Disclaimer: All X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox Network. The creation of this fiction is a result of the f act that I have way too much time on my hands on a Saturday night. No profit will be earned as a result of this work (like that needed to be said). Classification: Vignette/Angst Warnings: First attempt at fan fiction, that should be warning enough. Spoilers: Slight reference to The Pusher. Summary: Mulder, betrayed by those closest to him, attempts to disappear and begin a new life. How does he deal with the loss the only life he ever knew? Can he leave his search for the truth behind? Rating: R (mostly language) Title: FOX the Fugitive It was happening again, he kept losing focus, having difficulty remembering where he was and what was expected of him. He shook his head slightly, hoping it would clear. Damn, who could blame him, seven weeks on this last case, seven weeks of minimum eighteen hour workdays and the little bit of time reserved for sleep had brought him, as usual, no comfort. Wasn't a man's mind entitled to become a bit foggy about a few details after such an experience? He was tired, but hell, he should be tired. Sneaking a peek over at Scully's desk he found her watching him again. She looked down quickly when she saw she had been caught. Why does she keep looking at me like I'm, I'm.....deep breath Mulder, just calm down, finish up the paperwork on this one and head home, home to your dark, quiet apartment. Home where, unless someone is trying to kill you, people leave you alone. Forcing his shoulders back, fingers resting on the keyboard, he glared at the report on the screen. Let's go Mulder, keep your head down, don't say anything, finish the report, get it to Skinner and go home. Dana Scully, hoping Mulder wouldn't notice, studied him. This last case had been rough, a devil-worshipping serial killer. When all was said and done, nine people had died including a detective who had been assigned to assist them. Strange, this was the first case in a long time where Mulder actually came out uninjured. Throughout the horror he had pushed almost everyone away, yes, he had definitely earned his "Spooky" name on this last one. While cops with 30 years on the job broke down like babies when confronted with the horror of those crime scenes, Mulder stood calm. He walked among the carnage examining every detail, inhaling every scent, never betraying any emotion to those around him. He had done an amazing job but Mulder, being Mulder, felt that he had taken too long, seven weeks was inexcusable in his mind and people had died because of his inability to put it together sooner. Yes, Mulder may have escaped this last case physically unharmed but emotionally, well that was another story. He looked like crap, dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped and strangest of all, nervous and, dare she say it, paranoid, well more paranoid than usual. He hadn't spoken a word in two hours, just kept typing away at the report, driving himself to get it done. He was obviously absorbed in his work yet there was something about the set of his shoulders that didn't seem right to her, what was going through that Mulder brain? "Mulder". No response. "Mulder", again no response, no acknowledgment that he had heard her. Okay, now she was getting concerned. Enough was enough. Scully put down the file she was reviewing and walked over to his desk. Placing her hand gently on his shoulder, she was startled when he jumped up, causing his chair to tumble. Eyes wild, he pushed himself up against the wall, hand tightening on his weapon. "Mulder, what the hell is going on," shouted Scully? She was frightened, not for herself, she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but for him. She had seen him like this before, exhausted, angry, seemingly detached from the world around him. He was extremely thin, she'd hardly gotten him to eat a thing during their last case and the weight loss showed in the loose fit of his suit. And then there was Samantha... Mulder, not really clear on what had just happened either, breathed deeply and willed his pulse to slow down. He closed his eyes and released his grip on his gun. "Scully, you scared the hell out of me", he attempted a smile, running his hands nervously through his hair. As he met her eyes, he thought, oh no here it comes. Scully approached him slowly. Instinctively, he stepped back, only to find the wall blocking his way. Silently, looking him deep in the eyes, she reached up and placed her hand on his forehead, warm, but not feverish. "Mulder", she said, her hand slipping down a bit to caress his cheek, "I'm really worried about you." He stared back at her for a moment, then reached up and removed her hand. She was close, too close. She knew him better than most, who was he kidding, probably knew him best of all but right now she was just too damn close. Releasing her hand, he stepped behind her putting the desk between them before he spoke. "I'm fine Scully, just a bit worn out...tired", rubbing his neck tensely as if to prove his point. It isn't as if there's been much down time lately. I just need to finish this report and get out of here. " As he spoke his eyes ran over the walls of their office, when did it get so small? How was it that he could spend hours, sometimes days down here digging through file after file. He knew he had but for the life of him, right now, at this moment in time he couldn't figure out how or.........why? She stepped back sensing if she pushed she would be pushing him away, not pulling him back. She needed time to plan her approach. Looking up, she gave him her most sincere smile and said "okay, Mulder, I understand. You're right, this case was stressful and we both deserve a little time off. I just know it's been a bit harder on you since," she hesitated as she saw his face freeze, "well, since they found Samantha's body." He closed his eyes, silently willing her to be still. He could hear her speak but the words seemed to slur into long, incomprehensible sentences. "It really was too soon for you to go out on another case, you hardly had time to grieve." She stepped closer, hoping he'd take the shoulder she was offering. As she moved in, he flinched back. Sad hazel eyes locked with hers, "I've been grieving for Samantha all my life, I can't help her anymore. I was able to help those people in Seattle, Scully, we needed to catch that monster!" "Mulder, you know I don't disagree, if you hadn't been there he would still be out there butchering innocent people." "Skinner was right to send us Scully, I was needed," he insisted. "Oh Mulder, you're always needed," she assured. He wrapped his arms around himself his eyes bright with unshed tears, he wore his emotions so plainly on his sleeve it was almost painful to watch. "Mulder, " she said softly, "have you given any more thought about talking to someone?" "I talk to people all them time Scully," deliberately misunderstanding her statement, he sat down and began to type (stop talking Scully, stop talking). "Mulder", no answer. "Fox", his eyes shot up to meet hers . She leaned over his desk, inches from his face. Damn, why does she have to get so close, I don't want anyone this close, not anymore. Back away Scully, back away. Rolling his chair back a few feet, he sighed, "Yes Scully, I have given some thought to talking to someone and I've decided that it is simply not necessary." She raised her eyebrow at his response but refused to move away from him. "I'm a big boy, a psychologist, very aware of who I am and my long laundry list of personal problems." