him

hanging from something like the overhead pipes in the shower." She

took a shaky breath.

"I need to make some calls," Scully continued. "Senator Matheson and

Assistant Director Walter Skinner can bring some pressure to bear on

this situation, and I need to tell them what's going on. Let Mulder

know that I'll be right back; I'm not leaving him." She looked over

to see that Mulder was sitting on a chair with a blanket around

himself, head down so she couldn't see his face.

Rodgers nodded, the concern for Mulder lingering in his expression,

and led her down the hall to a telephone before returning to take

care of his client.

Scully lucked out and got both the Senator and Skinner on the first

try. They expressed their shock at the treatment Mulder had received.

Skinner said he was calling the Director immediately to see what could

be done, and the Senator told her to look for a fax shortly which

would be a judge's order to release Mulder. She thanked them both and

hurried back to find her partner. Scully was more worried about his

state of mind right now than any physical harm he may have suffered.

She discovered that Rodgers had taken him to a private room with a

shower, where Mulder had been able to get cleaned and dressed. He was

shrugging into his suit coat when she walked in, and she was amazed he

could look so professional after what he had been through. Mulder

wasn't wearing his tie, she noted, as his neck and underside of his

chin were red and abraded. She told Rodgers about the imminent fax

and he went off to find it, leaving her alone with her partner.

There was an awkward silence, then Scully crossed the room to stand in

front of him. For the first time since the incident, his eyes met

hers. She had to wince at the haunting pain she saw in them.

Without warning, he turned and smashed his fist into the wall, then

drew back and did it again. He swore some horrible obscenity, then

hit it a third time before Scully could grab his fist and hang on.

"How can people be so goddamned cruel, Scully?" he demanded, as she

looked at his bruised and scraped hand. "I've seen so much of what a

human being can do to other human beings, and I'm sick to death of it.

You saw how Elizabeth was beaten and savaged before she died; how many

times have we seen that and much worse? God!" His eyes were wild and

he rubbed his undamaged hand across his face.

She had to release him when he turned away and retreated to the wall

near the door, where she could literally see him reinforce the shields

he was so good at hiding behind. His eyes became unreadable, and his

arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall. She had seen this

pose before, and it always followed a traumatic experience. Scully

had received the "leave me the hell alone" signal, loud and clear.

What made this worse was that he was probably embarrassed to have had

Scully see him in such a humiliating situation earlier.

There was a "tap" on the door, and Dave Rodgers walked in carrying

some papers in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

"We got 'em, folks!" he said triumphantly. "Walking papers, Mulder.

The judge's release is all processed. That was probably the quickest

action to turn a prisoner free in the history of criminal law. Your

friends are pretty powerful, once they decide to move. There is one

stipulation; that you be accompanied by an officer of the Commonwealth

of Virginia. I recommend that we accept the stipulation; we have

nothing to hide and it will be added protection. Lt. Jill Carver will

be coming with us when we leave."

His face grew serious then, and he added, "One of the guards just

died." He looked at Scully. "They think the blow to the head from

your gun might have killed him."

Scully, taken by surprise, could only shake her head. Finding her

voice at last, she said, "I didn't hit him that hard. I made sure he

was going down, but he was very much alive when we left the room."

Rodgers shrugged. "Well, he's definitely dead now. The other guy is

being held in a cell until the charges are written up - which reminds

me, both of you, we'll need your sworn statements as to what happened

here."

Mulder was looking at Scully with an odd expression in his eyes, then

he just nodded, his eyes closed as if in weariness.

"Come on, let's go. If it's all right with you, Agent Scully, you can

make the statement from Mulder's place as well as from here. Lt.

Carver is waiting for us outside. She'll take her own car."

"All right. And we need to talk about what we'll do to give Mulder

some protection from the Senator; he will no doubt try to have him

killed again, since this attempt failed."

When they reached Rodgers' full-sized Oldsmobile, Mulder climbed in

the back seat, sprawled out with his jacket folded under his head, and

closed his eyes. Scully took this as a hint, and resignedly sat up

front in the passenger seat. Rodgers waved to the beige sedan's

occupant who was parked across the street, and they pulled out into

traffic, with the sedan following.

