"Killer"

Date: Thu, 27 Jun 1996
Subject: "Killer"

None of my attached files have gotten to anyone in readable format. I've
just learned how to copy and paste, so that is what I will do from now on. I
apologize for this extended screw-up. Here, hopefully, is the first section,
followed by the second.

6/26/96
Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations
created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen
Productions. As such, the characters named are the property of
those entities and are used without permission, although no
copyright infringements are intended. The following work is for
the distribution and entertainment of fanfic members only. Any
further distribution of this work without the author's consent is
in violation of federal law.

Those not interested in a Mulder/Scully relationship won't care for
a few passages in here. UST included; there are, however, no
spoilers. Probably should be rated PG-13 for violence and a few
swear words. No sex (darn; maybe next time).

KILLER
by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

Prologue

Somewhere in Washington, D. C.
Midnight

The smoke in the room lazily drifted over the heads of the two men
who sat at a conference-style table across from each other. They
both wore suits and ties, but the younger man had loosened his tie
and looked a little tense. The older man spoke:

"I grow weary of waiting for them to trip over their own mistakes
or to find just the perfect opportune moment before we can end
their interference once and for all. We created a monster and it
must be stopped. She was nothing before we made her a player, and,
without him, she will be nothing again; certainly not a threat to
us."

"So, how the hell am I supposed to inject him? Sir." There was
some insolence here, and the man who lit another cigarette duly
noted it and filed it away for later consideration.

When no response was forthcoming, the man continued, "Do you think
that he will just stick his arm out for me if I simply walk up to
him and say, 'I need to give you a shot of this experimental drug,
Agent Mulder. Mind if I stick you?"

"Of course not. Take Blauer and Michaels with you and pay a little
visit to his apartment at 3:00 AM. You should be able to
administer an injection with two large men holding him down. It
doesn't matter if he knows that he has been injected with
something; as a matter of fact, make certain that he is aware of
it."

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

PART 1

2:49 AM
Fox Mulder's Apartment

Mulder had finally fallen asleep on the couch after a long night of
fighting his private demons. This time it was about not being able
to save a little girl from his abductor (non-alien this time). It
would have been better, he thought, had the abduction been of alien
origin, since they would have probably been kinder in their
treatment of the child.

He had called his FBI partner, Dana Scully, at 11:00 PM, talking
the case over with her until he realized she was too polite and
concerned for his mental state to admit that she was falling asleep
holding the phone in her hands. It was late and they had spent a
very long and tiring day, so he told her goodnight and let her go
to bed.

Then he spent the next three hours wide awake, his brain running at
full speed, weighing this and that option, feeling the guilt in not
being Superman and God all rolled into one when it came to helping
a defenseless little kid get away from a madman before he literally
ripped her to shreds. He finally was able to come to a temporary
peace with himself and drifted off to sleep.

That sleep was shattered when he felt two sets of very big and
strong hands holding him down by both arms and legs while another
person shoved his coffee table aside. This third person leaned
over Mulder and stabbed his right arm with what felt like a huge
needle. When he felt the needle entering his arm, he bucked and
kicked like a madman. One leg came free momentarily, but was
quickly re-captured. The needle went deeper and he felt the sting
of something being injected.

With the blinds closed and the lights off, it was too dark to see
much of anything. He felt the needle withdraw from his arm, and
someone said in a low voice, "This drug, Agent Mulder, will cause
bouts of paranoia, lost sections of time, suicidal tendencies, and
rage, increasing to a murderous level. It will make you a
homicidal maniac. Have a happy day, now." Then pain exploded in
his head, and everything went black.

The pounding at the door finally pulled him back to consciousness.
"Mulder!" It was Scully. She must have been knocking for awhile
with no response, because he heard the key in the lock, and she
tentatively walked in.

He cleared his throat and called, "Scully, I'm in here." He
wearily sat upright, feeling pretty crappy in general.

As she reached the doorway to his living area and saw that he was
still dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, she said, "You didn't come
in to work and weren't answering your phone. What's wrong?" She
moved to his side and then saw the abrasion on his temple.

She sat down next to him and peered into his eyes to see if there
were any sign of a concussion. She was shocked at the fear she saw
there. " Mulder, what happened?"

He said bitterly, " 'They' injected me with something." He held
his arm out for her to see the mark, now discolored and bruised.
"I woke up to find two guys were holding my arms and legs so I
couldn't move and another one stabbed me with a hypodermic needle."