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I understand that the finding of my sister's body shuts the door on a chapter in my life that has motivated me to live the way I have all these years. I accept that I see shadows around every corner, conspiracies apparently everywhere." Feeling somewhat on the defensive, she pulled back. She attempted to interrupt but he wouldn't let her. He was upset, angry and so very tired of being simultaneously patronized, humored and ridiculed. Standing now, he continued, "no Scully, do not interrupt, you wanted to know, you insisted." She stepped back further from him feeling as though she'd been burned. He continued, "if anyone in this world has a right to be screwed up, it's me. My life reads like some freaking side show and yes, I accept that. I accept that sometimes after a case when I've had to practically perform a fucking Vulcan mind meld with a psycho who enjoys sacrificing his victims to his vision of Satan." Miserably, he added, "he peeled off their skin Scully, while they were still alive!" She nodded, she knew this, she had the grisly task of performing the autopsies. He gulped at the air, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "I accept that having an alcoholic, cold father who...," he stopped suddenly terrified of what he had been about to reveal. Scully stunned, clearly understanding what he had just disclosed, reached her hand out to him, wanting, needing to offer him some comfort. Ignoring her offer, he stumbled on, "who... who ignored me throughout my childhood, that maybe I might feel guilty and angry, accepting all the blame for Samantha. I accept all this Scully every single day and still I get up. I can't figure out how but I get up and come to work and try to perform a service that somewhere down the line will help someone, will answer unanswered questions." Pointing his finger at her accusingly, "what I do NOT accept is the constant invasion into my head by government- funded shrinks, by every emergency room doctor that stabs me with needles full of mind-dulling drugs but most especially by you! Jesus Scully, the last time you wouldn't let them release me for a week, what gives you that right," he demanded harshly. He was near crying now, he could feel the tears burning his eyes, begging to be released. His head, God his head, not now, not now. He collapsed against the nearest wall, his knees bending awkwardly as he slid to the floor cradling his head in both hands. "Just take me", he moaned, "what the hell are you waiting for, just take me, stop this pain." The room fell silent, silent except for the sound of the two agents breathing, the sound of a partnership shattering into pieces. Scully, overwhelmed and confused by where this had all led just stared. She stared down at this man, this scared and, in her eyes, broken man. She was hurt, his words had stung. She knew her natural tendency was to observe for faults, cracks in him but only because she cared. She felt a strong commitment to keeping this man safe and well. He had saved her life almost as many times as he put it in danger. He would think nothing of giving his life to save hers. She loved him, no, not as a lover although there was a time early in their relationship that she wondered about the possibility. But over time, she found him too unpredictable, one minute wonderfully charming, the next deeply moody. It was not unusual for Mulder to run the gamut of all possible emotions in a day, hell, who was she kidding, in an hour. He was a highly intelligent, complex man whose lifestyle and way of looking at the world would never allow her the kind of life she eventually wanted. She put him in the "no" box of possible lover/husband and at the same time put him in her heart as her friend, her best friend. Over time he had become so much more than even that, he was her partner, protector, father and brother. The label didn't matter, it was how she felt and right now, as hurt as she was, she still supported and believed in him. Right now she knew, even without her medical degree that Fox Mulder was very close to meltdown. Too much had happened to this man in too short of a time. His sister Samantha had been found, body positively identified by dental records. The body appeared to be approximately 15 years of age and it left one wondering what her life must have been like from the time she was taken to her death. The autopsy was straight forward, evidence pointed to a broken neck as cause of death. Bones indicated malnutrition, deficiencies and there was other evidence of experimentation, abuse, evidence that she would never fully share with him. She'd never rethis piece of information could be the one thing that pushed him over into the darkness. This could be the reason he searched for to put the gun up to his head and pull the trigger. She still had nightmares of him doing just that when Modell controlled his mind. If she felt he would accept it she would wrap him up in her arms and hold tight, let him lean on her for a while. If only he could let it go, share with her what he was feeling, but Mulder, especially this Mulder slumped to the office floor, would not let her get that close. She hadn't missed the way he flinched every time she came near. She had to get him help, help to come to terms with all that had happened. She would never be able to forgive herself if something were to happen to him and she had not tried to protect him. Skinner, she though, she would talk to Skinner, he would know how to handle this. He seemed to understand Mulder, always seemed to know just how much rope to let him have before he pulled him back. Maybe together, she and Skinner could pull him back. A sniffle, a deep groan, Scully saw him push himself off the wall to stand. She didn't move to help him. After a moment he looked up and began to walk towards her. She stood her ground, if he needed her, she would be there despite all the painful