The conversation with Rodgers mostly consisted of his asking her about

her job, but Scully's mind wasn't really on her replies. Her thoughts

were with the events of the day, and she suddenly made a connection

that caused her to grab Rodger's arm and say, "That guard was

murdered!"

He looked questioningly at her, and she continued. "If I had been

thinking clearly earlier, I would have realized...When I hit that

guard with my gun, I *knew* it wasn't a fatal blow. Someone else had

to have hit him again later, which caused his death. We need to get

someone to check on the second guard and make sure he's all right.

The killer will likely get rid of him next, so there won't be anyone

left as a link to the Senator."

Rodgers reached the authorities on the cel phone and had a long

conversation, during which time Scully looked back to see how Mulder

was doing. His eyes were still closed, but she could tell that he was

listening by the way he held his body - the slight tenseness to his

muscles.

"Shit!" Rodgers' raised voice startled her, and he slammed the phone

back down as she turned to him.

"They've already gotten to him. He just 'committed suicide' in his

cell." He glanced at Scully. "I also asked about the guard who

witnessed the attack with you, and he's being sequestered somewhere

for his protection."

Scully opened her mouth to comment, but it turned into a loud "Look

out!" instead when she saw the semi bearing down on them from the

driver's side. Then the truck hit them with a violent impact and they

were slammed around in the car for what seemed to Scully a very long

time. The mangled car finally came to a crumpled rest against the

side of a brick building, after first taking out a parked car and a

small tree.

The hiss and tick of steam and metal were the only sounds for a long

moment, then someone was screaming.

Scully gradually realized that she was conscious, and seemed to be

lying on a bed, only not as comfortable. A slight movement of her

head caused dizziness, but she had to see what was going on.

When she was able to look to her right side, she realized that it was

a gurney on which she was lying, and there was the rear door of an

ambulance slightly behind her. But more importantly, a still figure

lay on the ground nearby, blood soaking through the covering over its

body. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to get up off

the gurney.

She had reached a sitting position, about to pass out from the pain

and nausea from a head wound, when an EMT materialized next to her,

concern on his face. "You have a concussion, ma'am, and possibly

other injuries. You need to lie down." He saw where her gaze was

riveted, and he said, "That gentleman died instantly; he was driving

the car and the main impact was at that point. I'm sorry."

Scully's eyes went to his face and she whispered, "What about the

other man? He was lying down in the back seat."

He sighed and looked away, toward a point beyond the first body.

Scully could see that another body was being zipped into a black

bag and was being loaded into a second ambulance.

"No!!!" she screamed, as she tried to get off the gurney, but the EMT

firmly held her in place. A wail escape her throat, and it sent a

chill through him as he succeeded in forcing her to lie down. Scully

didn't have the strength to fight him anymore, and she let the welcome

blackness swallow her.

Scully first became aware of a grayness, like some sort of thick fog

enveloping her. Then her surroundings gradually coalesced into a room

with someone standing over her. Scully snapped fully awake when she

finally remembered what had happened, and she saw Skinner's concerned

face above her own.

Her eyes reflected the despair she felt, and Skinner took her hand in

his. "Agent Scully, there's something I need to tell you." She

turned her face away from his and a wrenching sob shook her small

body. His hands tightened on hers.

"Please, I can't talk too loudly or we'll be overheard. You have to

hear this." He leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear,

and quietly said, "He's alive."

Those words sent an electric shock through her, and Scully sounded

breathless when she said, "Sir?" afraid she had heard him incorrectly.

He smiled and nodded at her. And was rewarded with a full wattage

Scully smile.

Continuing to speak in a low tone next to her ear, he said, "I had

Garcia and VonBelk tail you from the lockup, to make sure you got home

safely. When they saw the 'accident,' they decided to let everyone

think Mulder had been killed. It would buy us some time to smoke out

the assassins. They apparently had quite a time convincing Lt. Carver

to go along with the scheme, but she finally agreed until she could

talk with the judge and with her supervisor."

"Where's Mulder?" she couldn't keep from asking.