As she gently touched the mistreated flesh, he could see the spark
of fear jump into her eyes, too. They both knew that their enemies
played with some pretty scary chemical compounds, not all of them
of terrestrial origin. He could see that she was thinking about
what might be roaming around in his body through his bloodstream.
The thought made his flesh crawl.

"We need to get your blood analyzed as soon as possible, Mulder, to
see what we are dealing with."

He looked up at her and asked wryly, "You think an analysis is
going to tell us much, honestly?"

"She sighed and said, "Maybe not. But it could give us some clues
about what might be in your bloodstream." She was trying not to
panic, to lend him some stability so they wouldn't both go off the
deep end with this frightening new development. And she was
terrified of what "they" may have done to his system; she knew that
there were so many things it could be, and all were bad. Even if
nothing tested as wrong with him now, something could show up years
down the road.

She helped him stand up, since some dizziness from the blow to his
head remained.

"Can you get dressed all right on your own?"

He looked down at her and managed to grin, saying, "Why do you
always give me those great openings, Scully?"

Shaking her head as he unsteadily walked into the bedroom, she
looked around the living area to see if his attackers had left any
signs or evidence lying around. She didn't expect to find
anything, so she was not surprised when she didn't.

He emerged from the bedroom looking amazingly normal in his suit
and "Marvin the Martian" tie, although, knowing him as well as she
did, the pinched look about his eyes would have tipped her off that
something was very wrong.

They went first to George Washington to have blood samples taken
for testing and to check his head injury, then took some of the
samples with them to the FBI forensics lab for further analysis.
They decided not to stop to see AD Skinner until they knew a little
more about what was going on.

"Now we wait," Scully said as they got into her car. As she
fastened the seat belt, she looked at Mulder and asked, "How are
you feeling?"

He hadn't moved since he sat down, but was staring through the
windshield. "I feel like a bug under a microscope with you waiting
to see if I'm going to turn purple and grow three heads."

Scully looked surprised at the venomous tone he used, instead of
the light, teasing one which would be normal. He just glared at
her, and demanded, "Well? Have I sprouted one horn or two on my
head yet?"

Scully quickly said, "Mulder, calm down. You have something in
your body that might do god-knows-what to you. Of course we have
to be alert to any changes in your mental and physical makeup."

Mulder winced at the thought of how he had sounded, and said,
"Sorry. Must be the drug talking. That's the only good part, you
know, Scully." He grinned unconvincingly, "I can say whatever I
want and just blame it on the injection."

She noticed that he was sweating even though the interior of the
car was still cold. And he was fidgeting quite a bit.

He turned his head away and he made a sound that was suspiciously
like a sob. "Normal people catch a cold; I get the mystery virus."

Scully wanted so badly to be able to say something that would make
him feel better, but she realized sadly that there was nothing.
"Mulder, did those men say anything at all to you this morning that
would give us a clue about what we're dealing with?"

His shoulders hunched protectively and he muttered, "Yeah."

He turned a burning gaze to her and said, "The one who injected me.
He said that I would have blackouts, time losses, and be subject to
uncontrollable rages." He paused, then whispered, "And it would
make me a killer."

Scully, her concern written clearly on her face, said, "Mulder, you
should have told me sooner. It could help in knowing what kinds of
compounds to look for. She placed her hand on his and added, "You
should be under observation, and you know it."

He snatched his hand away. "No."

Suddenly, with no warning, he started pounding the dashboard with
his right fist, hitting it with deliberate, methodical blows. His
teeth were clenched and his breathing had quickened. Swiveling
abruptly to face her, his last blow hit her headrest and came so
close to her face that she felt the back of his hand graze her
skin. She gave a startled sound, but sat perfectly still.

Scully was getting scared, but tried to keep it out of her
expression. "Let's go back to the hospital, Mulder."

His eyes looked insane when he turned them on her. "I won't be
studied like a specimen. I know you could give a shit about me,
Doctor Scully, except to pin me to a board and dissect old Spooky
to see what makes him tick. Sucking up to Skinner for a
promotion."

She had to yell over his voice to be heard. "Mulder, stop. You
know better than that. And you're not making sense. Think about
what you're saying."

