Date: Thu, 16 Apr 1998
Title: Arch Angel
Author: Jenga
E-Mail: CaptJenga@aol.com
Rating: Strong PG, maybe PG-13
Classification: UST (verging on MSR)/X
Spoilers: ReduxII
Keywords: Mulder/Scully angst
Summary: Mulder and Scully go undercover as newlyweds to
apprehend a serial killer.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I know, and willingly accept that
(well, almost). Also, I don't know if any of these places really
d do, then I apologize for anything I may do with them to offend
anyone. I also have no medical knowledge whatsoever, so please
forgive me for the outrageous mistakes I'm sure to make on that
subject.

Author's Notes: Warning! Any non-shippers, turn back now or
forever hold your peace (It's not *that* bad. Just a little
cheesy at times). But you have been forewarned. Also, I am
completely indebted to my sister for forcing me to edit this to a
slightly more realistic level. She's actually reading this over my
shoulder, and wants me to say she's a KTer and says hi to Jeff. In
addition, there are some weird idea about religion played around
with here. They do not necessarily reflect those of the author,
and are not intended to offend anyone on any way.

Arch Angel

* * *

April, 1998
J. Edgar Hoover Building

"And he scores!" Special Agent Fox Mulder announced as his
launched missile went in the intended target. His partner looked
on in amusement as her six foot partner did a small victory dance
around their slightly cramped office.

"The crowd goes wild!" He collapsed into his chair, which
came dangerously close to tipping over but managed to stay upright.
Special Agent Dana Scully arched an eyebrow as he grabbed another
sheet of paper off his desk and crumpled it into a ball.

"Mulder, somehow I doubt that's what Skinner intended for us
to do with those expense report forms," she commented as he
carefully aimed and shot the makeshift basketball into the garbage
can. In response, he merely grinned.

"Aw Scully, don't you think--"

As if on cue, the telephone rang, saving Scully from having
to listen to yet another of Mulder's wild theories. Smiling
smugly, she answered the phone. Her expression quickly changed
from bemused to serious. Mulder noted her change in mood, and
although he attempted to keep a smile on his face, he also switched
tracks into "work mode". She hung up, and he waited for an
explanation.

"That was Skinner." She paused, and he knew he wasn't going
to like what was next. "VCS has been handling a serial killer
investigation, and they're out of options and personnel. They
figure since we don't have any open cases at the moment that we
could give them a hand. They want to bring us in."

She braced herself for the barrage Mulder was sure to launch,
but was surprised when he merely stood and put on his suit jacket.
"Coming, Scully?" he asked, waiting for her by the door. She
nodded, and they headed for the elevator together. They waited for
the elevator to arrive, and Scully took the opportunity to study
his face. He seemed to be okay, except that he was looking
everywhere except her face. The doors opened, and he placed his
hand on the small of her back as they walked in.

"You okay about this?" she asked, concerned that he wasn't
reacting. After everything he'd experienced as a result of his
profiling genius, she would have expected a little more resistance
to a request to help with it again.

"Yeah Scully, I'm fine." The use of her old excuse was not
lost on her, although it seemed as if he hadn't meant it. The
elevator doors opened, announcing their arrival on the fifth floor.
Making sure one last time that he was okay, she followed him to the
conference room.

* * *

"He's not going to like this," Skinner warned Agent Norton as
they waited for the two renegade agents to appear. The other men
and women in the room looked at each other uneasily--they'd all
worked with "Spooky" Mulder before, and were not looking forward to
doing so again.

"Well, he'll just have to deal with it," Norton replied as
the two agents in question walked into the room. He noted how
easily they moved together, and knew he had chosen the right agents
for the job. Taking a deep breath, he gestured for them to sit
down and began his report. A blank screen remained on the slide
screen while he began his introduction, putting off the dangerous
territory until necessary.

"For the past six months, we have been tracking a serial
killer in Vista Del Mar, Florida. In that time period, he has
killed twelve women. The local police department only handed the
case over to us officially two months ago, but we've been
monitoring their progress for the full six months."

Norton paused, his gaze flickering to the agent wearing the
loud alien tie. He'd heard stories about this guy, and while
having no doubt concerning his legendary abilities, he did question
his sanity a little. After all, this guy did believe in aliens and
UFOs. But he was also a good agent with brilliant profiling
abilities, and Norton planned to take advantage of every available
resource he could get his hands on. What he was concerned about,
however, was how Mulder was going to handle the next aspect of the
case.

"All the victims been female. . ." he flipped to the next
screen, a picture of a woman closely resembling Scully. Both
Mulder and his partner noticeably stiffened, though Scully remained
more detached than Mulder. "between the ages of 25 and 40, between
five feet and five foot ten inches tall and had red hair."

"The unique signature to this guy is how the bodies are
found. All twelve women have been found dressed in white, and
carefully laid out in a church in the Vista Del Mar area. None of
them appear to have suffered or have been physically abused in any
way, and there are no signs of struggle. In fact, it would appear
as if they were very carefully and meticulously cared for, even
fussed over."

He flipped through a few more picture, all bearing a striking
resemblance to Agent Scully. He glanced at her, impressed to find
her studying the pictures intently.

"Agent Norton," she asked, "what was the nature of death?"

He sat down at the table and glanced at the report in front
of him, not wanting to make a mistake in front of this obviously
competent agent. "Unknown. The only mark on their bodies is a
small puncture wound on their right shoulder. Other than that, it
almost appears as thought each died in her sleep."

He looked at Mulder for a moment, then realized he should
focus his words toward her, because the hostility Mulder was
starting to radiate wasn't going to lessen. "Agents Mulder and
Scully, the reason you have been called here is because quite
frankly we are running low on manpower. We've had our best minds
working on this for far too long, and they can't take any more of
this kind of stress. This man has killed twelve woman, and will no
doubt continue killing unless we do something. We need answers,
and we need to find this SOB. And we need both very quickly.
Agent Mulder, we are all aware of your profiling ability and were
hoping you could give us some insight. Even if you can't, we can
still use you and Agent Scully. His next cycle will begin on
Friday, and we want to be ready for him--"

The tall agent was up out of his chair before Norton could
even finish his sentence. "No way. You are not sending Scully
into that."

<Damn, he's good.> Norton thought in surprise, then realized
he should have expected this brilliant (if slightly mad) agent to
have made the connection so quickly. What did surprise him,
however, was Mulder's reaction as Scully simply called her partner
by name. The angry agent looked at her, and when she merely stared
back at her, he sighed and fell back into his seat. In a single
word, she had managed to subdue her much larger partner rather
significantly. It was almost as if they had held an entire
conversation in a matter of seconds through eye contact alone.
Norton watched on in amazement, and Skinner quickly jumped in,
knowing even Scully could restrain Mulder for only so long.

"Agent Mulder, Scully will be safe. We will provide a
complete timeline showing where and when each victim was taken, and
we are sure the killer will follow his schedule again. Something
which Agent Norton neglected to mention was that each of the women
was with a husband or significant other. You will be accompanying
her to play that role."

Upon hearing that he could accompany Scully, the lanky agent
calmed down a little. He still, however, was not pleased that she
was to be sent in as bait. Before he could protest, Scully rose
and asked Skinner if she might speak with Mulder in the hall for a
moment. Norton breathed a sigh of relief as the two agents left
the room. The tension level decreased significantly, and he was
definitely glad that he would not be in charge of the operation
once they left Washington.

* * *

Mulder waited until the door was properly closed behind him
until he exploded.

"Scully, are you really going to let them do this to you?!"
He leaned over to argue with her in a whisper, and was not
surprised to once again feel like she was the taller one in their
partnership. She had some magic ability to stare down men twice
her height which was an X File in itself.

"Mulder, what would you have me do about it?" she asked,
quietly and calmly. "This is our job, and it certainly won't be
the first time either of us have put our life in danger for the
people we swore to protect."

He sighed, his argument completely deflated. She was right,
of course. He knew that perfectly well, he just didn't like the
thought of using her like a guinea pig.

"Fine. But," he added, a childish gleam entering his eye.
"Only if I get to play the part of an excited newly wed."

A smile barely showed itself on her lips as she replied, "You
do that, and you'll be limping across the threshold."

Mulder grinned, and as they walked back into the room,
whispered, "Oh Scully, I love it when you talk dirty."

She didn't get a chance to respond but laughed silently.
This was going to be an interesting assignment.

* * *

"Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at seven," Skinner
finished, placing the two tickets before the agents. He noted with
some amusement that Scully picked up both tickets as she shot
Mulder a look saying <no way am I trusting you with these tickets>.
He pouted for a moment, and Skinner knew they would have no trouble
acting as the newlyweds they were supposed to be.

Most Assistant Directors would have been concerned to see
such behavior exhibited by his agents, but to tell the truth
Skinner was kind of rooting for them. As much as he liked to give
both Mulder and Scully a good dressing down when they, well,
Mulder, was being a pain in the ass, he actually liked the agents.

Most of the time.

* * *

"Done," Scully announced triumphantly, hitting a key on her
computer keyboard. She had wanted to get their report from the
last case finished before they left, and had spent the better part
of the day doing so. Mulder looked up from his sorting as the
printer whirred to life in the corner--he'd also decided that
before they left he should put away any "sensitive" material. In
other words, the majority of his desk and it was taking him
forever. Sighing in exasperation, he dropped the remainder of the
pile into a desk drawer and locked it.

"Very efficient, Mulder," Scully commented dryly. She picked
up her report from the printer, and went to drop it off with
Skinner's secretary. While she was gone, he attempted to
straighten out the smaller mess of files left on his desk. A photo
dropped out of one of the files, and he bent over to pick it up.
When he saw what the picture was of, he breathed in harshly.

It was the one of Scully screaming out in terror for him.
When he had come so close to losing her. Again. Jerry had been
about to murder her when he barged in just in the nick of time. He
closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying not to think
about what would have happened if he had arrived a few seconds
later. It wasn't that he took credit for saving her life again.
No, it was that he took the blame for putting her in danger yet
again.

He opened his eyes, and stared at the picture, tracing the
image of outstretched her hand. He didn't know what he would do if
he lost her. He had gone over the edge when she disappeared for
those terrifying few weeks that seemed like an eternity. Her
mysterious reappearance had brought him back, and her recovery had
been his own as well. And then when her cancer tried to take her
from him again. . .He had never felt such joy as when he heard she
was going to be all right.

Mulder sighed and dropped the photo back in the file. <Face
it. You may try and bury it all you like, but you know how
important she is to you. And you know what would happen if you
lost her.> He walked over the to filing cabinet and put the file
away.

"I know," he admitted aloud softly. He also knew that he
could never tell her how much he cared. Of course she knew he
considered her his best friend, but he'd finally admitted to
himself that it went beyond that. He tried to push those feelings
away, to bury them so deep that they weren't there any more. And
it worked for the most part. But then there were moments when he
just wanted to take her in his arms and. . .

"Mulder?"

Her sudden presence startled him, and he jerked his head up,
smashing it on the open drawer above him. He swore, and didn't
need to turn around to know that she was attempting somewhat
unsuccessfully to keep from laughing. With as much dignity as he
could muster, he slammed both drawers shut and turned around. It
was then that he noticed two blue velvet jewelry boxes and an
official looking document in her hands. She saw his interest in
the objects, and set them on her desk. He walked over, and she
passed him the document.

"This is our marriage certificate," she explained, pointing
out the names. "We're William and Katherine Scully." In response
to his unasked question, she continued, "The Bureau wants to make
sure they get the honeymoon discount at the hotel we're staying at,
which means we have to be able to produce a marriage certificate."

He took the certificate from her and studied it silently for
a moment. "Scully?" Mulder asked, his eyebrow raised in an
imitation of her famous gesture. She smiled and replied demurely,
"They needed a name."

He chuckled, "The guys in the lab must be having a field day
over this one."

Scully smiled, "Well, I made sure we weren't married by Elvis
in Las Vegas."

Mock hurt was written on his features as he pouted. "Scully,
would you really deny me my dream wedding?" When she answered
positively, he placed her hand over his heart, "My lady! You wound
me!"

Scully attempted to keep from laughing at him, unable to
prevent her eyes from sparkling in delight. She couldn't deny it--
there was no one else she'd rather pretend to be married to.

<Okay, let's not go there,> she told herself sternly. Still
smiling, she removed her hand from his and picked up one of the
jewelry boxes. Opening it, she couldn't help but gasp--in it was
the most beautiful wedding band and engagement ring she'd ever
seen. She couldn't have picked a better one for herself.

"I guess the Bureau doesn't do things halfway," she murmured.

to be continued. . .

Disclaimor and everything else in part 1
2/9

* * *

Mulder snorted in sarcasm, but refrained from saying
anything. He didn't want to ruin this moment for her. He felt
like she never had these small moments of happiness, and he would
be damned if he would take it away from her. Suddenly, an idea
popped into his head, and he couldn't resist. Taking the box from
her, he grabbed her left hand. She looked at him, apprehension
written on her face. He grinned, and tried to slip the rings on
her finger as she pulled her hand away. After a few moments, she
sighed and allowed him to place the rings on her finger. He did so
and smiled with childish pride.

After a moment of silence, she smiled and chuckled. She
remarked, "Mulder, only you could put rings on backwards. The
wedding ring is supposed to go on first, and then the engagement
ring."

He made a face at her, the somber mood instantly broken.
"Now how was I supposed to know which one went on first?" he
demanded in exasperation. He gently he slide the engagement ring
off and placed the golden wedding band on, then replaced the
engagement ring. Scully opened the other jewelry box, and held his
much larger hands in hers as she slipped his wedding band on.

"Well, if I'd known getting married was this easy, I would
have done it years ago!" Mulder commented dryly. Scully raised an
eyebrow and was about to retort when someone knocked at their door.

"Come in," she called out. Skinner stepped inside, and
glanced at the scene before him with interest--Mulder and Scully
holding hands rather tightly in what looked like an exchange of
vows. Realizing what he was looking at, Scully blushed and let go
of Mulder's hands. She walked over to the AD, and took the papers
he had brought down for them.

"This will be your schedule over the next few days," Skinner
explained as Scully looked at the papers. Mulder came over and
read over her shoulder while Skinner finished his explanation.
"Most of the couples visited all of those places, and we believe
you have the best chance of. . ."

<Being kidnapped and murdered,> Mulder filled in silently.

"Making contact with the suspect if you stick to these
places," Skinner finished after a slight pause.

"Thank you sir," Scully answered after a moment. "Sir, who
will be in charge of the investigation?"