"Grumbling and complaining at my apartment. Garcia is probably ready

to toss him down the elevator shaft. He wants to confront Sanders,

but that would get us nowhere. And his first priority has been you -

can you believe he nearly disobeyed me completely to be at your side

and make sure you were all right?"

Scully had to smile at his indignant expression.

"I had to promise to be here for you myself, just to keep him tucked

away for the time being. Here's my cel phone. You might give him a

call to let him know you're in the land of the living; he won't

believe me."

Still smiling, Scully took the instrument and punched in Skinner's

numbers as he gave them to her.

The phone was answered instantly. "Yes?"

She recognized Garcia's voice, but could hear a more familiar one in

the background, demanding, "Is that Skinner?"

Scully said, "Hello, Agent Garcia."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, "It's good to

hear from you. I'll let you talk to the guy on my back who is beating

me over the head to get to the phone."

"Scully?"

"Yeah, Mulder. It's me. I thought you were dead." She couldn't keep

the tenseness from her voice.

"Not yet. They wouldn't tell me anything about your condition, and

I've been going crazy, penned up here, not knowing."

"I heard that Dave didn't make it. I'm sorry, Mulder."

"Me, too. I shouldn't have dragged him into this mess."

Oh, no, she should have known he would blame himself for that death,

too. Trying to distract him, she said, "I think I just have a minor

concussion, nothing seems broken." Skinner nodded affirmation.

"How about you, Mulder?"

"Broken little finger and some bruises. Garcia put a splint and a

bandage on it."

"What? Garcia has no medical knowledge, at least none that I'm

aware of."

"It'll be fine, Scully. It doesn't even hurt. Ow! Except when I

accidently bump it against something."

She just shook her head and asked, "What's the plan now?"

"Sanders thinks he succeeded in killing me, hopefully. While I lay

low, Skinner, Garcia and VonBelk will investigate Sanders and all his

closest associates to see if they can dig up something interesting.

They've already discovered that his first wife died under mysterious

circumstances; Elizabeth was his second marriage."

"Mulder, I let the campaign manager, George Garrett, run me off before

I really got substantive answers. I'm going to ask AD Skinner if he

could do a follow-up interview with him. I would really like to know

what his relationship to the Senator is. And I doubt he would try to

sexually harass our boss like he did to me."

She raised her eyebrows at Skinner, who looked amused with the notion.

Mulder chuckled, then said, "Take care, Scully. This could get worse

before it gets better."

"You too, Mulder."

She disconnected and handed the phone back to Skinner.

"Garrett's business address is 521 SW Grayson, 5th floor. He really

is a creep, sir."

Skinner nodded, and said, "Just take it easy, Agent Scully, and get

well. I'll let you know how things are going." He gave her hand a

final pat and left to see Garrett.

---------------

Mulder was slowly driving Garcia insane with his pacing and muttering

and clicking the television channels around and pacing some more.

VonBelk was oblivious to it; he seemed to be able to tune out anything

under the level of a nuclear blast. He was currently sitting out on

the balcony, enjoying the view. Lt. Carver just kept out of the way,

using her cel phone to talk with her office and various other people.

Mulder caught her staring at him several times with what appeared to

be revulsion in her expression.

Garcia was experiencing a strong sense of deja vu, because the last

time he had worked with Mulder, it was on a very similar case. The

bad guys were after Mulder, and he had to play dead for a while in

order to gain time. That was a disaster, and Garcia wasn't too happy

with the prospect of a repeat performance. *This* time, things were

going to go by the book, if he had any say in the matter. His

shoulder still hurt where he had taken a stab wound on that case.

Finally Garcia couldn't take it any more, and planted himself directly

in Mulder's pacing path, arms folded across his chest, a determined

expression on his face. On Mulder's next circuit of the living room,

he realized that a substantial body was blocking his way, and

automatically began to detour so he could continue without

interruption. But the body detoured with him, forcing Mulder to stop.

"Give it a rest, for my sake if not for your own, Mulder," Garcia

pleaded.

"We need to get out there and break that guy," Mulder said, appealing

to Garcia's obvious intelligence.