things he had said. "Scully," Mulder reached out to touch her shoulder, leaned down to look her in the eyes. His eyes tired and cloudy. "Scully", shaking her shoulder, "I'm sorry, I had no right to explode that way. Please, please don't be angry, please don't," his words stuck in his throat, don't what Mulder, what don't you want her to do? Scully covered his hand with hers and squeezed gently. She noticed he was trembling slightly. "It's okay Mulder, I understand." He looked at her a moment longer, was it fear she saw in his eyes, now why would he be afraid of her? "Mulder, we're both", a pause as she searched for the word, " stressed. This was a tough one, let's just get this information to Skinner, close the drawer and go home. I won't push you anymore tonight." Mulder nodded and slowly returned to his desk, sat down and again began to type. The words on the screen meant nothing What did she mean, won't push anymore tonight?. Shaking his head in an effort to pull himself into now, he said, "I have about another 20-30minutes of work here", again typing, "why don't you go up and summarize it all for Skinner, I'll walk in, drop the words on his desk and we'll be walking out of there in record time." Scully didn't argue, this would give her a few minutes to talk to Skinner before he joined them. With Skinner's help she knew they could help him. Quickly gathering the files she had organized, she slipped them under her arm and headed for the door. "Okay Mulder but don't leave me hanging in there too long, I'll expect you in about 30 minutes, deal?" Head down, small smile on his face, he shook his head, "deal Scully, I'll be there as quickly as possible." Mulder began furiously typing as Scully let herself out the door. When he heard the door close, his fingers slowed, then stopped completely. Exhausted, he put his head down on his arms and wept. ************ Skinner's office always reminded her of her high school principal's office. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was in trouble whenever she needed to meet with him. Funny how childhood memories haunt you forever, even the trivial ones. Frowning she thought of Mulder's childhood memories, would he ever be able to leave them behind? Skinner stood as she entered the office, frowning he looked behind her and demanded, "where's Mulder?" Clearing her throat, Scully, tensely replied, "well sir, he's just finishing up the paperwork, he should be joining us shortly. But sir, before he does, I need to ask for your help." Skinner, never breaking eye contact, sat down. He sensed Scully was deeply disturbed by something, her lower lip was shaking slightly and she was having trouble meeting his eyes. "What is it Scully or should I say, who is it?" "Sir, you know I would never betray a confidence unless," she paused. Skinner leaned forward, "unless?" "Unless I truly felt that more harm would come of me not speaking than if I do," she rushed to finish. "It's Mulder, isn't it, what's he done now," he sighed. "No, no sir it's not what he's done, it's what I fear he may do," openly fighting back tears now Scully continued. "Sir, I believe Mulder may be close to an emotional breakdown, he appears to be losing his grip on reality, fading in and out.......I'm afraid of what he might do." There, she had said it, sorry Mulder but I can't let this happen. Skinner sat back heavily in his chair. He knew what it took for Scully to come to him with this. He knew that she would not be saying these words if she did not believe he was a risk to himself. Mulder and Scully shared a partnership like none he had ever seen and it must be breaking her, killing her to reveal this information. Now Mulder, thought Skinner, he was a difficult man to read. How many times ( he had lost count), had he stood in front of Skinner's desk and attempted to convince him of his theories, his incredible, eccentric theories. And of all those times, how many times had he been right? The boy, no strike that, man was an investigative genius there was no one who, knowing Fox Mulder, could deny this but never before had he met so fragile a human being. Fragile yet resilient, was this possible? How many times had Mulder returned from a case broken and bruised. How many insurance claims had been filed in his name and still he kept coming back for more. Skinner knew Mulder's file from memory, he knew things that weren't in his file, the abuse suffered at the hands of his father for one. He knew of the injuries that had plagued the young Fox. Sometimes he wondered if Mulder wasn't just destined to relive his childhood over and over only this time, instead of his father beating him, criticizing him, it was the world. From the criminals he pursued to his insensitive coworkers, Scully excluded of course, this man took a beating every day. And only recently the one thing that seemed to keep him going, the one quest he never tired of was taken away from him. Samantha found, a chapter finally closed, but was Mulder strong enough to move on? It appeared not without some help. "Agent Scully... Dana, what do you think needs to happen, how can we help him?" "Sir, as much as I know he will hate it, fight it, I think he needs some time away. I think he needs a place where he can safely confront his emotions." Skinner shifted uncomfortably, this didn't feel right. He trusted Scully and her assessment of her partner. He knew her medical background would never allow her to suggest such a thing without careful thought. He was uncomfortable because he knew Scully had understated what Mulder's reaction would be to such a suggestion. Mulder had a deep- seated fear of hospitals and all that came with them. Just the mention of drug therapy, counseling or worse, even the slightest possibility of restraints would send him flying. Shaking his head, Skinner replied, "he'll never agree." "Sir, he would never agree to go on my say but maybe together, we could confront him, make him understand it's for his own good," openly crying now, "sir, I just don't want to see him hurt himself and I think he's very close to doing just that." Skinner stood and crossed over to Scully, kneeling down in front of her he took her hands. "Scully, if need be I'll order him to go. I would never be able to live with myself if I let that happen. I'll talk to medical in the morning, if all goes well, we'll have him scheduled for a session by the afternoon and, if advised so, admitted. Don't worry Scully", releasing her hands, he stood, "we'll get him through this." Outside of Skinner's office, Mulder leaned heavily against the wall. He struggled with his rage, fighting dark waves of desperation. How could she, how could she betray him like this? They would take him, they would drug him, make him talk of things he couldn't, no