From: fox42@ix.netcom.com Date: Thu, 27 Jun 1996 00:18:05 -0400 Subject: Repost: "Killer" First section None of my attached files have gotten to anyone in readable format. I've just learned how to copy and paste, so that is what I will do from now on. I apologize for this extended screw-up. Here, hopefully, is the first section, followed by the second. 6/26/96 Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions. As such, the characters named are the property of those entities and are used without permission, although no copyright infringements are intended. The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of fanfic members only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of federal law. Those not interested in a Mulder/Scully relationship won't care for a few passages in here. UST included; there are, however, no spoilers. Probably should be rated PG-13 for violence and a few swear words. No sex (darn; maybe next time). KILLER by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) Prologue Somewhere in Washington, D. C. Midnight The smoke in the room lazily drifted over the heads of the two men who sat at a conference-style table across from each other. They both wore suits and ties, but the younger man had loosened his tie and looked a little tense. The older man spoke: "I grow weary of waiting for them to trip over their own mistakes or to find just the perfect opportune moment before we can end their interference once and for all. We created a monster and it must be stopped. She was nothing before we made her a player, and, without him, she will be nothing again; certainly not a threat to us." "So, how the hell am I supposed to inject him? Sir." There was some insolence here, and the man who lit another cigarette duly noted it and filed it away for later consideration. When no response was forthcoming, the man continued, "Do you think that he will just stick his arm out for me if I simply walk up to him and say, 'I need to give you a shot of this experimental drug, Agent Mulder. Mind if I stick you?" "Of course not. Take Blauer and Michaels with you and pay a little visit to his apartment at 3:00 AM. You should be able to administer an injection with two large men holding him down. It doesn't matter if he knows that he has been injected with something; as a matter of fact, make certain that he is aware of it." - ---------------------- PART 1 2:49 AM Fox Mulder's Apartment Mulder had finally fallen asleep on the couch after a long night of fighting his private demons. This time it was about not being able to save a little girl from his abductor (non-alien this time). It would have been better, he thought, had the abduction been of alien origin, since they would have probably been kinder in their treatment of the child. He had called his FBI partner, Dana Scully, at 11:00 PM, talking the case over with her until he realized she was too polite and concerned for his mental state to admit that she was falling asleep holding the phone in her hands. It was late and they had spent a very long and tiring day, so he told her goodnight and let her go to bed. Then he spent the next three hours wide awake, his brain running at full speed, weighing this and that option, feeling the guilt in not being Superman and God all rolled into one when it came to helping a defenseless little kid get away from a madman before he literally ripped her to shreds. He finally was able to come to a temporary peace with himself and drifted off to sleep. That sleep was shattered when he felt two sets of very big and strong hands holding him down by both arms and legs while another person shoved his coffee table aside. This third person leaned over Mulder and stabbed his right arm with what felt like a huge needle. When he felt the needle entering his arm, he bucked and kicked like a madman. One leg came free momentarily, but was quickly re-captured. The needle went deeper and he felt the sting of something being injected. With the blinds closed and the lights off, it was too dark to see much of anything. He felt the needle withdraw from his arm, and someone said in a low voice, "This drug, Agent Mulder, will cause bouts of paranoia, lost sections of time, suicidal tendencies, and rage, increasing to a murderous level. It will make you a homicidal maniac. Have a happy day, now." Then pain exploded in his head, and everything went black. The pounding at the door finally pulled him back to consciousness. "Mulder!" It was Scully. She must have been knocking for awhile with no response, because he heard the key in the lock, and she tentatively walked in. He cleared his throat and called, "Scully, I'm in here." He wearily sat upright, feeling pretty crappy in general. As she reached the doorway to his living area and saw that he was still dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, she said, "You didn't come in to work and weren't answering your phone. What's wrong?" She moved to his side and then saw the abrasion on his temple. She sat down next to him and peered into his eyes to see if there were any sign of a concussion. She was shocked at the fear she saw there. " Mulder, what happened?" He said bitterly, " 'They' injected me with something." He held his arm out for her to see the mark, now discolored and bruised. "I woke up to find two guys were holding my arms and legs so I couldn't move and another one stabbed me with a hypodermic needle." As she gently touched the mistreated flesh, he could see the spark of fear jump into her eyes, too. They both knew that their enemies played with some pretty scary chemical compounds, not all of them of terrestrial origin. He could see that she was thinking about what might be roaming around in his body through his bloodstream. The thought made his flesh crawl. "We need to get your blood analyzed as soon as possible, Mulder, to see what we are dealing with." He looked up at her and asked wryly, "You think an analysis is going to tell us much, honestly?" "She sighed and said, "Maybe not. But it could give us some clues about what might be in your bloodstream." She was trying not to panic, to lend him some stability so they wouldn't both go off the deep end with this frightening new development. And she was terrified of what "they" may have done to his system; she knew