"Mulder, you know we're waiting on some information from the database,

then VonBelk and I will go out there and kick some butt. In the

meantime, you need to lie down for a while and get some rest. You

wouldn't eat any dinner, and you must be exhausted. Get some rest,

for all our sakes, OK?"

Mulder finally relented and went into the spare bedroom. He kicked

off his shoes and lay down with a sigh. To his surprise, he *was*

tired, and soon felt a drowsy feeling take over his senses.

"I'm sorry, Fox," was breathed into his ear, and a cool breeze ruffled

the hair on his forehead.

His eyes snapped open, and Elizabeth was leaning over him, as

substantial as anyone else in the apartment. For just an instant,

terror ripped through his mind, but that faded, to be replaced by

a lethargic peace.

"Elizabeth," he whispered.

"I thought you could save her. I'm so sorry that I got you involved

in this. He is evil, and he will hurt you even more if you go after

him."

"I have to, you know that," he said with regret.

She sighed and a gust that reminded him of a warm spring breeze

fluttered across the room, caressing him as it passed. "Rachel is

buried in the horse stables, under the floor of the last stall."

Tears fell as she spoke, and his heart broke along with hers.

He held his arms out to her, and she nestled against his body. He

began drifting off again, and heard her say from a great distance,

"Goodby, Fox." He wanted desperately to keep her with him, but he was

unable to do anything but drift in that bodiless state, her last

touches so insubstantial they were like memories of gossamer wings on

his body.

(Continued in Part IV)

Part IV

Skinner arrived back at the apartment a little later and went

immediately to the spare bedroom to apprise Mulder of what was

happening. He stood in the room for a moment, looking down at the

sleeping agent, noticing the dampness on his cheeks. It occurred to

him that he had never seen anyone cry in their sleep before. He

decided to force Mulder to take some time off when this stressful

case was over. He and Scully both needed a break.

Mulder woke up with a gasp when Skinner turned on the lamp,

illuminating the dark bedroom. He lay blinking in the glare as his

supervisor began telling him what he had discovered in his interview

with the campaign manager.

"Scully was right; Garrett is a real creep, to use her words. My

description of him would have been a little stronger, like 'lying

slimeball son-of-a-bitch.'"

"You thought he was lying about Sanders' alibi?" Mulder asked.

"I'm positive he's lying about anything I asked him. Are all campaign

managers as unscrupulous as this guy?" Skinner wondered.

Mulder sat quietly in thought for a few moments, then said, "I wonder

if, by lying, he was giving Sanders or himself an alibi? Or maybe

both."

Skinner raised an eyebrow in question, and Mulder went on, "When I

examined Sanders for any scratches on his body, I found none. The

killer had to have been marked by Mrs. Sanders' fingernails because

of the forensic evidence. Now I'm wondering if Garrett wasn't the

killer, protecting his boss and his career by getting rid of Mrs.

Sanders."

"But why?"

"What if Mrs. Sanders found out that the good Senator had murdered his

first wife, and she decided to go public and/or to run?"

Skinner pondered that, and said, "I'll get some people started on

digging up that old case and see what we can find out."

"Sir...there's something else you should know. The daughter, Rachel;

her body is concealed under the floor in the last stall in the horse

barn." Skinner looked stunned at that information. "Mulder, there's

no way you could know that unless..."

Mulder sadly shook his head. "No, I didn't kill her. Just take my

word for it; she's there."

"I'm not leaving here until you tell me how you came by that

information, Agent Mulder," he said, with a grim expression.

So Mulder told him the whole story, leaving nothing out. A ghost

story told in all seriousness by an otherwise highly intelligent man.

Skinner was silent for a long moment, then startled Mulder when his

fist crashed down on the nightstand by the bed.

"Why isn't anything ever easy where you and Agent Scully are

concerned? How the hell am I supposed to sell a story like

that? We'd all be committed!"

He had gotten to his feet and was pacing back and forth, unconsciously

imitating Mulder's previous actions. Mulder's eyes were dark with

unreadable thoughts as he watched Skinner move across the room.

Finally the pacing slowed and his supervisor once again sank into the

chair near the bed.