wouldn't, reveal. Well fuck all of them, he was not going, he would not be locked away until someone else said he could go. He would never again allow himself to be put in that position. His head was throbbing, he reached out to block the light with his hand and groaned aloud. Skinner's voice called from the office, "who's there?" Mulder straightened, wiped the tears from his face and stepped into the doorway. He'd be damned if he would let them win, he would not let them see, they would never know how much their words, their planned actions had hurt him. If they knew, they wouldn't let him leave tonight, he needed to play it cool here... stay calm. He took a deep breath and looked up to meet Skinner's eyes. "Mulder, come in, uh", looking quickly at Scully, "how long have you been out there?" Calm, stay calm, "sir", entering the office, "I just arrived", looking down at Scully, he smiled. "Sorry I'm late Scully, had a bit more to finish than I thought." Skinner studied him closely, Scully was right, he looked bad. His hair, overgrown, fell carelessly across his forehead, his eyes red, Skinner could see he had been crying. Damn, why him, why do so many bad things happen to this man? "Sit down Agent Mulder, you and Agent Scully have been gone for quite a while, let's take a few minutes to catch up." "Sir, is it possible you missed us, now that would be an X-file", Mulder laughed. His laughter was choked, that of a man trying way too hard to be perceived as normal. Skinner picked up on it immediately, "now Mulder," smiling sadly, "I wouldn't go that far." He took the file from Mulder noticing as he did that Mulder's hands were trembling ever so slightly. A less observant man would probably not have noticed, hell he probably wouldn't have noticed if not for his conversation with Scully. "Relax, Mulder, let me take a minute to look this over." Mulder clutched the chair arms tightly as he sat down. "So, are you both looking forward to a little R&R before your next case," asked Skinner casually. Mulder's head snapped up, what the fuck, what the fuck, he raged. His head was ready to explode. The two people he thought he could trust most in the world were planning to have him committed and Skinner was making small talk. Fists clenched, he inhaled deeply, obviously fighting for control. Calm down Mulder, stay calm, if you don't stay calm they won't let you out of here. Suddenly remembering the comments he had overheard from the outer office, he smiled, "well sir, that's exactly what I had in mind, in fact with your permission, I was thinking about taking the next few days off . Skinner and Scully looked at each other in panic. "You know sir, catch up on some sleep, clean out the old refrigerator, scoop out my fish", his voice softened, somehow the thought of his fish, stuck in that tank relying completely on someone else to keep their home clean and them fed reminded him too much of ....of .....of what, he looked up quickly at the sound of Skinner's voice. Damn he was going to cry again, he rubbed at his eyes with his fists. What did he care about those fish, they were just fish, not worth crying over. When he looked up again, Skinner leaning over him and Scully had her hand on his arm. He squinted at Skinner forcing himself to hear what he was saying. Quickly pulling his arm away from Scully, he missed the hurt in her eyes. "Sorry sir, I guess I'm more tired than I thought, do you mind if we cut this short, I really need to sleep," as if to emphasize his point he again rubbed his eyes, rubbed them until he was sure no evidence of the tears that had threatened to fall. Skinner was shocked, he had never seen Mulder so emotionally exposed. He looked over at Scully who sat silent, white as a sheet. It was up to him to take control of this situation, Mulder was his agent, his responsibility but more important than that, he cared about Mulder. Sometimes he looked so young, so alone he wanted to lean over and hold him as a father would hold a son. He knew he would never act on his impulse, knew Mulder would not know what a father's touch was, so he would do what was his duty to do, protect his agent even if that protection was needed from the agent themselves. "Mulder, I'll make you a deal," the agent looked up at Skinner expectantly, "you and Scully take off now and get some sleep." Mulder rose preparing to leave immediately. "Agent Mulder, I still need to review your report with both of you so plan on coming in for a few hours tomorrow to provide status on this case. Once we're done you can both take a few days off." "Sir", Mulder blinked rapidly at the bright lights in the room, "would it...would it be all right if I arrived a bit later. I'd like to sleep in." Skinner stared, did Mulder know, after all, the kid's nickname was Spooky? He hesitated and examined Mulder closely. It was clear he was exhausted when Mulder actually planned to oversleep. Reluctantly, he agreed, "sure Mulder, get some sleep, but be in my office by 1:00pm SHARP, don't keep me waiting!" Mulder backed his way to the door, "no sir, I'll be here... Scully, you coming?" "I'm going straight out," she replied, " see you tomorrow and Mulder," He stopped by the door, leaning heavily against its' frame, hair mussed, sad eyes, he looked beat, "take care of yourself, get some sleep," she added. "Sure Scully, how could I not?" Mulder was almost completely out the door now, close, very close to escape. "Mulder," Scully called unwilling to let him go. Mulder's head popped back around the door, "yah Scully?" She gazed at him protectively, "never mind, just get some rest, you know I worry." Go on, she waved him out, "good night". She sat back down as he once again began to leave. "Okay", he called, "good bye Scully, Skinner" and with that he was gone. Scully put her head in her hands and began to cry. Skinner moved to hold her and together they grieved for the pain of their friend. Mulder quickly made his way back to his office. Any tiredness he felt had been replaced by a surge of energy so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet. Entering his office he stood silent for a moment his mind mentally reviewing every item. There was work to do, much work to do. Before he began the task of determining what he would take and what he would leave, he walked over to his "I Want to Believe" poster. Standing silently in front of it he thought of all the things he had ever believed in, his family, a lying mother, an angry abusive father and a sister, the only goodness in his life, swept away by a conspiracy as yet unsolved. He thought of his belief in alien life and his other paranormal discoveries. He thought of Deep Throat Skinner and Scully. He laughed, not that small choking laugh he had tried to pull off in Skinner's office, but a