Kyrie Eleison II, Christe Eleison 
By Xenith 
xenitha@yahoo.com 




 Rating:  PG

 Archiving:  Sure, just let me know first.

 Category: SA

 Spoilers: Thru 6th season

 Keywords: Mulder/Sc/Sk friendship;

 Note:  This is a sequel to an earlier story called Kyrie Eleison.
I highly recommend that you read Kyrie first, to understand this
story.  It is archived at the Muldertorture website:
www.muldertorture.com and at Xemplary: www.xemplary.com.  I have
included many song quotes in this story, not because I intended to
write a song-fic, but rather because the imagery from the songs
painted the pictures in my mind that became the story.  So it is
fitting that I quote them here.

 Summary:  Mulder's torturer goes on trial, but Mulder, suffering
from the emotional after-effects of Bailey's torture begins to
doubt his own sanity as he sees and hears things that nobody else
experiences.  But he doesn't suspect what only Skinner knows, that
the consortium is behind it.  And then Bailey gets loose...

 Feedback:  Yes! Yes! Please send feedback!!!!!

 Notes of Appreciation:  Many thanks to my beta reader, Vickie
Moseley, and to the people who e-mailed and asked for more.

 Disclaimer:  The characters of Mulder/Scully/Skinner etc are
owned by 1013 productions and Chris Carter. All I get is the
serial killer.  And none of the hotels, motels, bars, racetracks
or any other business who could sue me are in any way affiliated
with this story or are intended to be mentioned in a derogatory
way.  In fact, I hear that the Westin is a pretty nice place to
stay....



 "The wind blows hard against this mountainside
 Across the sea, into my soul--
 It reaches in, to where I cannot hide;
 Setting my feet upon the road....


 (Kyrie, Mr. Mister; punctuation added for emphasis)


 "Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison..."
 "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have
 mercy.."

 (A Catholic prayer asking for God's help and care for us, recited
at Mass).


 May 2, 12:00
 Somewhere in Washington D.C.


 "You're late" The older man picked a cigarette out of the ashtray
and took a luxuriant drag.  "I've been waiting for half an hour."

 The younger man, dark haired and wearing a black leather jacket,
wandered to the office chair and dropped into it.

 "Yeah, well, the traffic across town was a bitch. And it's not
like you gave me much warning of this meeting.  So what is it you
want?  Our current projects are going as planned."  Alex Krycek
eyed the smoker carefully.  It wouldn't do to underestimate this
man, ever.

 "I called you because I have an errand for you. You've read the
file I sent?"   Krycek nodded, and the smoker lifted a folder and
handed it to Krycek. "Here are more details.  Agent Mulder will be
released from the hospital tomorrow and will be returning to the X
Files this week."

 Krycek began flipping through the folder.  "I thought he was
going to be incapacitated for several months more."

 The smoker took another puff of his cigarette, breathing deeply. 
"His body may require further treatment, but I am concerned about
his intellect and the directions to which it might be turned."

 Krycek studied the file, pausing at the photographs within.  He
winced. He pulled his eyes away from the photographs and looked up
at the smoker.  "So what's the errand?"

 The smoker lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
"As you know, one of our more important projects is reaching a
sensitive point .  It is imperative that Agent Mulder
be...unavailable...to interfere with the results of this project.
Originally, when Agent Mulder and Assistant Director Skinner
disappeared,  it was my intention to take advantage of this
fortuitous event and allow the unknown felon to remove Agent
Mulder without hindrance."

 "I thought that you didn't want Mulder dead?" said Krycek
blandly.  He'd always wondered just what the relationship was
between Mulder and  C.G. B Spender .

 "Oh, I don't.  And I want you to preserve his life unless the
success of this project depends on it. In any case, Mulder isn't
dead, and he doesn't need to be killed at this juncture.  No, I
need him...broken...

 He must be made unable to function for an extended period of
time, unable to interfere in this project.

 And it must happen soon."  The Smoker pointed to the file in
Krycek's hands.

 "Review the file and you will see that Agent Mulder has suffered
serious physical injuries, but more importantly, appears to be
showing the inevitable psychological results of having been
tortured.  He has refused all counseling."

 The smoker leaned forward in his chair, and met Krycek's eyes.

 "You are to ensure that Agent Mulder breaks under the strain, and
remains broken for the foreseeable future. I have already
instituted the first phase of our activities.  Paul Bailey has
been found competent to stand trial for his crimes and has
received an anonymous donation of money;  enough  to retain a very
skilled attorney.  And he has been removed from the mental
hospital, into different accommodations.." The Smoker took another
puff and smiled.  "I understand that justice, usually rather slow,
is moving more swiftly for Mr. Bailey.  He has a trial date
shortly in Federal District Court.    I am confident that Agent
Mulder's courtroom experience will be a memorable one."

 "I have also initiated a small campaign to prepare Agent Mulder
for what lies ahead."  The smoker leaned back again and smiled
reminiscently.  "Have you ever seen an Ingrid Bergman movie called
'Gaslight'?"

 Krycek shook his head.  "No.  I don't go in for old movies much."

 The smoker shook his head sadly at Krycek.  "In the movie, a
murderous husband tries to convince his wife that she is insane
by...adjusting...her reality in ways that only she apparently can
perceive.  Rent the movie and watch it."  The smoker handed Krycek
a business card.  "Here is the person already at work on this
project.  Please contact him and make further arrangements as you
see fit."

 Krycek held the card and the file. "It would be kinder just to
kill him."

 The smoker's face took on a sad look.  "Yes, it would be kinder. 
But any mysterious accidents happening to Agent Mulder at this
time would lead to a suspicion of foul play.  And that could lead
to us, causing the very disruption to the project that we need to
avoid." He took another drag on the cigarette.  "No, this is the
best way."



 May 3, Arlington Manor Rehabilitation Center
 9:00 a.m.

 "I'm telling you, Scully, that I don't need a wheelchair!"
Mulder awkwardly turned in the hospital bed and faced his partner
across  the offending piece of hospital equipment.  "I'm walking
out of here.  A little slow, maybe, but on my own feet."

 Scully sighed.  Another day, another argument with Mulder about
what he could and couldn't do.  The doctors and nurses were
unanimously relieved to see Mulder leave the rehab center.

 "Mulder, it's a rule here.  You ride to the car. Besides, if you
trip and fall BEFORE you get to the parking lot, you could sue
them.  So give their lawyers a break and cooperate."

 Mulder glared at Scully, to be countered by her best Scullyglare.
His eyes dropped first.  Damn! She was always winning these
things..

 "All right...Whatever gets me out of here fastest." Mulder
carefully levered himself into the chair, and Scully began pushing
him down the hallway.  She considered the past 5 weeks, first
hospitalization and then rehab, and shuddered to remember it all.
Mulder's  injuries from torture at the hands of serial murderer
Paul Bailey, had been extensive and severe, including internal
injuries, broken ribs and 3rd degree burns on his chest and torso.
The treatment, then physical therapy to get Mulder moving again
hadn't been pleasant for either Mulder or the friends trying to
support him.

 Still, at least he could go to a non-hospital environment now,
and be able to care for himself minimally.  The physical problems
were under control. She wished she could say the same for the
psychological ones.  Mulder had refused the services of the Bureau
psychologist, even though Scully knew for a fact that he had vivid
nightmares every night.

 "Penny for your thoughts..." Said Mulder.

 "Oh, just thinkin'.  Life has been boring on the X Files since
you've been gone. Just the same old crop circles and cattle
mutilations." Scully pushed the chair out the front entrance into
the bright sunshine. "It will be good to have you back."  She
rolled the wheelchair over to the gold Taurus with government
plates.

 "Well, if you'd snuck those files into the hospital for me to
help you with, it wouldn't have been so tedious."  Mulder helped
himself out of the wheelchair, shaking off Scully's hands, and
waited by the car while she returned the chair to the hospital
entrance.

 Scully came over to the passenger's side door and opened it.
"Mulder, you know what Skinner would have done to me if he knew I
was sneaking work out to you. He said you were to rest while you
could.  And he was right!"  Scully tried to help Mulder into the
car, but he refused vehemently.  He climbed unsteadily into a seat
in the car and, refusing all assistance, buckled himself in
loosely.

 "You'd think I was 4 years old the way you're behaving." Mulder
muttered.  "I'm well, I'm fit, I'm going back to work, ok?"

 Scully took her seat next to him and lifted her hands in
surrender. "Ok, ok, you're fine, just fine."

 Mulder glared at her, but otherwise said nothing.

 Scully started up the car and began the drive to Mulder's
apartment, and, ignoring Mulder's protests,

 unloaded his bags, then carried them upstairs..

 "Hey, you cleaned the apartment!" Mulder said when he got a good
look at the living room. "And what did you do to my fish?"

 "I didn't do anything to your fish, I just cleaned the tank
occasionally."  Scully said calmly, and moved into the kitchen.
"I'm making coffee, want some?"

 "Hell yes!" Said Mulder. "They wouldn't let me have caffeine and
I've been longing for a decent cup of coffee for ages."  Mulder
sat down on his couch and felt, after a very long time, relaxed
and at home. He shook his head.  How long it had been since he'd
felt safe? Since before that blasted  conference in Reno...and
Paul Bailey.  No, can't think of that. Don't want to have a panic
attack in front of Scully...she'll just whisk me back to the
hospital...don't do it....

 Mulder's fists were clenched and he was breathing deeply when
Scully brought the coffee in.  She looked at him curiously, but
said nothing as she put his mug on the coffee table.

 "Mulder? Are you ok?"  She said softly.

 "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok." Mulder said tightly, and carefully picked
up the mug, as if afraid it (or he) would burst into a thousand
pieces.  He took a  sip and was relieved to feel the panic slowly
begin to drain out of him.  "So, what's on the agenda for
tomorrow?"

 Scully lifted her own mug and tried to decide how best to give
Mulder the news.  There is no good way, she decided.

 "Mulder, tomorrow we meet with prosecutor to discuss our
testimony at the Paul Bailey trial on the charges of his attempted
murder and assault on you.  We will be flying out to California at
the end of the week."


 Mulder's cup sloshed coffee as he set it down quickly. "So soon?"
he asked nervously.  "I thought the case wasn't going to go to
trial for months yet...I thought I'd have more time to..get
ready..."  Scully had to look away from the panic in Mulder's
eyes.

 "The prosecutor still hasn't charged him with the serial murders
yet.  He's waiting for the forensics to be completed.  And Bailey
has somehow retained a very expensive and high-powered lawyer
who's hot to try the assault case right now.  He managed to get
the trial date moved up and the location changed, San Francisco of
all places.  I just found out about this yesterday and hadn't had
a chance to tell you.  The prosecutor is busy planning for a
trial, now.  But you've testified in court before, Mulder."
Scully watched his hands on the coffee mug.  Mulder clutched the
mug more tightly, trying to control his trembling.  He began to
feel increasingly short of air, his breath coming in little pants.

 "Yes, I have testified many times...But not like this." Mulder
shakily picked up the coffee, then set it down again.  "I'll have
to..to face  him again. I haven't seen him since you and Skinner
rescued me." Mulder looked down at the coffee table, ashamed. "
I..don't know if I can.  You know about the nightmares, ...and
flashbacks...I'm sure that the nurses have been tattling on me."

 "Yes" Said Scully. "They've told me.  I know this is hard for
you, Mulder.  But you won't be alone.  I'll be there, and Skinner.
And you know that Bailey will be restrained.  He can't hurt you
any more."

 Mulder gave a short laugh.  "Huh, like he was restrained before?"
He stared ahead into space then went on with resignation.  "Well,
I suppose I can stand it as long as I have my gun on me."

 Scully was quiet for a moment, then picked up her car keys.
"Mulder, I have to go back to the office.  I have a meeting with
Skinner.  Will you be ok?  I'll come back around 6:00 and cook you
dinner."

 Mulder was about to protest that he didn't need somebody cooking
for him and that he could perfectly well take care of himself,
when he realized that this was Scully offering a home-cooked meal.
Self interest won over pride.

 "All right.  I'll see you this evening , then.  But Scully," He
called as she opened the door,  "Don't go after any sewer monsters
without me, huh?"

 "I promise." Scully said with a grin, and closed the door.
Mulder let out a breath and flopped back onto the couch, savoring
the familiar feel of the leather upholstery.  He stared up at the
ceiling.

 The last months had been bad; the worst he could remember since
the period after Samantha was taken. The physical pain had been
indescribable, but ultimately, endurable.  He stretched, then
winced a bit.  The body was still healing.  He sat up.  So was the
soul

 Yeah, treatment for burns and the surgery on his gut had been
terrible.  But  the rest of it...the dreams, the
panic...flashbacks...he'd never been so affected by the evil of a
suspect before.  Or maybe he'd never been so up-close-and-personal
with it before.

 He cradled his head in his hands.  God, the dreams. Not just
dreams of what had happened in the past...but also something in
the future.  He was sure of it. He saw Paul Bailey, free and
unfettered, and himself alone in a place he'd never seen before.
And Bailey was free...And then there was a huge, hungry black
void, trying to devour all that was Fox Mulder. Almost as though
something were eating his soul....That dream came every night; and
every night Mulder woke abruptly, trying to stifle his screams of
terror.

 He drew a ragged breath and got up.  He wandered into the
kitchen, admiring the sparkling clean floor, then pulled some
orange juice from the fully-stocked refrigerator.  Man, I ought to
get hurt more often, if Scully will come out and clean house like
this, he mused as he poured the juice into the *clean* glass.

 He sat down at his desk and saw that there were messages on the
answering machine.  He pressed 'play' and listened.

 "Agent Mulder, I'm looking forward to meeting you again soon.  I
have some very special plans for us, as we finish what we started.
I hope you've thought about me as much as I'm thinking about you!"
The rest of the messages on the machine faded into the screaming
terror that flooded Mulder's being.  Paul Bailey!  What was he
doing near a telephone?  Mulder hung onto the desk with both hands
and, as he had done so often recently, focused on breathing
deeply.  He hoped this panic attack would pass quickly....can't
wait for that.   He saw that the glass had tipped over, spilling
juice across his desk.  He didn't know when, but he must have
knocked it over...

 He went to the dresser and removed the holstered gun that he kept
there and strapped it on.  Then he double-checked every lock on
every window and door in the apartment.  He made sure that his
weapon was loaded and strapped the holster on at his waist, for
the first time in many months.  Then he made sure that his backup
gun was in its accustomed place at his ankle.  Then he phoned
Scully at the office.