He was dimly aware that the drug was making him dredge up all the
little hidden paranoias in his psyche and magnifying them a
hundredfold. If he ever in his life had one single nagging doubt
about Scully for even a second, the drug pulled it out into the
light and blew it up into a major betrayal.

Moving swiftly, he startled her by leaning so close that his face
was out of focus. She flinched, but he simply unlatched the car
door, sliding his body across hers as he pushed it open. Then he
visciously jabbed his thumb into the seat belt release and shoved
Scully out of the door as she frantically grabbed at him and the
car for handholds. She wasn't quick enough and he kept pushing
with a strength against which she had no defense. She scraped her
leg on the door somewhere and landed hard on the concrete on her
left hip.

A part of Mulder still was sane and rational, looking at what he
was doing and what he was becoming. But that part was buried deep
down and unable to do much but silently cry out in protest and
shame.

She raised her head and saw that Mulder was already settling into
the driver's seat and putting the car in gear. He gave her one
last look filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger, then the car
leaped away from her as he hit the gas pedal. He closed the car
door as he drove much too fast down the exit ramp.

Scully got slowly to her feet, favoring her left leg, and felt both
like crying over and killing Mulder all at once. Her fear for him
was overwhelming.

She had to see Skinner as quickly as possible.

PART 2

Scully was surprised to find that Assistant Director Skinner was
not only available but could see her immediately. She was invited
to have a seat across the desk from him, then he asked, "Now, what
can I do for you, Agent Scully?" She hesitated, not knowing
exactly how to begin, then said, "Sir, to start with, you need to
authorize a forensic team to go over Agent Mulder's apartment for
evidence."

His eyebrows rose quizzically as he asked, "Evidence of what, may
I ask?"

She quickly told him of what had happened starting from when she
had gone to Mulder's apartment to see why he hadn't come to work
that morning. When she finished with how Mulder had fled with her
car, Skinner was looking very concerned.

"So you are saying that there's a deranged and dangerous ARMED FBI
agent running around like a loose cannon in the city?"

"Sir, I would expect a little more compassion for Agent Mulder's
predicament but, yes, that is essentially correct."

He ignored the rebuke and said, "I'll want the results of those
blood analyses the minute they are available." She nodded. "And
I want you to meet with me and the field agents I am about to
select so that you may explain the situation and to provide
assistance. You will also provide coordination between us and the
local law enforcement agencies."

She said, "But sir, putting all those armed police officers and
federal agents out there looking for an 'armed and dangerous' man
will only put Mulder at risk of getting shot and killed."

"How would you suggest that we find him before he harms someone,
Scully?" He looked like he really wanted to know. "Besides,
that's why I'm putting you in charge so you can see that this is
handled in his best interests." She realized that he had been hit
hard by the this threat to one of his best agents, and would try to
see that no further harm would come to him. But he had to protect
the rest of the city, too, in case the drug pushed Mulder to attack
someone.

She looked down at the clenched hands in her lap and shook her
head, then said in a low voice, "I don't know how to find him
*without* help at this point." She looked up and said, "Thank
you."

"Then let's get moving on this; he's already been running around
out there in God knows what frame of mind for nearly an hour."

He called his secretary in and fired some orders. When she hurried
off, he said, "Go down and get something to eat, and we'll all meet
in Conference Room C in half an hour."

She didn't think she could eat anything, but went downstairs to the
cafeteria anyway, where she picked at a salad for awhile. Her mind
was filled with Mulder; where had he gone, what he was thinking
right now, would he really kill anyone even with the drug in his
system, how scared she was of what this could do to him whether or
not he recovered. Scully wondered what was happening to him right
now.

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

Mulder was finding that he was alternating between periods of
lucidity and lunacy. He would feel almost normal except for the
anxiety and a tendency to perspire, but then the rage would build,
feeding on the darkest part of himself. Once the fury had built to
a white hot all-consuming blaze, he would suffer a blackout, not
aware of his surroundings until the rage had subsided.

Mulder didn't know how much of his real self was left anymore and
how much had become this uncontrollable stranger who was raping his
very soul.

When he regained awareness after his first enraged episode had
taken place, he was standing on a city street next to a totally
trashed Mercedes Benz, holding a tire iron wearily at his side.
From the look of things and from how tired he felt, he must have
laid into the car pretty good. All the windows were smashed as
were the head and tail lights. Every inch of the car body itself
was dented and gouged. Standing nearby was a tall well-dressed
middle aged woman. She was leaning against a light pole for
support while trembling and weeping. Several other people stood
around, mostly in shock, none of them wanting to confront Mulder.
One teenager was shouting, "Way to go, man! Bet she'll use her
signal next time!"