that there were so many things it could be, and all were bad. Even if nothing tested as wrong with him now, something could show up years down the road. She helped him stand up, since some dizziness from the blow to his head remained. "Can you get dressed all right on your own?" He looked down at her and managed to grin, saying, "Why do you always give me those great openings, Scully?" Shaking her head as he unsteadily walked into the bedroom, she looked around the living area to see if his attackers had left any signs or evidence lying around. She didn't expect to find anything, so she was not surprised when she didn't. He emerged from the bedroom looking amazingly normal in his suit and "Marvin the Martian" tie, although, knowing him as well as she did, the pinched look about his eyes would have tipped her off that something was very wrong. They went first to George Washington to have blood samples taken for testing and to check his head injury, then took some of the samples with them to the FBI forensics lab for further analysis. They decided not to stop to see AD Skinner until they knew a little more about what was going on. "Now we wait," Scully said as they got into her car. As she fastened the seat belt, she looked at Mulder and asked, "How are you feeling?" He hadn't moved since he sat down, but was staring through the windshield. "I feel like a bug under a microscope with you waiting to see if I'm going to turn purple and grow three heads." Scully looked surprised at the venomous tone he used, instead of the light, teasing one which would be normal. He just glared at her, and demanded, "Well? Have I sprouted one horn or two on my head yet?" Scully quickly said, "Mulder, calm down. You have something in your body that might do god-knows-what to you. Of course we have to be alert to any changes in your mental and physical makeup." Mulder winced at the thought of how he had sounded, and said, "Sorry. Must be the drug talking. That's the only good part, you know, Scully." He grinned unconvincingly, "I can say whatever I want and just blame it on the injection." She noticed that he was sweating even though the interior of the car was still cold. And he was fidgeting quite a bit. He turned his head away and he made a sound that was suspiciously like a sob. "Normal people catch a cold; I get the mystery virus." Scully wanted so badly to be able to say something that would make him feel better, but she realized sadly that there was nothing. "Mulder, did those men say anything at all to you this morning that would give us a clue about what we're dealing with?" His shoulders hunched protectively and he muttered, "Yeah." He turned a burning gaze to her and said, "The one who injected me. He said that I would have blackouts, time losses, and be subject to uncontrollable rages." He paused, then whispered, "And it would make me a killer." Scully, her concern written clearly on her face, said, "Mulder, you should have told me sooner. It could help in knowing what kinds of compounds to look for. She placed her hand on his and added, "You should be under observation, and you know it." He snatched his hand away. "No." Suddenly, with no warning, he started pounding the dashboard with his right fist, hitting it with deliberate, methodical blows. His teeth were clenched and his breathing had quickened. Swiveling abruptly to face her, his last blow hit her headrest and came so close to her face that she felt the back of his hand graze her skin. She gave a startled sound, but sat perfectly still. Scully was getting scared, but tried to keep it out of her expression. "Let's go back to the hospital, Mulder." His eyes looked insane when he turned them on her. "I won't be studied like a specimen. I know you could give a shit about me, Doctor Scully, except to pin me to a board and dissect old Spooky to see what makes him tick. Sucking up to Skinner for a promotion." She had to yell over his voice to be heard. "Mulder, stop. You know better than that. And you're not making sense. Think about what you're saying." He was dimly aware that the drug was making him dredge up all the little hidden paranoias in his psyche and magnifying them a hundredfold. If he ever in his life had one single nagging doubt about Scully for even a second, the drug pulled it out into the light and blew it up into a major betrayal. Moving swiftly, he startled her by leaning so close that his face was out of focus. She flinched, but he simply unlatched the car door, sliding his body across hers as he pushed it open. Then he visciously jabbed his thumb into the seat belt release and shoved Scully out of the door as she frantically grabbed at him and the car for handholds. She wasn't quick enough and he kept pushing with a strength against which she had no defense. She scraped her leg on the door somewhere and landed hard on the concrete on her left hip. A part of Mulder still was sane and rational, looking at what he was doing and what he was becoming. But that part was buried deep down and unable to do much but silently cry out in protest and shame. She raised her head and saw that Mulder was already settling into the driver's seat and putting the car in gear. He gave her one last look filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger, then the car leaped away from her as he hit the gas pedal. He closed the car door as he drove much too fast down the exit ramp. Scully got slowly to her feet, favoring her left leg, and felt both like crying over and killing Mulder all at once. Her fear for him was overwhelming. She had to see Skinner as quickly as possible. PART 2 Scully was surprised to find that Assistant Director Skinner was not only available but could see her immediately. She was invited to have a seat across the desk from him, then he asked, "Now, what can I do for you, Agent Scully?" She hesitated, not knowing exactly how to begin, then said, "Sir, to start with, you need to authorize a forensic team to go over Agent Mulder's apartment for evidence." His eyebrows rose quizzically as he asked, "Evidence of what, may I ask?" She quickly told him of what had happened starting from when she had gone to Mulder's apartment to see why he hadn't come to work that morning. When she finished with how Mulder had fled with her car, Skinner was looking