 August 2, Hoover Building- Office of A.D. Skinner
 11:00 a.m.

 Scully seated herself in her usual chair, very conscious that the
second chair facing Skinner's desk was empty.

 A.D. Skinner closed a file as she sat and looked at her solemnly.

 "Good afternoon, Agent Scully.  I'm glad that you were available
to meet with me today."  He picked up the file he'd just closed.
"I called you in here to discuss Agent Mulder."

 "What about Agent Mulder, sir?  I picked him up at the hospital
this morning and he'll be coming back to work tomorrow.  He's
ready to go." Scully smiled anxiously at Skinner, who merely
looked solemn.

 "But is he really ready?  Dana, I've been reading his medical
file." Skinner flipped through the folder, his voice warm with
concern.  "Although his physical injuries have been treated to his
doctors' satisfaction, Mulder has consistently refused any
counseling.  And he is showing some severe effects of his...
experience."  Skinner's face took on a look of distaste as he and
Scully both recalled their own 'experience' of Paul Bailey.

 "Yes, sir.  I am aware of some of the problems. I've conferred
with Mulder's doctor, but there's no way to force him to accept
treatment.  He suffers from regular nightmares, and I've seen him
have panic attacks, although he does his best not to draw
attention to them.  He seems to be looking for privacy right now. 
And time to heal."

 Skinner clasped his hands together on top of the file and met
Scully's eyes, his face creased with worry. "Well, that's the one
thing he won't get.  I had a meeting with the prosecutor for the
Bailey case.  As you know, it's been moved to a different venue:
San Francisco.  It seems that Bailey's new attorney argued
successfully that the case would be tried with less bias in a
different jurisdiction, one without the prior publicity about the
"Tahoe Ripper".  And, in addition, the matter has been assigned to
a judge known for his dislike of Federal law enforcement,
especially the F.B.I."  Skinner sighed and took off his glasses,
rubbing his eyes with the other hand. "I'm afraid that Mulder
isn't in for an easy time of it."

 "Is there anything I can do to help?" Scully asked with concern.

 "You will be a witness in the case, as will I.  The best we can
hope for is for both of us to keep an eye on him and try to help
him if he needs it.  He won't be alone in this, if I can help it."

 The office door opened and Skinner's secretary, Kim stepped in.
"Excuse me, but Agent Mulder is on the line for Agent Scully."
Skinner pointed Scully to his phone, and Scully picked up.  As she
listened to Mulder, Skinner could see her expression change to one
of alarm.

 "Paul Bailey called you?  I'd understood that he doesn't get
phone privileges.  I'll follow up here and find out what
happened....No...no.....Mulder, I'm sure he isn't out of jail.
I'm sure he wouldn't be released on bail, with these charges
pending against him.  Ok, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
Scully hung up the phone and turned to Skinner.

 "Paul Bailey left a phone message for Mulder on his answering
machine.  I'm going to Mulder's apartment to get the tape for
analysis.  Would it be possible..?"

 "I'm on it." Said Skinner.  "I'll call the jail and find out how
this was allowed to happen, the prosecutor should be able to
follow up.  You go and check on Mulder.  I'll call you when I hear
anything." He reached for the phone. "And Scully?"  She turned.
"Be sure your gun is loaded."


 May 3, 12:30 p.m.
 Mulder's Apartment

 When Scully knocked at the apartment door, Mulder answered with
gun in hand.  Seeing that it was Scully, he sighed with relief and
let her in.

 "Are you sure it was Paul Bailey on the machine?"

 "It was definitely Paul Bailey, promising that we'd meet again
soon. ...Oh, he never left his name, but it was his voice."
Mulder fell silent.

 "Well, he'll live to regret it." Said Scully angrily. "Voiceprint
analysis will establish that it's him and it'll just be another
nail on his coffin!"

 Scully finished as Mulder pulled the tape from the machine.  He
put it into a cassette recorder, rewound and played it.  It was
blank.

 "I don't understand...it was here."  Mulder muttered and rewound
the tape.  "I never left the living room, except to go to the
kitchen and get some paper towels."

 "Why don't we take it to the lab and see if they can tell us
anything about the tape.  Maybe they can recover something.
Mulder, what are you doing?"

 Mulder had pulled his gun and was searching the apartment.  "I'm
checking to see if anybody has been here since I left."  He stood
up, and ran his finger over a spiderweb that ran across his desk. 
"This was here this morning, and it hasn't been disturbed."

 Mulder holstered his gun and sat down on the couch. "Scully, I
swear Paul Bailey called me and left a message!  It was there..."

 "It's ok, Mulder.  We'll examine the tape and see what we can
find out." Scully spoke soothingly.  She could hear an edge of
panic to Mulder's voice that had developed since Paul Bailey.
"Let's go get some lunch."

 "Dammit, Scully, don't baby me!  I know what I heard..." Now
Mulder could hear the hysteria in his own voice, and stopped
talking.  Then he forced himself to adopt a calmer tone.  "I don't
want to wait til tomorrow to go back to the office.  I'm coming
with you today."

 They both jumped when Scully's phone chirped. Scully pulled it
out of her jacket and opened it. "Scully." She began.

 "He's still in jail?  And he hasn't had access to a phone since
his transfer there a week ago.. did what? No, the tape needs to be
analyzed...we may not have much in the way of proof.  Yes sir,
we'll both be in later." Scully closed the phone and debated the
calmest way to break this news.

 "Mulder, Bailey's been in his jail cell for the past week and
hasn't made any telephone calls.   Staff there swear that he has
no access to a phone. Whoever it was, it wasn't him."

 Mulder jerked.  "It was him, Scully.  I'd know his voice
anywhere, under any circumstances.  They're lying!"  Mulder
stopped, seeing the look of worry mixed with pity on Scully's
face.

 "Mulder, in any case, he's a continent away..." Scully began.

 "I wish I believed that." Said Mulder, simply.

 The two agents quickly gathered their things and left for the
Hoover Building.  After the apartment door closed behind them, a
darkly clad figure stepped out of the hall closet, and, clutching
a tape in his hand, let himself out of the apartment.

*****************************
 "He can feel his skin like a prison
 Like a dying cage he struggles to live inside
 He tries to call out but nobody hears him..."

 (Sunday Morning Yellow Sky by October Project)

 Hoover Building August 2, 1:30 p.m.
 Basement

 At Scully's insistence, Mulder rode in to the office with her.
She worried that, in his current state of mind, he shouldn't be
behind the wheel of a car. Mulder gave in reluctantly when he
realized that she was probably right.  While they rode the
elevator down, Scully noticed how Mulder tapped his hand nervously
on the wall, and seemed uncomfortable in the small space.  She was
as relieved as he was when the elevator door opened.

 Scully offered to take the tape to the lab, and left Mulder alone
in the office.

 Mulder relaxed back into his desk.  He hadn't seen the place in
months and, like his apartment, it looked neater.  Even his desk
was more organized.  He rummaged through the stack of new files,
almost caressing them in his pleasure at being back where he
belonged.  He found a new plastic sack of sunflower seeds in the
desk drawer and popped one into his mouth.  He noticed that his
pencil-cup was full. Scully had sharpened at least 20 new pencils
to a fine point.  He picked up a neatly sharpened pencil and
tossed it up to the ceiling, bullseye!  Haven't lost the touch...

 "So, has it changed much?" Scully asked from the doorway.  She
stifled a laugh as the pencil detached from the ceiling and landed
on Mulder's head.

 Mulder grinned.  It was so good to be back home. "Not so much.  A
few of the dust bunnies have left, though, and I detect a faint
whiff of cleanser about my desk."

 "Well, I always thought of this as a 'bachelor' office.  There
wasn't much happening on the Files while you were gone (since I
was saving all the swamp monsters and mutants for you).  So I
thought I'd indulge a fantasy..."  Scully's face took on a leer
and she leaned forward and met Mulder's eyes.  "I got out the
Lysol and had an orgy... of cleaning!  It was
very.....satisfying."

 "Well, as long as you're...satisfied." Mulder drawled back.  "So,
is the lab working on the tape?"

 "Yes.  They'll tell us when they find something."

 The rest of the day was uneventful.  Scully kept her promise and
made a beef stroganoff that made Mulder's mouth water.  She stayed
and watched a movie with Mulder, and was grateful that all was
quiet.  No mysterious phone calls.  When it grew late, Scully
hesitated.  She felt uncomfortable leaving Mulder all alone when
he was feeling this way.  She knew that Mulder was safe from a
thoroughly jailed Paul Bailey, but still..

 "Mulder, since this is your first night out of the hospital, why
don't I crash on your couch in case you need anything."  Scully
suggested as lightly as she could.

 Mulder grinned. "Just my luck, the first and only time she asks
to spend the night with me, it's so she can fetch me hot milk if I
can't sleep!  Go home, Scully! I'm a grown man and I'm armed.  I'm
tired of being fussed over, and I'm looking forward to sleeping in
my own apartment...alone!"  Scully started to argue, but caught
the stubborn expression on Mulder's face.

 "Ok, but if you do need anything, you'll call, right?" She
gathered her car keys and began moving toward the door.
"Anything!"  She added as Mulder closed the door behind her.
Scully walked down to her car, intellectually sure that Mulder was
in no danger, but equally sure in her gut that she shouldn't have
left him.

 May 4, 3:10 a.m.
 Mulder's apartment

 Mulder felt pain, terrible pain and the flames wouldn't go away. 
They were surrounding him, brushing against his chest and his gut,
scorching everything in their path.  He screamed and nobody heard
him, but Paul.  He could just see Paul, his eyes glowing in the
flames and his face twisted into a grin of unholy glee.  He could
hear Bailey giggling happily as he held the flaming torch against
Mulder's protesting body...Mulder felt like he would burst with
terror, couldn't get away...couldn't call for help...couldn't
breathe....

 Mulder sat up in his bed panting for air, sweat streaming down
his body.  He could almost swear he still heard Paul Bailey,
faintly giggling and smell the stench of smoke in the air.  No,
just another nightmare...Mulder grabbed his knees and huddled in
the bed, trying to clear his mind of the images that wouldn't go
away.  He wondered how many times he would have to relive each and
every moment of that captivity, in vivid, colorful, excruciating
detail.

 The phone rang.  Mulder, hoping it was Scully, picked up.  The
voice was familiar, but not Scully's. "Hello, Agent Mulder.
Sleeping well?  Just remember, I'm keeping the home fires burning
for you..." Mulder never heard the rest, because he suddenly found
himself crouched on the other side of the room, as far from the
telephone as he could manage.

 Hoover Building, May 4, 8:00 a.m.
 Office of A.D. Skinner

 Skinner arrived at his office early, as usual, but was unable to
clear any of the paperwork off his desk as he had planned.
Instead, he swung his chair around to look out the window,
remembering events of five weeks ago.  He shivered.  Even now he
had nightmares about Paul Bailey, and he didn't want to think
about what Mulder's dreams must be like.  Skinner still felt
twinges of guilt remembering how his own errors in judgment had
nearly killed Mulder.

 He knew that Scully was worried about Mulder, but as usual she
was giving nothing away.  Mulder, being Mulder, had refused help
for his obvious post traumatic stress disorder.  Skinner shook his
head. Even he, the ex-Marine, had  seen the Bureau psychologist.
Those first few weeks after the kidnapping, he'd had continuous
nightmares of being forced to watch Mulder in pain, without being
able to do anything to prevent or alleviate it.  He still felt
ashamed that Bailey had gotten loose because of his own oversight,
in failing to make sure that Bailey was securely chained down.

 Regardless of what Mulder said, Skinner owed him. Well,  this was
Skinner's chance to try to make it up to Mulder.  If Mulder was
afraid that Bailey was coming back for him, Mulder'd have a
personal bodyguard if Skinner himself had to sit outside his door.



 9:00 am

 Mulder and Scully arrived on time for the meeting with Skinner
and the Federal Prosecutor.  He was introduced to the them as
Herbert Laney.  He was an older man, in his fifties,  with a lean
build and a fringe of wispy gray hair.  When the group was seated
around Skinner's conference table, Laney began without preamble.

 "Good morning, Agents, Assistant Director..  As you know, I will
be prosecuting the upcoming trial of the charges against Paul
Bailey for his assaults on Agent Mulder and A.D. Skinner.  Before
this week, it was relatively simple, since Bailey's trial was
originally set for several months from now, allowing all the
murder charges as well as the kidnap/assault charges to be tried
together.  Unfortunately, these charges have been severed into a
separate trial, to be heard in San Francisco, and the trial date
advanced." Laney gave a dry little smile and went on.

 "As a result, we can count on having a trial very soon.  I
understand that A.D. Skinner has already told you about the change
of venue?  We will be in Federal Court in San Francisco, because
of the excessive pre-trial publicity this case has had in the
Tahoe area.  I wanted to meet with you three today, since you are
the chief witnesses to Bailey's actions. I'd like to hear from
each of you, in a general way, what you witnessed and experienced.
As trial draws nearer, I will interview you individually to be
sure that I understand all the details of your testimony.  Since
you are all Federal law enforcement officers, I assume that you
have been through this process before..." Laney paused and Mulder,
Scully and Skinner all nodded.  They had done this many times.

 "Very well.  Let's start at the beginning.  You arrived in Reno
for a conference..."

 Skillfully, Laney drew the details of the events from each of
them, occasionally raising an eyebrow or jotting a note down on
his yellow pad.  Finally, after the account ended with Mulder's
arrival at the hospital and Bailey's incarceration at the local
Sheriffs office, Laney paused.

 "Agent Scully, I'd like to ask you a few more questions about the
investigation that led you to Bailey's cabin.  First, as I
understand it, you identified Paul Bailey as a suspect when you
reviewed the list of employees at the hotel, correct?"

 "Yes, that's right.  I saw the name on the list and remembered
that we'd had a bellhop called  Paul who was familiar with the
Michael Bailey case, one of Mulder's profiles."

 Laney went on. "And I assume that you obtained that electronic
document with a search warrant?  Who issued it?  Do you still have
it?"

 Scully  suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Sir, we were running
out of time.  I...wasn't given access to local FBI resources and
had to call in some non-law enforcement assistance for help.
We...weren't able to get a warrant."

 "And just who is this 'non-law enforcement assistance' you called
on?"

 Scully stayed silent, her face blazing red and her eyes trained
on the table in front of her.