hearty chuckle. He reached for the poster and in one sweeping motion ripped it from the wall. Crumpling it up in a small ball, he shoved it roughly into his trash bin. "I don't want to believe in anything anymore, believing is just too hard." With that task done, he began to pack up the items most important to him. It was around 1:00am when he finally left the building. Over his shoulder was a large, over-stuffed canvas briefcase. The guard, used to this agent's irregular hours, barely noticed as he walked by. There was a strange one all right, a certified nut. That man worked all hours and from the looks of it he takes enough work home with him to never sleep. Shaking his head, the guard sat back and continued to read his paper. ************ She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror. She too was exhausted but unfortunately, sleep had not come last night. No matter how tired she was she couldn't get the picture of Mulder, slumped to the floor, head cradled in his hands, out of her head. Then later in Skinner's office a few times she feared he must know. She sat so quietly because she was afraid if she spoke she would say or do something that would take him further away from her. She rinsed her face with cool water, willing herself to calm down. God she hoped she was doing the right thing, Mulder would never forgive her if she was wrong, hell he's not going to forgive you if you're right. Give it up Dana, get up, get dressed and go into work. ************ Mulder had still not slept, it was as if all need for sleep or food had completely disappeared in his panic to escape. Every time he began to feel tired his memory conjured up images of previous visits when they had tied him down, when they had....."stop," he shouted out loud, "it doesn't matter anymore!" Nothing was holding him here anymore, Sam was dead and his mother had not shown any interest in his condition since Sam disappeared. He no longer believed he would ever know the whole truth about Sam's disappearance. No, nothing was holding him here anymore, no one. Next to the door lay an overstuffed duffel bag. Everything that was important to him was in that bag. There wasn't much, some clothes, his photographs. He had packed his laptop and the many disks he had taken from his office in a backpack designed solely for that purpose. He also stashed an envelope full of various Ids knowing they would be making some attempt to find him. A few bags of seeds and his preparations were complete. The energy that had served him so well throughout the night was beginning to fade. All he wanted to do was curl up on his couch and rest. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Alone was okay, alone was actually good, alone didn't get you hurt, alone didn't let you trust people only to be horribly disappointed and terrified by what good friends would do for you. Right now, the Cigarette Smoking Man would be welcome compared to Skinner and Scully's plans for the day. Without realizing it, he found himself sitting on the edge of his sofa. He ran his long fingers gently over its' leather . He'd miss this couch, truth be told it had provided him with more comfort than any human ever had. He stood and walked one more time throughout his apartment. He knew this was the last time he would be here. The bathroom was stripped clean of toiletries, dirty towels ignored in a heap on the floor. His unused bedroom offered nothing, he quickly scanned the closet again. His suits hung neatly, some still in the dry cleaners bags. He had shoved one suit with a few dress shirts and several ties in his bag. It would be badly wrinkled but one never knew when a suit was needed, his mother had taught him that. He quickly moved through the kitchen and then to his living room. Never had a room been more appropriately name since indeed Mulder had lived in this room. His tapes lay in disarray on the floor, the tv even now hummed quietly, strangely comforting. He stepped over to his fish tank and examined the little ones closely. Reaching over he grabbed their food and fed them for the last time, amazingly enough they had survived his last case, a kind neighbor had actually fed them as he asked. He worried as to who would take care of them. Without thinking, he reached for a pen and paper, wrote a note and taped it to the tank. Scully wouldn't mind, after all she would have lots of free time now that he wouldn't be around any more. Satisfied, he took one more look around, hefted his bags and left. Mulder tossed his bags into the back seat of his rental car. He had leased it under one of his false Ids having the company deliver the car just a few blocks from his home. He was living dangerously now, he didn't even buy the supplemental insurance. Beyond tired, he chuckled quietly, "oh yah Mulder, FBI's best profiler ever, chaser of serial killers and mutant sewer creatures, fuck the extra car insurance. You're living on the edge now." He started the car, "Born to be Wild" blared on the radio. Reaching to turn it down, he stopped short and decided to let it wail. As he pulled away from his apartment, he began to sing with the song. Over the next two hours Mulder had visited two banks and one safe deposit box. He closed both his accounts and emptied out his personal papers and still more cash from his box. He always knew the day would come when he would have to move quickly. He had several other accounts, inherited money from his dad and a kind aunt long ago. That money was safe, easily accessible on line, using just an account number. He had hidden the money well, with some help from his Lone Gunmen friends, and knew that they wouldn't be able to trace him from there. In reality, he could probably travel quite comfortably for a few years before his funds ran dry. Small consolation for having to walk away from his life but it was better than most people have. Climbing into his car, he tucked most of the cash into separate hiding places, in his various bags and under the seat (just in case). He carried his weapons on him, by rights he should have left them but you never know when they could come in handy. He hoped that he would only be avoiding Skinner and Scully for a while but was not na‹ve enough to believe that others, like my old black- lunged friend, might not take an interest in his disappearance. At the thought of Cancer Man, Mulder reached for his gun. It comforted him to feel it's cool handle in his palm. Not sure why he pulled it from his holster and held it low on his lap. Running it gently up and down his leg he found himself wondering what it might feel like, what it would feel like to simply place the gun in his mouth, and just...and just what Mulder, blow your head off. Do that and that makes them right, they are not right, they are wrong, you