Mulder dropped the tire iron and it gave a metallic ring as it hit
the pavement. His (Scully's) car was hemmed in by traffic which
was at a dead stop in all four directions, so he picked the
direction with the least number of people and took off running.

Mulder was determined to reach a location that would be more
secluded, away from people and the chance to hurt someone. So far
he had killed a car, upset and scared the car's apparent owner, and
shoved Scully onto the concrete garage floor. (I can't hurt her
any more. I'm staying away from Scully until this is over, one way
or another).

But before he had gone five blocks, he felt the surge of adrenalin
and the building fury returning. He wasn't able to even begin
fighting it before it had overwhelmed him.

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

Scully was bone-tired. She had spent all day working with one law
enforcement group or another, trying desperately to find Mulder.
She had enlisted the Lone Gunmen, the group Mulder always turned to
when he needed some fast information, usually on the paranormal or
other socially unacceptable subjects. She had been unsuccessful so
far in reaching "X," the mysterious contact Mulder had within the
government. For all she knew, he might know who was responsible
for Mulder's predicament and be able to help in finding a way to
resolve it.

Dusk had fallen by the time Scully finally took a break and stopped
by her apartment to get a shower and change. It promised to be a
long night.

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

Mulder gradually became aware that he was lying across some hard,
cold marble steps, and was extremely uncomfortable. He struggled
to a sitting position and looked around curiously, immediately
recognizing his surroundings. He was on the steps leading up to
the Lincoln Memorial, which was all lit up for evening tourists.
Despite the chilly night air, there were a few roaming around
enjoying the illuminated Reflecting Pool, the Washington Monument,
and the Capitol Building from the vantage point of the steps.

He felt sticky for some reason and held his hands up to catch the
light. His breathing seemed to stop when he saw that it looked
like blood all over his hands. Checking his clothes, he could see
dark stains all over the front and sleeves. From the way his hair
felt, it was probably on his face and in his hair, too. And it
wasn't his own, because there didn't seem to be any injury on his
body that he could find.

"Oh, God, what have I done?" was his first thought. He closed his
eyes and tried to force a memory from the recent past, and
something did come through that he immediately wished had not
surfaced. His mind gave him some pictures in a series of flashes,
sort of like strobe lighting. His hand grabbing a little boy. The
little boy's look of stark terror. The boy was screaming and
struggling against his hand. His gun was drawn and he was firing.
The little boy...he...the boy took a bullet in his small chest.
Blood was everywhere and someone screamed on and on and on...

His eyes flew open and he gasped with the shock of the memory. And
he knew with a calm resignation what he had to do now.

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

Scully had showered and had just slipped into a pair of trousers
and a blouse, when the phone rang. She grabbed it while putting
her shoes on, saying, "Scully."

She instantly knew it was Mulder, even though he hadn't said
anything yet. "Mulder? Is that you?"

"Scully. I...I've done something...terrible."

"Where are you, Mulder?" It scared her to hear the way he sounded.

"Scully, I killed a little boy." Sobs reached her ears, then were
muffled.

"Please, Mulder, come to my place. I'll take care of you." She
thought about what he had said, and her heart felt like it was
being squeezed in someone's fist.

Finally, he mumbled something like, "No...kill you too. Have to
end this."

The realization hit her then that he would kill himself while still
free of the drug-induced rage before he could endanger anyone else.

"Mulder, we've got results on the blood work and they're trying to
see how to break down the elements so we can interrupt the messages
that this drug is feeding your brain. Please tell me where you are
so I can protect you until they come up with something."

"I don't have much time, Scully. I wanted you to know that..." she
couldn't make out the last words. Could they really have been "I
love you?" No.

Tears were running freely down her face, and she tried pleading
once more with him, but heard the quiet click of the connection
being broken.

Still gripping the receiver tightly in her fist, she slid down the
wall to the floor, horror stricken with the thought of what he was
probably doing right now.

Mulder put his cel phone back into his pocket and unholstered his
gun. He sat for a few seconds just looking out over the city,
holding his weapon against his thigh. Then, in a surprisingly
graceful movement for so ugly an act, he swiftly brought the gun up
to his temple and tightened his trigger finger.