 Skinner broke in.  "These are friends of Mulder's who publish a
local...uh..magazine.  They are quite technically proficient and
were quite a help to Agent Scully .  John Fitzgerald Byers was the
specific gentleman who helped her obtain the documents."

 Laney steepled his fingers and looked pained. "He's a magazine
publisher?  You mean he's a hacker.  When I read Agent Scully's
report I did some research on Mr. Byers and Lone Gunmen Magazine. 
He has no connection with law enforcement and no professional
qualifications to speak of."  Laney  turned and addressed Scully.

 "Agent Scully, you have been an F.B.I. agent for what, over 7
years? You have had the standard training in evidentiary
foundations as well as search and seizure, I presume?"

 Scully nodded dumbly.

 "Have you ever heard of a doctrine called 'Fruit of the Poison
Tree'?  What it says is that evidence gathered as a result of a
violation of the defendant's civil rights will be suppressed at
trial.  ALL evidence so gathered.  You accessed Paul Bailey's
personnel records without a warrant or any official sanction."

 Laney paused to be sure that Scully was listening, then went on.

 "Therefore, the fact that you identified Bailey as a suspect,
located his home from his records, found that home and all that
you saw and did thereafter, becomes inadmissible at trial, because
it flows from your illegal and warrantless search of Mr. Bailey's
records.  That would also include any testimony by Mr. Byers,
since he was acting on your orders at the time. In fact, I'm
surprised he's not up on Federal charges for his illegal access
into the San Quentin Prison Records as well as Reno Hilton
records.  By your actions, you have made it that much harder for
me to put Mr. Bailey away as long and as far as he deserves to
be."

 Mulder could see that Scully was near tears.  He burst out
angrily.  "But she saved our lives!  The local Field Office wasn't
giving her jack-shit!  She had no support and nobody was looking
for us!  If not for Scully's work, we would both have died there."
Mulder found himself shouting and waving his fists by the end of
his last statement.  Feeling mildly embarrassed, he sat down.

 Laney eyed Mulder and Scully with something like compassion.
"That's true, she did.  And if I were in the same straits as you
were, I'd want Agent Scully leading the search for me.  But the
fact remains that the defense attorney has already filed a motion
to suppress Agent Scully's evidence.  I believe that he will win
it.  Therefore, the bulk of the testimony will rest on you, A.D.
Skinner, and on you, Agent Mulder."

 Laney turned to Mulder and eyed Mulder's hands, stilled balled
into fists on the table.  "Agent Mulder, A.D. Skinner, the
testimony you give in this trial is especially important, since
you will also be witnesses in the murder trials of the rest of
Paul Bailey's victims, including those for which Michael Bailey
was erroneously convicted.  As you know, testimony you give here
can be used to impeach your credibility later in the murder trial.
So it is very important that you give testimony that is clear,
lucid and unemotional."





 May 4,  12:00
 Basement Office

 Still shaken from the meeting with the prosecutor, Scully hadn't
said much.  Mulder also said nothing, but watched her anxiously.
He'd never seen capable, competent Scully called on the carpet for
what amounted to incompetence, at least not unless it was
something that Mulder had dragged her into.

 He cleared his throat.  "Scully...I think that prosecutor was way
out of line to talk to you like that..."

 Scully smiled sadly.  "I don't know, Mulder.  He had a point.  At
the time, all I could think about was getting to you as fast as
possible, and Byers seemed the quickest resource.  But I'm a
Federal Agent, and what I do has to be within the bounds of the
law. When I start taking the law into my own hands, where does it
stop?  This time, I was saving lives and I know I was justified.
But the next time?"  She swallowed and went on.

 "In the cabin, you asked me about the nature of evil, and whether
it's possible to do an evil thing without realizing it, and for
the best of intentions.  I just never considered how possible it
really can be. Where do you draw the line?"  Scully's voice
trailed off.


 "Scully, you told me yourself, that you rely on your own
conscience for that guidance.  Sometimes that's all we have.
Besides, Kersh had taken you off the case and was ignoring the
investigation.  But for you, we'd be dead now.  What else could
you have done?" Mulder  got up from his desk and pulled his chair
next to Scully.

 "I could have gone over Kersh's head,"  Scully stated. " to the
Director, or to Jana Cassidy, or to someone within the Bureau
willing to listen.  I worry, Mulder, that we've gone so far beyond
Bureau mainstream, that we could lose ourselves."

 Mulder shook his head.  "I think you should consider what you
already know about the way things operate in the Bureau,
especially when Spender, the elder, is involved.  Bureau protocol
isn't always the best way."


 Scully stood up.  "I think I'll take a walk and get some lunch.."
Mulder started to get up and join her, but she shook her head.  "I
need to think."

 Mulder nodded reassuringly, and settled back down at his desk and
began reading through the stack of files Scully had left there for
him.  The phone rang, and he picked it up.

 "Mulder." he said crisply.

 "Agent Mulder!  I thought I'd call and tell you how much I'm
thinking about you and how I'm burning to see you, very very
soon."  And the caller hung up.

 Mulder held the receiver and blinked at it.  At the sound of Paul
Bailey's voice his stomach had clenched inside him.  By the time
he'd recovered enough to yell into the receiver the caller was
gone.

 Trembling, Mulder dialed '0'

 "Switchboard, Holly speaking..." came the voice.

 "Holly, this is Agent Mulder.  I just got a call and it cut off. 
Can you tell me anything about the caller?"

 "Agent Mulder!  I'm so glad to know that you're back. I hope
you're feeling better.  I'll check and see what I can find out.
Hold please..."

 Mulder listened to canned music for what felt like an eternity.
Then Holly was back on the line.

 "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder.  I've triple checked the equipment
logs, but there's no indication that a call has gone to your line
within the last half hour.

 Mulder blinked.  "Oh...ok, thanks anyway Holly. Bye." He put the
receiver in its cradle and sat staring at the phone.  That had
been Bailey's voice.  He knew it like his own skin.  Hell, he
heard it every night when he closed his eyes, couldn't get away
from it.  He drew a ragged breath.  Tell Scully?  Not unless the
tape panned out, and he had a feeling it wouldn't. She would only
start to worry about his sanity, just as he was now...

 Cautiously, keeping one eye on the phone, Mulder resumed reading
the file.

 May 4, 2:00 p.m.
 Basement Office

 Scully had returned to find Mulder absorbed in his stack of
files.  She smiled, glad to have him back to normalcy at last; at
any rate, what passed for normal with Mulder.  She caught his eye,
nodded and smiled.

 He smiled back and went back to his file.

 Scully sat down and began working through her own pile of files. 
The phone rang in the silence.  Mulder jumped like he'd been shot,
but made no move to pick up the receiver; rather he looked at it
as though it were a dangerous animal.  Scully shot him a look full
of puzzlement, and answered it herself.

 "Scully.  Yes sir, I'll come right away."  She hung up the phone.
Mulder was watching her strangely.

 "Skinner wants to see me in his office, to discuss what the
prosecutor brought up this morning." Scully sighed.  "Damned if
you do, damned if you don't..."

 Mulder gave her his best reassuring smile. "Well, I'm damned glad
you did, Agent Scully, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Do you want me to come along as a character witness?"

 Scully smiled back; thank God for Mulder.  "No, I'll be ok.  It's
not like this is the first time I've been called on the carpet.
I'll be back later, bloody but unbowed."

 "Give 'em Hell!"  Mulder called after her and picked up his file
again.  It was bad enough that they picked on him, but when they
focused on Scully...it just made his blood boil.

 The phone rang.

 Mulder looked at it with apprehension, then cautiously answered
it.

 "Mulder."  There was nothing but silence, then the line cut off. 
Mulder sat and stared at the receiver in his hand, he could feel a
panic attack building. Oh no, not now, please not now...

 He put the phone down, and closed his eyes to ride it out.  I'm
actually getting good at this, he thought, before the biggest wave
hit him.  No, I'm not good at this, not at all...He hung on to the
desk and waited grimly for it to pass.  When it did, an eternity
and five minutes later, he wiped sweat from his forehead with a
trembling hand.

 Maybe Scully was right.  Maybe it was stupid to turn down the
Bureau shrink's offer of treatment.  Scully goes to her sometimes,
she trusts her.  Why not me? But he knew why he wasn't going to
go.  Trust.  He couldn't stand the thought of his secret thoughts
and feelings going to a stranger.  Besides, They could be
listening, and God only knew what they would do if they knew his
weaknesses...his dreams...his hopes. No, gotta keep gutting it
out.  It has to get better some time....

 The phone rang again....and again...and again...


 Office of A.D. Skinner

 Scully was ushered into Skinner's office, to find Skinner in
discussion with Laney at the conference table.  She took a seat
across from them, and prepared herself to be chewed out.

 "Agent Scully, first I want to apologize for my behavior
earlier."  Laney began  "I needed to know how you all would react
under stress, and especially Agent Mulder."  At Scully's look, he
added. "Oh, I was serious about the evidentiary problems we have, 
but now is the time to deal with them."

 Laney picked up a familiar looking file, which Scully could see
was labeled with Mulder's name.  His medical chart.

 "Agent, I don't think that you will be offering much testimony in
the trial, but I still need your help. A.D. Skinner has been
apprising me of Agent Mulder's medical condition, in particular,
his state of mind." Laney's face took on a look of concern.  "This
trial will be very...difficult...for him.  I anticipate a hard,
no-holds-barred fight, and I'd like your feedback as to how Agent
Mulder will react."

 Scully drew a deep breath.  Trying to project a confidence she
didn't feel, she replied. "Sirs, Agent Mulder is the strongest
person I know.  If anyone can handle a tough situation, he is the
one."

 Skinner looked at Scully with something like pity. "Agent, we
both know how resilient Mulder is.  But there will be additional
problems.  Mr. Laney has advised me that he believes that the
defense attorney will try to put the Bureau itself on trial, by
focusing on Mulder's mistakes in the Michael Bailey case.  We both
know how Mulder feels about his actions regarding Michael Bailey."

 Scully turned to Laney. "Do you really think so?"

 Laney nodded.  "Absolutely.  I know that this is a kidnapping
case, with some special circumstances, but in its presentation
it's more like a rape trial. Mulder, as victim, will be
scrutinized thoroughly, since Bailey's motivations are at issue.
Defense will try to make it seem that Bailey's actions, while
terrible, were justified in a sense, by Mulder's role in Michael's
death."

 Scully flared.  "But this isn't a rape trial.  There can be no
issue of consent, here.  Mulder was kidnapped, and tortured
against his will.  What Bailey did to Mulder HAS no justification.
God...." Scully fell silent, unable to put any more of her outrage
into words.

 Laney sighed. "I know that this is hard to take, but I need to
know.  Another aspect of Mulder's life which Defense will
undoubtedly bring up and use to hurt Mulder's testimony are
his...er...out of the mainstream activities.  His known interest
in the paranormal, his stated belief in UFOs and aliens. The
attorney will use this to diminish Mulder in the eyes of the jury,
and to break down his credibility.  How will Mulder survive this
experience?  Can he take the verbal beating he's likely to get on
the stand?  If he can't be used as a witness here, or if he the
defense attorney is able to damage his credibility, the other
murder prosecutions are also jeopardized.  Under those
circumstances, our only remaining percipient witness is A. D.
Skinner.  That raises the odds that we will be unsuccessful, and
that, ultimately, Bailey will go free."

 "Well, you have me, without question."  Said Skinner bluntly.
"I'm looking forward to staring that bastard straight in the eyes
and sending him away for a long, long time."

 Laney paused and addressed Agent Scully and A.D. Skinner.

 "What I would suggest is this.  While I suspect I may not be
using Agent Scully's testimony, the possibility remains that she
could be called as a witness.  I want her to testify if I can get
her on the stand.  And I understand that she and Agent Mulder are
close friends.  Agent Scully,"  He leaned across the table. "Would
you come along, even if you don't testify?  I have a feeling that
Agent Mulder will feel better having you there, even if you have
no formal role in the trial."

 Scully and Skinner both sighed with relief.  "I'd be happy to,
sir.  Provided my Supervisor agrees?"  She looked expectantly at
Skinner and he nodded.

 "Yes.  That's an excellent idea.  She certainly has my approval
to go."




 When Scully entered the basement office, she found Mulder
connecting recording and tracing equipment to the telephone.

 "What are you doing?"  she asked.

 Mulder, his eyes fixed on the telephone's innards, reached
blindly for the pliers on his desktop. Scully handed it to him and
waited expectantly for his answer.

 "After you left, several questionable phone calls came in."  He
said, connecting several wires.  "At least five were just silence,
when I picked it up.  The other was Michael Bailey again."  Mulder
set the phone down and looked into Scully's eyes, willing her to
believe him.  "I called Holly, at the switchboard, and none of the
calls registered with them.  I am not imagining things, so I
decided to gather a little evidence of my own."

 "I never said you were."  Said Scully steadily.  "I just want to
find hard and fast proof..."

 "That will stand up in court...yeah...I know." Mulder replied
sadly.  "So how was the meeting?"

 "Oh...not as bad as I expected.  Laney thinks I might be able to
testify after all, but he isn't sure.  As a precaution, I'll be
going along with you and Skinner to San Francisco."  Scully found
that she couldn't meet Mulder's eyes, so she turned to the file
cabinet and pretended to look for a file.  She missed Mulder's
look of profound relief at the news.

 Scully was coming along after all.  Thank God, somebody he could
trust without question to guard his back.  Somebody who was a good
shot, and quick on the draw in case Paul.....No, don't go there.
Don't go there at all.  Mulder got up and picked up a file with a
suddenly shaking hand.

 "I'm going to go make some photocopies.  Be back soon.." He said,
and went out into the hallway to have his panic attack in peace.

*****************************
 Christe Eleison part 3

 "Hush, close your eyes,
 And I'll keep you safe
 Allow you to weep
 Sing you to sleep...

 ...When the soft eyes of mercy
 Are blinded by the dark
 I will stay with eyes open
 Stay here with eyes open
 To watch over you
 And take away the sadness and the fear
 I'll be here."

 (Eyes of Mercy, October Project)



 The rest of the week was nightmarish for both Scully and Mulder. 
First, he completely refused to answer the office phone, and even
when Scully told him that the call was for him, took the receiver
gingerly as though he expected it to bite him.

 And she suspected he wasn't sleeping.  Mulder, normally an
insomniac, had always been able to look fresh and rested on
minimal sleep.  But in the past few days he looked wearier and
wearier, his eyes red and his general appearance progressively
more rumpled. He began staring into space at odd times, and seemed
preoccupied.  But whenever Scully asked him what was wrong, he
wouldn't discuss it.  She thought about renewing her offer to stay
with him, but knew he'd refuse, so she simply worried.