are okay. He angrily shoved the gun back into it's holster. Glancing down at the clock he saw it was almost 11:00am. It was definitely time to go, when you're far enough away you can send them an e-mail but for now you need to get moving. Pulling into traffic, he began to drive, not too fast Fox, don't want to attract any attention, just take it easy. Where am I going, he thought, does it matter? No, it didn't really matter, first get out of this town, second get some food and third, although third would not come for quite some time, find a safe place to sleep, to hide. A few hours out of town, he stopped for gas. He stocked up on caffeine-laden soda and some snack food. Pulling the car to the side of the station, Mulder stepped out to use the facilities. As he was washing up, he noticed he was still in yesterday's suit, damn how could he have overlooked this. He stripped off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves and opened the collar hoping no one had noticed the strange man in the rumpled suit. He'd change when he had more privacy. As he was adjusting his clothes he heard a phone ring. He sat staring at his jacket until the ringing stopped. He slowly reached for the phone and held it to his cheek. His lifeline, his link to her, to Skinner, to what was his world. He started as the phone began ringing again, he knew it was Scully, knew from the time that she was probably outside, hell, in Skinner's office right now. He turned the phone off and placed it gently in the bottom of the trash underneath the used paper towels. He moved slowly, like an old, tired man. Somehow leaving that phone behind was harder than everything else he had done. Once the phone was gone, everything was gone, it was put up or shut up, it was start over or shut down. Right now he didn't know which choice was more likely. Operating on auto pilot he climbed into his car and drove. ************ Scully paced nervously in their basement office, where was he? It was 12:58pm, where the hell was he? She called his apartment but no answer, strange his answering machine had not even picked up. She had tried several times now to call him on his cell phone, why wasn't he picking up? What if ... no he wouldn't have done it last night. If he was gong to do it he would have called her, he would have said good bye, there was no way he wouldn't have said good bye. Maybe he was already up in Skinner's office or, she smiled, probably he overslept and is running up to Skinner's office right now. He had been tired last night, so had she. Maybe after Skinner and she talked him into checking himself in for a while, everything would return to normal or whatever normal meant when one worked on the X-Files. He had to be all right, she needed him, she needed this work, he wouldn't leave her alone, would he? Suddenly she stopped, something was different here, what was different? Looking around she made note of the files stacked neatly on his desk, no glasses, where were his glasses, he was always leaving them at work. What else, what else was different? She walked around the room slowly until she came to a blank space on the wall, his poster, his I Want To Believe poster, it was gone. He loved that poster, why would he have taken it down? Then it struck her, everything was neat, tidy, file drawers were closed, files stacked neatly on the desk, pens in the holder not thrown on he desk. And his PC, why would he have taken his laptop home with him last night, surely he had no intention of working? Her eye caught on something in the trash and slowly she bent to pull it out. It was his poster, crumpled up, completely destroyed. She could almost imagine him tearing it from the wall in a rage. Her files, Samantha's file, she moved to her desk and found her lap drawer had been forced open. Samantha's file was missing, her autopsy notes were gone. "Oh God, I never should have left him alone last night," she said aloud. A feeling of dread flowed through her, a small voice in her head asked the question very quietly, what it he's not coming back, what if he's ....no, she wouldn't allow herself to think this way. By the looks of things I'd say he took all his toys and went home. Mulder with no X-Files, the X-Files with no Mulder, either way you said it, it just didn't fit. No, no, Mulder could never leave the X-files, Mulder's home is the X-files, Mulder would never leave her, would he? Oh yes, he was always ditching her but he believed it was for her own good. He always gave her a hard time about her Dr. Scully mannerisms, how many shots had she given him over the years, boy he really didn't like those but he wouldn't ditch her over that, would he? She knew, she knew why his things were gone, she just didn't want to accept it, "he knew, he must have heard us last night" she said aloud, "was it possible?" He was acting weird when he left, weird even by Mulder standards. "What did he say, c'mon Dana, you couldn't have been that tired, what did he say?" She hadn't realized she spoke out loud until she saw Skinner at the door. Looking at her with his dark, serious eyes, he said, "Good-bye". "Excuse me sir", Scully looked at him confused. "Scully, he said good-bye. He said Good-bye Scully, Skinner. He knew, he must have been out in that office for some time before he came in. He must have heard at least a portion of what we said, enough to scare the hell out of him." Scully felt herself fall, Skinner quickly caught her and moved her into the nearest chair. She sat frozen, stunned, "he knew, he knew and he just sat there. He must have been so frightened, so angry and yet he just sat there. After the discovery of his sister's body, almost two months on a case that nearly killed him mentally, he comes back and finds that the only home he has ever known, the only people he has ever trusted have betrayed him," her face dropped into her hands. Skinner watched helplessly becoming more angry as each minute passed, "God damn Mulder," he snapped, " why couldn't you trust that we were doing what was right for you, why do you have to be so stubborn?" Skinner leaned in closer to Scully, "Scully, we don't know that he's gone, we just know that he packed up his things here. For all we know he's passed out on that damned couch of his in complete exhaustion. After all, to pack up his things here must have taken a while, you're getting upset and I'm getting pissed for nothing. Let's go pay a visit to our Mr. Mulder, if anything, this little stunt he pulled proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he needs more help than we both realized. Scully wiped away her tears, grabbed her purse and was out the door ahead of Skinner. Of course, he must be at his apartment, he's pouting, he's hurt but he's there, I know he would never go anywhere