very concerned. "So you are saying that there's a deranged and dangerous ARMED FBI agent running around like a loose cannon in the city?" "Sir, I would expect a little more compassion for Agent Mulder's predicament but, yes, that is essentially correct." He ignored the rebuke and said, "I'll want the results of those blood analyses the minute they are available." She nodded. "And I want you to meet with me and the field agents I am about to select so that you may explain the situation and to provide assistance. You will also provide coordination between us and the local law enforcement agencies." She said, "But sir, putting all those armed police officers and federal agents out there looking for an 'armed and dangerous' man will only put Mulder at risk of getting shot and killed." "How would you suggest that we find him before he harms someone, Scully?" He looked like he really wanted to know. "Besides, that's why I'm putting you in charge so you can see that this is handled in his best interests." She realized that he had been hit hard by the this threat to one of his best agents, and would try to see that no further harm would come to him. But he had to protect the rest of the city, too, in case the drug pushed Mulder to attack someone. She looked down at the clenched hands in her lap and shook her head, then said in a low voice, "I don't know how to find him *without* help at this point." She looked up and said, "Thank you." "Then let's get moving on this; he's already been running around out there in God knows what frame of mind for nearly an hour." He called his secretary in and fired some orders. When she hurried off, he said, "Go down and get something to eat, and we'll all meet in Conference Room C in half an hour." She didn't think she could eat anything, but went downstairs to the cafeteria anyway, where she picked at a salad for awhile. Her mind was filled with Mulder; where had he gone, what he was thinking right now, would he really kill anyone even with the drug in his system, how scared she was of what this could do to him whether or not he recovered. Scully wondered what was happening to him right now. - ------------------------ Mulder was finding that he was alternating between periods of lucidity and lunacy. He would feel almost normal except for the anxiety and a tendency to perspire, but then the rage would build, feeding on the darkest part of himself. Once the fury had built to a white hot all-consuming blaze, he would suffer a blackout, not aware of his surroundings until the rage had subsided. Mulder didn't know how much of his real self was left anymore and how much had become this uncontrollable stranger who was raping his very soul. When he regained awareness after his first enraged episode had taken place, he was standing on a city street next to a totally trashed Mercedes Benz, holding a tire iron wearily at his side. From the look of things and from how tired he felt, he must have laid into the car pretty good. All the windows were smashed as were the head and tail lights. Every inch of the car body itself was dented and gouged. Standing nearby was a tall well-dressed middle aged woman. She was leaning against a light pole for support while trembling and weeping. Several other people stood around, mostly in shock, none of them wanting to confront Mulder. One teenager was shouting, "Way to go, man! Bet she'll use her signal next time!" Mulder dropped the tire iron and it gave a metallic ring as it hit the pavement. His (Scully's) car was hemmed in by traffic which was at a dead stop in all four directions, so he picked the direction with the least number of people and took off running. Mulder was determined to reach a location that would be more secluded, away from people and the chance to hurt someone. So far he had killed a car, upset and scared the car's apparent owner, and shoved Scully onto the concrete garage floor. (I can't hurt her any more. I'm staying away from Scully until this is over, one way or another). But before he had gone five blocks, he felt the surge of adrenalin and the building fury returning. He wasn't able to even begin fighting it before it had overwhelmed him. - --------------------- Scully was bone-tired. She had spent all day working with one law enforcement group or another, trying desperately to find Mulder. She had enlisted the Lone Gunmen, the group Mulder always turned to when he needed some fast information, usually on the paranormal or other socially unacceptable subjects. She had been unsuccessful so far in reaching "X," the mysterious contact Mulder had within the government. For all she knew, he might know who was responsible for Mulder's predicament and be able to help in finding a way to resolve it. Dusk had fallen by the time Scully finally took a break and stopped by her apartment to get a shower and change. It promised to be a long night. - ----------------------- Mulder gradually became aware that he was lying across some hard, cold marble steps, and was extremely uncomfortable. He struggled to a sitting position and looked around curiously, immediately recognizing his surroundings. He was on the steps leading up to the Lincoln Memorial, which was all lit up for evening tourists. Despite the chilly night air, there were a few roaming around enjoying the illuminated Reflecting Pool, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol Building from the vantage point of the steps. He felt sticky for some reason and held his hands up to catch the light. His breathing seemed to stop when he saw that it looked like blood all over his hands. Checking his clothes, he could see dark stains all over the front and sleeves. From the way his hair felt, it was probably on his face and in his hair, too. And it wasn't his own, because there didn't seem to be any injury on his body that he could find. "Oh, God, what have I done?" was his first thought. He closed his eyes and tried to force a memory from the recent past, and something did come through that he immediately wished had not surfaced. His mind gave him some pictures in a series of flashes, sort of like strobe lighting. His hand grabbing a little boy. The little boy's look of stark terror. The boy was screaming and struggling against his hand. His gun was drawn and he was firing. The