"I will, Agent Scully," Skinner answered. After much debate,
it had been decided that he would fly down to Florida a day later
to lead the investigation. It had basically boiled down to the
fact that no one else wanted to try and work with "Mr. and Mrs.
Spooky," and if that's what it took for Skinner to be in a position
to protect these two agents, then so be it. "I won't be able to
join you until Tuesday. Agent Norton will be in charge of the
investigation until I arrive, but we don't expect any activity
until Friday evening so that will just be a formality."

With that, he bade them good bye and returned to his office.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, and from the tone of voice he was
using Scully knew she was not going to like what he was going to
say.

"Yes Mulder?"

"These places look kind of fancy. Does this mean I'm going
to have to learn how to dance?"

"Yes Mulder."

"Damn."

* * *

"Hi Mom, it's me." Scully had decided she'd better call her
mother while she packed, but was not looking forward to broaching
the subject of Mulder's "position" on this assignment. She knew
her mother had already adopted "Fox" into the family, but never
hesitated to drop a hint about upgrading his status to son-in-law.

"Dana, how are you?" her mother asked warmly. It had been a
while since she'd seen her daughter, and she had decided last week
that she should invite her and Fox over for dinner. Fox always
enjoyed her homemade meals, and it made her happy to see him relax
once in a while.

"I'm fine, Mom," Dana answered automatically. She smiled,
knowing how much she had used that response in the past few months
and how little it meant now. "I'm *really* okay. I just wanted to
say good bye before Mulder and I left for our latest assignment."

Mrs. Scully sighed inwardly--it always seemed like her
daughter was leaving for a new assignment. She was very proud of
Dana, and wanted to encourage her, but sometimes she would like to
force her little girl to take a break once in a while. Her
daughter had always been a hard worker, but since joining the X
Files, it seemed like she spent all her time working.

But she didn't begrudge her daughter's work, nor the man
responsible for Dana's insatiable thirst for the truth. Fox Mulder
had never been anything but caring (if somewhat overprotective)
towards her daughter, and it was obvious to everyone that he would
never do anything to intentionally hurt Dana.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked. "I was hoping I
could have you and Fox over for dinner sometime soon."

She heard her daughter sigh, "*Mulder*, Mom." Margaret
smiled; it had become something of a ritual, her calling Fox by his
given name and Dana reminding her not to use it. But Margaret was
sure that a time would come when Fox would be happy to have both
Scully women call him by his given name.

"Well, I was hoping I could have you two over for dinner
sometime."

"I'd love to," Dana began, hating to have to put this kind
of thing off yet again for the sake of her job. "And I'm sure
Mulder would too, but I just don't know when we'll be back."

Mrs. Scully smiled, "All right, Dana. I'll talk to you when
you get back. Be careful."

"I will," her daughter replied as always.

"I love you," Margaret reminded her.

"I love you too."

The phone went dead, and Mrs. Scully hoped (as she always
did) that she wasn't saying those words to her daughter for the
last time.

* * *

Knock knock.

"You're late, Mulder," Scully scolded as she unlocked the
door for her partner. He shrugged, and she could practically see
the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with some
excuse that had to do with being stopped by aliens. "Save your
excuses for another time," she called as she headed for the bedroom
to get her suitcase. Due to the nature of this assignment, she'd
actually packed a suitcase in addition to her carry-on bag.
Usually, she just grabbed the prepacked carry-on bag she'd started
having with her 24 hours a day since working with Mulder. On this
assignment, however, she'd actually been able to bring clothes
other than business suits. She never minded wearing them, but it
was nice for a change every once in a while.

"Let's go," she declared, returning from the bedroom with
both carry-on and suitcase in hand. Mulder thought about offering
to carry her suitcase, but then realized she was likely to inflict
bodily harm on him if he did. So he simply followed her out to his
car empty-handed.

* * *

The flight down had been surprisingly uneventful, and even
renting the car had not been the hassle it usually was. They
didn't talk much during the drive to the hotel, but it was a
comfortable silence between, not the tense one they had been
experiencing before her miraculous recovery.

Mulder drove down the highway, completely ignoring the
scenery as he thought about everything she'd been put through in
the last couple of years because of him. He glanced over at her,
and was relieved to see her smiling as she watched the palm trees
zoom by. He looked back at the road, vowing that he would do what
he could to make this assignment more of a vacation for her.
<Yeah, until she gets kidnapped by some psychopath> he reminded
himself.

"Mulder, I think this is it," Scully suddenly interrupted his
thoughts. He looked over, and was impressed to see the hotel they
were staying at. Usually the places they stayed at were a little
less classy (okay, a whole hell of a lot less classy) and he was
surprised the Bureau had sprung for this one.

It was a tall building, made mostly of glass and shiny steel.
Flowered gardens decorated the extensive grounds, and a water
fountain of two dolphins was directly in front. He pulled up to
the entrance, and was startled to see two bellboys and a valet
approach. The bellboys took their luggage, and Mulder reluctantly
handed the keys over to the valet.

He and his "wife" walked into the front desk area, and a
young woman came to serve them.

"Hello, welcome to the Starlight Hotel," she greeted them
brightly. "How may I help you?"

Mulder stepped forward, "We have a reservation for the
honeymoon suite under `Scully'."

The clerk typed in the name, and nodded, "Yes. It says here
that you are eligible for the honeymoon discount. If I could see
your marriage certificate, please?"

Mulder turned to Scully, "Honey?" He tried to keep from
laughing as she arched an eyebrow and then got it out of her
briefcase, replying with a smile, "Here, sweetheart."

He handed it to the clerk, who looked at it briefly and then
returned it to him. "You will be in room 1013." She handed them
their keys, and he thanked her. "Have a good stay, sir. Ma'am."

Mulder and Scully then followed the bellboy with their
luggage up to their room. Mulder's hand remained on the small of
her back, until they reached their room. The bellboy unlocked the
door, and then stood back expectantly.

Mulder grinned, and Scully shot him a look, warning him of
the consequences. He knew she would not be pleased, and probably
would not hesitate to shoot him again, but this was simply too good
an opportunity to pass up. Gently, he scooped her up in his arms
and carried her across the threshold.

"Mulder, put me down!" she whispered angrily, attempting to
keep the bellboy from hearing. Her "husband" merely smiled
angelically at her. Blushing furiously as he put her down, she
attempted to smile at the bellboy as she straightened out her suit.
Mulder tipped him, and as soon as he was gone, she turned on
Mulder, ready to attack.

But before she could say a word, he interrupted her.
"Scully, it's tradition. He may have questioned something if I
hadn't done it."

"Mulder, he's a *bellboy*!" she argued, hands on her hips.
"I doubt it would have mattered if he thought we were aliens! He's
in no position to pose a threat to our cover."

But Mulder merely shook his head, "You never know. Remember
`trust no one'?" Before she could respond to that one, he picked
up their luggage and dumped it by the bed. "Ready for dinner, Mrs.
Scully?" he asked, enjoying throwing her off balance. It was so
rare that he got to see this side of "Special Agent Dana Scully,
MD" and he intended to take full advantage of it.

"Where are we going?" she asked resignedly as she walked over
to her luggage. She opened her suitcase and started putting away
her clothes, looking for something suitable to wear.

"The Starlight Cafe," he replied. "It's the hotel restaurant
on the roof. It's supposed to be beautiful, especially at night.
It's open to the sky, so maybe we'll even get to see some little
gray men," he finished with a grin.

He watched as she smiled at his unique humor, and then up a
flower print summer dress out of her suitcase. "What about this?"
she asked, holding it against her body for him to look at. He
honestly replied, "Perfect." She smiled, and he forgot to breath
for a moment. If only she really were his wife. . .

He picked up his own suitcase and started unpacking it as
Scully walked over to the bathroom to change and closed the door
behind her. As he started laying out a suit to wear, she called
out through the bathroom door, "Mulder, you better be wearing a
nice tie."

He looked at the door, then down at the Marvin the Martin and
Star Wars ties he was trying to decide between. <How did she
know?> "Well, what do you define as a `nice tie'?" he asked,
knowing very well what she considered a nice tie, and he had a
feeling that none of the ties he had brought fit that description.

"Never mind," she replied through the door. "Just try and
find one that doesn't have an alien on it."

Mulder looked down at his ties again. "That may be a
problem. . ."

* * *

Scully sipped her drink and leaned back, gazing at the stars
above them. Dinner had been wonderful. At some point in the
evening, Mulder had put his arm around her. She had felt a bit
self-conscious at first--this was, after all, her partner she was
leaning against. Then she decided that they did need to keep up
their cover, and she wasn't going to complain if this was how he
wanted to do it.

Fox Mulder sighed contentedly as his petite partner leaned
against him again. It had been a wonderful evening, and he had
come up with the best way to end it. When she had excused herself
to "freshen up", he had asked the waiter to have the band leader
dedicate a song to her a little later in the evening.

The same waiter came over and now cleared their dessert
dishes. He nodded discreetly to Mulder, and Mulder in turn asked
Scully if she'd like to dance. She looked pleasantly surprised
(probably because she had taken that comment about his not knowing
how to dance seriously), and nodded.

He led her out to the dance floor just as the previous song
was ending. The bandleader paused for a moment to lean into the
microphone and dedicate the next song to "Mrs. Scully from her
husband."

Scully looked at him in surprise as he took her in his arms.
She smiled, but whispered in his ear when he leaned down, "Don't
push it, Mulder." He merely grinned back, and held her tightly.

* * *

It was late by the time they returned to their room. Scully
waited wearily as Mulder unlocked the door and held it open for
her. She went straight to her suitcase and took out her pajamas.
Heading for the bathroom, she changed and got ready for bed. She
emerged to find Mulder lying on the bed and wearing his glasses,
the case file open in front of him. Feeling slightly self
conscious in her silk pajamas (he was wearing an old Knicks shirt
and gym shorts), she went over and sat down on the bed. It was a
huge bed, and when she sat down she sank into the plush comforter.
As she tried to rearrange herself to sit comfortably, he took off
his glasses and began his report.

"Well, we don't have a physical description of this guy, but
we do have a pretty accurate profile to go on," he began, watching
in hidden amusement as his rather small partner attempted to avoid
being swallowed by the bed. She glared at him, and he realized he
better keep going before he got himself in trouble. "He's in a
position to help people, they trust him and don't see any reason to
fight back. He lures the couple away somehow, without physically
harming either one of them. This always occurs on a Friday
evening, and on the following Sunday morning, the woman's body is
discovered in a church sanctuary, usually by the clergyman or
organist. She is physically unharmed, and appears to have died
peacefully. A chemical compound they still haven't been about to
identify is found in her blood, and the only mark on her body is a
small puncture wound in her right shoulder."

He paused for a moment as Scully looked through the pictures
of the women. "All the women are dressed in white robes, and are
wearing a golden cross necklace." His eyes automatically went to
an identical necklace hanging around his partner's neck as her own
hand fingered it.

To be continued. . .

Everything in part 1
3/9

* * *

"Were all the women of the same religion? Or at least very
religious?" she asked, ignoring the worry in his eyes.

He shook his head, "No, three of the were Catholic, one
Jewish, one Baptist, one Muslim, one Congregational and five
nondenominational. Of the twelve, only four of them were described
as attending services regularly by friends." He watched as she
processed that information, then turned her attention to the male
counterparts.

"Where were the men discovered?"

He passed her the pictures of the men, explaining as she
looked them over. "All of them were found in the first pew of the
church where their wife was laid out. They appeared to be in a
deep, drug induced sleep. They all woke up within 4-5 hours later,
with no recollection of what had happened since they had arrived in
Florida." He paused, knowing she would poke holes in his next bit
of information. "All twelve men, however, were sure that his wife
had not suffered, and was in a better place now."

She looked at him, skepticism written on her face. "But you
just said they didn't remember anything after they arrived in
Florida."

"They didn't," he confirmed, enjoying this little game they
played where he laid out the facts, came up with a theory and she
ripped it apart. Then he got to do the same thing. They worked so
well together; her yin to his yang. "But when questioned, each was
very certain that his wife was in heaven, or a version of it, and
that she had not suffered at all before dying. It's interesting to
note, actually, the lack of grief these men felt." Scully put down
the pictures, giving him her undivided attention. "All of these
men had just lost the most important person in their lives," he
continued. "And yet none of them were angry or grief-stricken to
see her dead. They were upset, but none of them reacted typically
for that of a murder victim's family."

Scully looked again at the pictures. She paused before
asking, "Do you think the husbands could be responsible?"

Mulder shook his head--he'd already thought of and eliminated
that one himself. "The details of all the murders are so specific,
and none of them vary at all. Even a copycat murderer couldn't
match each scene so perfectly. And even if he could, do you really
think twelve different men from all over the country would be able
to reenact the exact same murder? Especially when details about
the crime hadn't been released by the police." He watched as she
considered his points, and dismissed the theory.

Scully looked at him, and sighed. She knew what that look in
his eye meant--she was not going to believe his latest wild and
crazy theory. His excitement when they had these debates was so
childlike she almost hated to debunk his hypothesis. But she knew
that it was part of this game they played that he so enjoyed.
<Which you enjoy too,> the annoying same voice added. She wouldn't
deny it, however, she did enjoy this challenging life which always
kept on her toes.

"I suppose you have a theory?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

She was surprised when the smile disappeared from his face,
"Actually, I don't. I hate to admit it, but this one has me
stumped. I can see why Agent Norton wanted to pull his agents off
it--they must have been going crazy with this one."

Yawning, she realized it was late and she was exhausted. She
was about to go back to her hotel room when she realized that this
was her room. The only problem was, it was his room too. She was
about to say something when Mulder beat her to it.

He started clearing the papers off the bed, "Here, Scully.
I'll take the couch." Before she could protest, he added, "I
always sleep on the couch anyway."

Failing to find a feasible argument, she sighed and got into
bed. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a blur. As per orders, they
went sightseeing and visiting all the places on their "itinerary".
They went to Sea World, Universal Studios, several beaches, the
world famous St. Mary's Cathedral, and most of Orlando where Mulder
could have sworn they visited every gift shop imaginable. He had
even convinced Scully to visit Disney World for an afternoon,
rationalizing it by saying that the fourth couple had visited the
Magic Kingdom. They received a message from Skinner on Wednesday
to meet him at the Buena Vista restaurant on Thursday evening,
which was the restaurant which they were now trying to find.