Skinner sighed, then said, "I can't help but remember how you stood up

for me when I was seeing the vision of that old woman, and I was

accused of murder. I know there are strange things out there and in

our own minds which aren't explainable by science. I guess what I'm

trying to say is that I can't dismiss your story out of hand, Mulder."

"Now if you can only convince Scully, sir," his agent said with a

grin.

"I doubt that it would be possible, even if she saw it with her own

eyes. And I'm not saying that I wholly believe it, either. Now try

and get some rest while we follow up on all these avenues of

investigation. There's absolutely nothing you can do right now,

understand?"

Reluctantly, Mulder nodded his head, and Skinner left him to his

thoughts.

----------------

At 9:00 that evening, Scully decided to check herself out of the

hospital and go home. She could lie around there as well as in the

hospital. The doctor gave her a little static, but was too busy to

argue for very long. She had tried to call Skinner's number several

times, but kept getting a busy signal. Scully finally called a cab

and arrived home close to 10:00 pm. Wearily she made her way up to

the door, unlocked it, and felt on the wall for the light switch. A

gasp was the only sound she made as a strong hand closed over her

wrist and pulled her into the dark apartment. Then a fist crashed

into her face and she fell once more into total blackness.

-----------------

While Mulder was hopefully sleeping or at least resting, Skinner had

Garcia, Lt. Carver, and VonBelk go out to the Senator's to search the

horse barn, specifically, the last stall. Officially, the search for

the missing daughter was continuing, and they had a right to be on the

crime scene without a warrant.

"Have the medical examiner and forensics send someone out there to

meet you. I have a feeling that you're going to need them. Also

coordinate this with Detective Fontanova, and the Senator's staff.

Do it by the regs."

Skinner could do nothing but wait, then, and settled down on the couch

and tried to relax. It was after midnight, and he should have been

tired, but he was too wound up. He found himself wondering about

Mulder's "ghost," and quickly pushed away a stray thought that the

physical evidence pointed directly to Mulder, that the daughter did

resemble photos he had seen of Mulder's sister, that he had no alibi

for the time of the murder, and if the child were found where he told

them she was buried...

Dammit! He would not believe that Fox Mulder had been responsible for

anything like the horrors involved with this case. He knew him too

well. While flaky at times, as well as pig-headed, egotistical, and

short-tempered, he was also kind, unselfish, loyal, extremely

intelligent, and untiring in his constant search for the truth. No,

he would never lose it to the degree the murderer in this case had

done. But if someone else were the killer, he would have to accept

the "ghost" story.

He was surprised to find that he had dozed off, and Mulder was now

sitting in the overstuffed chair opposite him, head back, eyes closed.

He looked at the clock on the wall and realized it had been four hours

since Garcia had led the group out to look for the body. The sound of

the key in the lock came to his ears then, and he rose to his feet

expectantly. He had told them not to telephone, but to come back to

the apartment in order to report any progress.

He could see from their faces that they had found the girl.

Garcia said, "My God, she was beaten, raped and stabbed, just like her

mother." He was still shaken, and went out to stand on the balcony,

his back to the room. VonBelk didn't say a word, just stood there

with a paler face than usual. Lt. Carver pushed into the room,

however and confronted Mulder, who was still slouched in the chair.

She was so upset, she was shaking.

"Listen to me, you bastard. I believe that you brutally raped that

woman and then stabbed her to death. I believe that you went into the

daughter's room and saw the resemblance to your sister and you took

her. She fought you, so you beat and raped and killed her, too. Then

you concealed her body in the barn before you ran. You are going to

prison where I sincerely hope you get treated the same way you treated

Mrs. Sanders and her daughter, you son of a bitch!" She was

practically spitting in his face by the time she finished.

Mulder hadn't moved a muscle since she began her impassioned diatribe;

his elbows were on the arms of the chair, his fingers tented together

and resting on his mouth, and his eyes were dark and unreadable, never

leaving Lt. Carver's face as she spoke her mind.