little boy...he...the boy took a bullet in his small chest. Blood was everywhere and someone screamed on and on and on... His eyes flew open and he gasped with the shock of the memory. And he knew with a calm resignation what he had to do now. - ------------------------- Scully had showered and had just slipped into a pair of trousers and a blouse, when the phone rang. She grabbed it while putting her shoes on, saying, "Scully." She instantly knew it was Mulder, even though he hadn't said anything yet. "Mulder? Is that you?" "Scully. I...I've done something...terrible." "Where are you, Mulder?" It scared her to hear the way he sounded. "Scully, I killed a little boy." Sobs reached her ears, then were muffled. "Please, Mulder, come to my place. I'll take care of you." She thought about what he had said, and her heart felt like it was being squeezed in someone's fist. Finally, he mumbled something like, "No...kill you too. Have to end this." The realization hit her then that he would kill himself while still free of the drug-induced rage before he could endanger anyone else. "Mulder, we've got results on the blood work and they're trying to see how to break down the elements so we can interrupt the messages that this drug is feeding your brain. Please tell me where you are so I can protect you until they come up with something." "I don't have much time, Scully. I wanted you to know that..." she couldn't make out the last words. Could they really have been "I love you?" No. Tears were running freely down her face, and she tried pleading once more with him, but heard the quiet click of the connection being broken. Still gripping the receiver tightly in her fist, she slid down the wall to the floor, horror stricken with the thought of what he was probably doing right now. Mulder put his cel phone back into his pocket and unholstered his gun. He sat for a few seconds just looking out over the city, holding his weapon against his thigh. Then, in a surprisingly graceful movement for so ugly an act, he swiftly brought the gun up to his temple and tightened his trigger finger. - -------------------------- When Scully felt that she could talk without breaking down, she called Skinner and told him about the conversation with Mulder. He told her to check on any reports of a boy being shot in the past six to eight hours. "Mulder may be halucinating at this stage. Meanwhile, I'll make a few calls and see if we can get more people on the streets trying to find him." Skinner's voice reflected the concern he felt for Mulder, and Scully appreciated it. Scully hung up, then dialled the downtown police precinct and asked to speak with the duty officer. When Officer Griffin answered, Scully identified herself, then asked about any reports on a shooting involving a small boy. "Just a sec," he said, and she could hear the sound of paper rustling. "About 45 minutes ago a seven-year-old boy and his father were killed by a 'deranged' gunman near a theater in downtown D. C. That's how witnesses described him, anyway. We have detectives on the scene pursuing an investigation, and should have more details soon." She thanked him and hung up with a shaking hand. (Continued in second installment) =========================================================================== From: fox42@ix.netcom.com Date: Thu, 27 Jun 1996 00:18:24 -0400 Subject: Repost: Second section of "Killer" Here's the rest of the story; thanks for your extreme patience. KILLER by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) PART 3 As Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, he felt the lightest touch of a small hand on his leg. He opened his eyes and there was a little five year old girl standing on the step next to him. She had touched him to get his attention. Her eyes, even in the indirect lighting, appeared to be a brilliant blue and she had curly ash-blond hair tied with a blue ribbon. She wore a dark blue windbreaker with jeans and a sweatshirt, and red tennis shoes. Mulder slowly lowered the gun and returned it to his holster. That would have to wait. The girl solemnly watched his every movement, and finally spoke. "My daddy said not to play with guns." She looked at him a long moment, then added, "And I think you need a bath." He knew that he was covered in blood. He probably smelled pretty badly, too, since he had been perspiring like a fountain all day. It was no wonder she thought he needed a bath. "What's your name," he huskily asked her. "Kate. We live in Annapolis, and my daddy is in the Navy." Mulder glanced around, but saw no one who looked the least bit interested in Kate or himself. "Are you lost?" "No," was the confident reply. Mulder was afraid to move a muscle, fearful that the demons in him would take over again any second and he cringed at the thought that he could be dangerous to this beautiful little girl. He felt like the Frankenstein monster sitting there watching the Kate pull a small doll out of a pocket of her windbreaker and then settle down on the steps near him and begin to play. Thinking, "Please, where are her parents?" he prayed that they would hurry and get her away from him before...he couldn't think about it or he would go mad. "Kate! There you are! We've been looking everywhere..." Mulder's eyes tracked up to the left and saw a very large and muscular man in jeans and bulky sweater coming down and across the steps toward them. "You get what you pray for, I guess," Mulder thought. Except that this guy could be trouble when he got a look at the kind of guy his daughter chose to associate with. Better leave. He got to his feet, gave a backhanded sort of wave in the general direction of Kate and her approaching father, and headed down toward the Reflecting Pool. Hopefully, the father was still far enough from him so that he couldn't get a good look at his appearance; the darkness helped, too. Walking for as long as he felt the need to distance himself sufficiently from the girl, he finally sank gratefully onto a bench located halfway down the length of the pool. He sat and stared at the shimmering surface of the water for a few minutes, then the realization hit him. It had been a hell of a long time since the helpless rage had overcome him. It had never given him such a long lucid period before. Could it be possible