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

When Scully felt that she could talk without breaking down, she
called Skinner and told him about the conversation with Mulder. He
told her to check on any reports of a boy being shot in the past
six to eight hours.

"Mulder may be halucinating at this stage. Meanwhile, I'll make a
few calls and see if we can get more people on the streets trying
to find him." Skinner's voice reflected the concern he felt for
Mulder, and Scully appreciated it.
Scully hung up, then dialled the downtown police precinct and asked
to speak with the duty officer. When Officer Griffin answered,
Scully identified herself, then asked about any reports on a
shooting involving a small boy.

"Just a sec," he said, and she could hear the sound of paper
rustling. "About 45 minutes ago a seven-year-old boy and his
father were killed by a 'deranged' gunman near a theater in
downtown D. C. That's how witnesses described him, anyway. We
have detectives on the scene pursuing an investigation, and should
have more details soon."

She thanked him and hung up with a shaking hand.

(Continued in second installment)

===========================================================================

From: GHill52695@aol.com
Date: Thu, 27 Jun 1996 00:18:24 -0400
Subject: Repost: Second section of "Killer"

Here's the rest of the story; thanks for your extreme patience.

KILLER
by Gerry Hill (GHill52695@aol.com)

PART 3

As Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, he felt the
lightest touch of a small hand on his leg. He opened his eyes and
there was a little five year old girl standing on the step next to
him. She had touched him to get his attention. Her eyes, even in
the indirect lighting, appeared to be a brilliant blue and she had
curly ash-blond hair tied with a blue ribbon. She wore a dark blue
windbreaker with jeans and a sweatshirt, and red tennis shoes.

Mulder slowly lowered the gun and returned it to his holster. That
would have to wait. The girl solemnly watched his every movement,
and finally spoke.

"My daddy said not to play with guns." She looked at him a long
moment, then added, "And I think you need a bath."

He knew that he was covered in blood. He probably smelled pretty
badly, too, since he had been perspiring like a fountain all day.
It was no wonder she thought he needed a bath.

"What's your name," he huskily asked her.

"Kate. We live in Annapolis, and my daddy is in the Navy."

Mulder glanced around, but saw no one who looked the least bit
interested in Kate or himself.

"Are you lost?"

"No," was the confident reply.

Mulder was afraid to move a muscle, fearful that the demons in him
would take over again any second and he cringed at the thought that
he could be dangerous to this beautiful little girl.

He felt like the Frankenstein monster sitting there watching the
Kate pull a small doll out of a pocket of her windbreaker and then
settle down on the steps near him and begin to play.

Thinking, "Please, where are her parents?" he prayed that they
would hurry and get her away from him before...he couldn't think
about it or he would go mad.

"Kate! There you are! We've been looking everywhere..."

Mulder's eyes tracked up to the left and saw a very large and
muscular man in jeans and bulky sweater coming down and across the
steps toward them. "You get what you pray for, I guess," Mulder
thought. Except that this guy could be trouble when he got a look
at the kind of guy his daughter chose to associate with. Better
leave.
He got to his feet, gave a backhanded sort of wave in the general
direction of Kate and her approaching father, and headed down
toward the Reflecting Pool. Hopefully, the father was still far
enough from him so that he couldn't get a good look at his
appearance; the darkness helped, too.

Walking for as long as he felt the need to distance himself
sufficiently from the girl, he finally sank gratefully onto a bench
located halfway down the length of the pool. He sat and stared at
the shimmering surface of the water for a few minutes, then the
realization hit him. It had been a hell of a long time since the
helpless rage had overcome him. It had never given him such a long
lucid period before. Could it be possible that the drug could wear
off?

Then the memory of what he had done earlier returned in a rush to
punch him in the stomach. His short moment of hope returned to
horror and regret. Tears blurred his vision and he bent over
clutching his mid-section. He rocked back and forth in torment,
the picture of that bloodied little boy etched forever in his
brain.

He tried to think: His will had been updated a little over a year
before. When he realized how important Scully had become in his
life, he had made her a part of it. No, he couldn't think of
anything left to be done anymore. A spasm of despair washed over
him again, and he didn't want to wait any longer. Oblivious to all
but the pain of living, he once again removed his gun from it's
leather cradle and re-checked the clip. He closed his eyes and
whispered an apology, "I'm sorry, Scully." And he hoped his long
lost sister Samantha would understand why he could not carry on his
life-long search for her any more. He brought the gun up to his
head once more and closed his eyes.