"No, go right here, Mulder," Scully protested as he turned
left. She threw up her hands in resignation--if he wasn't going to
listen to her, then she wasn't going to waste her breath.
Straining to see down the road in front of him, Mulder suddenly
declared deadpan, "Scully, what are you talking about? We should
have turned right back there."

Scully glared at him as he chuckled at his own sardonic
humor, "Skinner is not going to be pleased when we walk in fifteen
minutes late."

Mulder grinned, "Relax, Scully. He called while you were in
the shower to tell us he would be half an hour late. So we have
plenty of time to get lost."

She sighed. "Mulder, why didn't you tell me?" she demanded
as he turned around, heading back in the direction she had
originally told him to go.

He chuckled, "Because I knew if we left when we were supposed
to, then we'd be late. But if you thought we needed to leave half
an hour ahead of time and tried to make sure we did that, then we'd
arrive on time." He stole a glance at her as she sighed again and
looked out the window, a small smile making its way across her
face. It was so nice to see her having fun, even if they were
waiting for a serial killer to kidnap them. They could still
pretend that this was a vacation, at least until tomorrow night.

<Let's not think about that,> he berated himself as he tried
to find the restaurant. He was not going to let anything spoil
their last evening of fun. Even if they were meeting Skinner for
dinner.

* * *

"I'm with the Scully party," Assistant Director Skinner
informed the host, straightening his tie. One of his less
experienced agents had lost "the Scullys" when he was supposed to
be tailing them, and it had taken a while to clear up the
confusion. As a result, he had been a full forty five minutes
later than the original time they had agreed to meet at.

"This way sir," the host gestured, picking up a menu and
leading him through the crowd. After a moment, he could see his
two agents seated at a table by the window. He and the host were
forced to wait a moment while several waiters carried by food, and
he took the opportunity to study them. While he was doing do, he
was astounded when Mulder apparently told a joke. Scully actually
laughed, and Mulder smiled--Skinner didn't think he could ever
remember seeing either of them this relaxed. It was rare when
Scully truly smiled, and Mulder never really smiled; he just
grimaced gracefully. Eventually the caravan of waiters passed, and
he was able to move again. The host laid his menu down, and he
sat, noting with amusement as Scully tried to recover her dignity
whereas Mulder barely reacted to his presence.

"How are you two doing?" he asked, opening his menu. He
noticed Mulder and Scully's meals had already arrived, and decided
he would just have a drink and then leave them alone.

"Fine, sir," Scully answered. "We've visited every site
listed in the victims' itinerary up to this point."

"You wouldn't believe how sick of sightseeing I am, sir,"
Mulder added wryly. Skinner was pleasantly surprised to hear a
back of sarcasm in his voice--for once the agent was genuinely
kidding around and not angry at his superior.

"Good--" Skinner was interrupted as a waiter came to take his
order. After ordering his drink, he paused and then continued.
"From what we know of how this guy works, you should go for a
sunset drive or picnic on an out-of-the way beach or other area.
That activity was pretty much the only common element among the
twelve couples; they had all gone to a secluded area to watch a
sunset on Friday evening. Apparently, that's when they were taken.
The manager of the Starlight Hotel didn't notice they hadn't stayed
in their rooms until questioned by police."

Scully mulled over this information for a moment. Mulder
leaned back in his seat, asking "So what are we supposed to do
tomorrow day, then?"

Skinner shrugged, "Whatever you'd like, as long as you leave
from your hotel in order to watch that sunset. That's another
thing--all the couples had returned to their rooms prior to leaving
for their sunset rendezvous."

Scully nodded. "And I assume we're still being tailed most
of the time?"

"Most of the time?" Skinner asked, impressed they had noticed
the fact that they hadn't been being followed constantly.

"They don't call us Spooky for nothing, sir," Mulder
commented dryly. Scully tried to keep from smiling as Skinner
reacted to Mulder's comment. Finally, the AD just looked back at
Scully.

"Starting tonight, we've put you under 24 hour surveillance.
And Agent Mulder," he added, staring across the table at his
renegade agent. "It would be appreciated if you would refrain from
intentionally losing the agents who are attempting to keep you and
Agent Scully safe."

"Understood, sir," Mulder replied flippantly in imitation of
army style. Skinner simply shook his head and stood.

"I won't be in touch with you again until you need us," he
informed them, knowing they already knew the procedure but he was
unable to resist the urge to run over it again. Things always
seemed to stray from the regulation method with these two, and he
wanted to make sure they weren't planning anything stupid.

Well, really stupid anyway.

"Thank you, sir," Scully replied, she and Mulder standing
respectfully in unison.

He started to walk away, only to turn back when Mulder called
out, "What about your drink sir?"

"Knock yourself out, Agent Mulder," Skinner replied over his
shoulder, only permitting himself a small smile once he was certain
they couldn't see him any more.

After all, he had to keep up his image.

* * *

She's the one. The arch angel. The messiah.

The other twelve, they have served their purpose. The twelve
disciples, awaiting their messenger from God. They are ready to
serve this one, this messiah.

And now I have found her. After all my years of searching,
waiting for the right time to fulfill my Lord God's holy purpose.
It had taken me some time to hear my calling. But when the angel
saved my life, I knew what I was destined to do. I was brought
back for a special purpose. As I came back into this life, I
heard, and understood the will of our Holy Father.

I spent years searching for the right one. I could not make
a mistake. But I should have known my Lord would not allow me to
fail in my quest. He sent me a sign, and I acted. With the first,
I was not sure but I knew better than to doubt the will of our Holy
Father. But as each one made herself known to me, I became more
and more certain that these were in fact the twelve prophets.

And finally, I have seen the messiah. I was told she was to
come to me following the others, but I had barely dared to hope
that she would make herself known to me. I prayed to my Father in
Heaven, and knew that He would bring her to me when it was time.

And it is time.

* * *

Scully stretched and slowly opened her eyes as she lay in her
bed. Glancing at the clock, she was astounded to see it was 10:00
in the morning. Remembering they had been out late last night, she
forgave herself for sleeping in so late. After finishing dinner,
they had scouted several potential sites for their Friday night
rendezvous, finally deciding on a cliff overlooking a small cove.
They had stumbled upon it by accident (Mulder had refused to ask
for directions) and decided it was perfect.

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, "Mulder, why did you let
me sleep in so late?"

"Mulder?" she called again when there was no answer.
Somewhat worried by his disappearance, she reached for her gun on
the nightstand. On top of the gun, however, was a note from Mulder
explaining he had gotten restless and gone jogging, and that he'd
be back soon.

As if on cue, the door lock started to unlock. She was sure
it was Mulder, but years of his paranoia had worn off on her, and
she tightened her grip on her gun. A familiar face appeared around
the door as he called, "It's me, Scully. Don't shoot." Upon
seeing she was awake he added with a smile, "Again."

She was about to apologize for the hundredth time when he
held up a white paper bag and proudly displayed the coffee and
bagels he had gotten for them. Shaking her head in amusement, she
walked as he crossed the room and settled down on the bed with
their breakfast. She reached into the bag, almost afraid to see
what kind of bagel he had brought her.

Discovering up a toasted raisin bagel with cream cheese, she
smiled and thanked him. "I'm impressed. I never thought you were
paying attention all those times we had breakfast together."

His mouth was full of some strange kind of bagel, preventing
him from responding right away. Swallowing, he responded, "Scully,
I always notice what you're eating. Although it usually doesn't do
me any good because it tastes like cardboard."

Scully laughed, "And here I thought you kept me around for my
investigating skills. I'll have to remember to order food more to
your liking in the future."

Mulder smiled, and suddenly stood up from the bed,
unintentionally jostling Scully. She looked at him in annoyance,
but he hadn't noticed. She watched curiously as he ran back to the
jacket he had dropped when he came in. He dug through a few
pockets, and eventually unearthed what he was looking for. Holding
up a white envelope in triumph, he walked back to hand it to her.

She looked at the envelope suspiciously--with Mulder,
anything was possible. He urged her to open it, and she did so.
Slowly she pulled out two tickets. She looked at him for an
explanation, but he gestured for her to read them.

"Tickets to 'Miss Saigon'?" she asked, looking up at him. He
nodded, and she looked at them again. "Mulder, these are for a
one-thirty performance today. How did you ever manage to get
them?"

He was certainly not going to tell her about the cases of
beer he now owed the Lone Gunman in exchange for their small
miracle, so instead he passed it off as "dumb luck."

"Mulder, you don't believe in luck," she responded with a
smile. "And how did you know I wanted to see this?"

"Well, your mom called me a while ago because she wanted to
surprise you with tickets and needed to find out what dates you
could go. I, uh, I had to tell her we would probably be out of
town when the show was playing, and so I wanted to make it up to
you." Realizing he was treading on dangerously sentimental ground
he added, "Besides, Skinner practically gave us the day off. And I
want to see the agents tailing us get into the theater without
raising any questions." He smirked at the thought of it.

"Thank you, Mulder," she replied softly, looking at the
tickets in her hands. Suddenly realizing what time it was, she got
out of bed and started rummaging through her suitcase. "The
theater is a good distance from here, so we'd better start getting
ready if we want to make it on time."

He agreed, and started to pick up the remnants of their
breakfast as she gathered her clothes and toiletries. "Oh,
Mulder?" she called. He looked up from his cleanup, and she softly
added, "You can even wear a tie with aliens if you want."

Mulder smiled as she shut the door--this was well worth the
beer he owed now to his three strange friends.

* * *

"Scully, are you--" Mulder trailed off as his partner stepped
out of the bathroom. There was no need to finish his original
question; she was obviously ready to go. She smiled at him as he
mutely gestured for them to leave. He'd always known she was an
attractive woman but dressed up like this. . .

Scully congratulated herself as they left the room--this
dress was definitely having the effect she'd intended. She's
packed it knowing that she probably wouldn't have anywhere to wear
it but she couldn't force herself to not bring it.

It was deep blue velvet, with spaghetti straps and a slightly
flared skirt which ended right above her knees. It was the kind of
thing you'd wear to the theater or a fancy restaurant, and even
though she didn't usually frequent those places, when she'd tried
it on in the store she couldn't resist buying it.

As her handsome partner accompanied her down the corridor
(with a somewhat acceptable Marvin the Martian tie on), she was
definitely glad she had brought it. She knew it was cruel to keep
setting herself up like this, but there were times when she wished
Mulder could see past his partner Scully and see Dana. She knew he
couldn't, and she wasn't about to encourage him to jeopardize their
jobs or their friendship in order to do so.

But the look on her face when she had made her entrance her
made her wonder just what he was seeing now.

To continued . . .

Everything in part 1
4/9

* * *

They arrived at the theater in plenty of time, and decided to
look around the lobby for a few minutes before taking their seats.
Neither agents noticed how easily they fell into their newlywed
roles--Mulder with his arm around her waist, the way Scully
instinctively leaned into him. She laughed at his good jokes and
rolled her eyes at his bad ones. He listened to her comments on
the displays, and made fun of her impressive knowledge of Broadway.

As they were about to go find their seats, Mulder noticed a
small line gathering at the ticket booth in front. "Scully, look,"
he whispered.

She turned around, and bit her lip to keep from laughing as
she recognized the pair of agents as one of several who had been
following them for the past week. They had obviously not expected
Mulder's activity for the day, and now were trying to get into a
soldout show to follow their "charges".

"Think we should help them?" she asked, only somewhat
seriously. He shook his head, "Nah. This can be a little lesson
for them in dealing with the unexpected." She laughed, and he
smiled, "Come on, let's go get our seats."

They gave their tickets to the usher, leaving the struggling
agents to fend for themselves.

* * *

She's here. I should have known I was sent here for a
reason. She looked right at me, but didn't seem to recognize me.
I wonder if she will recognize me when the time comes.

I stood and watched her with her husband. There is something
special about them. Their difference in height would seem comical
were it anyone else, but somehow it seems perfect for them. He
never hesitated to bend down to whisper in her ear or listen to
her. She always looked up at him to listen or comment, her eyes
sparkling in the delight.

There is something between this man and women which
transcends anything I have ever seen. Even with the others. I
know each loved her husband, and he loved her, but it was
different. The relationship between these two goes beyond that.
They seem to complete each other.

My Lord, dare I destroy something which You Yourself must
have created? Only from You could have sprung so perfect a love.
I will do as You wish, but I hesitate to take them from each other.
Merciful Father, is it Your wish for me to bring her to You while
he remains to mourn?

But what He giveth, He taketh away.

* * *

By the time "the Scullys" started back to the hotel, it was
getting late. After the show, Mulder had patiently waited with
Scully to get the autographs of the leads. She had enjoyed the
show very much, and he had been startled to see tears in her eyes
at the end of the show. At first he had been surprised to see a
Broadway musical bring tears to her eyes, but then realized it
wasn't the show itself that was making her cry; it was everything
it represented. He squeezed her hand lightly, and she smiled at
him gratefully.

It had actually been his idea for her to get her program
signed--he had been joking about how much their autographs must be
worth, and then suggested she get her's signed. She hadn't wanted
to waste time waiting in line, but he insisted. When he saw how
happy she was after she was able to talk to the actors for a moment
and get her program autographed, he made a promise to himself to
start encouraging her to do these things more often. After all, if
she went with him on his crazy alien hunts, why couldn't he go with
her to see a musical or two?

On the ride home, he turned on the radio. It was playing
some kind of "light music" which Scully seemed to like, and they
both sang along to the songs they knew. Before long they were back
at the hotel, and it was time to start getting ready for their
sunset picnic. An uneasy silence settled in their hotel room--both
of them knew that this was going to be dangerous. They went about
getting ready without speaking, each thinking about what could
happen.

Finally, the room service they had ordered to take with them
had arrived. Mulder inspected it, and carefully hid their guns in
the hotel-provided picnic basket. He sat on the bed, staring at it
for a moment. He didn't want to think about what lay ahead of
them, but knew he should.

"Ready to go?" Scully asked brightly, breaking him out of his
reverie. She smiled, but he could see she was feeling the same
apprehension he was.

He nodded and stood, taking the picnic basket with him.
Extending his hand to her, Scully smiled as she took his arm.

Whatever they were about to face, they were going to do it
together.

* * *

"What do you mean, you lost them?!" Assistant Director
Walter Skinner thundered into the phone. He ripped his glasses off
with his free hand, and massaged his tired eyes.

"Well, sir--" Agent Jefferies's meek voice tried to explain
over the phone to his rather angry superior.