that the drug could wear off? Then the memory of what he had done earlier returned in a rush to punch him in the stomach. His short moment of hope returned to horror and regret. Tears blurred his vision and he bent over clutching his mid-section. He rocked back and forth in torment, the picture of that bloodied little boy etched forever in his brain. He tried to think: His will had been updated a little over a year before. When he realized how important Scully had become in his life, he had made her a part of it. No, he couldn't think of anything left to be done anymore. A spasm of despair washed over him again, and he didn't want to wait any longer. Oblivious to all but the pain of living, he once again removed his gun from it's leather cradle and re-checked the clip. He closed his eyes and whispered an apology, "I'm sorry, Scully." And he hoped his long lost sister Samantha would understand why he could not carry on his life-long search for her any more. He brought the gun up to his head once more and closed his eyes. Then something that felt like a boulder hit him between the shoulders and he went head-first off the bench into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him when the boulder's full weight landed on his back. His gun left his hand and took off like a bird, flying beyond his grasp. Mulder began to fight as though he had gone berserk, kicking and punching at his attacker, but more hands had joined in the fight, trying to hold him down. He felt handcuffs tighten on his wrists behind his back, and he suddenly went limp, too weary physically and mentally to fight any longer, still gasping for breath. Lying on his side on the cold grass, he could see that the initial attacker had been Kate's father. She must have told him about the "smelly guy with the gun." The other two bodies present were uniformed District of Columbia police officers. One of them approached Mulder and asked if he wanted to sit on the bench; it would be warmer and dryer then the wet grass. Mulder thought about moving for a minute. He really didn't want to get up, but decided to be cooperative as long as he had to wait around to finish what he had started, anyway. The officer helped him to his feet, and he perched on the edge of the bench. Mulder had gotten a look at the policeman, who was blond, handsome and appeared to be all of sixteen years old. Great; a rookie. "I'm Officer Charles Clarke, and my partner's name is Jeff Clement. I don't think you realize how hard we've been looking for you, Agent Mulder." That caught his attention. They knew who he was. He didn't say anything, though, and just kept staring down at the ground. "Thank goodness that little girl told her father about you and he was concerned enough to try to stop you from killing yourself." Mulder broke his silence then to mutter, "This isn't fucking Sesame Street here. With a daughter like that, he should have run the other way from a man who has a gun." Officer Clarke looked startled more by the fact that Mulder had spoken than by what he had said. He took it as an invitation to continue the conversation. "We're trying to contact your partner right now, but she's out of the office and not at her apartment. We've been getting a busy signal on her mobile phone." Mulder winced at the thought of having to face Scully with what he had done. God, it hurt so much. Mercifully, Officer Clarke stood up to talk with his partner, and Mulder was left to himself for awhile. He noticed there were a few people attracted by what looked like an arrest, but when nothing much happened, most tended to drift off. Then he saw Kate standing with a woman who must be her mother. They were a good twenty yards away, but were standing in the glow cast by one of the intermittently spaced overhead light poles. Her mother looked like Kate, which is to say she was beautiful. They were apparently waiting for the missing member of the family so they could go home. Kate saw Mulder looking their way, and gave him a radiant smile. His heart ached to see it, and for some reason his eyes became suspiciously damp. But, God help him, he could not smile back, and doubted he would ever smile again. It hurt too much. But he discovered that he could hurt even more, when he saw Scully running toward him from the side street. Her brow was furrowed with concern, and changed to relief and joy when she got close enough to see that he seemed to be whole and still alive. When she reached him, she leaned down to make eye contact, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the immense pain and sadness there. No matter how this turned out, she would be haunted forever by the expression in those eyes. She sat down next to him, slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, feeling the stiffness of his unyielding muscles. They were more like stone than flesh. Scully was never demonstrative, especially when there were spectators interested in their every move nearby, but she seemed to have lost that particular inhibition, at least for the moment. She knew that the hungry need this man had for comfort and forgiveness was far greater than her capacity to give, so she simply offered what she could and hoped it would help in some measure. He couldn't speak; he was so ashamed that he couldn't bear to look at her again. She understood and at last released her hold on him. She looked around for someone in charge and had Mulder's handcuffs removed. Then she arranged to ride with him in the police car when they took him to the hospital to be checked out. The first thing she heard him say when they were settled in the rear seat of the police car was, "Please, Scully, I can't do this." His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. "Just take it one thing at a time, Mulder, and we can get through it together." His eyes blazing and teeth clenched in anger, he loudly protested, "Dammit, Scully! I...murdered...a little...child!! Can you understand what that means?!" His voice rose and cracked on the last word, and his fist hit his thigh with an audible sound. Scully bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded. "Mulder, you know that the drug is responsible, not you." "Does that matter!?" His horror was so great that she was struck mute in its smothering presence. Her cel phone