without talking to me first. Skinner and Scully stopped just long enough to pick up Dr. Schumacher from Skinner's office. They had hoped he could assist in confronting Mulder. They all agreed that a neutral party might have more luck talking to him than either of them. As they headed to Mulder's apartment, Scully turned to Dr. Schumacher. "How do you think he will react to our sudden appearance in his home?" Dr. Schumacher thought for a moment and said, " I have read a great deal about Agent Mulder in his file. He has had many experiences with various forms of therapy so I'm not sure how effective direct confrontation anywhere will be. This man who will only benefit if he wants to get well, any fighting of the treatment and..." he trailed off shrugging his shoulders. "However, if we had been able to talk in Director Skinner's office I had hoped he might make an attempt to stay calm and follow the rules. I don't think we can count on that type of behavior in his own apartment. That is his space and we will be invading it, he may panic, he may withdraw, he may become very angry, in any case, we must prepare for the worst. I've brought along a tranquilizer in case it becomes necessary.." Noticing Scully's concern he soothed, "don't worry Dr. Scully, only enough to calm him should it become necessary. My role here is to help, not harm him. Making a quick turn, Skinner pulled into a space in front of Mulder's building. Entering the building, they rushed for the elevator and to his floor. Stepping quietly off the lift, they moved towards his door. Closer now, they noticed the door was partially open. Scully rushed forward and would have entered if not for Skinner's hand on her arm. Motioning for her to step back, Skinner attempted to enter the apartment as quietly as possible. "Agent Mulder," silence, "Agent Mulder" Skinner called out. Another step inside and he stopped, stunned. Scully, who had been following close behind Skinner, found herself bumping into Skinner's back. "Sir, sorry sir," she mumbled rubbing her nose. Looking past Skinner she understood what had caused him to stop so quickly. The place was a shambles, it looked as though it had been robbed, no check that, not robbed, ransacked. His television, VCR and tapes were there but everything looked as though it had been touched. Scully checked the bathroom and bedroom and realized immediately who the person responsible for the state of the apartment, Mulder, Mulder had done this, how could he have done this? Walking into the bedroom Skinner found Scully standing in front of Mulder's closet stunned. She turned as he entered her eyes wide in disbelief. "Most of his clothes are gone, except for his suits," she motioned for him to look through the closet. "I know Mulder had pictures of his family on his dresser, those are also gone." Scully sat down on the bed unable to comprehend what she was seeing. "Agent Scully...Dana, I'm finding it very difficult to believe that the extremely exhausted Mulder who left my office last night could have accomplished this and the clearing out of his office in so short of time. Is it possible this is a set up, is it possible this is some elaborate scheme to make him disappear and make us believe that it was his own choice?" Dr. Schumacher called out of the bedroom, "Agent Scully, it looks like he left you a little something." Scully and Skinner joined Dr. Schumacher by the fish tank. Attached to the tank was a note, in Mulder's writing it said: Scully, Please take care of my fish. Like me they need to be fed every other day and checked regularly to insure they haven't gone belly up. Unlike me, they will not disappoint or annoy. If you don't want them, just flush. Mulder P.S. Just kidding Scully, don't flush them. Dr. Schumacher had completed his own search of the small apartment and then moved to sit down on the couch. Skinner leaned against the nearest wall as Scully continued to stare at the note. Dr. Schumacher spoke first. "Well, it is obvious from Agent Mulder's actions that he is in the midst of an emotional upheaval of some sort.. The fact that he saw no other way to deal with the thought that he might be detained, perhaps restrained, tells me he "may" have lost his grip, his very fragile grip on reality," Schumacher continued to speak as he looked around. "On the other hand, he appears to have been very deliberate in the items he took with him and even took the time to plan the future of his fish. Either way, some part of him has broken, fear he is denying who he is and how he feels about everything he has been forced to endure." Standing now, he looked at Skinner and Scully, "Others have diagnosed Agent Mulder with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It is difficult to know if this diagnosis was correct. I suspect Agent Mulder is very good at manipulating those who attempt to label him. Based on both your descriptions of his behavior, it may very well be on target. If that is the case we need to locate him and determine the best course of therapy for him. Find him and find him soon. I have heard much about this "Spooky Mulder" and it would be a shame to lose such a man as an agent and as a friend." Scully agreed, "Dr. Schumacher, why this extreme response, Mulder has always been a bit uhm....unorthodox, but why do you think he felt such a strong need to just disappear?" "I don't know for sure, Dr. Scully, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's attempting to take control of the situation." "Control," laughed Skinner harshly, "this boy is so out of control right now it's downright scary! Let's think through this situation, an FBI agent on the edge, armed with intimate knowledge of our government information systems as well as a government issued weapon. We need to find him and we need to find him now!" Scully spoke, "sir, I agree," her professional face now making an appearance, " I'll provide a description of Agent Mulder to local and state police." She pulled her phone from her pocket and began to make the needed calls. "Scully", she looked up at Skinner, "I don't care what it takes, find him, find him before someone else does." "Yes sir." Skinner and Schumacher headed back to the office, Scully remained in Mulder's apartment looking for more clues. She was upset but she would not let her personal feelings get in the way, first find Mulder, then get upset. She began knocking on his neighbor's doors hoping they could help her fit the pieces into this strange and frightening situation." ************ Scully sat before Director Skinner's desk and began a read out of all the information she had gathered regarding Mulder's disappearance. "Sir, it appears that after he left your office last night he returned to his own. He must have spent most of the night packing