"I don't care how you managed to be so incompetent," Skinner
interrupted harshly. "I want you to find them now! I'm sending
Agents Norton and Henry to aid and then relieve you. You better
find them soon," he warned. "Or there will be hell to pay."

"Yes sir," Jefferies replied meekly.

His only answer was the abrupt sound of the phone being
slammed into its cradle.

Whipping around angrily, Skinner ordered Norton and Henry
out, then sat down in his chair heavily. It was almost sunset, and
Mulder and Scully were no where to be seen. He knew that Mulder
had somehow intentionally lost their tails, but Skinner also knew
that even Mulder wouldn't't be stupid enough to want to permanently
shake them.

<He probably just wanted to have some fun,> Skinner thought,
shaking his head. <He probably intended to lose them for the
afternoon, and have them be waiting at the hotel for their
departure. But he didn't count on the idiocy of Agent Jefferies
and his partner.>

Skinner hoped that mistake didn't cost Mulder his and
Scully's lives.

* * *

Mulder glanced over at Scully as they approached the turnoff
to their picnic site. She was sitting with the basket in her lap,
holding the handle with both hands and staring out the window. He
wanted to say something to break the uncomfortable silence, but
didn't know what to say. Frustrated, he flipped on the radio. It
was on the same station they had listened to before, but the radio
signal was weak and they could only hear bits and pieces of the
song. He ended up just turning it off again.

A few moments later, they arrived. Without speaking a word,
they got out of the car and grabbed their stuff--Mulder took the
blanket and Scully carried the basket. They walked a little ways
out on the cliff till they were nearly on the edge of it. Mulder
spread out the blanket, and they sat down. Scully started taking
the food out of the basket, being careful to keep their guns
accessible but hidden from sight. She handed the various dishes to
Mulder, who spread them out on the blanket.

They had ordered a good amount of food, but neither of them
was very hungry. They both sat silently, staring at the ground.
Scully started playing with the cross at her throat. Finally
Mulder couldn't take the silence any longer, and grabbed the bottle
of sparkling cider.

"Champagne?" he asked, attempting a grin. She nodded even
though she knew it wasn't really champagne, and took out the
champagne flutes. She watched in melancholy amusement as he
struggled to get the bottle open. When he appeared to be ready to
just throw it over the cliff, she reached out for it. He handed it
to her, and watched in amazement as she effortlessly opened it
without spilling a drop.

"I loosened it for you," he grumbled good-naturedly, taking
the glass she handed to him.

"Sure you did," she agreed with a smile. She paused, and he
waited for her to make a toast. "To life," she declared, raising
her glass.

"To life," he echoed, gently clinking her glass with his.
They each took a sip, and the silence descended again. "Scully,"
he began seriously.

"Hello there!" a voice interrupted him. They both turned to
see a young man in his late twenties jogging toward them. Mulder
silently cursed and thanked the man--he had no idea what he had
been about to say, but had the feeling it was something important.

"Hello," Scully called back as the man came closer.

"Forgive me for interrupting," the man apologized. He had
sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and the body of a surfer. "It's just
that I don't get many visitors around here. . ." he trailed off,
looking at Scully. "Doctor Scully?"

She looked at Mulder, then back at the man again. "I'm sorry.
Do I know you?" she asked politely.

The man grinned, nodding his head. "You saved my life about
nine years ago. I overdosed on cocaine, and you were able to bring
me back."

Scully smiled--now she remembered the young man. He
certainly looked different than he had when he had come into the
hospital. The handsome athletic man before her now looked nothing
like the sickly teenager with a pierced nose and green hair who had
come into the ER unconscious from a drug overdose. "Right, Jacen.
. ." she paused, trying to remember his last name. "Jacen
Reirden," she recalled finally.

Jacen grinned, "Yeah. I don't know if I ever thanked you
enough for what you did for me, Dr. Scully. Thanks to you, I was
able to completely turn my life around."

Scully looked him up and down with a smile, "I can see that."

Jacen suddenly looked at Mulder and then back at her. "Am I
interrupting your picnic? I'm sorry!"

Scully realized she should introduce Jacen to her partner.
Well, she did have to keep up their cover. "Jacen, I'd like you to
meet my husband, William Scully," she introduced smoothly. One
look at Mulder's face made her want to burst out laughing, but
somehow she managed to keep from cracking up.

"Nice to meet you, Jacen," Mulder greeted wryly, extending
his hand. As much as he didn't mind being Scully's husband, they'd
have to talk about this "Mr. Scully" stuff later.

"You got him to take your name, Doc?" Jacen asked, looking at
Scully as he shook Mulder's hand. "I'm impressed."

Scully smiled sweetly, "Well, it took a little work but he
came around." She ignored the glare Mulder threw her way.

"How long have you two been married?" Jacen asked, settling
down on the grass next to them. Mulder sighed inaudibly as Scully
answered, "Actually, we were married in June, but were only able to
get away on our honeymoon now."

Jacen looked surprised and embarrassed, "I'm sorry! You're
probably trying to have a romantic picnic, and here I am intruding
on you like this." He glanced up at the sky, then added, "Although
I don't think you'll be able to have much of a picnic before it
starts pouring."

Startled, Mulder and Scully looked up at the sky. Dark
clouds hung threateningly overhead, ready to open up any second.
Mulder swore under his breath--this night was just getting better
and better.

"Why don't you two come back to my house for a little while?"
Jacen suggested. "I'll help you pack up your stuff, and then you
could come over for a cup of coffee."

The "Scullys" looked at each other, about to protest when
Jacen broke in, "Please? I'd really like to hear what you've been
up to since I last saw you, and I'll show you some of the changes
I've made since then. Doctor Scully, you saved my life. Please let
me do this for you and your husband. It's really the least I can
do."

Mulder sighed as Scully replied, "Sure Jacen. Why don't you
go on ahead, and we'll just pack this stuff up and take the car to
your house."

"Sounds good," he answered with a grin. Standing, he brushed
the dirt off his jeans and pointed to a house in the distance.
"That's my place. See you in a few minutes?"

Scully forced a smile, "Sure Jacen. See you then." Mulder
came up behind her as they watched in walk away. As soon as he was
out of earshot, she turned to Mulder and took a sip of her
sparkling cider. The silence descended again.

"Mulder?" she questioned after a moment, studying his face as
he watched Jacen's distant retreating figure. He sighed as he
looked back at her.

"Do you really think the rain is going to keep him away?"

Scully smiled inwardly--it was so typical of him to be
thinking about their case, even when most people would pushed it
aside. But she already knew that Mulder was definitely not "most
people". She thought for a moment as she knelt down to pack their
picnic away. He began to help her, pausing as she answered
logically, "Well, the sunset can't even be seen now, and that could
be a crucial part of his pattern. Not to mention, don't you think
he would have been here by now? And if he saw us with Jacen, then
that could also have scared him off."

His shoulder slumped, and he resumed packing up. Something
was bothering him about this whole thing, but he just couldn't put
his finger on it. Scully's explanations made perfect sense, but
there was something about this guy made him think otherwise.

But as much as he didn't want to go to Jacen's, it would be
nice for Scully to get away from work for a little while, even if
it just was talking about med school with some guy whose life she
saved years ago.

Together they trudged back to the car, and he took one final
look around before getting in. Various things may have prevented
the killer from taking him and Scully, but Mulder had no doubt that
he would claim another victim before the night was out.

* * *

"So we met five years ago through a mutual friend, and
started dating soon after. Last June we got married, but your work
as a psychologist and mine as an emergency room pediatrician made
it impossible to go on our honeymoon until now." Scully glanced at
her partner as they drove down the long driveway to Jacen's house.
"Are you listening to me?"

"Of course," he replied, never taking his eyes off the road.
"We met the day before yesterday in a Las Vegas bar where you were
working as an exotic dancer, and fell madly in love at first sight.
When I hit it big in the casinos yesterday, we got eloped to
Graceland and were married in the Blue Suade Shoes Chapel, then flew
down here last night."

He glanced over, a small grin on his lips as he saw her
trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
He loved it when he made her laugh like that--even if she didn't
laugh out loud, he knew his unique sense of humor brightened up her
day.

Well, most of the time anyway.

In between developing a cover story, she'd filled in Mulder
with what little she knew of Jacen. He had stuck in her mind all
these years because he had come into the ER the second week of her
rotation, and it had been the first real life/death situation she
had worked on.

To be continued. . .

All technical stuff in part 1
5/9

* * *

As they reached the bottom of the porch stairs, the sky above
them suddenly opened up, sending torrents of rain pouring down on
them. They quickly ascended the stairs, and as if on cue Jacen
opened the door for them.

"Perfect timing," Jacen commented, staring at Scully for a
brief moment. He quickly broke out of his reverie, and ushered
them into his living room, leaving to get them some coffee. Scully
sat on the couch, watching Mulder as he stared out the window
overlooking the cliff.

"What wrong?" she asked quietly after a moment.

He turned back to face her with his hands on his hips, his
figure silhouetted by the dark clouds lurking beyond the glass. "I
don't know. Something just doesn't feel right."

"Mulder, I know you're upset he didn't show, but we will get
him," she offered as consolation. His response was cut short by
Jacen's return with two steaming cups of coffee and one cup of tea.

"You don't drink coffee?" Scully asked as he handed them
their coffee, trying to keep the conversation away from her and
Mulder as long as possible.

"No, I can't stand it personally," he answered, then
explaining with a smile, "But the people I counsel usually crave
it."

"Who do you counsel?" Mulder asked, sipping his coffee. "Are
you a psychologist?"

Jacen shook his head, "No, actually I'm a clergyman."

"Really?" Scully inquired, her interest piqued. "What
denomination."

"Roman Catholic," he answered. He paused for a moment,
staring into his tea. "Actually, it was when you saved my life
that I realized my calling."

Scully reacted in surprise, sipping her coffee again in an
attempt to cover her reaction. The coffee was a bit stronger than
she usually liked it, but there was a unique flavor which she quite
enjoyed. "And how is that?"

"When I regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was
your cross," he explained, gesturing to the golden chain around her
neck with a hint of embarrassment. "That's when I knew I has been
brought back for a purpose."

She fingered the gold cross handing at her throat, exchanging
a look with Mulder.

"Well, that's a pretty profound experience, there Jacen,"
Mulder commented with underlying sarcasm only Scully picked up on.
She shot him a glare, but Jacen didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, it was. It completely changed my whole perspective on
life. I got cleaned up, and managed to get to where I am today,"
he finished proudly. He then looked from Mulder to Scully, "So, do
I get to hear about you two now? How'd you meet?"

Mulder opened his mouth, and Scully quickly prayed that he
wouldn't make the story too extravagant. To her utter amazement
(and pleasure), he retold the story she had fabricated in the car
on the brief ride over. She leaned back and listened to him,
impressed with the details he added on the spot to make it sound
more realistic. She paid attention as she drank her coffee, trying
to memorize them in case she needed to recall anything later.

After all, what kind of wife was she if she couldn't remember
their anniversary?

* * *

An hour and a half and two cups of coffee later, Scully
decided it was time for them to leave. She and Mulder had spent
the last half hour describing their "wedding". It was amazing the
way she and Mulder had been able to create the same wedding without
any preparation beforehand. Although she hated lying to Jacen, she
knew they couldn't tell him the truth. And if she was truthful to
herself, she really didn't mind fabricating a wedding to Mulder.
They were so in synch with their ideas, it was almost as if it had
really happened.

She covered a yawn, surprised she was so tired, especially
after sleeping in late that morning. "Jacen, I'm afraid we really
must be going now."

"Of course," he replied courteously, looking at his watch.
"I didn't realize how late it had gotten."

He stood, as did she. Or tried to. It was difficult for her
to stand up, she was so exhausted. But then she looked at Mulder,
noting his lethargic movements as well. <Something's wrong.> she
thought. She tried to take a step towards Mulder, only to find her
legs unresponsive. She looked at him in alarm, dismayed to see the
same surprise registering in his eyes. "Jacen, what you are
doing?" she tried unsuccessfully to force past her lips. <The
coffee. He drugged the coffee.> she slowly realized, her thinking
process dulled by whatever he had drugged them with. <He's the
killer.>

Her mind dimly registered the sound of glass shattering, and
some part of her mind realized that she had dropped her coffee mug.
There was also a dull thud, the sound of a body hitting the ground.
. . <MULDER!> her mind screamed when her voice couldn't.
Struggling against the darkness which threatened to engulf her, she
saw Jacen's anxious face appear in her limited field of vision.
His voice was the only thing in her world as her legs turned to
jelly and she fell to the floor.

"Dana, I'm sorry. But this is how it has to be. This is the
only way. I'm sorry."

Scully surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon, and still no word from the
"Scullys". Walter Skinner paced the length of his makeshift
office, waiting for word of Mulder and Scully. It had been over
twenty hours since they had had any visual contact, and he was
getting a very bad feeling. He hadn't slept all night, hoping to
get a call from one of the two agents, reporting on their arrest of
the killer.

He'd added every agent he had to the search, and pulled a few
strings to get more put on the manhunt. Jefferies and his partner
were out there, but only because Skinner couldn't afford to pull
two people off, even if it were their fault to begin with.

The phone rang shrilly, and he grabbed it before it finished
ringing. "Skinner."

"Sir, I'm sorry." Agent Norton greeted him the same way as he
had every hour since the yesterday at two o'clock. "There's been
no sign of them, and their car is still missing. The local police
have been alerted and are on the look out, but they haven't seen
anything suspicious in the last twenty four hours."

Skinner sighed, "Thank you, Agent Norton."

"Sir, we will find them."

"Of course we will," Skinner replied. <It's just a matter of
if they've still got a pulse by the time we do.> "Keep up the
search."

"Yes sir."

A bleak dial tone filled his ear, and he angrily slammed the
phone down. "Dammit Mulder," he cursed aloud in the empty office.
"For once in your life, can't you play by the rules?"

* * *

She was floating. No, actually she was resting on a white
cloud. She felt warm, and safe. Someone was with her; he was
calling her name and holding her hand.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Looking around her, Scully was
surprised to find herself lying down on a bed. Mulder was sitting
on the bed beside her, and relief spread across his features as she
tried to sit up.

"What happened?" she asked, still groggy.

"Jacen put something in our coffee," Mulder reminded her. "I
woke up about an hour ago. I only had one cup, and I guess because
I didn't drink as much of it as you did, it didn't affect me as
much. I told you that stuff was bad for you," he kidded gently.