rang. Pulling it out of her pocket without taking her eyes off Mulder, she softly answered, "Yes?" "Agent Scully? This is Officer Ken Griffin; we spoke earlier about the shooting incident involving the seven year old child and his father? Well, the reports I'm getting from the detectives on the scene are that some drunk kid, age approximately 22, height about five feet nine inches, got pissed off...er...angry when he couldn't buy tickets to a sold-out show, and began shooting at people in line at the box office." Scully realized that she had been holding her breath during this report and slowly let it out as she listened. "Then a male passer-by saw what was happening and tried to grab the child to get him out of the line of fire, while drawing his own gun and returning fire at the shooter. But before he could put the boy all the way behind his own body, a bullet caught the kid right in the chest. One witness said that the guy came unglued when he realized the boy was gone and he couldn't help him. The shooter took off and was out of sight by the time this guy stood up and looked around for him. Then the guy took off, too." In a kind of trance, Scully thanked him for getting back to her, and disconnected. She sat there for a second, then looked up at Mulder. "You didn't kill that child, Mulder," she said. He didn't seem to hear her, lost in his own private hell as he gazed unseeingly out the window. "Mulder!" she said sharply. His head slowly turned toward her. "The police reports are in; Mulder, you did not kill that child. You were trying to save him." The confusion plainly showed on his face. "But I remember..." Scully said, "Your memory was affected by the drug. You tried to get the child out of the line of fire. The police have witnesses who say you shot at the gunman, and tried to protect the little boy." "But if I were subject to the homicidal tendencies of the drug, why would I do that? Wouldn't I be more apt to BE the shooter?" But she could see the dawning hope in his face that the endless nightmare could have an end, after all. Scully shook her head, not knowing the answer, then an expression of realization hit her. "Mulder, you haven't had one of those rages since I've been here." He nodded and said, "No, the effects seem to have worn off. It's been at least an hour and a half since I came out of the last one." Mulder's body sagged, and he said in disbelief, "I didn't kill him." Then he dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "I'm so tired, Scully." She hesitated for a second, knowing how private a person Mulder could be when under such emotional strain, then she reached over and put her hand gently on his head, ruffling his hair a tiny bit. The friendly gesture seemed to have no effect, so she retrieved her hand and said, "While they are checking you over at GW, I'll talk with Skinner. I'm sure that he can clear things up with everyone else so you can go home and get some rest." Still with his face hidden in his hands, Mulder gave a slight nod that Scully barely caught. Another minute passed, then Mulder took a deep breath as he sat back and lowered his hands to rest them on Scully's. His eyes sought hers and held them for what seemed forever. The intensity of the desire that tore through Scully was completely unexpected. "Oh, no," she thought. "He doesn't need more complications in his life right now, and neither do I." But Mulder could see the change in her expression and the way her body seemed to lose its rigidity. He pulled her up against his chest so that her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. She could feel his heart beating and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. "Mulder..." she began. She was halted by the whispered, "Shhh. We'll deal with this, but not now." She sighed and relaxed, putting aside all the problems she could see with this new aspect of their relationship. Then she smiled as she heard his soft snoring and realized that he was asleep. EPILOGUE The cigarette-smoking man patiently waited for the younger man to give him the information he needed. Once again, they were in the small conference room, seated across the table from each other. "He was picked up by the police when he tried to kill himself. His partner is with him on the way to a hospital." The smoke curled around the older man's head as he inquired, "And his condition?" A shrug. "The drug must have worn off. He hasn't gone bat-shit for quite awhile now." "It didn't last as long as I had hoped," was the thoughtful reply. "What do you want me to do now? Give him another dose when he leaves the hospital?" "I think not. It would be best to lay low for the time being. But stay available - I have a few other 'surprises' for Agent Mulder. He smiled. The other man thought, "If sharks could smile, that is exactly what they would look like." He shivered, and left the room with a sense of relief. The EndKILLER PART 3 As Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, he felt the lightest touch of a small hand on his leg. He opened his eyes and there was a little five year old girl standing on the step next to him. She had touched him to get his attention. Her eyes, even in the indirect lighting, appeared to be a brilliant blue and she had curly ash-blond hair tied with a blue ribbon. She wore a dark blue windbreaker with jeans and a sweatshirt, and red tennis shoes. Mulder slowly lowered the gun and returned it to his holster. That would have to wait. The girl solemnly watched his every movement, and finally spoke. "My daddy said not to play with guns." She looked at him a long moment, then added, "And I think you need a bath." He knew that he was covered in blood. He probably smelled pretty badly, too, since he had been perspiring like a fountain all day. It was no wonder she thought he needed a bath. "What's your name," he huskily asked her. "Kate. We live in Annapolis, and my daddy is in the Navy." Mulder glanced around, but saw no one who looked the least bit interested in Kate or himself. "Are you lost?" "No," was the confident reply. Mulder was afraid to move a muscle, fearful that the demons in him would take over again any second and he cringed at the thought that he could be dangerous to this beautiful little girl. He felt like the Frankenstein monster sitting