 May 7, 9:00 a.m.
 Basement Office

 Scully arrived to find the office closed and locked.

 She opened the door, surprised that Mulder hadn't made it in
ahead of her, as he usually did.  She called his apartment and was
concerned to find that the phone rang, without being picked up by
either Mulder or his answering machine.  She tried his cell phone,
but it was turned off.  Alarmed, she quickly grabbed her car keys,
checked her gun and ran out to the car.

 She arrived at Mulder's apartment house and saw his car, parked
in its usual spot.  She took the elevator upstairs,then called and
knocked on Mulder's door. No answer.  The door was locked, so she
used her key and let herself in.  The living room was empty, but
Mulder's phone had been unplugged from the wall. She tapped on his
bedroom door.

 "Mulder?"  On hearing no answer, she carefully opened his bedroom
door wondering what she'd find inside.

 Mulder lay on the bed, curled up into a fetal ball, his gun held
loosely in his right hand.  The cell phone lay smashed on the
floor, next to Mulder's unplugged bedside telephone.  He was
dressed in a sweat-stained undershirt and shorts.

 Scully holstered her gun and stopped a few feet from him, bending
down toward him.

 "Mulder?  Mulder! Wake up!"  She called loudly.

 Mulder shot bolt upright, fumbling wildly for his gun. At last
Mulder recognized Scully, his wide open eyes bloodshot and puffy.

 "Wha...Scully?  What's the matter? Why are you here?

 What time is it?"

 "Mulder, it's after 9:00.  When you didn't show up at the office
I tried to call, but all your telephones are either unplugged or
broken..."  Scully eyed the cell phone on the floor.  She moved
over to the bed and sat down beside Mulder.

 "Mulder, you've been on edge all week.  What's wrong?" Her voice
was so full of concern, that Mulder just couldn't hold it in any
longer. He sat up and put his gun on the nightstand.

 "Scully, I haven't slept all week."  He rubbed his eyes wearily
and continued.  "Every night... each and every night without fail
this week, the phone has rung..sometimes once, sometimes twice or
more.  And each time I hear the voice of Paul Bailey, telling me
how much he's looking forward to finishing what he started.  I've
tapped the line: nothing.  I've traced the calls, both through the
Bureau and with the guys' help: nothing.  I can't even get a
recording of the damned call!  I can't  prove to...to anybody that
these calls even exist, that they aren't my overactive
imagination, or some hallucination..."

 His voice broke with frustration and,  swallowing hard, he began
again.  "Last night, he called after 2 a.m. and started describing
just what he was going to do to me when we meet again.  Instead of
trying to find out how the bastard is doing this, I unplugged
every phone in the house.  So he called ten minutes later on the
cell phone ..." Mulder gestured at the broken cell phone.

 "I lost it.  I lost it big time.  I would have called you, or
someone, for help...but that would mean I'd have to use the damned
phone..."  His laugh hovered close to a sob.  "So, instead I
double-checked the locks, got my gun and sat up to wait for him.
I guess I fell asleep."

 Scully had never seen Mulder look so defeated.  She made up her
mind quickly. "Ok, Mulder, here's the plan.  You have a new
houseguest: me.  We're flying out to California tomorrow anyway,
so I'll pack a bag and stay with you until we leave for the
airport.  I can sleep on the couch."

 Mulder started to protest, but had to admit that Scully's offer
gave him the first hope he'd felt all week.

 "Scully, I couldn't let you sleep on the couch, at least take the
bed.  We could share..."  He leered suggestively.

 "No thanks." Scully laughed, glad to have things on a more
familiar footing.  "If the couch was good enough for you for five
years, I can manage for a night." She added.  "And, I'll be here
to listen for the phone with you.  If Bailey calls, I'll witness
it with you."

 She got up and started for the bedroom door.  "Why don't I make
you breakfast while you shower and dress. I'll drive you in to
work today; we can stop at my place and get my things."

 Mulder was grateful for the homey sounds coming from the kitchen
while he showered.  With Scully there he didn't suffer from the
fantasy that had plagued him all week: Bailey sneaking quietly
into the apartment while Mulder was showering or asleep and
overpowering him again...

 Scully served him a plate with scrambled eggs and toast.  Mulder
dug in hungrily, which made Scully wonder guiltily whether he had
been eating at all since she'd stopped cooking for him a few days
ago. She noticed that the cuffs of his shirt were dangling around
bony wrists, and that Mulder, never fat, had lost weight.

 "Scully..." Mulder put his fork down. "Thank you for coming over
today.  It...helps..knowing that you're there...even though I know
you think I really am hallucinating all this..."  He gulped some
orange juice and went on. "Who knows, maybe I am.  After all,
Bailey is  still safe in his jail cell."

 "He's still there, and he's no danger to you. Besides," said
Scully with complete seriousness "If he shows up here, I'll shoot
him.  And I won't miss."


 The rest of the day passed quietly.  Scully answered any phone
calls, and Mulder received no threatening messages.  At five
o'clock, they packed up their briefcases and went to Mulder's
apartment.  At Scully's insistence, they stopped for Chinese
takeout (At least I know you're eating vegetables!) and to rent
some movies (What do you mean you don't want to see War of the
Worlds again? It's a great movie!).

 When they arrived at the apartment, Mulder nervously watched
while Scully checked the answering machine. She shook her head.
No messages.  Mulder heaved a sigh of relief and set the Chinese
food down on the kitchen table.

 The evening was uneventful, except that Scully made Mulder sit
through Thelma and Louise, before they watched Alien.

 At midnight, Scully made a bed for herself on the couch.  She
could see Mulder going through what was obviously his new evening
routine.  He checked the front door locks, locked the windows in
the kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath, then re-checked them.

 He brushed his teeth.  Then he checked the locks. He flossed his
teeth, then he checked the locks.  He double-checked that his gun
was loaded and on his nightstand, then checked the second gun
under his pillow.  Then he checked the locks.  Scully just lay on
the couch and watched him, amazed that he didn't see how
obsessive-compulsive his behavior had become. Lastly Mulder went
to unplug the telephone

 "No." Said Scully. "Leave it plugged in.  If it rings, go ahead
and pick up.  I'll be listening on the other phone."  Mulder
looked at her doubtfully, but left the phone plugged in.

 "Scully..."  Mulder said nervously. "Are you sure you don't want
the bed?  I mean..alone.  It doesn't seem right to make you sleep
on the couch."

 Scully smiled up at Mulder from her nest on the couch. "No,
really, Mulder.  I'm fine.  Your couch is very comfortable.  Good
night."

 "Ok, good night."  Mulder went into the bedroom and closed the
door.  Scully turned out the light and settled herself to sleep.

 To her dismay, this turned out to be harder than anticipated.
She kept waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it would ring so
that Mulder would finally have proof of all he'd been saying this
week.  The silence ticked on.  Scully tossed and turned on the
couch. It really was comfortable, she just couldn't sleep. Too
much Mu Shu Pork, she thought.  She finally drifted off, still
listening for the phone.

 May 8, 3:13 a.m.
 Mulder's Apartment

 Scully was jolted out of sleep by a loud cry.  She sat up and
listened, then heard it again.  Mulder!  She scooped up her gun
from the floor beside the couch and ran into the bedroom.  Mulder
was curled up on the bed, fast asleep but thrashing and flailing,
obviously caught up in a nightmare.

 "Mulder!  Mulder wake up! You're having a nightmare!!" Scully
called and caught at Mulder's hands. Mulder's eyes popped open at
the touch, and his gaze found Scully's.  He sat up, reached out
and hugged her tight.  Scully found herself kneeling by the
bedside, holding a shaking Mulder in her arms.

 "Thank God it wasn't true...it was just a dream..." Scully held
Mulder close and waited for him to go on. When he said nothing
more, she moved back and looked at him.

 "What did you dream, Mulder?  Bailey?"

 "Yes." Mulder said, his breath slowing.  "I was in a strange
place, one I've never seen before.  It was dark and dusty, and
Bailey was there and free.  He comes towards me with this..this
grin and I know that something terrible is about to happen, but I
can't move, I can't run... and this void swallows me up; it's like
it's destroying my soul, devouring what makes me..me.  That's when
I panic and wake up, usually screaming..."

 "Is this the dream you've been having all week?" Scully asked
softly.

 "I've had it every night, even in the hospital. It's gotten worse
lately, more...detailed somehow.  I'm afraid to close my eyes
because I'll dream it again.

 And when I don't dream about the..the future, I dream that I'm
back there, in the cave with Bailey.  When that happens, it's like
I'm there, in every single, relentless detail..  And why is it
that I can never dream about anything happy, like getting
rescued?" Mulder tried to laugh but to Scully he looked incredibly
tired and weary.  The bloodshot look in his eyes was back and she
could see lines on his face that weren't there before.

 "Do you want me to sit up with you for a while?  I'm having
trouble sleeping too."  Scully sat down on the bed next to Mulder
and sat up leaning against the headboard.  Mulder relaxed against
her breast, while Scully wrapped one arm protectively around him.
Mulder felt her gently running her fingers through his hair and
her soft whisper. "It's ok, go to sleep. I'll keep watch.  You're
safe..."  Before long, he had drifted off to sleep, feeling safe
at last.

 Scully watched him rest and decided that she could sleep on the
plane.  She held him close and thought about the past two months,
and how she had almost lost him.  She tightened her arms around
him and dared Bailey to hurt this man again.  Bailey couldn't have
him; and if he tried, he'd have to walk through her gun to get
there.


 May 8, 6:30 a.m.
 Mulder's Apartment

 Mulder woke to hear footsteps in the apartment.  He grabbed his
gun from under the pillow, and decided that he wasn't mobile
enough to run out and confront him, so he held it under the
blanket, waiting for the intruder to find him.

 "Good morning, Mulder."  Scully said cheerfully from his bedroom
doorway, dressed in her blue silk pajamas. "Is that a gun under
the blanket or are you glad to see me?"

 Mulder blushed a brighter shade of red than he could ever recall
being this side of seventh grade.  He pulled the gun out and put
it back under his pillow.

 "Scully...Oh yeah, my house guest."

 Scully put her hand against Mulder's forehead.  "No fever, guess
you are blushing after all.  I'm making breakfast.  It'll be ready
by the time you're showered."

 She  walked into the kitchen.  Mulder could only silently admire
her style (and the pajamas).  He crawled out of bed  and padded
into the bathroom, absentmindedly peeling off his tee-shirt as he
went.

 After Mulder had dressed, they ate a companionable breakfast.
Then Scully went to shower while Mulder started washing the
dishes.  As he stacked the frying pan in the drain dish, he heard
the doorbell ring. He dried his hands and went to the front door. 
When he opened it, nobody was there, so he stepped out into the
hallway, and caught a glimpse of Paul Bailey. "Hey! You!"  Mulder
shouted and ran after the man. The man jumped into the elevator
and the doors closed on him just as Mulder arrived.

 Mulder hit the elevator button, then decided to try the stairs.
As he ran down the multiple flights, he developed a stitch in his
side and was panting for air by the time he got to the bottom.
Gotta get more exercise, I've been laid up too long....

 At the lobby, the man was just running outside. Mulder could hear
a faint laugh as the door closed. Mulder raced after him, to see
nothing and nobody on the street.  He stood there breathing hard
for a few minutes, before he turned back to the elevator.

 He found his apartment door still open, and a worried Scully in
the hallway.  She looked relieved when Mulder approached.

 "Mulder, what happened?  Where were you?"

 Mulder went inside the apartment and Scully followed. "When you
were in the shower, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I
saw Bailey in the hallway.  I ran after him but he got away."

 Scully looked skeptical.  "Are you sure it was Bailey? Did you
see him full-face?"

 "No, I just caught a glimpse of him before he ran. But who else
could it be?"  Mulder sat down on the couch, still winded from his
run.

 "Well, how about a practical joking teenaged neighbor, for one?
Mulder, Bailey is in jail, in California! Do you have any physical
evidence that it was him?" Scully sat down next to Mulder on the
couch.

 Mulder stared at Scully.  "What do you think?  I don't have
physical evidence of anything that's happened this week.  I'm
sorry, I guess the next time Bailey decides to harass me I'll stop
and ask him politely for proof."  Mulder got up and walked into
the bedroom.  He opened an empty suitcase and began throwing
clothing into it.  Then he began checking his guns and holstering
them, making sure that extra ammunition was packed in his bag..
Scully sighed and sat to wait for him to finish packing so that
they could drive to the airport.


 May 8,  7 pm
 San Francisco, Westin Hotel

 Scully was grateful for the long flight.  Mulder had appropriated
two seats, a blanket and pillow and proceeded to sleep without
apparent nightmares for the entire six hours.  At least here he
didn't have to fear the telephone with its messages from Bailey.

 They arrived at the hotel to find that their reservations had not
been lost.  Skinner hastily turned down the services of a bellhop
and carried the bags himself.  To Scully's surprise, she and
Mulder had been given a suite with two bedrooms, each with private
bath.  The suite had a large, central sitting room.  She turned to
Skinner to ask for an explanation but he shook his head slightly
and she bit back her questions.

 "Wow, this is some place.  We do seem to draw palatial
accommodations, don't we?"  said Mulder eyeing the sitting room.
"Think it has a heart-shaped tub or flying cows?"

 Skinner set Scully's bag down on the floor.  "We were able to
justify a suite in the budget because they plan to use the sitting
room for trial preparation and conferences.  Flying cows?"
Skinner looked at Scully, who shrugged.  Kroner Kansas was not
something Skinner would know about.  Just as well...

 Skinner, realizing that Scully wasn't talking, went on.  "So,
which room do you want, Agent Scully?  The blue one or the gold
one?"

 "Oh, either is fine with me." Scully said and Skinner put her
case down in the gold room.  .

 Mulder set his own suitcase down in the blue room. Skinner and
Scully watched as Mulder carefully searched the room, checking
under the bed, inside the closet, unscrewing the telephone for
bugs.  Skinner caught Scully's eye and pulled her aside.

 "Is he always like this?" he asked.

 "No, sir.  Just recently."  Scully bit her lip, wondering if she
should tell Skinner about the phone calls.  Mulder had expressly
asked her not to, since there was no 'proof' to back them up.  But
still...

 "Sir, could you help me move this bag over to the corner?  It's
rather heavy."  As Skinner carried Scully's suitcase to a far
corner of her room, she spoke in a low tone.