She leaned back against the wall the bed was next to, taking
her first good look around the room. It was pretty small, and the
only other thing in the room was a blanket spread out over the
thick carpeting. Everything in the room was white, except the
blanket with what was left of their picnic dinner spread out on it.

"Do you know how long we've been out?" Scully asked.

Mulder nodded. "It's four o'clock now. He didn't take
anything from us," he explained, pointing to his watch. Looking
at her own wrist, she realized she still had hers on as well.

"Mulder, did he bring in everything from the picnic basket?"
she suddenly inquired.

"I think so," he answered, curious as to why she was so
excited about the food. She got off the bed, and swayed slightly
on her feet. He steadied her, and she started looking through the
cartons on the blanket.

"I was just wondering if he left our guns in here," she
explained quietly. He joined her on the floor and started looking
through the various dishes. After a few minutes, she shook her
head, "They're not here." She sat back on her heels. "Have you
seen him yet?"

Mulder shook his head. He heard a noise behind him, and got
to his feet as he realized it was the door opening.

"Mr. Scully, please stand behind your wife," Jacen's voice
ordered from behind the door. "I have your weapon, please do not
make me use it."

Reluctantly he backed up until he was standing behind Scully.
Frustrated, he put his hands on his hips and waited for Jacen to
show himself. Scully stood up, and he noted with detached
amusement how she positioned herself as a barrier between him and
the door.

Slowly, a figure emerged from behind the door, Mulder's gun
in hand. Jacen looked at both of them, focusing on Scully. "Dana,
I'm glad your awake. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she answered curtly.

"No thanks to you," Mulder muttered loudly. Jacen glared at
him, and Scully elbowed him in the ribs none too gently.

"I'm sorry. But it had to be done."

"Jacen, put the gun down," Scully advised him gently. "I
know you don't want to hurt us. Please, just put the gun down."

"No," he answered calmly. "You're right, I don't want to
hurt you. But I will, if I have to. Your husband, I'm afraid, is
more expendable than you. I don't want to shoot him, but I will."

"Jacen," Scully continued in her non-threatening tone. "He
is not my husband. We're FBI special agents. After medical
school, I joined the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This man is
Fox Mulder, my partner but nothing more."

<Ouch.> Mulder thought absurdly.

"What are you talking about?" Jacen asked, confused. This
was not the way it was supposed to be. "He must be your husband.
What about everything you told me? About how you met and fell in
love and got married?"

"Jacen, I did meet Mulder five years ago," she continued
softly, her hand outstretched, "except I was assigned to work with
him. We didn't meet at a party through a friend. What we told you
was a story. It didn't really happen. Mulder and I are not
married."

"You lied," Jacen realized, shocked. "You can't lie." <She
can't lie. She's the angel, the chosen one. She can't lie!> He
started to panic, but then his common sense kicked it, <But that
doesn't matter. The Lord would not have told you falsely. She is
still the one. > "Well, it doesn't matter. I still must do what I
have been chosen to do."

Mulder jumped in, hoping his years at Oxford would be of some
help, "Exactly what have you been chosen to do, Jacen? Why did you
kill those women?"

Jacen looked at him, and the detached look in his eyes scared
Mulder. It reminded him of the look in eyes of the leader of the
Heaven's Gate cult. "I did what my Lord told me to do. To bring
home his twelve disciples, and the messiah. I have brought him his
disciples, and now I will give him the messiah." He looked at
Scully, and Mulder's stomach knotted up. He felt her flinch in
front of him as Jacen's words sunk in.

Scully inhaled harshly. "Jacen, listen to me. I am not the
messiah--"

But Jacen wasn't listening. He stared at her, "Dana, I'm
sorry." Slowly, he held his left hand up. In it he was holding a
sheer white dress, almost identical to the ones the other victims
had worn, except that this one had elaborate gold embroidery
decorating the neckline and sleeves. Mulder took a step forward
despite Scully's attempt to stop him, freezing as Jacen aimed the
gun at him.

"Mr. Mulder, please do not make me shoot you. I despise
violence, but I will do what I have to achieve my purpose." His
voice was even, leaving no doubt in their minds that he would carry
out his threat if needed. Slowly he laid the dress on the floor,
watching both Mulder and Scully very carefully. "Dana, please
change into this dress while I'm gone. There is a basin in the
corner for you to cleanse your face and hands with." His gaze
shifted for a moment, then returned to her face, pleading her to
understand. "I am not a cruel man. I brought the man I thought
was your husband with you, so you could say good bye. Even if he
is not your husband, I can see you are important to each other.
Please, take the time I have given you to make your peace with each
other."

"I won't let you do this," Mulder threatened.

Jacen smiled sadly, "I'm afraid you don't have a choice. If
you prevent her from preparing herself for her journey, I will
shoot you. And if she refuses, then I will cleanse and dress her
myself. Do you understand?"

Mulder nodded tersely, his entire body stiff with rage. When
he remained silent, Jacen stared at Scully, "You have one hour.
Please, use it for the reasons I intended." With that, he slowly
backed out of the room, and closed the door behind him. The lock
clicked ominously behind him.

* * *

"Mulder, stop that!" Scully snapped as he paced around the
cramped room. She was sitting on the bed, playing with the white
dress. They'd spent the last half an hour trying to come up with
an escape strategy, and he'd spent most of the pacing. He stopped
momentarily, then resumed it. She sighed--it was the fourth time
she'd asked him to stop. He wasn't doing it to annoy her, he just
needed to get rid of his energy.

They'd been discussing various escape plans, and they'd both
searched the room from floor to ceiling for a way out. Mulder had
bruised his shoulder trying to ram the door a few times, until
Scully ordered him to stop. She had attempted to open the lock
with her earring, but hadn't been successful.

"I'm going to put on the dress," she told him quietly, making
him freeze in his tracks.

"Scully, no," he protested, kneeling beside the bed. "That
would be giving in to him. We can't do that."

"I'm not," she promised. "We're not. I'm just going to
change and do what he asked. He could be watching us, and we want
him to think that we're cooperating. Maybe it's buy us some time."

Mulder watched as she got up from the bed without the gown,
remembering Jacen had wanted her to "cleanse" herself. Silently,
he looked on as she meticulously washed her face, neck and hands.
He sat on the bed, sighing in frustration. Glancing himself over,
he realized with a small, sardonic smile that he certainly didn't
look the part of a federal agent at the moment--his usual suit had
been replaced by more comfortable vacationing clothes, and
his sneakers weren't exactly FBI standard issue. His gaze then
settled on the golden band resting comfortably on his left ring
finger.

To be continued. . .

All legal stuff in part 1
6/9

* * *

In the back of his mind, he had always hoped he'd get married
someday. It had one of those things he'd never really thought
about but always assumed he would do. But soon after joining the
FBI, he had realized that his lifestyle left little time to find a
wife. So he'd settled for having an attractive, intelligent and
witty partner and best friend And he was pretty happy about his
choice.

Except for the times when her life was put in danger. Even
if it wasn't his fault directly this time, he was the one who had
wanted to shake the agents tailing them. If he hadn't lost them,
then they probably wouldn't still be in this room. Or he'd at
least know that someone else knew where they were. <They were
there for a reason,> he chided himself. <You *are* trying to catch
a serial killer.> He hadn't put much effort into losing the
agents, but it worked anyway.

And now she was in danger again, and there was nothing he
could do about it.

* * *

She washed her face carefully, trying to concentrate on the
task rather than think about her fate. She hadn't been lying to
Mulder about buying them time, but she knew also knew that she
couldn't lie to herself. The house they were in (probably still
in, anyway) was secluded and no one would think to look for them
there. She and Mulder wouldn't have even discovered it if he
hadn't been too stubborn to ask for directions.

She checked her watch--fifteen minutes. Picking up a towel,
she dried of her face slowly. She knew she needed to talk with
Mulder, but he would never listen to her. He would hold out
against all hope. Believe the impossible. She smiled sadly to
herself; that's what had fueled his quest for the truth all these
years. Belief in the impossible. She wanted to believe. In him,
and in them. But she also had to face that if this was it, then
she needed to say goodbye to him.

She looked over at him sitting on the bed. He was staring at
his hands. His left hand. She glanced down at her own left hand,
fingering the rings she had almost stopped believing she'd wear
someday. Marriage had always been something she'd assumed would
happen naturally. As a career oriented woman, she hadn't had time
to wait for a man to come along. She had always thought that
someday she'd just meet the right guy, and eventually they'd settle
down.

Obviously that was before Special Agent Fox Mulder of the X-
Files entered the picture. He had sent her controlled world in a
tailspin, tossing everything she'd previously believed out the
window. His quest had become their quest. On it, she'd seen more
than she had ever thought possible, and tested herself to the
breaking point. She'd survived and become stronger because of it.

As had her relationship with Mulder. Over the past five
years, they'd been to hell and back together. They'd survived
mutants, alien retroviruses, shapeshifters, government
conspiracies, the loss of family members, Russian experiments, and
her cancer. And through it all, she and Mulder had had each other.
Even if they hadn't been physically together, each knew that the
other was out there, looking for them.

And ultimately, they were all each other had. Here and now,
they were literally all each other had. She knew she had to talk
with him, because in a few minutes. . .

Ten minutes.

She got up and walked over to him on the bed. Sitting down,
she prepared herself for what she had to say to him.

"Mulder. . ." she paused, taking his hand. She hated to do
this to him, to herself, but it had to be done. "We have to
acknowledge that there's nothing else we can do we this point," she
stated, knowing he wouldn't listen to her but she still had to
acknowledge the possibility for both of them. "This is it."

"No," he exclaimed, his eyes flashing in anger. "Scully,
Skinner's out there, searching for us. We can't give up. He's
probably got the building surrounded as we speak."

"Mulder, you know if that were true, we would have heard
something," she replied softly. She looked around the room, "And
we wouldn't still be in here."

He stood up angrily, turning away from her. His voice rose
in volume as he turned back to face her. "Scully, we've been
through too much to let some simple psychopath kill us! This isn't
how it will end."

"No, Mulder, this isn't how it's going to end," she agreed,
fingering the white fabric. "I don't want to die. We are going to
fight him until the end. We are not giving up. We will see this
through together."

He sighed in relief. He'd known she wouldn't give up, but it
was a weight off his chest to hear her said it aloud.

"But if I don't. . ." she paused, then continued, her voice
strong and calm. "If I don't, I want you to promise me that you
are still going to continue our work after I'm gone."

"Scully--"

"Mulder, listen to me," she interrupted firmly. She stood
up, and locked eyes with him. "You are going to continue our
search for the truth," her voice faltered and she looked down at
her hands, "My truth. There's so much left for us to uncover, so
many conspiracies to expose," she tried to joke, her humor falling
flat.

"Scully, I can't--" he protested weakly.

She shook her head, "Yes, you can. And you will. And if you
don't, I'll come back and haunt you," she threatened good-
naturedly.

He smiled and softly teased, "I thought you didn't believe in
that stuff, Agent Scully." He looked down at her for a moment, and
then hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't," she replied with a sad smile, resting her head on
his chest, arms around his waist. She stayed there for a moment,
savoring the warmth of his arms. Reluctantly, she pulled herself
out of his embrace. "How long?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"About six minutes," he answered, his voice catching with
emotion. Silently, he turned away and walked to the furthest wall.
He stood facing the wall, offering her privacy to change in.
Without words she thanked him, and began to change.

* *

Mulder stared at the wall, studying the microscopic crevices
in it. He wanted to just refuse to say goodbye to her, because if
he did, it would be like giving up on both of them. But he knew
that if she didn't. . .and he didn't say goodbye then he'd hate
himself for the rest of his probably very short life. Dammit,
they'd survived worse than this! They'd even survived her cancer.
It just. . .they couldn't end like this.

They wouldn't end like this.

He heard her toss her clothing on the bed, and clear her
throat, giving him permission to turn around. He did so, an idea
suddenly entering his head.

"Scully," he began, crossing the small room quickly to where
she stood. "He'll probably tell me to get behind you again when he
comes in. But there's now way for him to tell if I'm there or not
without sticking his head out. I'll hide behind the door, and when
he does, I'll grab the gun."

Scully shook her head, "No Mulder. Didn't you see the mirror
just outside the hall when he came in last time? He could see
exactly where you were."

He thought back, his eidetic memory replaying the scene
perfectly. "Damn," he cursed softly. He looked at her in the
white dress, throwing out the wild card he'd been thinking about.
"What if when he comes in, you head for cover and I charge him?"

He cringed inwardly before she even started speaking, her
eyes flashing. "No! You heard him--he won't hesitate to shoot
you. It should be me, he's already said that he needs me."

"No," he replied equally as forcefully. "Scully, I'm not
going to let you do that."

"Well, *I'm* not going to let *you* do that," she returned
firmly. He sighed--they weren't getting anywhere.

The door handle started to turn.

* * *

Scully stared at him for a moment before turning around. She
hoped to God that he wouldn't try something stupidly heroic to save
her life like he usually did. She took a deep breath, turning
around slowly. The door opened a quarter of an inch, and Jacen's
voice ordered them to stay where they were, with Mulder behind her.

Jacen slowly inched his way into the room, marveling at the
unified front these two individuals presented before him. Dana
stood in front of Mulder, much shorter but still with the presence
of natural-born authority. They were close enough to be touching,
almost as if each took strength from the other's physical
proximity.

"Dana, are you ready?" he asked softly. He noticed how
tightly Mulder was coiled, almost as if ready to spring on him. "I
am not taking her anywhere, Mr. Mulder. She will remain her with
you. I advise you stay where you are," he warned, his gun steadily
pointed at the tall figure. "Before I was reborn, I was a very
dangerous man. Barely out of boyhood, and I already was an expert
marksman."

Scully noted that he was right--when most people held a gun,
they had to hold it with both hand, and their hands shook at least
somewhat, but his hand one was perfectly steady. She was sure he
would have no trouble hitting his target. She was almost tempted
to charge him herself, but that would kind of defeat the whole
purpose of escaping with both their lives. Not to mention Mulder
would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

"Dana?" he pressed gently. She stared at him defiantly, and
he knew that was the only answer he would get from her. "As soon
as I leave, a gas will start to fill this room," he told them, not
unkindly. "You will not be able to see or smell it, and you will
not feel any pain, but it will make you feel very tired. You'll
fall asleep one to three minutes later. I suggest you lie down on
the bed, it's much more comfortable than collapsing on the floor."

"And then you come back to murder her," Mulder snarled
angrily.