Finally he rose to his feet, which forced Lt. Carver to back up a few

steps. He didn't say a word, but went into the bedroom to retrieve

his suit coat. When he returned, he told Skinner, "She's about to get

me sent back to jail. Before that can happen, I'm going out to the

Senator's place. I might be able to find proof of his involvement and

get a lead on the murderer. Most of all, I need to see that Scully is

OK first. I haven't been able to reach her on the phone. She

released herself from the hospital hours ago to go home. The recorder

is on at the apartment, and her cel phone just rings."

Skinner shook his head. "Mulder, you know you have to lie low right

now. I'll have someone check on her."

Mulder was becoming increasingly agitated. "I'm telling you, if they

were trying to kill me, they were also trying to get rid of Scully.

They think I'm out of the way; they're going to go for her and finish

the job."

Skinner was trying to reason with him. "Mulder, they want everyone to

think you killed Mrs. Sanders. With you supposedly dead, the whole

thing would eventually be dropped. Why would they care what happens

to Agent Scully?"

Mulder agitatedly ran his hand through his hair as he kept up the

pacing, forgetting about his broken little finger. He winced and

quickly moved his hand away from his head. "A United States Senator

would have access to our backgrounds and history with the Bureau. He

would know that I would tell Scully my theories and that she wouldn't

believe that I killed his wife and daughter. Once I was 'dead', she

would go after the murderer, both for vengeance and to clear my name."

Skinner picked up the telephone and punched in a number, but

apparently didn't get an answer. He tried another number before

looking at Mulder in resignation.

"All right. Take Garcia with you."

With a growled curse, Mulder moved toward the door, hollering at

VonBelk to go to Scully's apartment and check it out. He and Garcia

would go to Senator Sanders' place, since his instincts were telling

him that's where she would be.

Lt. Carver was loudly objecting to this scenario, insisting that

Mulder was going back to jail after she called the judge and her

supervisor. Skinner held his hand up and said, "We'll go with him.

If Scully turns out to be fine and we don't dig up anything to

implicate the Senator in this, you can arrange for the re-arrest."

From the opened door, Mulder asked Skinner to get some backup out to

Sanders' estate. Skinner replied, "Lt. Carver and I are going to

follow you out there as your backup. Let's keep as low a profile as

possible, under the circumstances."

-------------------

When Scully regained consciousness she was only aware of the

enervating pain radiating throughout her head. Then other pains

became evident as she was jostled around on a lumpy, hard and

uncomfortable surface. She realized that she was lying in the trunk

of a car, on some kind of plastic sheet. Her mouth was taped shut,

and tape was wound around her wrists at her back. An unreasoning,

overwhelming panic assaulted her senses as she thought that Duane

Barry once again had taken her captive. She wasn't sane for a few

moments, screaming behind the tape, terrified of being subjected to

god-knew-what kind of testing again. But she couldn't stay conscious,

although she tried, and found herself sliding back down into darkness,

whimpering in fear.

The car finally stopped and rough hands pulled her out of the trunk

and onto the ground. Her body was next tossed over broad shoulders,

and she was carried inside.

The cessation of movement brought Scully around. She was lying on a

bed with her wrists still bound behind her and her mouth taped. With

a chill, she suddenly knew where she was; Elizabeth Sanders' bed,

where she had been raped and murdered. She could see the yellow crime

scene tape on the carpet over near the door. The bloody sheets had

been taken to the police lab, but she was lying on the gory mattress.

There were angry voices in the hall, and she recognized the Senator's

as one of them. They were arguing about bringing her here, without

setting up an alibi for their whereabouts first. "Why didn't you just

take care of her there?" "Aw, where's the fun in that?" With a wave

of fear washing over her, she heard the voices coming closer. They

were entering the bedroom.

George Garrett and Senator Sanders approached the bed, and Garrett ran

his hand up Scully's thigh, under her skirt, and his fingers busied

themselves investigating, moving, probing...

Scully stiffened and made a sound of protest, and Garrett laughed. He

opened Scully's jacket and ripped her blouse apart with his hands.

Then her bra flew open with a flick of his fingers on the clasp. He

gazed at her now-exposed breasts admiringly, then pulled her shoes off

and threw them aside.

Scully looked desperately at the Senator, but he was standing with a

heavy look on his face, lips parted, eagerly watching Garrett as he

went about his violation of the lovely red-headed woman.