 "Sir, Mulder believes that he's been getting more harassing calls
from Bailey.  Sometimes the phone rings, then there's nobody on
the line.  Other times he hears Bailey's voice, threatening him.
He's barely slept this week, and the flight was probably the
longest sustained rest he's had."

 "Do you have any proof?  I know that the tape never panned
out..." Skinner glanced toward the sitting room, his face
concerned.

 "No."  Said Scully.  "And I've never been there when any of the
calls came in.  Mulder has tried tapping and tracing his own
phone, both at the office and at home.  Nothing."

 Skinner folded his arms and bowed his head.  "Do you think that
he's hallucinating, then?"

 "If he is, this is some variant of the flashbacks victims of post
traumatic stress disorder have.  He seems to be reliving his
experience to some extent; although he is convinced that he's been
having a nightmare that foretells that he'll be captured by Bailey
again some time in the future."  Scully frowned, then looked up at
Skinner.  "I just wish I knew what to do for him."

 "No wonder the poor bastard can't sleep."  Skinner commented
wearily.  "Well, it's no coincidence that you and Mulder are
sharing a suite.  He trusts you; keep an eye on him and yell for
help if you need it.

 I'm just across the hall."  Skinner and Scully went back into the
sitting room to find Mulder with the television remote control in
hand, channel surfing.

 "Are you done conferring about me?"  He asked calmly. "I'm not
blind and deaf, you know.  And I'm not crazy, either.  Bailey's
out and he's stalking me.  I don't know who they have in that
jail, but it isn't Paul Bailey."

 "Agent Mulder," Skinner sat down in the chair opposite. "We are
concerned about your welfare, and your
apparent...disconnection...with reality.  I have been assured by
local law enforcement, by the Federal prosecutor's office and by
the director of the local jail that is being held there, and has
neither left nor made any telephone calls in the last two weeks.."


 Skinner leaned forward, his voice deepening. "Mulder, I've seen
people react to stress like this.  They just can't get away from
their terrible experiences, and their minds force them to relive
it.  What you're going through is the natural result of Bailey's
abuse, and there are treatments for it, if you'll only accept
them."

 "So, I'm a poor victim of PTSD, huh?" sneered Mulder. "Well,
y'know, I'm tired of being a victim..."  He stood up.  "I know
what I heard, and you should know by now that I'm not in the habit
of hallucinating, despite the strange things Scully and I have
witnessed.  Sir, I understand you being skeptical....."  Mulder
turned to Scully, anger and frustration exuding from every pore.

 "But Scully, why can't you believe me, just once?" Scully was
left speechless as Mulder turned away from her and walked out the
door of the suite.

***************************
 Christe Eleison, Part 4

 "If I could
 I would be the place you turn
 When you're feeling lonely
 Or afraid
 I would shine
 Like a lantern in the dark
 Take you inside
 Into my heart."

 (If I Could, October Project)

 May 8, 10:00 p.m.
 Westin Hotel

 Scully sat tensely in the sitting room of the suite.

 She had refused Skinner's suggestion that they eat downstairs and
ordered room service instead. Skinner had sighed and left her to
wait for Mulder.

 For the umpteenth time Scully looked at her watch. Damn him and
his temper.  Didn't he realize that he wasn't the only one with
flashbacks?  She could recall her own despair when Mulder and
Skinner had disappeared from just such a hotel as this, her
desperate attempts to locate them before it was too late...

 She got up and began to pace the floor.  What if Mulder was
right, and Bailey was free somehow? Mulder could already be God-
knew-where..or already dead, no, not dead yet.  It would be worse,
even worse than last time.  Scully remembered her first sight of
Mulder in Bailey's underground bunker, and later after Bailey'd
had a second chance at him....No, that isn't possible. We know
absolutely that Bailey is in custody......but if he doesn't get
back here in the next half hour I'm calling the cops.

 The door opened and Scully jerked around to see Mulder walk in.
His expression was a combination of contrition and defiance.

 Scully held onto her temper with every ounce of willpower she
possessed, but folded her arms across her chest and just looked at
him.

 Mulder gave her a hangdog look.  "Scully...I...I'm sorry I yelled
at you.  It was uncalled for."

 Scully took a deep breath, unsure whether to hit him or to kiss
him.  She decided to tread the middle path. "Mulder, do you know
what ran through my mind after you'd been gone two hours?  And I
didn't know where you were?  Or who had you?"

 Mulder looked up from the floor and saw the anxiety in Scully's
face.  "You mean, you believed me?  You were worried about me?"

 Scully was a picture of relief, exasperation and affection.
"Mulder, haven't you figured out yet that I generally take you
seriously, even while I'm demanding proof?  As for Bailey being
out of jail...I just don't know.  I know you well enough to trust
your instincts, even if I don't understand them.  Yes, I was
worried.  I spent the entire evening picturing you in Bailey's
hands, just like last time.  And just like last time, I felt
trapped in a hotel room with no information...Don't ever do that
to me again, Mulder!"


 "Scully, I'm so sorry.  I...just don't know what to believe any
more...Those damned phone calls...I swear somebody is stalking me,
even if it isn't Bailey. But I can't prove it, to you or to
myself.  Every time I close my eyes I'm facing Bailey again, and
when I wake up it isn't any better.  Everything
is..confused...lately"  Mulder wrapped his arms around himself and
bowed his head.  Scully moved to hug him, and she held him very
close for a minute before releasing him.

 "Mulder," Scully said "I don't think you're crazy, but I do think
you need counseling for this.  You're under stress, you can't
sleep and it's getting worse."

 Mulder's face closed again, though he said nothing. Scully knew
that the discussion was over for the time being.

 "Why don't I go over and tell Skinner you're back. I know that he
was as concerned as I was."  Scully said.

 Mulder nodded and watched her go through the door. He went into
his room and lay down on his bed, arms folded behind his head, to
think about what Scully had just told him.

 "She really does believe in you, you know."  A voice from the end
of his bed startled him.  Mulder sat up to find Michael Bailey,
looking disconcertingly solid, sitting on the end of the bed.

 Mulder blinked.  "I didn't think you guys made housecalls."

 Mike smiled.  "Well, I do, occasionally.  Especially when
somebody I'm concerned with is acting like an ass.  You know,
there is a difference between her believing IN you and just
believing you.  She  finds it hard to believe all the crazy things
you tell her. Just like you find it hard to believe in things like
God, or angels."

 "Yeah, well, present company excepted, I haven't had much
experience of the brighter side of life. Demons, now those I
believe in..."  Mulder's eyes grew haunted.  "Is that why you're
here?  To check on Paul? And how come I can see you?  Don't I have
to be dead first?"

 Mike shook his head sadly.  "I'm not here to check on Paul.  He's
way out of my jurisdiction.  No, it's you I'm worried about.  You
really ought to let your friends help you."

 Mulder snorted.  "Right, and get them killed when my personal
black cloud of doom sets in.  Anybody I get close to dies or
disappears.  No thanks...." Mulder eyed the bedspread, which
should have indented under Mike's posterior (but didn't).

 "So, can you tell the future and stuff?  Tell me how to handle
this..this..problem I've got?  I'm not sleeping too well, and
there's other things.." Mulder rubbed at his eyes, conscious that
they still felt gritty.

 "I'm sorry Mulder, but I'm not a gypsy fortune teller. You, and
those around you, make your own futures. And I've already told you
what you should do; you just keep refusing to do it."  Mike got
up, still not denting the bedspread, Mulder noticed.  "But I'll be
around, if you ever want somebody to listen or gratuitous advice."

 "Well, Mike Bailey, angel, ghost or whatever you are, I'll take
any help I can get, be it ghostly or earthly.  This...this is Hell
on earth, and I'm not doing anybody any good.  Skinner's worried
about me, I'm driving Scully frantic...And...and..."  Mulder
gulped and went on more softly "And I just don't know how much
more of this I can take."


 8 p.m.  Skinner's room

 Skinner lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Mulder seemed
to be falling apart and Skinner was powerless to stop it, unless
he ordered Mulder locked in a straitjacket.  He smiled.  If he
did, it wouldn't be the first time.

 No, that wouldn't work.  Mulder had enough problems after Bailey,
without adding a straitjacket and padded cell to it.  Damn, you'd
think a man with Mulder's psych training would be more comfortable
with psychiatric treatment.  Well, he'd check on Scully in a few
hours.  Hopefully Mulder would come back later, when he'd cooled
off.  But, Skinner promised himself, stressed or not, sick or not,
Mulder was going to get his ass chewed for this.

 Skinner heard a knock at the door and thought, with relief, that
Mulder must be back, and Scully was stopping by to tell him.  He
opened the door to find no Scully, but rather the smirking form of
Alex Krycek.

 "What's wrong?" said Krycek, sauntering into the room. "Expecting
somebody else?"  Krycek looked around the room before seating
himself at the table.  "No greeting?  You aren't very polite
tonight."

 Skinner pulled himself together and stared angrily down at
Krycek.  "Why the hell are you here.  What do you want?"

 Krycek smiled.  "Oh, a favor or two.  Have a seat.." Krycek
patted the chair next to him.. Skinner sat down grudgingly,
conscious that he hated this man more than any other being on the
planet, except for a certain smoker he knew.

 "I wouldn't try anything violent, Skinner. "Said Krycek calmly.
"I still have that little box we both know about.  You could
become very dead, very fast."

 "Get to the point; what do you want from me?" Skinner growled.

 Krycek relaxed against the chair and smiled. "You're visiting
beautiful San Francisco to testify at a trial---Paul Bailey isn't
it?  Now there's a violent man."  Krycek shook his head.  "Put
simply, you are not going to testify at the trial.  Not so very
difficult a job, is it?"

 Skinner was puzzled.  "Why do you care whether I testify at
trial?  You don't care about Paul Bailey.."

 Krycek replied.  "You're right, we don't.  But we do have an
interest in Agent Mulder and his state of mind."  Krycek stopped,
then continued speaking, his voice deeper and oozing compassion.
"And Mulder is already in a very fragile state of mind, isn't he?
Nightmares, panic attacks, that's the downside of a photographic
memory: you can't ever forget the pain and the terror.....and
then, hearing things that nobody else hears and not knowing
whether you are really hallucinating or not.."

 Krycek's face grew solemn.  "  And then, testifying at trial:
the terror of facing one's torturer.  And should Mulder become the
lone witness, all that stress....After all he's been through,  the
question of Bailey's freedom, his torturer's freedom, rests on
Mulder's shoulders.  And the very real possibility that Paul
Bailey will go free as all the cases against him crumble into
little pieces...And Bailey isn't 'finished' yet, is he?"  Krycek's
voice dropped to a whisper as he savored his words.

 Skinner's eyes widened.  "The phone calls from Bailey... the
threats..it's been you all along. What are you trying to do to
Mulder?"

 "He's an annoyance to certain parties, but he isn't worth a
bullet just now.  He needs to be made unable to interfere with us
for as long as possible; a lengthy stay at a sanitarium fits our
needs."

 "You are asking me to betray him, to help you finish what Bailey
started.  "  Skinner looked at Krycek in horror.

 Krycek nodded in assent. "Betrayal is a harsh word, but accurate.
But think of it this way, cooperate with us and you'll save his
life, although maybe not his peace of mind."  Krycek met Skinner's
eyes and added  "You'll also save your own ass.  But then, Walter
Skinner, that's what you're best at, isn't it?"


 Krycek got up and headed for the door.  "Remember, we'll be
watching."  He opened the door and walked through it, leaving a
shell-shocked Skinner behind, still seated at the table.

 Skinner sat and didn't move to turn on the lights as the room
darkened into night.  He had cooperated with Krycek in the past;
had no choice.  But the tasks, while distasteful, hadn't actively
hurt Mulder or Scully.  But now Krycek was asking, no-telling him
to cooperate in a plan to destroy Mulder's soul, his sense of
self.

 Skinner got up and began to pace.  If he didn't, he was dead.
And they'd get Mulder anyway, with a gun.

 What could he do?  What choice could he make?  He owed Mulder,
owed them both.  He knew what choice Mulder would make, were the
situations reversed.  But Skinner just wasn't sure that he was
strong enough to do the right thing, and damn all the
consequences.

 He sat on the bed and remembered his anguish when Bailey had them
both, and his own determination to protect Mulder and get him out
alive somehow.  And now, Krycek.  Bailey's evil seemed clean by
comparison.  Skinner took off his glasses and went into the
bathroom.  He ran the tap as cold as it would go and bathed his
face with chill water, then buried his face in the towel.  No
good, Walt, can't hide forever.  You've got to make a decision.
But what do I choose?  How do I choose?

 10:15  p.m.

 Scully tapped on Skinner's door and was surprised to find it
answered by a haggard looking Skinner, apparently sitting alone in
a dark room.

 "Sir, I just wanted to let you know that Mulder's back.  He took
a long walk.  We've discussed things and he's feeling better now."

 Skinner nodded tiredly, then turned on the light switch inside
the room.  "Agent Scully, could you step inside for a moment?  I
need to talk to you."

 Puzzled, Scully walked inside and sat in the chair that Krycek
had recently vacated.  Skinner sat down in his own chair.

 "Agent Scully, I have some news and I thought I'd tell you first.
I will not be testifying at the trial." There, he'd said it.  It
was done.  It was out.

 "But why is that, sir?  Did the prosecutor call you?

 Are there evidentiary problems with your testimony too?"

 "No, nothing like that."  Said Skinner.  "I..can't explain the
reasons.  I haven't called the prosecutor yet, the decision was
just made."

 "Well, then why can't you testify?  Without you, it's just Mulder
alone.  He can't manage that much stress; he's falling apart as it
is!  Why can't you testify?

 Surely there's some way around it?"  Scully looked at Skinner
with dismay, as Skinner restlessly paced the room.

 "Agent Scully, I am sorry, but I'm...not at liberty to give you
the reasons.  Suffice it to say that there are reasons, good ones.
I'm very sorry about Agent Mulder, but he's a grown man and an FBI
agent.  I'm confident that he can handle this on his own." Skinner
kept trying to meet her eyes, but failing. He could feel his own
sense of guilt and shame, almost overpowering him.

 "But, that wasn't your position this afternoon!  You know what
his state of mind is!  You were there with Bailey, you know what's
caused this.  How can you betray Mulder like that?  How can you?" 
Scully got up and backed out of the room, rushing blindly across
the hall to her own.