Jacen shook his head, "She'll be in a better place, Mr.
Mulder. I assure you, she will feel no pain. The injection I will
give her will make simply be as if she went to sleep and never woke
up."

"And if we don't let you leave?" Mulder demanded
threateningly.

Jacen didn't react. "The gas release is on a timer, and I
have already ingested the antidote. Whether or not I leave this
room does not matter."

"What about Mulder?" Scully interjected, breaking the
palatable tension between the two men as they stared at each other.
Jacen looked at her in surprise as she continued. "What will
happen to him?"

"He will be made to forget everything that has happened her,"
Jacen answered.

"No," Mulder declared softly and dangerously. It was a tone
of voice that Scully had come to hate, the one he only used when
his back was up against the wall and he knew he had nothing left to
lose. "I refuse to lose the past week. I have lost too much time
already."

Scully could tell without looking that he was thinking about
the others times when he lost time: when Samantha was abducted,
when he was made to forget what he had seen at the Ellens Air Base
and far too many other occasions. To Mulder, there was almost
nothing more terrifying than not being able to remember.

Jacen looked at him sympathetically. "Mr. Mulder, I am
sorry. But I cannot allow you to remember what has taken place
here. There is too much at stake for that." He paused, carefully
considering his options. "If you would like, I will allow you to
remember everything up until the evening you took a picnic with
your `wife.' " When Mulder didn't answer, he added, "It is more
than I allowed those before you to remember."

"Forgive me for not jumping for joy," Mulder retorted
angrily.

Jacen looked over the couple before him. Despite their fate,
they still stood proud and tall, more concerned about the other's
safety than their own. Again he wondered about what he was about
to do--dare he separate these two? But he must.

And he would.

"I am sorry," he apologized softly as he backed out the door.
"But this is the only way. I am sorry."

He closed the door behind him, hearing the click as it locked
into place. He knew the room was soundproof, but he could swear he
heard fists beating against the door, begging him to let them out.

He couldn't let his misplaced feelings get in the way of his
duty. He must serve his Lord, even if he must sacrifice.

He must serve his Lord.

* * *

As soon as Jacen was out of sight, Mulder rushed to the door,
reaching it just as it locked. He pounded on it helplessly,
ignoring the pain in his hands as they connected with the stainless
steel again and again. Scully watched him for a moment, then
walked over and grabbed his fist.

"Mulder, it's over."

"No, it's not," he argued hopelessly. He looked at her, his
stomach churning as he realized this could be the last time he saw
her. "Scully. . ." he begged, not sure what he was asking of her.

But somehow she knew. Quietly she suggested, "Why don't we
sit on the bed." She took him by the hand, and he allowed her to
lead him. Sitting down, she continued to hold his hand tightly as
they sat in silence, their bond of communication without words as
strong as ever.

About a minute later, she blinked tiredly and realized what
was happening. "Mulder," she called softly, breaking him out of
his reverie.

He looked at her, and saw the fatigue he felt reflected on
her face, realizing how tired he was getting. "Scully, fight it,"
he pleaded, saying it for his sake as much as hers. He squeezed
her hand, "Please, Scully. Don't fall asleep. Stay awake." His
own mind growing fuzzy, he forced himself to focus on her.

"Mulder, I'm sorry," she apologized, almost in a whisper.
His heart broke as a single tear spilled over her cheek. "I'm
trying. But it's so hard. I'm so tired, I can't fight it
anymore." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. He realized
that they weren't just talking about this anymore--she was tired of
the psychic psychopaths, the fake alien autopsies, the strange
creatures trying to kill them in the woods. . .She was tired of
fighting against a lost cause.

He put his hand on her cheek and gently wiped away her tear
with his thumb. "It's okay," he soothed, his throat tight with
emotion. He had caused her so much pain in the past, he would be
damned if he denied her these last few moments of happiness. "Why
don't you lie down," he suggested quietly, the exhaustion he was
trying to ignore becoming more evident in his words.

She nodded, easing her body back onto the bed. She held on
to his hand tightly, her motion forcing him to lie down also.
She curled up next to him, and he uncertainly let go of her hand,
putting his arms around her and drawing her close to him for the
second time that day. It felt so natural to have her next to him
like this. She leaned into his embrace, using his chest as a
pillow, her body relaxing against his as the gas took effect.

"Promise me you'll be okay," she asked, her voice small and
wavering. She looked at him, and he smiled sadly as he brushed her
hair out of her eyes.

To be continued. . .

It's all in part 1, okay?
7/9

* * *

"Scully, I can't make that promise," he answered regretfully,
his voice rough and emotional. He had never been able to lie to
her, and wasn't about to start to now. He knew just as well as she
did that once she was gone, there was nothing left for him. The
truth meant nothing without her to share it with. He blinked hard,
trying to focus and clear the moisture that had gathered in his
eyes. "Scully, you believe there's an afterlife, don't you?" he
asked seriously.

She nodded, curiosity written on her tired features. "Then
I guess I'll see you there," he murmured. Another tear spilled
down her cheek as she searched his face, looking for some sign that
he would be okay. He felt like crying at the fear in her eyes--
fear for him. She was afraid for what he would do after she was
gone. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He could
feel the emptiness swallowing him, and knew he only had a few more
seconds left with her.

"Scully," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm on her
face. "I love you."

He felt, rather than saw, her smile as she fought to answer
him before sleep claimed her. "I love you too, Mulder." She smiled
and her face lit up, joy filling both their hearts as tears made
their way down her face. "I always will," she murmured as he
pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, and let
herself drift away in his loving embrace.

"I will always love you," he promised hoarsely, closing his
eyes. He felt her body go limp in his arms, and held her even more
tightly against him, burying his face in the fiery hair he had
always wanted to caress. "Always," he echoed softly.

The darkness claimed him.

* * *

Jacen stood at the doorway and stared at the two still
figures before him. They lay together, their arms wrapped around
each other in one final embrace. "How can I do this?" he
whispered, staring at the tears which still stained their faces,
the ghosts of smiles which graced their lips.

He had heard their declaration of love for each other through
the microphone which he had used to listen to their conversation.
It had stunned him into shock. It shouldn't have, because it had
been obvious that they cared very much about each other. But their
simple vow to each other brought tears to his eyes. Even to the
very end, they had been more concerned about how the other was
going to be than themselves.

He walked closer to the bed, noting the protectiveness which
Mulder still displayed toward his partner, even in death. He
remembered how the agent had cursed and threatened him, even though
Jacen was no where to be seen when he awoke and found Scully still
unconscious. After he ran out of steam, Jacen had been surprised
by the total silence which reigned over the room. Turning up the
volume on speaker, he heard Mulder quietly talking with Scully,
pleading her to wake up. Of course, at that time Jacen had thought
they were married and hadn't thought anything unusual about the
words which "Mr. Scully" used to revive his "wife." But thinking
back on it now and knowing they were merely partners (although
"merely" wasn't quiet accurate), he realized he should have known
how much they cared about each other.

"I know this is what You want," he acknowledged quietly, eyes
upturned to the ceiling. "But are You sure? I do not meant to
question Your wisdom, my Lord, but I must. These two. . .their
love is as strong as Yours. How can I take that away from them?"
He looked at Dana and Mulder again, seeing her golden cross resting
across their bodies. "She is Your child, as is he. Would You deny
them this happiness?"

Silence was his only answer, but it was enough.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

He didn't want to wake up. He was safe and warm, and she was
with him. . .No, she was being taken from him. Strong hands lifted
her body away from his, but his own body refused to respond. <NO!>
Mulder struggled to clear his mind of the heavy fog restricting his
thoughts and movements. <No, I won't let you take her away from
me! Not again. . .>

But the swirling black mists pulled him down again, and she
was gone.

* * *

He was in a hospital. Years of waking up from comas, gunshot
wounds and other injuries had made him all too familiar with the
sounds and smells of a hospital. Even before he opened his eyes,
he knew what the room looked like. They were all exactly the same,
except there was something different about this one.

Scully wasn't waiting for him to wake up in this one.

Sometimes she'd be sitting by his bed, other times standing
across the room, arms folded across her chest, ready to berate him
for his latest crazy adventure. He'd wake up, and for a brief
moment, revel in the relief and happiness in her eyes. Far too
quickly it would be replaced by a stern expression as she good-
naturedly scolded him for getting himself landed in the hospital
yet again.

But she wasn't here this time. He could always feel her
there, always. But now he couldn't. He struggled toward
consciousness as panic filled his mind. He tried desperately to
remember what had happened to end up with them both in the
hospital, but his memory was refusing to cooperate. A voice
suddenly whispered in the back of his mind.

< "I'm sorry, Dana, but this is the only way." >

<NO!> he instinctively cried, remembering. . .nothing. The
voice didn't have a name, didn't have a face. He couldn't remember
what happened. But it didn't matter, he would worry about his
forgotten memories after he found Scully.

"Scully," he croaked, forcing his eyes open. He fought back
nausea as he tried to sit up. A nurse checking his chart saw him,
and put a gentle but firm hand on his chest, forcing him to lie
back down.

"Sir, I'm afraid you must stay still. You--"

"Where's Scully?" he demanded with as much authority as he
could muster. At her blank stare, he explained, "Dana Scully, the
woman I was brought in with. Where is she?"

The nurse merely shook her head, "I'm sorry sir, but I don't
know who you're talking about. Let me get the doctor."

He breathed in harshly as he realized what she was saying.
As soon as she left the room, he again attempted to sit up. A wave
of dizziness hit him, but he refused to lie back down again. If he
was in Their hospital, or if They were trying to keep him from her,
there would be hell to pay.

A short, balding man wearing a lab coat entered the room
carrying a clipboard. When he saw Mulder attempting to get out of
bed, he snapped, "No so fast. You're in no condition to be going
anywhere."

"Where is she?!" Mulder demanded more forcefully. "The woman
I was brought in with, her name is Dana Scully."

"I'm sorry, no one with that name has been admitted to the
hospital in the last twenty four hours," the stern-faced man
replied, though not unkindly.

"Twenty four hours?" Mulder repeated, suddenly wondering just
how long he had been out. "When were we brought in?"

"About nine o'clock yesterday evening," the doctor answered.

Mulder looked at his watch--it was nearly seven at night. He
started--he and Scully had been getting ready for their picnic
yesterday at seven-thirty. "What day is it?" he asked cautiously.

"Sunday." The doctor watched curiously as the nameless young
man in front of him started swearing under his breath about "them"
and "more lost time". He hated to interrupt, but he did need
information about his patient. "Sir, I'm sorry but I'm afraid I
need to get some information from you." When his patient nodded
reluctantly, he asked, "Your name please?"

"Fox Mulder," he replied, wondering why they were asking him
for his name. Suddenly he realized that all his and Scully's
identification had been in the car. No wonder they didn't know who
Scully was! "I'm a special agent with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. The woman who was with me is my partner, Dana
Scully. Do you know if she was admitted?"

The doctor consulted his clipboard again, ignoring Mulder's
question "Mr. Mulder, I have orders from an Assistant Director
Skinner to ask you to contact him if you or Agent Scully were
admitted."

Mulder took only a moment to realize the state of mind
Skinner must have been in to have issued such an order to local
hospitals, but right now he was much more concerned with Scully
than pissing off the AD. Pushing off the bed, he took a few shaky
steps toward the door, grateful to be wearing a hospital gown that
actually closed in back. Before the doctor could open his mouth,
Mulder ordered him to go contact Skinner while he went to go look
for Scully.

"Agent Mulder, I must protest--"

Mulder interrupted him, "Look Doctor. . ." he glanced at his
nametag, "Doctor Zimmerman. I need to find my partner, and I
refuse to sit back and wait for someone to do it. I'm going to
look for her!"

His outburst didn't faze the Doctor--he'd had more than his
share of difficult patients. "Agent Mulder, if you do not get back
in bed right now, I will have you put in five point restraints,"
Zimmerman warned, his glare approaching the intensity of the one's
Scully usually shot at him. Mulder was about to angrily retort
when a figure in a wheelchair in the hallway demanded, "Mulder,
what the hell are you doing out of bed?"

A relieved smile broke out on Mulder's face even before he
turned to look at the petite figure. "Scully," he greeted happily,
kneeling down as a nurse pushed her wheelchair closer to him. "How
are you?" he asked, concern written on his features as he grasped
her hands.

She squeezed his hands back, "I'm okay, Mulder." She saw him
taken in the IV stand attached to her wheelchair, and the needle
stuck obtrusively in her right arm. "It's just a safety
precaution," she explained softly, dispelling some, but not all of
the worry in his eyes.

"Ahem." Dr. Zimmerman cleared his throat behind Mulder,
indicating that Mulder should get back in bed. "Agent Mulder?"

"And exactly what are you doing out of bed, Mulder?" Scully
demanded good-naturedly, a mock stern expression on her face.

"Looking for you, actually," he admitted guiltily with a
sheepish smile.

"Well, you found me, so get back into bed, " she ordered, a
smile dancing around her lips as he grumbled but did as he was
told. Dr. Zimmerman looked on in satisfaction and thanked Scully.
She smothered laughter at the face Mulder made at her from while
the Doctor's back was turned as he explained Mulder's condition.
After the doctor left, the nurse (who looked more like a security
guard than nurse) pushed Scully's wheelchair to Mulder's bedside
and warned him of the consequences if he got out of bed again.
After a reprimand that would have made Skinner proud, the nurse
left and Scully remarked, "Well, Mulder, it seems as if you've
already made quite a name for yourself here."

"You know, I've always wanted to be famous," he retorted
dryly. He stared uneasily at the liquid pouch dripping into her
arm, noting the lack of such medication running into his own arm.
"Scully, why do you have an IV if I don't?"

"I can arrange for one if you want it that badly," she
offered lightly. When his forced smile didn't reach his eyes, she
sighed. She had hoped he would leave it alone, especially the pain
was still so fresh for both of them. "Late last night, I slipped
into critical condition," she explained softly, her small hand
clasped over his larger one in reassurance. "You were simply in a
drug induced sleep, but for about fifty two minutes, I lost the
ability to breath on my own. I was on a respirator for that time
period, but then the medication they administered kicked in and I
was fine. The doctors think it was a result of my weakened immune
system from my cancer that caused the reaction."

"But I thought you were fine," Mulder interrupted anxiously.

"I am," she comforted him, squeezing his hand. "But the
recovery period for my body to completely heal itself is a long
time. It's nothing to be concerned about, just something to be
aware of. It'll probably be a while before my immune system is
back up to where it was before the cancer was a significant
growth." She paused, struggling with the memories of the pain they
both had gone through during those difficult times. "The doctors
think whatever affected us hit me harder because of that. The IV
is just something to help me recover faster."