Her skirt and half-slip came off next, then her pantyhose and panties.

Now essentially naked, she was trembling with what would come next. A

breeze blew across her exposed body and she shivered.

She closed her eyes as she felt the bed dip with Garrett's added

weight. He was kneeling between her legs and she prepared herself to

fight him as best she could. When nothing happened for a minute, she

opened her eyes again and nearly choked in terror at what she saw in

the room. The two men were transfixed and staring with horror at the

apparition moving slowly toward them.

Elizabeth Sanders stood about ten feet from the group, wearing the

beautiful, long white negligee Scully had seen lying shredded and

bloody on the floor at the crime scene. The only difference now was

that it was whole and clean. She looked lovely, but her gaze was full

of pain and hauntingly sad.

Her husband whispered, "You're dead."

She slowly nodded and said, "You can't hurt me anymore." Her eyes

turned to Garrett, who was visibly shaking next to Scully.

"But I can hurt you both. I can kill you both." She said this with a

chilling sweetness, then disappeared before their horrified eyes.

Sanders started screaming to the empty air, "George raped and murdered

you, Beth! I didn't have anything to do with it! Please! I love

you!" He fell onto his knees, wildly looking around, his breath

coming in gasps. Scully thought he might have a heart attack.

Her attention on the Senator was cruelly interrupted when Garrett's

hand smashed against her jaw, whipping her head in the opposite

direction. She saw a million flashes of light, and the pain in her

head was even worse than before. She could vaguely hear a voice

telling her that she was to blame for the bitch coming back. It

sounded insane.

Forcing her eyelids open a little, she saw that Garrett very likely

had gone mad. His eyes glittered, his face was red, spittle fell from

the corner of his mouth unnoticed. He still knelt over her, and she

saw that he was fumbling with his belt.

Scully tried to lift her knees and put her feet against his body,

intending to shove him as hard as she could, and hope for the best.

But in her position and with him as close to her as he was, she

couldn't manage it.

And then Elizabeth invaded her body. All at once, a coolness spread

through Scully, and someone else's thoughts were uncomfortably mixing

with hers. Scully found herself opening her mouth and speaking, but

the words and voice weren't her own.

"George, I'm sending you to hell. You murdered my little girl."

He scrambled backward on the bed, letting out one blood-curdling

shriek after another. Without taking his eyes from Scully/Elizabeth,

his feet hit the floor and he backed away from the bed, still emitting

his hair-raising shrieks.

Scully felt the spirit leave her, and then all hell broke loose.

Lamps, books, telephone; anything not fastened down flew at Garrett,

most of it making a solid hit on his body before falling to the floor.

He ran from the room and tore down the stairs like a madman. In the

den he frantically grabbed a hunting rifle from the gun rack on the

wall and began firing wildly.

The Senator had seen and heard all this, and was now truly having a

heart attack. He lay on his side on the floor, clutching his chest

with both hands, his face a mask of horror and pain.

At this point, Mulder and his entourage arrived at the house.

They heard the rifle-shots begin as they started to get out of the

car. Garcia, Skinner and Carver dropped behind the open doors of the

car for the protection they afforded, but Mulder went charging up to

the house with his weapon in his hand. Skinner saw his pain-in-the-

butt agent take off and yelled, "Mulder! What the hell are you

doing?"

Since it was obvious what he was doing, Mulder didn't bother to

answer. He stood to one side of the front door, then broke out the

sidelight window with several blows from his gun. He reached through

the opening and turned the deadlock and doorlatch. So far so good, he

thought. By that time, Skinner, Carver and Garcia had reached his

side, and they went in together.

And stopped dead, since Garrett was standing in front of them, a rifle

pointed in their midst. He was smiling and completely insane.

Garcia did what he was taught to do; he yelled, "Federal agents! Drop

your weapon! Drop it now! Put your hands in the air!"

Garrett moved the barrel of the rifle ever so slightly toward Garcia

and his finger tightened on the trigger. The rifle discharged into

the floor, however, when the chandelier hanging over the entry hall

came crashing down directly on his head. They all distinctly felt a

soft breeze rush past them through the door.