Then something that felt like a boulder hit him between the
shoulders and he went head-first off the bench into the ground.
The wind was knocked out of him when the boulder's full weight
landed on his back. His gun left his hand and took off like a
bird, flying beyond his grasp.

Mulder began to fight as though he had gone berserk, kicking and
punching at his attacker, but more hands had joined in the fight,
trying to hold him down. He felt handcuffs tighten on his wrists
behind his back, and he suddenly went limp, too weary physically
and mentally to fight any longer, still gasping for breath.

Lying on his side on the cold grass, he could see that the initial
attacker had been Kate's father. She must have told him about the
"smelly guy with the gun." The other two bodies present were
uniformed District of Columbia police officers. One of them
approached Mulder and asked if he wanted to sit on the bench; it
would be warmer and dryer then the wet grass.

Mulder thought about moving for a minute. He really didn't want to
get up, but decided to be cooperative as long as he had to wait
around to finish what he had started, anyway.

The officer helped him to his feet, and he perched on the edge of
the bench. Mulder had gotten a look at the policeman, who was
blond, handsome and appeared to be all of sixteen years old.
Great; a rookie.

"I'm Officer Charles Clarke, and my partner's name is Jeff Clement.
I don't think you realize how hard we've been looking for you,
Agent Mulder."

That caught his attention. They knew who he was. He didn't say
anything, though, and just kept staring down at the ground.

"Thank goodness that little girl told her father about you and he
was concerned enough to try to stop you from killing yourself."

Mulder broke his silence then to mutter, "This isn't fucking Sesame
Street here. With a daughter like that, he should have run the
other way from a man who has a gun."

Officer Clarke looked startled more by the fact that Mulder had
spoken than by what he had said. He took it as an invitation to
continue the conversation.

"We're trying to contact your partner right now, but she's out of
the office and not at her apartment. We've been getting a busy
signal on her mobile phone."

Mulder winced at the thought of having to face Scully with what he
had done. God, it hurt so much.

Mercifully, Officer Clarke stood up to talk with his partner, and
Mulder was left to himself for awhile. He noticed there were a few
people attracted by what looked like an arrest, but when nothing
much happened, most tended to drift off. Then he saw Kate standing
with a woman who must be her mother. They were a good twenty yards
away, but were standing in the glow cast by one of the
intermittently spaced overhead light poles.

Her mother looked like Kate, which is to say she was beautiful.
They were apparently waiting for the missing member of the family
so they could go home. Kate saw Mulder looking their way, and gave
him a radiant smile. His heart ached to see it, and for some
reason his eyes became suspiciously damp. But, God help him, he
could not smile back, and doubted he would ever smile again. It
hurt too much.

But he discovered that he could hurt even more, when he saw Scully
running toward him from the side street. Her brow was furrowed
with concern, and changed to relief and joy when she got close
enough to see that he seemed to be whole and still alive.
When she reached him, she leaned down to make eye contact, and her
breath caught in her throat when she saw the immense pain and
sadness there. No matter how this turned out, she would be haunted
forever by the expression in those eyes. She sat down next to him,
slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, feeling
the stiffness of his unyielding muscles. They were more like stone
than flesh.

Scully was never demonstrative, especially when there were
spectators interested in their every move nearby, but she seemed to
have lost that particular inhibition, at least for the moment. She
knew that the hungry need this man had for comfort and forgiveness
was far greater than her capacity to give, so she simply offered
what she could and hoped it would help in some measure.

He couldn't speak; he was so ashamed that he couldn't bear to look
at her again. She understood and at last released her hold on him.
She looked around for someone in charge and had Mulder's handcuffs
removed. Then she arranged to ride with him in the police car when
they took him to the hospital to be checked out.

The first thing she heard him say when they were settled in the
rear seat of the police car was, "Please, Scully, I can't do this."
His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed.

"Just take it one thing at a time, Mulder, and we can get through
it together."

His eyes blazing and teeth clenched in anger, he loudly protested,
"Dammit, Scully! I...murdered...a little...child!! Can you
understand what that means?!" His voice rose and cracked on the
last word, and his fist hit his thigh with an audible sound.