"So you're okay," Mulder stated in relief. She nodded, and
suddenly the events of his very brief day caught up with him. He'd
only been awake for about an hour, but he still felt tired, and
could feel the effects of his medication starting to kick in.
Drained from his earlier outburst, he sagged back against the
pillow, his eyes closing despite his best attempts to stay awake.

"We're both going to be fine. Go to sleep, Mulder," she
whispered, brushing an unruly lock of hair away from his face.

"Will you sing for me?" he murmured sleepily, a smile tugging
at the corner of his mouth.

She chuckled softly, remembering their trip to the Florida
FBI conference which ended with her sitting in the middle of the
forest, reluctantly singing to an injured Mulder cradled in her
lap. "Not this time," she answered softly with a smile.

" `Night Scully."

"Good night, Mulder."

* * *

Walter Skinner stepped out of the elevator, heading for the
nurses center. "I'm looking for Agents Mulder and Scully?" he
asked one of the nurses. The man checked the charts, then pointed
down the corridor. "He's in room 64. Down the hall to your left."

Skinner walked brisky in that direction, furious at his two
renegade agents. The doctor he'd spoken to said they'd been awake
since seven o'clock last night, and Skinner had only found out
where they were when someone called about the damned insurance! He
couldn't wait to get his hands on Mulder for this one! He
approached room 64, and strode in, opening his mouth to reprimand
Mulder with a dressing down that would have made his boot camp
drill sergeant proud. But instead he shut his mouth without saying
a word, the scene before him neutralizing most of his anger.

Agent Mulder lay curled up in his bed, looking surprisingly
vulnerable in the sterile white room. He was clutching something
tightly, and Skinner realized it was the hand of his petite
partner, who was asleep in her wheelchair, her head resting on top
of their intertwined hands. He stood silently for a moment,
savoring in silence in the presence of the two agents. The only
time they were ever quiet was when they were too pissed off to yell
at him, and he was surprised to find himself wishing Mulder would
make some out-of-line remark or that Scully would tell him in the
most diplomatic terms possible to go to hell.

Noticing a doctor walk by, he stepped out into the hallway.
"Are you Doctor Zimmerman?" he called.

"I am," Zimmerman replied evenly, giving no further
information. "I assume you are the Assistant Director Skinner who
ordered me to ask Agents Mulder and Scully to contact you." It was
clear from his tone that he did not appreciate being told what to
do with his patients, but Skinner really didn't give a damn. He
had ordered those directions as a last resort when the search for
his agents went past the forty-eight hour mark.

"How are they?" Skinner asked, watching them from the
doorway.

"They're fine. Whatever they were administered appears to
have run its course and there are not side effects."

Skinner interrupted him, "What do you mean, `whatever they
were administered'?"

To be continued. . .

Part 1--that's all I'm gonna say ;-)
8/9

Zimmerman returned his glare with equal intensity-it wasn't
that he was a bad-tempered man, he just didn't like it when someone
questioned his competency or told him what to do, and this man had
managed to do both in the last few hours. "We found a chemical
compound which we were not able to identify in both their
bloodstreams when they were admitted. We didn't administer any
other medication in case they might interact, and they were able to
sleep it off. Agent Scully had to be put on a respirator for about
an hour very early Sunday morning, but as soon as she awakened she
insisted it be removed, and hasn't needed any other aid since. We
are administering a intravenous fluid to help build her immune
system back up because she still hasn't completely recovered from
her cancer treatments. I plan to release them this afternoon. If
that's all right with you, of course," he added, an undetectable
hint of sarcasm in his words.

"That's fine. Thank you," Skinner replied. He glanced at
his watch-it was still relatively early, and he figured Mulder and
Scully would stay out of trouble long enough for him to go catch
some rest. He hadn't slept since they had disappeared, and he was
exhausted. Besides what kind of trouble could they get into in the
hospital?

He refused to answer that-with Mulder, anything was possible.

* * *

"Ah, Agent Mulder. Nice of you to rejoin the world of the
living," a sarcastic voice greeted Mulder as he awoke.

"Nice to see you too, Doc," he replied, still groggy.
Realizing his partner was no where to be seen, he asked, "Where's
Scully?"

Zimmerman finished signing Mulder's chart and put it down on
his bed. "She returned to her room to change and see if you two
could be released today."

"Good news, Mulder," Scully announced, walking into the room.
"Doctor Zimmerman's letting us go as soon as you're changed." She
glanced at the doctor and smiled. Mulder snickered quietly as
Zimmerman blushed slightly and returned her smile. Shooting Mulder
a glare, she dropped a change of clothes on the bed and told him to
get dressed while she signed some forms.

"Agent Mulder, may I speak with you for a moment?" Dr.
Zimmerman asked after she closed the door behind her. Mulder got
out of bed, and grabbed a pair of jeans off the bed.

Grinning, he anticipated the good doctor's question.
"Sorry, Doc, she's taken." He held up his left hand, and the
Doctor sighed.

"Ah well. It was worth a shot. Although," he added, his
eyes narrowing. "I thought partners weren't supposed to get
involved with each other."

"Now Doctor Zimmerman, do we really seem like agents who do
what they're *supposed* to do," Mulder answered, deadpan.

Zimmerman raised an eyebrow, remarking dryly, "I see what you
mean. Good bye, Agent Mulder." Mulder nodded his goodbye, and the
doctor left, closing the door behind him. Chuckling to himself,
Mulder quickly finished getting dressed and hoped Zimmerman
wouldn't ask Scully for any details about her husband.

* * *

Finally signing the last form, Scully handed the clipboard
back to the nurse and turned around to see Mulder coming out of his
room.

"Ready to get out of here?" she asked with a smile.

"Always," he replied with a smile, then froze as the word
sounded hauntingly familiar. <Always,> he mused, trying to figure
out why it suddenly had major significance for him. He stood lost
in thought for a moment, and Scully watched in concern.

"You okay?" she asked, bring his attention back from wherever
it had been.

"Yeah," he answered. When her concern didn't dissipate, he
kidded, "Must be the hospital food." Not satisfied with his answer
but reluctant to push him any further, she fell into step next to
him as they headed for the exit. Walking out into the parking lot,
Mulder was surprised to see their car waiting for them.

"I talked to Skinner while you were sleeping," she explained
as she fished the keys out of her bag and handed them to him.
"They found the car when they found us, and I asked him to drop it
off here."

"And how exactly did they find us?" Mulder asked, unlocking
the door for her. "I don't recall doing anything worthy of getting
us both in the hospital." He opened it in an uncharacteristically
gentlemanly manner, and she waited until he got in and started the
car before continuing.

"Apparently about eight-thirty on Saturday evening, an
anonymous caller tipped off a 911 operator that there was an
unconscious man and woman on what appeared to be a picnic out on a
cliff. In other words, us. An ambulance was dispatched, and
according to the ambulance driver, the fog was so bad that they
were only able to find us because of the caller's excellent
directions. We were both in stable condition but unconscious, and
didn't seem to be in any danger. They ran tests, and couldn't
identify a strange toxin that they found in a very small amount
bloodstream."

"Would that have been detected in an autopsy report?" Mulder
asked. Scully could practically see the gears turning in his head
as he analyzed what little information they had while still
smoothly navigating the somewhat crowded Florida highway.

Scully shook her head, "No, unless they were specifically
looking for it. Which is why," she continued, a small smile on her
face, "I called the coroner's office and asked them to run a blood
analysis of the latest victim and her husband. It was found in
both their blood, and I looked through the men's file, and one of
the doctors had made a note about what appears to be the same toxin
in the fifth man's file. He suggested that it might be some kind
of air-borne tranquilizer, absorbed through the lungs, but that is
yet to be proven."

Mulder looked at her in amazement for a moment before
returning his eyes to the road. "You did that all while I was
asleep?"

Scully shrugged, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You were
out for a while. I guess your insomnia was catching up with you."

Mulder acknowledged her teasing with a smile of his own.
After a few moments of silence, he asked quietly, "Do you remember
anything?"

"No," she answered regretfully. She played with her rings in
the nervous habit she had acquired over the past week. "I remember
arriving on the cliff, and setting up. You offered me champagne,
and that's all I remember until I woke up."

Mulder nodded tensely, his hands clenching the steering
wheel. "Same here."

"Mulder, Doctor Zimmerman said that the medics brought the
champagne bottle with them, and it was nearly empty. He also said
that there was strong evidence to indicate that we simply drank too
much champagne and passed out. They ran a blood alcohol test, but
the results were useless because the unknown chemical was
interfering with the test." She paused, then asked cautiously, "Do
you think that we just drank too much? After all, a bottle of
champagne, even split between two adults, can--"

"Scully, do you really think we'd do that?" he demanded. She
shook her head--she hadn't honestly thought it was a real
consideration, but she couldn't discount the possibility without
first mentioning it to Mulder. "Not only were we on duty," he
continued, "but I don't like champagne enough to even finish a
glass, let alone drink half the bottle. And you don't exactly seem
like the type to drink three quarters of a bottle by yourself."

He looked over to see her shaking her head with a grin on her
face. "You didn't know me in college," she joked. Lost in her
thoughts, she was startled when he suddenly announced, "But it
wasn't champagne! It was sparkling cider."

She turned her head sharply to look at him, trying to picture
that moment in her head. "You're right. So if we were found with
champagne and an empty bottle, but took sparkling cider with us,
then how did the champagne get there?"

"The same way that unknown toxin got into our bloodstream,"
he answered, taking the exit off the highway suddenly.

"Mulder, why are we going back to the cliff?" she asked,
recognizing the now familiar scenery as he pulled up to their
picnic site. "The police have already examined and cleared
everything away."

"I know," he replied, turning off the car. "But they may
have missed something. And besides, do you really want to report
back to Skinner now?"

Sighing, she followed him out of the car. She watched as he
knelt down and examined the grass where their picnic had been.
Looking over the breathtaking scene before her, she took a moment
to appreciate the clear blue sky and aqua water extending as far as
she could see. A seagull coasted gracefully through the sky as a
soft breeze caressed her face. Her eyes followed the bird, and she
raised her hand to shield them as it flew in front of the sun. She
dropped her hand slowly as the house on the horizon suddenly
clicked in her mind.

"Scully, look at these footprints," Mulder pointed excitedly.
When he looked up, he saw her staring at something in the distance.
He stood, and turned to see what she was looking at. "Is it just
me, or does the that house appear very familiar for no apparent
reason?" he commented dryly. "Shall we?" Without answering she
started for the car, and he followed close behind, his hand resting
on the small of her back.

In the time it took them to drive to the house, Mulder and
Scully both tried to recall exactly where they had seen it before.
They hadn't really looked around before their picnic, and neither
could remember any other time they had seen even a similar looking
house. Getting out of the car, Mulder scrutinized the building
before them. He could swear he could see an overlapping image of
the same house, only this time with the skies pouring down on them
as they ran up the stairs, and someone opening the door.

But the image was little more than a long-forgotten memory.
He passed it off as a strange coincidence, but nothing substantial
enough to be worth mentioning. He was somewhat startled when
Scully remarked about the strange feeling of deja vu she was
getting, and he refrained from commenting on how great minds think
alike as they climbed the stairs. The door seemed to swing open of
its own accord when they reached the top, and Mulder instinctively
reached for his gun, swearing under his breath when he realized it
wasn't there. Scully exchanged a look with him--neither was too
happy about entering without their weapons, but they also didn't
want to have to come back later. Without a word they agreed on how
to proceed, despite their lack of protection.

Mulder entered hallway silently, his eyes scanning the right
side of the room while Scully looked to the left for signs of life.
There was no sign of anyone, and they cautiously proceeded to the
next room. Room after room they searched in the same manner, until
they reached the main living room. Something in the air was
different as they readied to enter it, and Mulder looked at Scully,
seeing that she also sensed the change. Again the door seemed to
swing open by itself, and on a silent count of three, the two
agents burst through the doorway.

Mulder heard Scully sharply breath in as he froze
momentarily. The scene before them was one of the eeriest and most
disturbing they'd seen, and that was saying a lot.

A man in his late twenties hung crucified on a large wooden
cross in the middle of the living room.

* * *

<Oh my god,> Scully instinctively thought upon seeing the
deceased young man. Even from where she stood next to Mulder, the
unnatural pallor of his face indicated he had been dead for several
hours.

They both stepped forward cautiously, warily eyeing the body
while looking for someone else in the room. Satisfied that they
were alone, Mulder nodded to Scully, who stepped forward to examine
the man while Mulder watched from where he was.

The young man looked familiar somehow. He had shaggy sandy
blond hair, but she could see natural roots of a striking red
growing close to his skull. His head hung limply on his chest, his
eyes closed and a look of something she couldn't identify on his
face. The large cross was made of dark brown wood, and stood from
floor to ceiling. It had been carefully placed in from of the
large windows overlooking the cliff, giving the faint impression
that the man was suspended in air just beyond the edge of the
cliff.

After getting over the initial shock of seeing this man in
such position, the medical training in Scully took over as she
examined him meticulously. The victim's feet were nailed about a
meter off the floor to the base of the cross. His hands were
nailed to the horizontal piece of wood on either side of his body
by the palms. He wore only a plain white cloth strategically
placed over his body. There was a deep gash on the right side of
his torso, and blood stained his hip and leg, but somehow had left
the white cloth untouched. She stared at the positioning of his
body, and in her mind merged it with a painting that used to hang
in her church of Jesus Christ's crucifixion. They were so similar,
it was uncanny.

"Could he have done this himself?" Mulder asked quietly from
behind her.

"No," she answered, still studying the figure before her.
"The placement of the nails would have been impossible from the
angle he's at. Not to mention, gravity would have pulled him down
before he could secure himself enough to do this kind of damage.
No, someone else did to this to him."

"Or something else," Mulder answered mysteriously.

Scully turned around to question him, when she saw him
looking at a table in the far corner. She walked over to look at
it, and bit back a gasp as she examined the tabletop.

It was covered with pictures of her and Mulder. All three by
five glossies, taken over the past week. There were a few closeups
of her golden cross, but most of them were just regular shots. Her
and Mulder in Orlando, the theater, even a few of them talking in
their hotel room taken through the window. Glancing over the
pictures, she realized that all of them had been taken after they'd
seen St. Mary's Cathedral. She shivered inwardly as she found a
pile of pictures of her and Mulder dancing at the Starlight Cafe
from Wednesday evening.

