OK, here's another offering in my obessesion with the X-Files.

Diclaimer: Here's a chance for me to get on my soapbox. Here
           goes. None of these characters belong to me. If 
           they did, I, and the other fanfic authors, would
           know just what to do with them. Soulmates forever!
           You know, Chris, should you happen to run into this
           page, I don't give a flying fuck about your opinion.
           I think you're an idiot. How dare you try and shut 
           these web sites down! These sites are run by devoted
           fans of the show. If these sites are being continually
           harrassed, then the fans will quit watching the show.
           Then where will you be? Stuck with the dismal 
           "Millenium", that's where. You'll have no sponsors and
           therefore, the dough will stop rolling in. Besides, why 
           don't you admit it - the whole fifth season, and the 
           movie has been taken from fan fiction. I know it, you
           know it, and all the other fan fiction authors and 
           readers know it. Enough said. I'm through ranting now.

Summary: This is a 'shipper story wrapped in an X-File. It's an
         original story. I don't mind if one uses my characters
         in one of their stories, just ask first. I won't hunt
         you down, like a certain director/writer/producer/DEMON
         we all know and hate/love. 

Rating: R. I think. Yeah, definitely R. Under 16? Go back now.
        Mommy won't want you to read this.

All comments should be directed to: trg@umich.edu 
or gambit_98@hotmail.com

Now, on with the show.

February 13
9:00 am
FBI Headquarters

    "Hey Scully, come on in and turn the lights off."
    "What is this, Mulder?" She asks, walking over to his desk in
semi-darkness. "Another one of your little slide shows?"
    "Yep. Take a seat." He fiddled with the projector some more
and all was in readiness. " These are five murder victims who have
been found in various malls in the Chicago area. There have been
identical killings in Miami, New York, Houston and San Francisco."
    "Malls? Why malls, Mulder?"
    "We have yet to determine that. The killer does have a definite
preference for his type of victim, though. They were all girls in the
fifteen to nineteen age range. One other commonality is that they were
all extremely pretty. I've got slides of the Chicago victims."
    Mulder proceeded to click through each slide while putting names
with the faces.
    "His M.O. is to lure the girls into a seculded area, usually a
seldom used bathroom and then assault them. He doesn't want to mar 
their beauty, so he kills them by slicing them from ear to ear. He 
then fixes their faces into angelic expressions of bliss. This is 
Fiona Hewett, seventeen." 
    The first victim, an extraordinarily beautiful girl, had an earthy
quality with her smooth chocolate brown skin, generous lips, high
cheekbones and firm jaw. Clicking the button, Mulder continued.
    "Sharon Teller, sixteen." The next girl was also exceedingly 
lovely with pale, pale vanilla skin and long flaxen hair. Mulder kept
clicking along, each girl being absolutely lovely, but with a red mark
like an obscene smile encircling their throats.
    "Why were we sent this case Mulder? Anyone in the Chicago field
office could've handled it."
    "Because of the last victim, Amaryllis Benefield, seventeen. The
killer left her alive for some reason. When questioned, the girl knew
things about the previous crimes scenes that only the killer could've
known. I think she has some psychic ability."
    "I guess that means were off to Chicago, then." Scully said on a
sigh.

12:00 am
Chicago, Illinois
Benefield Residence

    The two agents got out of their rented, boring-beige Ford Taurus
and walked up the path bisecting the front lawn. Climbing the steps to
the porch, they eyed the tree-lined street with its respectable two
flat homes. Mulder rang the bell and a gray-haired old gentleman 
answered it.
    "Yes?" He asked through the glass door of the tiled hallway.
    "Agents Mulder and Scully, sir." They flashed their id's at him.
"We're here to talk to Amaryllis."
    "I'm her grandfather, Andrew Kendall. Come on in." Mr. Kendall
stood aside and let them pass through the wooden inner door into the
house. Closing the door behind him, he gestured to the beige and tan
sectional separating the living and dining rooms.
    "What is this all about?" He asked.
    "We need to talk to your granddaughter about her recent attack."
Mulder answered as they sat.
    "Well, Amy's at school right now. Is there I or her grandmother
can help you with?"
    " You can answer some questions for us, sir."
    Just then, a strident and shrill voice came from the back of the
house.
    "Who is it Andrew?" With extra emphasis on the last syllable.
    "It's the FBI, Frances."
    "The FBI?!" The voice carried with it a hint of sourness.
    "Yeah!"
    Mulder and Scully exchange a look at their short conversation. A
short, lumbering old woman emerges from the hallway. She is the exact
opposite of her tall, nimble, pleasant husband.
    "I'm sorry for yelling." Mr. Kendall apologizes sincerely.
    "It's ok, sir. I assume this is your wife?" Mulder says.
    "Yes, this is Mrs. Kendall." He makes the introductions and she
sits in the chair that is by the bay window in the living room.
    "Mr. and Mrs. Kendall, we need to ask you some questions." Mulder
says.
    "Like what?" The old woman snapped at the two agents.
    "Well, when did your granddaughter begin to predict things?"
Scully asked the old couple.
    "Almost as soon as she could talk." Mr. Kendall answered.
    "What has she predicted?"
    "Lots of stuff." The old couple began a list of things that the
young Amy couldn't possibly have known about because she was too young
to comprehend. And it seemed that the girl was able to prognosticate
a number of things that no one else could have dreamed about until it
actually came to pass. The tale came to an end when Mr. Kendall said,
"Lately though it seems like her talent is mind reading, not
prediction."
    "What do you mean?" Scully asked.
    "I mean that she can look right through a person and divine their
innermost thoughts."
    "She's psychic? Do you know if Amy's telepathic?"
    "Yes, she is. She can also move things with her mind. Telekinesis,
they call it."
    "That's rare." Mulder put in.
    "It's been hard for our Amy. She has a hard time making friends
because of her unususal assortment of talents. And her abilities 
aren't without their problems. She has to control her emotions. If she
gets upset of angry the results can be pretty out of hand. The last 
time she got mad, I had to replace all the windows in the house."
    "I see. Well, what does Amy's mother have to say about this?"
Scully asked.
    "She lets the girl pretty much have a free run. Not that there's
anything wrong with that. Amy is very self-sufficient. She keeps her 
grades up, doesn't run with a wild crowd."
    The two agents put away their little notebooks after this and 
stand up to leave.
    "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Kendall. We'll be going now." Mulder
said. They let themselves out of the house.
    "So, what do you think Mulder?" Scully asked him once they were 
ensconced in the car.
    "I think we should go talk to Amy."