 Skinner couldn't remember the last time he'd hated himself so
much.

 10:45 p.m.  Mulder and Scully's Suite

 Scully opened the door quietly and stepped inside the suite.  She
could hear noise coming from Mulder's room..voices?   No, one
voice, Mulder's and he was talking to somebody.

 She drew closer, not wanting to interfere but unsure whether she
should draw her gun either.  She listened for a bit, and her eyes
widened as she heard who Mulder was addressing, and what he was
saying.

 Scully paused, torn with indecision, then crept away quietly and
went to her room. And how was he going to react to Skinner's
desertion?

 May 9, Westin Hotel
 3:30 a.m.

 Mulder sat on his bed.  He had spent the past hours channel
surfing in the sitting room, but had decided to try reading for a
while.  He rummaged in his sack of sunflower seeds and munched
pensively on them. He wondered how long he could go without having
to sleep. He knew that if he slept, he'd dream.  And when he
dreamed, he didn't know what would happen.  So, the obvious
solution: don't sleep.  Kind of shortsighted, he knew, but it
worked for tonight.

 He sighed and put his book down.  He wished he had the guts to
ask Scully to share the room with him; oh, nothing sexual...at
least he didn't think so...Well, anyway, her presence would be
comforting.  He could relax when she was there.

 He yawned and stretched, then turned back to his book and was
soon absorbed in it.

 A few minutes later he was conscious of a flickering in the
corner of his eye, and a crackling sound. Startled, he looked up,
and found his entire bedroom wreathed in flames, the walls, the
furniture, the drapes, and a loud crackling sound throughout.

 No, this can't be happening!  Mulder stood up, terror flooding
him, knowing that he needed to run, but unable to move a muscle.
He stood and huddled into himself, and tried to scream, but no
sound would come. There was no air in his lungs, he couldn't
breathe, couldn't make a noise louder than a whisper.  He kept
trying, and finally forced a scream out, and kept screaming with
all his strength.

 Scully, asleep in her bed, heard Mulder's cries and immediately
scrambled for her bedroom door, grabbing up her gun as she ran.
She sprinted through the sitting room and into Mulder's room.

 Once inside, she saw Mulder's bedroom, fully lit. Mulder stood in
the middle of the bedroom floor, covering his face and head with
his hands, screaming. As she moved over to him, he crumpled to his
knees, then onto all fours, trying to huddle into the smallest
space possible.  His cries died down to a wild keening, then to
sobs.  Scully moved over to Mulder and slowly knelt beside him.

 Scully heard a noise behind her and Skinner stormed in, dressed
in shorts and a Sig Sauer.  He stopped at the doorway and took in
the scene, looking around the room for intruders.

 "What happened?"  He asked anxiously.  "What's wrong with
Mulder?"

 "I don't know."  Scully said softly.  "Mulder?  Can you hear me? 
Mulder?"

 Mulder raised his head and looked at Scully's face with an
expression of torment. "I...I...was..reading and I looked up and
there was..was..fire everywhere, everything was alight, the
drapes, the furniture, everything.   And I heard it
crackle..as..as it b-burned...And I couldn't move, I tried to call
out..but I c-couldn't BREATHE...and I couldn't make a sound....." 
Mulder trailed off and shuddered, burying his face in his hands.

 Skinner pulled a blanket off the bed and helped Scully wrap it
around him. "Let's move him out of this room.  I want to take a
look at it."  He said quietly, setting his gun down on a side
table.  "Should we call the paramedics?"

 Scully frowned at Mulder, but Mulder began shaking his head
violently.  "No, I don't want to be alone.  NO, stay here with me,
please, I don't want to be alone..."

 Scully nodded.  "I think he'll be ok here with us. I wish I could
give him a sedative, though.  I'll get some hot tea from room
service, with lots of sugar it should help some.  C'mon Mulder,
let's go sit on the couch..."  She gently helped Mulder to his
feet and led him into the sitting room.  Skinner watched them go,
enduring his own agony.

 He knew who had done this, and knew that Mulder hadn't been
imagining anything.  Those bastards were technically savvy enough
to hide a holographic projector in this room...Skinner carefully
inspected the room for electronics, but even his trained eye could
see nothing.  He stopped, frustrated.  At least, if he could
arrange for Scully to "find" a device, he could lead her to deduce
the truth.  He didn't dare tell her about Krycek's visit.  He
rubbed his chest, remembering his prior bout with nano technology,
coming close to dying from the invisible machines clogging his
bloodstream.

 Mulder was in bad shape, and getting worse by Scully's estimate. 
Skinner shook his head and kept searching. And he, Skinner, was
helping in that disintegration by keeping his silence, both by not
telling all he knew and by withdrawing his testimony at
trial....God, there had to be another way...Hadn't he told Mulder
that once?  There's always another way.  He suspected he'd better
find it, or there was no telling what would happen to Mulder.

 He picked up his gun and went into the other room to find Scully
on the couch, sitting next to a blanket wrapped Mulder, her left
arm around his shoulders and her right holding a mug of tea to his
lips.  She looked up hopefully as Skinner entered.

 "Anything?" she asked.

 "No evidence of an intruder or any electronic equipment that I
can see."  Skinner squatted down in front of Mulder and looked him
over.  Mulder's face was rigid and his eyes were glassy, still
seeing the flames.  He seemed barely conscious.   "How's he
doing?"  Skinner asked.

 Scully was silent and looked at Mulder.  "I don't want to leave
him alone if he's having hallucinations. I..think we need to
talk."  She put the mug into Mulder's hands and moved to the other
side of the room with Skinner.

 "I'm very concerned about him."  She began, watching as Mulder
sat numbly with the mug in his hands, making no attempt to drink. 
"This afternoon I overheard him talking to Michael Bailey, or his
ghost.  And at the end of the conversation, he sounded like he
might be having suicidal ideation. He said he didn't know how much
more of this he could take.  In the present circumstances, this
could be a very real danger." She looked up at Skinner
imploringly.  "I haven't told him your news yet.  And I don't want
to."  Scully sighed.  "Maybe we should take him to the hospital."

 Skinner reflected.  Mulder in a hospital was just what Krycek
wanted, but for the long term, not just temporarily.  Allow Mulder
to be committed?  No, he wouldn't go voluntarily, and an
involuntary hold was temporary unless the patient were violent or
actively suicidal.  Hospital would end the torment, but wouldn't
put Bailey behind bars, and Mulder would be left in as much threat
as before.  And he doubted that Krycek would re-think his
prohibition on Skinner's testimony even if Mulder were
hospitalized temporarily.  No, Krycek had been clear, they wanted
Mulder incapacitated for a long time.  Skinner looked around the
walls of the room, confident that it was riddled with surveillance
devices.  He couldn't even offer Mulder the support of knowing
that somebody believed him.  Ok Walt, got to play both sides of
the game, somehow.

 "No, no hospital.  Unless you think he's in immediate danger?
Mulder was pretty clear that he doesn't want to go, and I think we
should respect that, under the circumstances."

  Scully gave Skinner a doubtful look.  "  Then maybe I should
take the bullets out of his guns, just in case..."

 "No, don't do that!"  Skinner said hastily.  "I mean, if there's
a danger that Bailey really is out of jail, Mulder needs all the
personal protection he can get.

 And we don't have any real proof that he's contemplating
suicide."

 Scully frowned, "Sir, I disagree.  Mulder needs professional
help."  She went over to Mulder and took the untouched mug from
his hands.

 "Mulder?  Look at me, Mulder."  Mulder turned and looked at
Scully.  "Mulder, I think you need to see a doctor.  I'd like to
take you to the hospital to get help, how about it?"  Mulder
flinched away from Scully, his face terrified.

 "No, Scully, please, no doctors...no hospitals. You're the only
one I trust.  I feel...good...now. I'll be ok.  And I need to see
this trial through. Just...don't go anywhere, ok?"  Mulder looked
pleadingly at Scully and her resistance collapsed.

 "All right, Mulder." She wrapped the blanket more tightly around
him. "Why don't you sleep in my room tonight.  I'll stay with
you."  Mulder gave her a look of such naked gratitude, that
Skinner, watching, turned away, embarrassed and more than a little
ashamed of himself.

 Scully led Mulder into the other bedroom and helped him into the
bed.  She left the door open and walked over to Skinner.

 "I guess that's all for tonight, sir."

 Skinner nodded.  "All right, then.  I'll meet you both downstairs
for breakfast at, say, 8:30.  Laney will be here at 10:00 for the
meeting."  Scully said nothing, but turned to go back into her
room.  "And Dana" she turned "Call me if you need
anything...please."

 Scully began making a pallet on the floor, but Mulder's imploring
eyes watching her every move decided her.  She gathered up her
blankets and pillow, climbed onto the bed and curled up next to
him.  He was shivering when she lay down, but he calmed when she
snuggled up close.

 "Scully...?" He whispered tentatively.

 "Yeah, Mulder?" She answered sleepily.

 "You think I was seeing things, don't you?"  Mulder tensed,
waiting for her answer.

 Scully propped herself on her elbow and looked down at him.
"Mulder, I know that your room is intact and there's no evidence
of fire.  Therefore, there has to be another explanation.  Maybe
you really did drop off to sleep and just dreamed it, a very vivid
dream, but still just a nightmare.  It doesn't really matter. What
matters to me is its effect on you."

 "Oh.  So, would you say that you don't always believe me, but you
always believe IN me?"

 "Mulder, that's what I've been trying to tell you for years.  Now
go to sleep.  We have a long day tomorrow."

 Mulder smiled a little and closed his eyes.  Then he opened them.
"Scully, do you realize that we are sharing a bed?  And we're not
even married...does that mean we're living in sin?"

 "Don't you wish!...." Scully muttered and, snuggling closer to
Mulder, drifted off to sleep.  Mulder gave her an affectionate
look and brushed a lock of hair off her face, then fell asleep
himself.

**********************

 "We work in the dark.  We do what we can to battle the evil that
would otherwise destroy us.  But if a man's character is his fate,
this fight is not a choice but a calling.

 Yet sometimes, the weight of this burden causes us to falter,
breaching the fragile fortress of our mind, allowing the monsters
without to turn within, and we are left alone...staring into the
abyss into the laughing face of madness."

 (Fox Mulder)


 May 9, 7:00 a.m.

 Scully woke to find that Mulder was already up.  She wearily
pulled herself out of bed and stretched tense muscles.  Too little
sleep and too much worry...situation normal as Mulder's partner.
She walked over to the closet and was selecting her outfit for the
day, when she realized that she didn't hear Mulder moving around
in the suite.  She quietly grabbed her gun and tiptoed through the
empty sitting room and into Mulder's room.

 Mulder, fully dressed,  sat on the floor quietly studying the
walls, ceiling, his entire surroundings. Scully inadvertently made
a noise and Mulder jumped violently, then turned around abruptly. 
His face cleared when he saw that it was Scully.

 "Oh, it's you, Scully...Don't DO that..."  He panted, catching
his breath.

 "I'm sorry Mulder, but I knew you were up and I couldn't hear
you.  I was concerned.  So..."  She made her voice as casual as
she could. "Just what *are* you doing?  Or have you taken up
yoga?"

 Mulder looked embarrassed.  "I wanted to see this room again,
convince myself that it, the fire and everything, wasn't real.  I
can't start jumping at shadows because of a bad dream or two.  I
examined the drapes and carpet, no burns.  I looked over the
entire room and found no evidence of fire.  So, I think you were
right, I must have fallen asleep and dreamed." His eyes grew
pained.  "Or hallucinated the whole thing..."  He climbed to his
feet.  Scully could see that his hands were trembling and he
seemed to be breathing heavily.  She reached for his wrist and
felt his pulse.

 "Mulder, your heart is racing...Are you sure you're ok?"

 Mulder shook off her hand.  "I'm fine.  Nothing that a padded
cell or a quart of valium couldn't cure."

 Scully followed silently, but when Mulder sat down before the
television set and began surfing, she gave up and went to get her
own shower.

 They were downstairs by 8:00 and gave orders for coffee to the
waiter.  It's now or never, Scully thought, better break the news
to him now.  She cleared her throat.

 "Mulder, there is some additional news I heard from Skinner last
night.  It seems that he won't be able to testify at Bailey's
trial either.  He...couldn't or wouldn't give me a reason.  He
just said that he wouldn't be participating."  Scully paused and
waited for the storm.  To her surprise, there was none.

 "Well, that leaves just me, then, huh?"  Mulder asked calmly.
"He must have had his reasons."

 "Mulder, aren't you the least bit angry that Skinner has dumped
you and the case like this?"  Scully was surprised to find that
she was as irritated with Mulder for NOT being upset, as she was
at Skinner for causing the situation in the first place.

 Mulder looked at her mildly.  "Why should I be?  I know that he
wouldn't back out like this if there weren't a compelling reason
to do so.  He's been there in the past, the recent past, when I
needed him. He'll be there now if he can."

 Scully drew a breath.  "But Mulder, what about you, now?  This
whole thing is tearing you apart.  Last night...was terrible."

 Mulder's facade cracked a bit.  "Yeah, it was terrible.  But
there just isn't much I can do about it right now.  If I go to a
hospital now, Bailey walks on the assault and kidnapping charges
and might go free of the murders.  I HAVE to be there and I HAVE
to be together for this, even if I collapse into little pieces
afterward.  He can't be allowed to do this again, to anyone else."

 Scully, her voice very low, said. "Mulder, even if this breaks
you more thoroughly and surely than anything Bailey has done to
you?"

 Mulder looked into her eyes and said nothing, then focused his
eyes intently on the tablecloth.

 Scully looked up to see Skinner approaching the table, wearing a
peculiar frown on his face--guilt?  She was suddenly sure that he
had heard the entire conversation.  She tried to paste a cheerful
expression onto her face, but knew that she was failing.

 "Good morning, sir."

 "Good morning, agents.  Agent Scully, have you told Agent Mulder
about the change in trial testimony?"

 Scully nodded, feeling depressed.  "Yes sir, I have.

 We were just discussing it.  Are you sure that you won't be able
to testify?"

 Skinner shook his head.  "No, I'm afraid that circumstances I am
not at liberty to disclose have made it impossible."  He watched
Mulder closely for reaction, but Mulder sat poker faced.

 The rest of breakfast was very quiet.  Scully gave monosyllabic
answers to Skinner's attempts at conversation and Mulder spoke not
at all, seemingly shut away in his own world.  Skinner's guilt
feelings, already spiking, jerked up another notch.