Scully bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded.
"Mulder, you know that the drug is responsible, not you."

"Does that matter!?" His horror was so great that she was struck
mute in its smothering presence.

Her cel phone rang.

Pulling it out of her pocket without taking her eyes off Mulder,
she softly answered, "Yes?"

"Agent Scully? This is Officer Ken Griffin; we spoke earlier about
the shooting incident involving the seven year old child and his
father? Well, the reports I'm getting from the detectives on the
scene are that some drunk kid, age approximately 22, height about
five feet nine inches, got pissed off...er...angry when he couldn't
buy tickets to a sold-out show, and began shooting at people in
line at the box office."

Scully realized that she had been holding her breath during this
report and slowly let it out as she listened.
"Then a male passer-by saw what was happening and tried to grab the
child to get him out of the line of fire, while drawing his own gun
and returning fire at the shooter. But before he could put the boy
all the way behind his own body, a bullet caught the kid right in
the chest. One witness said that the guy came unglued when he
realized the boy was gone and he couldn't help him. The shooter
took off and was out of sight by the time this guy stood up and
looked around for him. Then the guy took off, too."

In a kind of trance, Scully thanked him for getting back to her,
and disconnected. She sat there for a second, then looked up at
Mulder.

"You didn't kill that child, Mulder," she said.

He didn't seem to hear her, lost in his own private hell as he
gazed unseeingly out the window.

"Mulder!" she said sharply. His head slowly turned toward her.

"The police reports are in; Mulder, you did not kill that child.
You were trying to save him."

The confusion plainly showed on his face. "But I remember..."

Scully said, "Your memory was affected by the drug. You tried to
get the child out of the line of fire. The police have witnesses
who say you shot at the gunman, and tried to protect the little
boy."

"But if I were subject to the homicidal tendencies of the drug, why
would I do that? Wouldn't I be more apt to BE the shooter?" But
she could see the dawning hope in his face that the endless
nightmare could have an end, after all.

Scully shook her head, not knowing the answer, then an expression
of realization hit her. "Mulder, you haven't had one of those
rages since I've been here."

He nodded and said, "No, the effects seem to have worn off. It's
been at least an hour and a half since I came out of the last one."

Mulder's body sagged, and he said in disbelief, "I didn't kill
him." Then he dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "I'm
so tired, Scully."

She hesitated for a second, knowing how private a person Mulder
could be when under such emotional strain, then she reached over
and put her hand gently on his head, ruffling his hair a tiny bit.
The friendly gesture seemed to have no effect, so she retrieved her
hand and said, "While they are checking you over at GW, I'll talk
with Skinner. I'm sure that he can clear things up with everyone
else so you can go home and get some rest."

Still with his face hidden in his hands, Mulder gave a slight nod
that Scully barely caught.

Another minute passed, then Mulder took a deep breath as he sat
back and lowered his hands to rest them on Scully's. His eyes
sought hers and held them for what seemed forever.

The intensity of the desire that tore through Scully was completely
unexpected. "Oh, no," she thought. "He doesn't need more
complications in his life right now, and neither do I." But Mulder
could see the change in her expression and the way her body seemed
to lose its rigidity. He pulled her up against his chest so that
her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. She could feel
his heart beating and the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

"Mulder..." she began.

She was halted by the whispered, "Shhh. We'll deal with this, but
not now."

She sighed and relaxed, putting aside all the problems she could
see with this new aspect of their relationship. Then she smiled as
she heard his soft snoring and realized that he was asleep.

EPILOGUE

The cigarette-smoking man patiently waited for the younger man to
give him the information he needed. Once again, they were in the
small conference room, seated across the table from each other.

"He was picked up by the police when he tried to kill himself. His
partner is with him on the way to a hospital."

The smoke curled around the older man's head as he inquired, "And
his condition?"

A shrug. "The drug must have worn off. He hasn't gone bat-shit
for quite awhile now."

"It didn't last as long as I had hoped," was the thoughtful reply.

"What do you want me to do now? Give him another dose when he
leaves the hospital?"

"I think not. It would be best to lay low for the time being. But
stay available - I have a few other 'surprises' for Agent Mulder.

He smiled.

The other man thought, "If sharks could smile, that is exactly what
they would look like." He shivered, and left the room with a sense
of relief.

The EndKILLER