there watching the Kate pull a small doll out of a pocket of her windbreaker and then settle down on the steps near him and begin to play. Thinking, "Please, where are her parents?" he prayed that they would hurry and get her away from him before...he couldn't think about it or he would go mad. "Kate! There you are! We've been looking everywhere..." Mulder's eyes tracked up to the left and saw a very large and muscular man in jeans and bulky sweater coming down and across the steps toward them. "You get what you pray for, I guess," Mulder thought. Except that this guy could be trouble when he got a look at the kind of guy his daughter chose to associate with. Better leave. He got to his feet, gave a backhanded sort of wave in the general direction of Kate and her approaching father, and headed down toward the Reflecting Pool. Hopefully, the father was still far enough from him so that he couldn't get a good look at his appearance; the darkness helped, too. Walking for as long as he felt the need to distance himself sufficiently from the girl, he finally sank gratefully onto a bench located halfway down the length of the pool. He sat and stared at the shimmering surface of the water for a few minutes, then the realization hit him. It had been a hell of a long time since the helpless rage had overcome him. It had never given him such a long lucid period before. Could it be possible that the drug could wear off? Then the memory of what he had done earlier returned in a rush to punch him in the stomach. His short moment of hope returned to horror and regret. Tears blurred his vision and he bent over clutching his mid-section. He rocked back and forth in torment, the picture of that bloodied little boy etched forever in his brain. He tried to think: His will had been updated a little over a year before. When he realized how important Scully had become in his life, he had made her a part of it. No, he couldn't think of anything left to be done anymore. A spasm of despair washed over him again, and he didn't want to wait any longer. Oblivious to all but the pain of living, he once again removed his gun from it's leather cradle and re-checked the clip. He closed his eyes and whispered an apology, "I'm sorry, Scully." And he hoped his long lost sister Samantha would understand why he could not carry on his life-long search for her any more. He brought the gun up to his head once more and closed his eyes. Then something that felt like a boulder hit him between the shoulders and he went head-first off the bench into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him when the boulder's full weight landed on his back. His gun left his hand and took off like a bird, flying beyond his grasp. Mulder began to fight as though he had gone berserk, kicking and punching at his attacker, but more hands had joined in the fight, trying to hold him down. He felt handcuffs tighten on his wrists behind his back, and he suddenly went limp, too weary physically and mentally to fight any longer, still gasping for breath. Lying on his side on the cold grass, he could see that the initial attacker had been Kate's father. She must have told him about the "smelly guy with the gun." The other two bodies present were uniformed District of Columbia police officers. One of them approached Mulder and asked if he wanted to sit on the bench; it would be warmer and dryer then the wet grass. Mulder thought about moving for a minute. He really didn't want to get up, but decided to be cooperative as long as he had to wait around to finish what he had started, anyway. The officer helped him to his feet, and he perched on the edge of the bench. Mulder had gotten a look at the policeman, who was blond, handsome and appeared to be all of sixteen years old. Great; a rookie. "I'm Officer Charles Clarke, and my partner's name is Jeff Clement. I don't think you realize how hard we've been looking for you, Agent Mulder." That caught his attention. They knew who he was. He didn't say anything, though, and just kept staring down at the ground. "Thank goodness that little girl told her father about you and he was concerned enough to try to stop you from killing yourself." Mulder broke his silence then to mutter, "This isn't fucking Sesame Street here. With a daughter like that, he should have run the other way from a man who has a gun." Officer Clarke looked startled more by the fact that Mulder had spoken than by what he had said. He took it as an invitation to continue the conversation. "We're trying to contact your partner right now, but she's out of the office and not at her apartment. We've been getting a busy signal on her mobile phone." Mulder winced at the thought of having to face Scully with what he had done. God, it hurt so much. Mercifully, Officer Clarke stood up to talk with his partner, and Mulder was left to himself for awhile. He noticed there were a few people attracted by what looked like an arrest, but when nothing much happened, most tended to drift off. Then he saw Kate standing with a woman who must be her mother. They were a good twenty yards away, but were standing in the glow cast by one of the intermittently spaced overhead light poles. Her mother looked like Kate, which is to say she was beautiful. They were apparently waiting for the missing member of the family so they could go home. Kate saw Mulder looking their way, and gave him a radiant smile. His heart ached to see it, and for some reason his eyes became suspiciously damp. But, God help him, he could not smile back, and doubted he would ever smile again. It hurt too much. But he discovered that he could hurt even more, when he saw Scully running toward him from the side street. Her brow was furrowed with concern, and changed to relief and joy when she got close enough to see that he seemed to be whole and still alive. When she reached him, she leaned down to make eye contact, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the immense pain and sadness there. No matter how this turned out, she would be haunted forever by the expression in those eyes. She sat down next to him, slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, feeling the stiffness of his unyielding muscles. They were more like stone than flesh. Scully was never demonstrative, especially when there