 At last, 10:00 a.m. approached and Skinner led the agents back to
the suite.  Laney arrived early and, sitting the agents down
around the table, began the meeting.  Skinner promptly gave Laney
his news and the meeting disintegrated.

 "What do you mean you won't be testifying?" Asked Laney
incredulously.  "And why not?  You've traveled all this way..."

 "I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say why....:" Skinner began
but was cut off by Laney.

 "You'll give me a damned good reason or I'll know why!"  Laney
stopped, looking into Skinner's stony face, and realized that this
was going to take some time.  "Agents Mulder, Scully,  there's no
reason for you to be here.  It looks like Assistant Director
Skinner and I have some things to discuss, so  why don't we plan
to meet here tomorrow at 10:00 and go over your part of the
trial?"  Laney looked at Skinner, who nodded permission .

 Skinner then added. "Agents, you might as well enjoy yourselves. 
Get out of the hotel and see San Francisco  Take some time and
relax.."  He looked meaningfully at Scully.  Getting Mulder out of
this damned hotel was probably the safest thing for him. Skinner
was sure that this room had more electronic hardware than CIA
central.  At least on a cablecar packed with tourists, Krycek
would find it harder to get at him.

 "Thank you sir." Said Mulder.  He and Scully withdrew to their
rooms to change into jeans and soon left. Skinner was left to face
Laney and  to explain himself.



 Scully coaxed Mulder onto the San Francisco public transit
system.  Although he looked nervous surrounded by the crowds at
first, she was encouraged to find that he soon relaxed and began
joking with her.

 At Scully's suggestion they toured the Exploratorium, then
lunched in Chinatown.  By the time they got to Fisherman's Wharf,
Mulder was less jumpy and more like his normal self.  Mulder
spotted a marquee and pointed to it.

 "Come on, Scully, you've got to see this!  It's Ripley's Believe
it or Not!"  He dragged a laughing Scully to the door where they
bought tickets and went in.  Scully soon found herself critiquing
many of the exhibits professionally, to Mulder's obvious delight.

 "Mulder, those aren't real human heads!  Those are fakes if I
ever saw any!"  She scoffed, examining the shrunken head exhibit.

 Mulder shook his head and read the card.  "No, it says that
Ripley gathered these himself in the wilds of Africa.  Can't beat
that for provenance."

 "Yeah, and I'm the queen of Sheba...."  Scully muttered just loud
enough for Mulder to hear.  It was so good to see him having fun
again, not nervous or anxious like he'd been of late.  She moved
over to the next exhibit and was leaning to examine it closely
when she heard Mulder yell  "Hey!"

 She turned to see Mulder run into the crowd.  Oh, no! She
thought.  Not now, everything was going so well...She took off
after him, only to find Mulder skid to a stop in the middle of the
crowd, looking blindly around.

 "Mulder?  What's going on?"  Scully panted up to him.

 "I saw him.  I saw Bailey!  I was looking at the case, and I saw
his face reflected in the glass; he was just smiling at me..."
Mulder continued to look around the room, desperately trying to
find his quarry.  "I turned to face him, and he ran.  But he
just...disappeared...."  Mulder's shoulders sagged as he
continued.  "If he was ever really there."

 Scully could have cried for him.  Forcing herself to sound
collected she only said "Well, the lights are dim in here.  It's
easy to be mistaken.  Come on Mulder, they have some real 'live'
footage of Bigfoot you'll want to see."

 Mulder allowed Scully to pull him away, and dutifully argued with
her about whether the Bigfoot exhibit was real or a fake, but it
was clear that the joy had gone from the day.

 Scully insisted that they finish the tour of the City, so Mulder
helped her pick out a variety of gifts for various relatives,
purchase a small pile of chocolate bars in Ghirardelli Square and
watch the sun set from the top of the Hyatt Regency.  Scully was
conscious that although she kept trying to distract Mulder from
his fear and depression, he was preoccupied.  He continued to scan
the crowds of people around them, searching nervously for Paul
Bailey.

 Finally, over dinner at Alioto's, Mulder broke into what they
both had come to recognize as Scully's chatter.

 "Scully,"  Mulder interrupted Scully's story about Bill and
Tara's youngest.  "Scully, it's no good.  I just can't forget
about Bailey, and I can't relax. We both know I've been jumpy ever
since I saw him this afternoon, and I don't...trust...that I won't
find him around the next corner.  I've been ready to draw my gun
at least twice this afternoon, when something startled me.  We
need to go back to the hotel. I'm..."  Mulder searched for a word 
"...tired."

 Scully nodded and followed Mulder downstairs to hail a cab.  They
were deposited at the hotel shortly and rode the elevator to the
suite quietly.  The sitting room was empty, Scully mused, so the
confrontation between Skinner and Laney couldn't have been too
violent.

 She was taking off her jacket when she heard a noise from
Mulder's room.  She turned around, but Mulder rushed into her room
and stopped in the doorway, his eyes wild.

 "Scully, did the maid leave a mint or chocolate or something on
your pillow?"

  Scully was puzzled, but moved to her bed and picked up the mints
that the maid had left behind when she turned the bed down.
"Just these, Mulder.  What's wrong?"

 Mulder gave a ironic smile.  "Mine left a little box of Godiva
chocolates; the round kind."

 He led Scully back to his room, only to find the same mints on
his pillow as on Scully's.   No Godiva chocolates anywhere.
Scully looked up at Mulder; he closed his eyes and shook his head.

 "No, those weren't there just a minute ago.  I don't know why I'm
not surprised..."  He said nothing more, but wandered back into
the sitting room and sat in a dark corner, facing the window.  Any
attempts Scully made to talk to Mulder were met with silence.
Finally, she got a book from the bedroom and curled up on a corner
of the couch in a puddle of light cast by a table lamp, quietly
watching him.

 At last she looked at her watch.  Midnight, another late night.
Mulder hadn't moved or spoken in hours.

 Scully cleared her throat.

 "Mulder, I'm sleepy and I thought I'd go to bed now.

 Would you like to share my room again tonight? Yours doesn't seem
very..comfortable somehow."  Mulder still didn't move, so Scully
walked over to stand next to him.  "Mulder, there's a reasonable
explanation for all of this.  And we'll find it.  You just have to
believe that we will, somehow.  C'mon, partner. When was the last
time I offered to share a bed with you?

 Better take advantage while you can!"

 Mulder finally turned to look at her, his eyes distant, but he
nodded and got up.  Scully followed him into his room while he got
some clothes and quietly stood outside his bathroom door while he
brushed his teeth, although she managed to be in the next room by
the time he opened the door again.

 As she settled in next to Mulder, Scully wondered nervously what
the next day would bring and whether they both would survive it
intact.

 May 10, 7 am

 Mulder woke to find Scully curled up next to him, sleeping
quietly.  He watched her sleep for a few minutes, experiencing a
rare feeling of peace, even though he knew that the fear hovered
just outside the little bubble of sanity that she represented.
He'd had the dreams last night, of course.  At least when he'd
woken up, he hadn't disturbed Scully.  Thank God for small favors.

 He thought back, painfully, over the past days. Nothing, nothing
of what he'd seen, heard, experienced had been witnessed by
anybody else.  He might be inhabiting a planet all his own, or a
reality. Mulder smiled grimly.  Yeah, that was it, reality.  Maybe
all those people were right over the years, and he really was a
couple fries short of a happy meal after all. But he couldn't give
up yet.  Got to see this trial thing through.  Then what?  Mulder
eyed the ceiling and thought of rest, somewhere.  He found himself
regretting the decision he'd made in that other place, to give up
heaven to take up his life again.  Mike had warned him that if he
chose life it would hurt.  He just hadn't realized it would hurt
this much.  He could feel a tear trailing down his cheek and wiped
it away swiftly.  No, it wouldn't do to have Scully see that.  It
would only worry her more.  And after this trial was over...this
pain would stop, one way or another.

 He got out of bed gently and covered Scully with the covers, then
moved to go take a shower  in Scully's bathroom.  He'd heard her
outside his bathroom door, and knew that she was guarding him.

 Mulder had just finished dressing when Scully woke. She looked at
the clock and gasped at the time.

 "Mulder, why didn't you wake me?  It's almost 8:30! We're
supposed to meet Skinner downstairs for breakfast!"  In the
meantime, Scully was rummaging in her suitcase and closet for her
clothing.

 "Scully, you needed the rest.  You've barely slept at all this
trip, probably less than I have, and that's saying something.
I'll go downstairs and make your excuses to Skinner.  Just come
down when you're ready. Don't worry about it."  Mulder finished
tying his tie, flashed her a grin and left the suite.  Scully
shook her head at Mulder, then dashed for the shower.

 Mulder took the elevator to the ground floor, conscious of the
weight that never seemed to leave his soul these days.  As had
become his habit, he scanned the people in the lobby area for Paul
Bailey, then walked towards the restaurant.  He could see Skinner
at the front desk, looking through a copy of the Chronicle, so
Mulder began to walk towards him.  But as he approached Skinner,
he saw a man out of the corner of his eye pull a shiny lighter
from his pocket and a tall flame shoot out of the top.  Mulder
watched, unable to look away, as he lit his cigarette, then held
it out for his companion to light up.  The man with the lighter
turned, then Paul Bailey faced Mulder full-face, and smiled.  And
smiled.  And smiled... holding the lighter with the fire flaring
out the top.

 Mulder felt his stomach clench inside and, with a feeling of
inevitability, everything began to feel...distant...somehow.  It
would always be this way, until Bailey finally caught him and
killed him.

 The sounds of the lobby came from further and further away.  Then
he realized that he couldn't breathe, and gasped harder and harder
for air and his body swayed. His throat was closing up, he was
sure.  And Bailey still smiled...Mulder could feel sweat springing
out all over his body.  He reached up and tried to claw his tie
loose, but it didn't help.  As the dizziness hit him, he could see
Skinner running toward him. Mulder began to crumple toward the
floor, fighting for breath and conscious of a tightness in his
chest. He felt scattered, confused by the voices, the noise, the
people now crowding around him.  And he couldn't breathe...he kept
struggling for air and felt Skinner's hands on him, removing his
tie and unbuttoning his collar.

 "Mulder, what's wrong?  Are you having trouble breathing?"
Skinner asked anxiously.

 "Can't catch my breath...chest feels tight...dizzy.." Mulder
struggled to get the words out as the room felt even more distant.
"Is this a heart attack?"

 "Somebody call Agent Dana Scully!  She's in room 1031; and call
911!"  Skinner shouted, trying to feel for Mulder's pulse.



 Scully had just finished her makeup when she got the call.
Without further ado, she slid on her shoes and ran out of the
room, waited impatiently for the elevator, and finally got in.
When the doors opened on the lobby, she saw a crowd of people and
paramedics surrounding Mulder.  Skinner knelt by his side, holding
Mulder's tie absently, while he watched the paramedics work on
him.  Scully fought her way through the crowd of gawkers to kneel
next to Skinner.

 "What's happened?"  She gasped.  They had an EKG and oxygen mask
on Mulder and seemed to be treating him for heart attack.

 Skinner turned to her, visibly shaken.  "He was walking from the
elevator towards me, when he seemed to stop for a moment and look
at something across the lobby.  Then he grabbed his throat and
chest, began gasping for air, and just collapsed."

 Scully ran over to the nearest paramedic.  They had Mulder loaded
on a gurney with oxygen mask and were preparing to remove him to a
hospital.  "Where are you taking him?" She asked.

 "UCSF Medical Center!" Called the paramedic as they rushed Mulder
out of the lobby.

 Skinner pulled Scully aside.  "Let's ride to the hospital
together.  I'll call a cab."

 Scully looked at Skinner coldly.  "I'm going with Mulder in the
ambulance."

 Skinner gave Scully his best A.D. stare.  "No, we have things to
discuss."

 Skinner left Scully at the hotel doorway, while he hailed a cab,
carefully choosing one at random. When they were both seated in
the cab, Skinner paused, uncertain how to begin.  He eyed Scully's
grim face and knew that she was as close to her limit as Mulder
was.  As he himself was.  It was no good, there was no middle
ground here; he couldn't protect himself and Mulder too, and it
was time to choose.

 "Scully, I owe you an explanation for my behavior since we
arrived in San Francisco."

 Scully looked out the window and said levelly. "No, sir, you
don't owe it to me.  That man in the ambulance is the one you owe
it to.  And I hope he's in a state of mind to hear it from you.
I'm not really interested in anything you have to say."

 "Scully.." Skinner said painfully. "You have to listen to me.
They threatened my life if I testified in this case.
He..Krycek...has had a hold on me since that blood disorder, or
whatever you want to call it.  He caused it.  He controls it, and
me."

 Scully turned and faced Skinner. "Do you mean to tell me that all
of this was Their doing?  The phone calls, the 'fire' in Mulder's
room?  Everything?"

 Skinner nodded.  "Mulder hasn't been seeing things, other than
what they've managed to project at him. The phone calls were
rigged and only happen when Mulder is alone.  And Bailey?  I'd bet
money that the man who's incarcerated under Bailey's name isn't
Bailey.  I don't know why they're doing this to Mulder, but it's
all them."

 Scully searched Skinner's face.  "But why tell now? Why not
before?"

 Skinner shook his head and gave her a rueful smile. "I always
hoped I could tread middle ground: protect myself and Mulder too,
somehow.  But as they continued their...activities...I could see
what it was doing to Mulder.   But this morning...."

 Skinner's face turned grim. "I saw Mulder's face as he fell.  He
was completely without hope, he'd reached the end of his tether.
I've seen men look like that just before they let themselves die
in action.  I can't allow this to continue any more, no matter
what. What happened to Mulder before, I was powerless to stop it
or help him.  But this time, from this... I have a choice and I
can stop it.  And if I don't, I'm no better than a Krycek or a
Paul Bailey."

 Skinner turned toward Scully.  "They can't know that I've told
you or Mulder any of this, or they'll kill me and maybe him.  You
may have to be the one to tell Mulder, in the best way you can,
that everything he's seen, everything he's experienced is real,
and that we both believe him.  Between us we may be able to pull
him through this and I won't lose the best agent I've ever
supervised."

 Scully nodded.  "I'll tell him."

 May 9, 10:00 a.m.

 Scully sat in the waiting room while Skinner paced. Scully had
cornered the doctor and given him a complete history of Mulder's
recent medical difficulties, physical and mental.  Then she sat
down to wait.  This all felt so familiar, except that there was no
snow falling outside the windows.  Finally the doctor appeared in
the doorway.  Scully and Skinner moved to meet him.