She stared at those pictures, feeling violated, but even more
so than with the others. The rest of the time they had been
tourists, playing the parts they had been assigned. But every time
they ate at the cafe, it was like they weren't pretending anymore.
Those had been private moments, and she felt a surge of anger at
whomever had invaded their life like this.

"Scully," Mulder called quietly. Startled, she looked up to
find him staring into a huge cabinet. Crossing the short distance
to where he stood, she was again startled by its contents.

There were literally hundred of pictures on display, all of
them featuring the twelve women who had been murdered. They were
very carefully arranged into twelve sections, each categorized by a
name and date.

"I think we should call Skinner," she offered quietly.
Without a word, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called the
Assistant Director.

* *

"Now why exactly were you here?" Skinner demanded, his sole
focus on the two agents in front of him despite the flurry activity
all around them.

"Agent Mulder and I wanted to examine the crime scene,"
Scully tried to explain, but Skinner shook his head.

"That doesn't explain how you ended up in here. Your picnic
site is a good distance from here, and this house was in no way
connected to the crime until you two discovered this evidence."

Annoyed, Mulder jumped in. "When Scully and I were examining
the crime scene, Scully saw this house and we both realized that
something seemed familiar about it even though neither of us could
ever remember seeing it before. We came to get a closer look, and
the door was open. We investigated, and found that," he gestured
to the cross, now lying on the floor.

Skinner glared at him, but couldn't bring himself to give
Mulder the reprimand he definitely deserved. It was Mulder's fault
they had all been put through this to begin with, but it was also
Mulder's completely not "by-the-book" approach which, combined with
Scully's abilities, made their solve rating the highest in the
current Bureau. In fact, it was one of the highest in the Bureau's
entire history.

To be continued. . . (Tired of this yet? <g> )

Part 1--nuff said
9/9

* * *

"Sir, you might want to take a look at this," Norton
interrupted. He and other agents had been organizing the hundreds
of photos. He led them over to the table, which was now contained
twelve nearly identical photos. On the back of each was a name and
date. The pictures were all the same--the female victim laid out
on a white bed in a white room, holding a white rose and what
looked like a mother-of-pearl cross in her hands, about six inches
in length. Her hands lay across her chest, and a golden cross
necklace was clearly visible at her neck. "These are the victims
names, and each of them is dated on the Saturday before she was
found."

"Time of death," Scully observed softly. On a sudden hunch,
she asked, "Did you happen to find a Bible?" Norton answered
affirmatively, and she asked him to get it.

"What are you looking for?" Mulder asked quietly after
Skinner and the other agents had left.

"I have a hunch," she answered honestly, smiling slightly at
the look of false shock on his face. Whatever comment he had been
about to make was interrupted by an agent holding out a photograph
and elaborately decorated thick white book.

"We just found this in the Bible," she explained, handing
them both objects. Scully's eyes widened in shock as she looked at
the picture.

It was of herself in the exact same position as the other
women. Except that Mulder was in in photograph was her. In her
left hand, which was crossed over her chest, she held a white rose
like all the other women, but her right hand was intertwined with
Mulder's. He was holding the white cross in his hand which was
crossed over his chest. They lay close together, but the pose was
unnatural somehow. It looked almost as though they had been laid
out for some ceremonial ritual. Slowly, Mulder flipped the picture
over.

"Mr. and Dr. Scully," Mulder read softly, then on the line
beneath it read, "Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully." The question
of how the killer knew their names remained unasked, both trying
merely to comprehend the implications of this photograph. A moment
passed as they stared at their names, both real and pseudo, in
silence. Then Scully pointed the to the bottom right corner, where
it looked as though a date started to be written but had been left
unfinished.

"That's the day before yesterday, Saturday." She stared at
him, apprehension written in both their eyes. "Mulder, what
happened to us?" she asked quietly.

He took the photograph in his hands, turning it over to stare
at the picture in his hands. "I don't know," he answered softly.
He placed it on the table and ran his hands through his hair.
Placing them on his hips, he started to walk away only to turn back
in frustration. "Dammit, I'm so tired of this!" he exploded softly
to Scully. "Of not being able to remember."

"Mulder, look at this," Scully interrupted, the ornately
decorated Bible open to a page between the new and old testaments.
He vaguely recognized it as the page where a family usually
recorded deaths, marriages and births. He followed her hand down
the page to where it was pointing. In elegant calligraphy, written
in what appeared to be gold lettering, were the names of the twelve
victims. To the right of each was a date of birth and date of
death. Written to the left in smaller lettering on an upward slant
were twelve men's names.

"The twelve disciples," she stated quietly. Mulder scanned
the names, realizing what conclusion Scully had come to. Naming
them partially from memory, she read the disciple's name with the
victim's next to it. "All the names match. For Peter; Petra
Wilkins. Andrew; Andrea Johnson. James; Janie Ouris. John;
Joanna Lipoc. Philip; Philius Hertus. Bartholomew; Bethany
Loman. Thomas; Tomasina Snikes. Matthew; Mattea Olrand. James;
Jemma Retugn. Thaddaeus; Thadia Compro. Simon; Simone Erinak.
Judas; Judy Fustern." She looked up at him, horrified recognition
in her eyes. "He's reenacting the twelve disciples. He thinks
he's sending them back to God," she finished slowly, not sure where
that understanding had come from. But somehow she knew that's what
he thought he had done. "He believes it was his mission here to
send God his twelve disciples, his prophets."

Mulder nodded, knowing in his gut that she was right. "Then
who were you?"

"I don't know," she answered, staring off into space for a
moment. "There were only twelve. Why add a thirteenth victim?"

"Are there any people considered to be honorary disciples or
anything like that?"

Scully took a moment to think back over all the church
services she had been forced to endure during her childhood, and
later the services she had come to love. "No," she replied,
shaking her head. "There are other people who have been considered
to be disciples, but none are named specifically. At least,
there's no one who stands out."

Mulder nodded. He was about to open his mouth when she
suddenly looked down. He saw her lifting a small piece of paper
from the bottom line that had blended in before so they hadn't seen
it. Carefully she pulled it off.

"Oh my god," she breathed.

The paper had revealed a name in gold leaf even more ornately
decorated than the others:

Jesus; Dana Katherine Scully.

* * *

Scully sat at her laptop in her now separate hotel room. The
Bureau had sprung for a two-bedroom suite in the Starlight Hotel as
a thank you, but she had to admit that she had gotten used to
living with Mulder for the past week. She had spent the last few
hours trying to get to sleep, but to her disgust, she found it too
quiet without the TV turned on dimly in the background. Sighing,
she had thrown on her robe and settled down with her computer and
was now typing up her report.

"The suspect has been positively identified as Jacen Reirden.
In addition to the photographs in the house which he owned, we also
found a journal detailing the specifics of each murder. It turns
out that my theory was indeed correct--Jacen believed he had
received a message from God, ordering him to find and return to Him
His twelve disciples and the messiah, or arch angel, as Jacen often
referred to her. There is no clear explanation as to why Jacen
killed twelve women, when it was twelve men who were the original
disciples."

She paused for a moment, picking up the old-style leather
bound journal next to her computer. After flipping through it
absently for a few minutes, she put it back down and resumed her
typing.

"The first entry in the journal is dated over ten years ago.
It would appear that this is the same teenager that I treated for a
cocaine overdose while in medical school. He was comatose for
three days, and when he regained consciousness was ordered to seek
psychological help. We believe this journal was part of that
treatment.

"In the first several entries, Jacen writes about what he
calls a "divine experience." In what I believe to be a drug-
induced hallucination, Jacen claims that God spoke to him and saved
him for a special purpose. This belief is reinforced when he
awakens from his treatment, and the first thing he sees is a small
gold cross I wear as a necklace. In accordance to God's
directions, Jacen became a ordained priest for the Roman Catholic
church and has been employed at St. Mary's Cathedral since that
time. There he waited for some heavenly sign from above to tell
him exactly what to do. Apparenly, David and Petra Wilkins's
holiday approximately six monthes ago was that sign."

Staring at the blinking cursor for a moment, she attempted to
collect her thoughts. "In the last three entries, Jacen writes
about the messiah. Although he doesn't mention a specific name,
Agent Mulder and myself agree that this would appear to be my role
in Jacen's delusion. That would also explain our disappearance.
Each entry concerning the messiah, or arch angel, becomes more and
more incomprehensible. It would appear that Jacen was beginning to
question what he was doing."

Scully hated to involve herself and Mulder so personally in a
case, but it was the truth, and she refused to suppress the truth
for the sake of her dignity. "A note should be made that our cover
as husband and wife remained intact. From the journal, it would
appear that Jacen only knew that we were not married after we
informed him of it ourselves. He also expresses shock that I,
being the chosen one, could lie, but soon decides that it is all
right. He remains convinced through his entries that whether or
not Mulder and I are married that we belong together. Jacen often
asks if this, as in my murder, is what "You" (meaning God) really
wants. He also expresses a deep concern for Mulder when he is left
to "mourn for her" (myself).

"The very last entry appears to have been made late Saturday
night. In it, Jacen speaks of sacrificing himself for his angel
and her companion. It would seem that in some twisted way, Jacen
recognized that what he was about to do was wrong, but his
delusions would not allow him to merely give himself up. Instead,
he apologizes to "Him" (God) and offers himself as sacrifice. He
also explains that while he could not take "her" from "him"
(meaning myself from Mulder), he could not allow us to remember
what had transpired. This would account for our memory loss, but
also the unexplained insight we seem to possess into his mind."

Scully continued writing for some time, tying up most of the
loose end. She felt somewhat uncomfortable with leaving the report
as it was, but also didn't know quite what else to put in it, and
decided that it could wait until morning.

Just as she was getting into bed, she heard a soft knock at
the door. Glancing at her clock, she called, "Come in, Mulder."

He opened the door and poked his head in, grinning
sheepishly. "How'd you know it was me?" She smiled, and he
returned it, though remaining in the doorway. "I heard you typing,
and though you might want some company."

"Nothing good on TV?" she asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.
"I though we got the Playboy channel here."

He colored slightly but walked the rest of the way into her
room. Settling himself on the corner of her bed, he replied
defensively, "I didn't check. Besides, I didn't feel like watching
TV." Scully smiled and leaned back against the bed's headboard.
He glanced at her now shutdown computer. "Did you finish the
report?"

"No," she shook her head. She stared at her hands, "I wasn't
sure quite how to phrase some of the more sensitive details."

"What? About how he hypnotized the men to assist him and
then brainwashed them to forget what happened?" Mulder asked,
concern written in his hazel eyes. He leaned back on the bed, and
Scully realized the case must have affected him more than she'd
thought--he was wearing his Knicks shirt and shorts, but his hair
was damp, presumably from the shower he'd taken after his late
night/extremely early morning run.

"Mulder, those men didn't just assist him," she argued,
despite the fact that this hadn't been what she was talking about.
Her voice dripped with disgust and contempt for Jacen. "He
actually forced each and every one of them to inject his wife with
an unknown substance which killed her. And then he led that man to
believe that he had assisted his wife to a better place."

Mulder nodded slowly, "He's a killer who took advantage of
his power and position." He looked at her, trying to catch her
eye. "But that's not what's bothering you. We've dealt with this
kind of psychopath before--what's different about this one?"

She thought for a moment. Finally she answered hesitantly,
"I don't really know. I guess the fact that I was, in a way, the
trigger mechanism for all of this." At his surprised look, she
continued, "If Jacen hadn't seen me when he woke up--"

"Then he would have latched onto someone else to base his
delusions on," Mulder interrupted. "Scully, this isn't your
fault."

She avoided his eyes, answering, "I know."

Understanding that this was something she'd come to terms
with herself, Mulder remained silent. A few minutes passed, then
she broke the silence by asking, "How did you know where those room
were? Or even that they existed at all?"

Shortly after discovering the inscriptions in the Bible,
Mulder and Scully had searched the house more thoroughly for clues.
It was only on a sudden hunch by Mulder that they found the
concealed doorway in the coat closet. It led down a full flight of
steps to a two room basement connected by a hallway. Upon entering
one of the rooms, Mulder and Scully both had an eery sense of deja
vu again. Something about the white room with white carpeting and
a white bed triggered a sense of recognition that could only have
come from being in that room before.

In the second room, they found an audio surveillance device
which was hooked up to the first room. They found twelve carefully
marked tapes in alphabetical order in a box next to the speakers,
and soon discovered the contents of the tapes were the final
moments of each woman's life. Playing back each tape, they were
horrified to realize that each husband had been in some altered
state of consciousness and had actually been the one to inject his
wife with the toxin.

What had been even more disturbing, however, was the tape
found in the trash can marked "Scully". Everyone had held their
breath as the tape was played, and simultaneously experienced
relief and anger to realize the tapes had been erased. They had
been sent back to Washington for further analyzation, but the
experts there warned them not to expect too much.

Mulder now realized it wasn't the disturbing nature of the
crimes that bothered Scully so much as the unknown factors
concerning them personally. He wished he could come up (for once)
with a scientifically sound theory to explain what had happened to
them, but he couldn't.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Do you remember
anything?"

She shook her head, "No. I just wish we knew what happened.
It's like. . . I can almost remember it, but when I try I just
push it further away." She sighed, frustration written clearly on
her face.

Mulder attempted to smile, "So don't push it. Let it come
naturally. Forcing yourself to remember is just going to make it
worse."

She nodded, and he chuckled as she stifled a yawn. "I'll let
you get some sleep," he offered, getting up from his position on
her bed. On a sudden impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her
forehead, "Good night, Scully."

She smiled as he kissed her, then watched him walk away.
"Good night, Mulder."

He closed the door softly behind him slowly, and she listened
with bemusement as he switched the TV on. The volume was turned
way up, and she could hear Captain Kirk yelling for warp speed as
Mulder quickly reduced the volume to a low murmur.

She smiled to herself as she curled up in bed. Mulder would
fall asleep with the TV on, but somehow be fully rested and ready
to go in time for their flight tomorrow. Everything was back to
normal. Or at least as normal as things got for her and Mulder.

That night, though, they both dreamt of a man holding out a
white dress while training a gun on them, and whispers of forgotten
vows echoed through a hazy mist.

* * *

And from above, someone smiled down on them.

The End

Well, that took long enough! You've stuck with me this long, please let me
know what you think! Write to me! CaptJenga@aol.com. No flames please, but I
WANT FEEDBACK! (please?!)