were spectators interested in their every move nearby, but she seemed to have lost that particular inhibition, at least for the moment. She knew that the hungry need this man had for comfort and forgiveness was far greater than her capacity to give, so she simply offered what she could and hoped it would help in some measure. He couldn't speak; he was so ashamed that he couldn't bear to look at her again. She understood and at last released her hold on him. She looked around for someone in charge and had Mulder's handcuffs removed. Then she arranged to ride with him in the police car when they took him to the hospital to be checked out. The first thing she heard him say when they were settled in the rear seat of the police car was, "Please, Scully, I can't do this." His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. "Just take it one thing at a time, Mulder, and we can get through it together." His eyes blazing and teeth clenched in anger, he loudly protested, "Dammit, Scully! I...murdered...a little...child!! Can you understand what that means?!" His voice rose and cracked on the last word, and his fist hit his thigh with an audible sound. Scully bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded. "Mulder, you know that the drug is responsible, not you." "Does that matter!?" His horror was so great that she was struck mute in its smothering presence. Her cel phone rang. Pulling it out of her pocket without taking her eyes off Mulder, she softly answered, "Yes?" "Agent Scully? This is Officer Ken Griffin; we spoke earlier about the shooting incident involving the seven year old child and his father? Well, the reports I'm getting from the detectives on the scene are that some drunk kid, age approximately 22, height about five feet nine inches, got pissed off...er...angry when he couldn't buy tickets to a sold-out show, and began shooting at people in line at the box office." Scully realized that she had been holding her breath during this report and slowly let it out as she listened. "Then a male passer-by saw what was happening and tried to grab the child to get him out of the line of fire, while drawing his own gun and returning fire at the shooter. But before he could put the boy all the way behind his own body, a bullet caught the kid right in the chest. One witness said that the guy came unglued when he realized the boy was gone and he couldn't help him. The shooter took off and was out of sight by the time this guy stood up and looked around for him. Then the guy took off, too." In a kind of trance, Scully thanked him for getting back to her, and disconnected. She sat there for a second, then looked up at Mulder. "You didn't kill that child, Mulder," she said. He didn't seem to hear her, lost in his own private hell as he gazed unseeingly out the window. "Mulder!" she said sharply. His head slowly turned toward her. "The police reports are in; Mulder, you did not kill that child. You were trying to save him." The confusion plainly showed on his face. "But I remember..." Scully said, "Your memory was affected by the drug. You tried to get the child out of the line of fire. The police have witnesses who say you shot at the gunman, and tried to protect the little boy." "But if I were subject to the homicidal tendencies of the drug, why would I do that? Wouldn't I be more apt to BE the shooter?" But she could see the dawning hope in his face that the endless nightmare could have an end, after all. Scully shook her head, not knowing the answer, then an expression of realization hit her. "Mulder, you haven't had one of those rages since I've been here." He nodded and said, "No, the effects seem to have worn off. It's been at least an hour and a half since I came out of the last one." Mulder's body sagged, and he said in disbelief, "I didn't kill him." Then he dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "I'm so tired, Scully." She hesitated for a second, knowing how private a person Mulder could be when under such emotional strain, then she reached over and put her hand gently on his head, ruffling his hair a tiny bit. The friendly gesture seemed to have no effect, so she retrieved her hand and said, "While they are checking you over at GW, I'll talk with Skinner. I'm sure that he can clear things up with everyone else so you can go home and get some rest." Still with his face hidden in his hands, Mulder gave a slight nod that Scully barely caught. Another minute passed, then Mulder took a deep breath as he sat back and lowered his hands to rest them on Scully's. His eyes sought hers and held them for what seemed forever. The intensity of the desire that tore through Scully was completely unexpected. "Oh, no," she thought. "He doesn't need more complications in his life right now, and neither do I." But Mulder could see the change in her expression and the way her body seemed to lose its rigidity. He pulled her up against his chest so that her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. She could feel his heart beating and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. "Mulder..." she began. She was halted by the whispered, "Shhh. We'll deal with this, but not now." She sighed and relaxed, putting aside all the problems she could see with this new aspect of their relationship. Then she smiled as she heard his soft snoring and realized that he was asleep. EPILOGUE The cigarette-smoking man patiently waited for the younger man to give him the information he needed. Once again, they were in the small conference room, seated across the table from each other. "He was picked up by the police when he tried to kill himself. His partner is with him on the way to a hospital." The smoke curled around the older man's head as he inquired, "And his condition?" A shrug. "The drug must have worn off. He hasn't gone bat-shit for quite awhile now." "It didn't last as long as I had hoped," was the thoughtful reply. "What do you want me to do now? Give him another dose when he leaves the hospital?" "I think not. It would be best to lay low for the time being. But stay available - I have a few other 'surprises' for Agent Mulder. He smiled. The other man thought, "If sharks could smile, that is exactly what they would look like." He shivered, and left the room with a sense of relief. The End