 "Are you Mr. Mulder's next of kin?"  He asked. Scully stepped
forward.

 "I am.  I'm his partner.  How is he?"  She asked, then added.
"This is Walter Skinner, our supervisor."

 The doctor consulted his chart.  "Mr. Mulder has not had a heart
attack; his heart appears to be fine. It looks like he's had a
very severe and very unpleasant panic attack.  His prior physical
injuries seem to be healing well, but he appears to be very
anxious and depressed.  I understand that he's been under some
extreme stress recently?"

 "Yes, he has."  Scully indicated.  "Things have been...difficult
for him lately, since he got out of rehab."

 "Well, he needs less stress in his life.  Obviously he isn't
dealing with it well.  I tried to recommend to him that he either
get counseling or possibly drug therapy, but he refused out of
hand.  I'd strongly recommend  that you discuss it with him.
He'll be discharged shortly, he's dressing now.

 "Don't worry," Said Skinner. "We'll be discussing the situation
with him, at length."

 They met a shaken looking Mulder at the front desk. He signed a
few papers and turned, palely, to face Skinner and Scully.

 "I'm sorry I caused all this...trouble."  He began, hesitant with
embarrassment.  "Now I really know this is all in my head.  Maybe
I should be looking for that nice padded cell, huh?"

 Skinner took his arm.  "No, a padded cell is not what you need.
I think a nice walk in the park would be relaxing.  Let's go."
Skinner led them out of the building and hailed a cab,again
carefully at random.

 The cab let them out at Golden Gate Park, and it was only then
that Skinner began to speak.

 "Mulder, I owe you an apology."  Skinner began to explain about
Krycek and the concerted attempt on Mulder's sanity.

 "And so, I told Agent Scully in the cab on the way to the
hospital.  But Krycek and our cigarette smoking friend can't know
that I've told you any of this, or you'll be getting a new boss." 
Skinner finished. Mulder sat on a park bench, Scully next to him.
Skinner stood.  "Oh, yeah.."  Skinner reached into his blazer
pocket and pulled out Mulder's tie, neatly rolled up.  "Here's
your tie."  He handed it to Mulder.

 Mulder looked pensive and better than Skinner had seen him in
days.  "So, the phone calls, the Bailey sightings were all real,
they were just exquisitely timed so that I would be the only
witness.  And the flames in my room?"

 "I'm pretty sure they hid a holographic projector somewhere in
the room."  Skinner replied.  "I didn't find it when I searched,
but I'm confident that it's there."

 Mulder looked up at Skinner.  "So now what?"

 Skinner smiled wryly.  "Well, I guess it's your turn to try
method acting, at least until the trial is over.  Scully will be
her usual skeptical self, and I will be professionally unhelpful. 
Just make it good, ok?  I want to live to collect my pension
benefits. And remember, despite all the play-acting, it's all real
and Scully and I agree that it is real.  None of this is your
imagination."

 Mulder let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Thank you sir.  I appreciate it.  Well," He said, getting up.
"Maybe we should get this show on the road."

**********************
Christe Eleison, part 6

"...I am here, calling the wind
I am here, calling your name
I am here calling you back
Return to me..."

(Return to Me, October Project)

May 10, noon

They returned to the hotel to find that Laney had left a message
for them.  He had been informed by the desk clerk about Mulder's
attack, and asked Skinner to call when they got in.

"He is probably wondering whether to dismiss the case entirely."
Scully commented when she saw the message.

"Well, he doesn't need to.  I'll be there if they have to wheel me
in on a gurney."  Mulder replied.  Both Scully and Skinner shot
him a look, then glanced around for listeners.  Skinner borrowed a
desk telephone and called Laney, making an appointment for Laney
to come by later that afternoon.

They parted in the hallway outside their rooms, and agreed to meet
for lunch in thirty minutes.

Scully followed Mulder into the suite.  Now that she knew the
place was bugged, she felt nervous and conspicuous, wondering what
kind of cameras and recording devices might be in place.  She
caught Mulder grinning at her evilly.  He turned the volume up on
the television set and pulled her close enough to whisper in her
ear.  "Don't worry, Scully, I'm sure it's MY bathroom they've got
surveillance cameras in, not yours."  Scully punched him in the
arm and walked into her room, closing the door firmly behind her.

She went into the bathroom to fix her makeup.  In all the emotion
of getting Mulder to the hospital, she knew her mascara had
run...yup, raccoon eyes.  She cleaned her face and began
reapplying makeup.  What a relief to have it all out in the open. 
Thank God Mulder was sane, at least as sane as he usually was.

A thought occurred to her, do we have to keep up this charade
through a three week trial?   Mulder had been having nightly
crises since they had arrived, usually ending up sharing Scully's
bed.  So tonight would have to be no different...Oh no...Her eyes
widened....Sharing a bed with Mulder when he WASN'T
sick...Scully's face took on a grim set.  Well, if he tries
anything, he'll know the true meaning of pain.

Scully met Mulder at the doorway and they went to Skinner's room. 
At his suggestion, they decided to get lunch "outside this damned
hotel."  As they walked to the Italian deli Skinner had spotted,
Scully couldn't help noticing Mulder's continued nervousness. He
constantly scanned the street ahead and around them, looking for a
familiar face.  She sighed as she realized that, although they all
knew that Mulder wasn't imagining things, things had only become
abruptly worse.  Now the threat was real, and out there waiting
somewhere.

Lunch was a nervous meal for all three.  Skinner had reached the
same conclusion Scully had, and the waiter was soon casting odd
looks at the strange people who couldn't seem to sit still.
Finally Mulder broke the tension with a laugh.

"Y'know, I'm sure they have suites in the local mental hospitals. 
Maybe all three of us could get a rate." Skinner and Scully stared
at Mulder as though he'd sprouted horns.  "It isn't likely that
Bailey will do anything obvious.  All his activities this past
week have been directed at me when I was alone, not where you
could corroborate my story.  I think we're as safe here as we're
likely to be anywhere."  He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. 
"At least I think so."

"You have a point." Scully said, digging into her arugula and
goatcheese salad.  "But it still makes me uncomfortable to know
that he's out there.

"Nothing we can do about it, but stay alert." Commented Skinner,
picking at his lasagna.

"Well, it still beats the hospital.  I may be in danger, but at
least the food's good."  Said Mulder, happily munching a piece of
pizza.

The afternoon meeting with Laney went amazingly well, from
Scully's perspective.  She could see that he was pleased with
Mulder's business-like manner and straightforward account of the
events at the Bailey cabin.  Mulder grew white-faced and tense
from time to time, while recounting some of the more gruesome
details of his captivity, but over all she could see that the
prosecutor was relieved at Mulder's presentation.  Mulder even
fielded questions about UFO's and his general credibility with
even-tempered aplomb.

Laney asked Scully for only a few details and confirmed that she
would not be testifying.  "No," He shook his head.  "I'm afraid I
lost on that motion. But since you won't be called as a witness,
you will be allowed to attend the proceedings in the courtroom
itself.  Usually we exclude witnesses until it's their turn to
testify."

"Well, I'll plan on being there, then."  Scully said.

"Just don't make faces at me from the front row, huh?" Mulder
added.  "I'll crack up for sure."

Scully smiled.  "No, I'll bring the popcorn but I won't share
any."

"Well, trial begins tomorrow, with jury selection. I'll be going
first and plan on calling Agent Mulder to the stand as my first
witness, probably late in the afternoon.  I'll meet you at the
courthouse tomorrow at noon, and we can go over any last minute
details."

"I'll be there; count on it."  Said Mulder.

At Mulder's suggestion, he and Scully went out that evening.
Although invited along, Skinner begged off, having privately
decided that he'd feel like a third wheel.

At Mulder's suggestion, they went to Enrico's for Italian food,
"And dessert, "  Said Mulder.  "They do dessert really well."
Scully was quietly surprised at the way in which Mulder, normally
attentive, became positively chivalrous, rushing to open doors for
her and generally being more than usually well-behaved. When they
arrived and found a table reserved for them, Scully's plate
crowned with a single white rose, she began to realize that
something was going on here.

Scully sat down and picked up her rose, inhaled its fragrance,
then met Mulder's eyes.  "Ok, out with it. Why the star
treatment?"

Mulder's face took on a mischievous look.  "Why Agent Scully, what
can you mean?"

"I mean, that this isn't the usual chili-burger joint we end up
at, and you never give me flowers.  What's going on?"  She looked
around.  "Not that this isn't nice.  And I love Italian food..."

"Precisely."  Mulder signaled the waiter, who brought a bottle of
champagne.  Mulder sampled it, nodded approval, and the waiter
began pouring.  When the waiter was out of earshot, Mulder began. 
"You didn't need to come along on this trip, but you did anyway.
And you didn't have to spend all the time sitting with me in the
hospital, then in rehab, and now here.  But you've been there
every step of the way.  I just thought that you deserved some
acknowledgment for that.  Scully, I don't know what I'd have done
through all this without you.  I'm just glad I didn't have to. I
just thought that after all the crises, you deserved to have a
little fun in San Francisco."

Scully was touched.  "Mulder, that's sweet."

"And besides, "  Mulder continued, deadpan.  "Skinner said he was
tired of Italian food."

After dinner, at Mulder's insistence, they spent the evening at
Finocchio's.  Scully was ashamed to admit that she had a good time
being scandalized by the female impersonators.

"How do you know about these places?"  Asked Scully, sipping her
wine as the Cher impersonator gyrated across the stage.  Then she
realized what a silly question this was.  She started giggling,
too much wine, this isn't dignified, Dana...she reminded herself. 
Then just giggled more.

Mulder started laughing with her, and soon the bouncer came by
asking them to please be more quiet; they were disrupting the
show.  They elected to take their laughter outside.

As they wandered outside, looking into the windows, Scully found
herself sighing.

"What's wrong, Scully?"  Mulder asked.  "Aren't you having a good
time?"

"No, I'm having a great time."  Scully reassured him. "I just wish
we could do this more often...be normal." She gestured around
them.  "There's an entire city full of people who have never heard
of sewer monsters, have no interest in shadowy government
conspiracies and are not on first name basis with any serial
killers!"  Oh, oh, Starbuck, don't get too deep here, too much
wine, too much champagne..damn it....

Mulder looked pensive.  "I'm sorry Scully, but I can't change the
past.  If I could give you that life, I'd move heaven and earth to
do it.  But the choices we make... that we've made, have pretty
much determined our options.  We know what we know and we can't go
back to what we were before the X Files, no matter how much we
wish we could."

Scully nodded.  "Yeah.  And you did warn me on that first case in
Oregon, that there was no going back. Oh well."  She smiled.  "At
least I'm never bored!" She took Mulder's arm, glad that he was so
steady when she felt a little tipsy.

They wandered back to the hotel at midnight, having seen as many
of the sights of San Francisco as they could pile into one cab
ride.  "I don't care how much it costs, Scully, you are going to
see the City."

Like the gentleman Scully had to admit he was, he escorted her to
her bedroom door, smiled and retired to his own room.  When she
sat on her bed, she wasn't sure whether she was glad, or sorry.

May 10, 3:30 a.m.

Mulder woke to a crackling noise and flickering light. Oh, no...he
thought to himself, not again.  But at least I know that it isn't
real this time.  Then he was sure he smelled something burning.
He opened an eye and saw flames shooting out of the wing chair
next to his bed.  "Hey!!"  He yelled and ran for the water pitcher
in the sitting room.  He ran back to his room and was dousing the
flames as the smoke alarm in his room went off.

Scully bolted out of her bedroom and found Mulder with blanket in
hand putting out the last of the flames. Mulder was pale and
sweating, but finished snuffing the last spark.  Over the smoke
alarm, Scully heard the door to the suite open.  Skinner ran in,
followed closely by hotel staff.

Skinner quickly put his gun out of sight on a dresser and moved
over to the chair.  Mulder was already bending over it, sniffing.

"It smells like a chemical accelerant, but I can't identify it."
Mulder said.  Skinner shooed away the hotel staff, promising to
telephone for an arson investigator himself.  He went to the
telephone and called the San Francisco Fire Department.

Scully disappeared into her room and returned with two pairs of
latex gloves.  Mulder's eyebrows rose. "Scully, I always thought
you packed latex with you wherever you went, just in case..."
Scully shot him a dirty look and looked at the chair more closely.

"Mulder, look at this..."  She gently nudged a half-burnt book of
matches from under the chair cushion, the label clearly read 'Reno
Hilton'.

"I think that now the gloves are off."  Mulder said quietly.

May 11, 12:00 noon
Federal District Courthouse

Scully and Skinner arrived with Mulder at noon.  While Mulder
conferred with Laney, Scully took a seat in the front of the
viewer's section.  Skinner chose to sit in the back, to keep an
eye out for Krycek.  He had privately decided that if Krycek
didn't show up, Laney was going to find himself with another
witness, and the consequences be damned.

People began filing into the room.  Laney moved to his place at
the front table, Mulder moving to take a seat beside him.  A few
minutes later Skinner saw Krycek move into the room and take the
seat across the aisle from Scully.  Scully glanced to one side,
then did a double-take as she recognized him.  Krycek smiled at
her and gave her a little wave.  She was too surprised to react,
as the bailiff called the court to order.

Lastly, the defense attorney entered the courtroom, with his
client.  Paul Bailey was dressed in a smart gray suit and
conservative blue tie.  Mulder and Laney turned in their chairs to
watch them enter.  When Mulder caught sight of Krycek, he started
and moved as though to stand up, but thought better of it.  Then
Mulder saw Bailey.  Bailey beamed Mulder a sunny smile and mouthed
the words "Just wait.." as he seated himself at the defendant's
counsel table.  Mulder jerked as though he'd been struck, then
caught himself..  Scully could see Mulder clenching his fists
under the table, although his face remained impassive.

The trial began, with both attorneys making statements to the
jury.  As anticipated, the defense attorney had harsh words for
Mulder, both for his abilities as a profiler and and FBI agent.
Scully watched Mulder anxiously to see how he was taking it, but
wasn't surprised to see him looking calm and collected.  She
reminded herself that he was used to ridicule by now.

The prosecutor moved to call his first witness, Mulder.  Mulder
moved to the stand, took the oath and began his testimony.  As
soon as he sat down, Scully could see Bailey's smile broaden, as
he purposely caught Mulder's gaze.  Then Bailey surreptitiously
reached into his pocket for a shin