Mulder didn't waste a second on the obviously dead man; he took the

stairs two at a time with only one concern on his mind. He called,

"Scully!" as he reached the upper hallway, and then decided to check

the master bedroom first.

He nearly tripped over the Senator as he barrelled through the door,

and stooped to check his pulse. Nothing. The bulging eyes and

terribly twisted facial muscles told him that he hadn't died an easy

death.

He straightened up and glanced around the room, his gaze coming to

rest on the bed. And then he recognized what it felt like when your

heart stopped. He knew immediately that it was Scully, even though

the woman had her back to him and was in a curled up in a fetal

position. Her hands were bound with tape behind her back, and she was

essentially nude, with her jacket and blouse ripped back off her

shoulders. The mattress was covered with soaked-in blood, and he

prayed that it was all old blood, and not new.

Afraid to find her murdered like Elizabeth, he approached the bed

slowly. He whispered, "Scully?" There was no response. He took

his coat off and placed it over her as he drew closer.

Mulder gently brushed her hair away from her face and winced when he

saw the bruises and abrasions. She still wore a bandage on the left

side of her forehead, probably from the car accident, he figured. But

a whole new collection of injuries had been inflicted on the delicate

features. She was breathing, thank God.

Hesitating, but having to know that she didn't have any life-

threatening injuries, he pulled the coat back and checked for wounds

or broken bones. She seemed to be OK, except he was terribly afraid

of what had been done to her that wasn't immediately evident.

With his pocket knife, he was gently cutting the tape from her hands

when Skinner entered the room.

"Oh my God," he whispered, when he saw the dead Senator, and beyond

him, Scully. "An ambulance has already been called, Mulder. Is

she..."

Mulder's stricken eyes looked over at Skinner, and he said, "She's

alive, but she's unconscious and I can't wake her up." He removed the

tape from around her wrists as gently as he could, then began working

at pulling the tape from her mouth.

Skinner barely heard Mulder's next words, so he moved closer to the

bed. "...probably raped her, but I don't know." He gathered her into

his arms and held her against his body, tears running down his face.

Skinner was at a loss; he could only try to reassure him that she

would be all right.

Mulder looked at him with a grief-stricken expression, and shook his

head. "I don't think either one of us will be all right any more.

I've been a real shit to her lately, ignoring her feelings and

opinions. It's always because of me that she gets hurt. I love

Scully; I think I've always loved her. But I can't tell her, and it

kills me to pretend otherwise."

Although Skinner was not surprised to hear this revelation, he

supposed Mulder was too distraught to realize what he was saying

and to whom.

"Mulder, things will seem better after she's taken care of and you've

had some rest. I've known for a long time that you love each other,

but I didn't think you knew it yourselves."

Mulder bowed his head and gazed at Scully for a quiet moment, then

murmured, "After this high-profile scandal, you're going to have to

take some action. I suggest you fire me and transfer Agent Scully to

Quantico. I can go underground through my sources and keep searching

for my sister. At least Scully will be safe."

Skinner just stared at his block-head of an agent and finally said,

"For an intelligent man, Mulder, you are the dumbest SOB I've ever

known. First of all, there are no charges that could be brought

against you anymore in this case; it's obvious that the Senator and

his cohort are the guilty parties. When all the evidence is in, we'll

probably have a solid case against them. Secondly, you would likely

kill Scully yourself if you dropped out of sight and left her. It

would be a slower and much more agonizing death than if some perp just

shot her in the heart, but the result would be the same. And last of

all, the U. S. Government has entirely too much invested in you to

lose your services before you've reached your potential with the

Bureau."

He could see Mulder's throat work as he tried to respond, but nothing

came out but a sob. Skinner put a hand on his shoulder and said, "I

hear the ambulance's siren down the road. We'll talk about this

later. Let's get Agent Scully taken care of, first. Promise me

you'll sleep on it?"

A nod satisfied Skinner, and he left to show the EMTs where to find

them. He glanced back from the doorway, and saw that Mulder had laid

his cheek against Scully's and that the corners of her lips were

slightly turned up in a sweet smile.

THE END