up the things he felt he needed and exited the building at approximately 1:00am. His laptop is gone and the hard drive of his PC has been removed." Skinner was concerned, stolen equipment was bad, stolen weapons was worse but information, what information had Mulder taken with him? Knowing Mulder, probably just a few of his precious X-files but after these last 48 hours he doubted if anyone really knew Mulder. Scully continued, "from there I believe he went back to his apartment and began to pack, not everything but everything that was important to him including necessary clothing, toiletries, photographs and important papers. A neighbor reported seeing him this morning carrying two bags down to a car. She's used to seeing him leave the building with a bag but this one was a bit unusual, a large duffel bag supposedly stuffed to the max. She also commented on the fact that he appeared to be tired, distracted and wearing a very wrinkled suit. He didn't even acknowledge her when she passed him in the hall and said good morning." Skinner raised his eyebrows in question, "sir, it appears that Mulder is usually quite friendly to the woman and she was hurt that he didn't stop to chat. She was also very worried because he looked messy and unkempt, she's used to him always looking, in her words, like such a nice young man. She looked up at Skinner, "it looks like he didn't take time to shower change before he left." Skinner nodded understanding the meaning behind that remark. Mulder was obviously not concerned with his own well being during his late night escapade. "Go on Scully." Dana looked down at her notes, "All bank accounts and funds linked to his social security number have been closed. All in all he walked away with about $35,000 not including what he may have picked up from his safety deposit box which he also visited this morning." She paused for a moment, "sir, I believe he also kept a substantial amount of cash within his apartment. He hinted at it several times and never seemed to be at a loss to pick up and go when needed." Skinner waved her on. "His car phone was found about an hour ago. I... I'd been calling his number all day and I finally received an answer. It was from a janitor who cleans out gas station rest rooms off the main highway. He found it in the trash, turned it on, and when he did, answered my call. I'll be driving out there next to question all employees." She stopped and rubbed her forehead before she continued, she was tired, more tired than she thought possible but she could not, no would not choose this time to fall apart. Mulder needed her and she would not let him down, not again. We're checking all auto rentals, airports and public transportation sights by name and picture, but of course, knowing Mulder," she smiled slightly here, " he probably didn't use his own name. I've also checked under his known aliases but found nothing." Skinner leaned forward on his desk. Slowly he ran his hands over his face trying to put himself in Mulder's place. He could see Scully was near collapse and, to be honest, he wasn't far behind her. He didn't know how much he should tell her, didn't know how much more she could take at this point. Slowly he stood, Scully looked up expectantly, what did he know? "Tell me sir, I need to know everything if I'm going to find him." Skinner's eyebrows raised in surprise, this woman never failed to amaze him, so small yet so strong. Everyone had their limits though. Understanding her not knowing would put Mulder and her both in danger, he began. "Scully, you know there are those that watch Mulder and his activities?" "Yes, I don't necessarily know who or....why but it has always been obvious that Mulder has his friends and his enemies." "His friends will obviously be concerned at this turn of events, but his enemies, I'm not sure how they will react." Skinner walked to the window and looked out, searching for the words to continue. "When he's here, when he's working with you Scully," he turned to meet her eyes, "I know where he is or at least where he should be. Yes, he often goes off half cocked but I always know he'll come back eventually, if not to the bureau then to you Scully. Scully stood and began pacing, "sir, I appreciate your comments but what specifically are your concerns? What are dealing with here?" "I'm not sure, I'm really not sure how they'll react to his disappearance. Based on my previous experience with these people, I do not believe they will receive the news of Mulder's departure well. I do not believe they will let it rest. They need him somehow, I've never been able to completely put the puzzle together but it's obvious from Mulder's unique family history and the, shall we say, special handling he has received in the past that he fits into a larger plan. I'm....I'm afraid for him Scully, I'm afraid if they find him first that we'll never .....never get him back." Scully was stunned, the depth of emotion in Skinner's voice shocked her. She had always, well almost always known Skinner was in their corner but she had not realized how connected he felt to Mulder and it appeared even to her. For Skinner to admit fear, fear for Mulder and fear for the loss of Mulder was more than she would have ever expected. Reaching over to place her hand on his shoulder, "I'll find him Walter.....we'll find him." ************ The car was pulled into a remote campsite. No sound penetrated the deep Wisconsin woods except for the occasional deer or raccoon wandering by. Mulder slept wrapped tightly in a ball in the back seat. A blanket and his leather jacket kept out the night air, he'd have to remember to pick up a sleeping bag tomorrow. He was tired, so tired, he had caught a few hours here and there at roadside stops but today, today he knew if he didn't stop, if he didn't take some time to get his bearings that he would make a mistake and he could not afford to make a mistake. Along the way he had turned in his rental at the Milwaukee Airport and then went immediately to another counter and rented another, this time under yet another alias. He had also changed into his jeans and a heavy flannel shirt. It was working, his plan was working, he knew he was blending not bringing any undue attention to himself since leaving DC, he was leaving no trail. Earlier in the evening he had found himself sitting in a small bar just outside of Lakewood. The food had really hit the spot, a large Reuben sandwich made on homemade bread and chili, hot chili, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten such a meal. The food, a few beers, a country western song and he found himself dozing a bit in the smokey haze of the bar. "Can I get you another beer or maybe some nice pie for dessert," she smiled. Mulder looked her over slowly, she was a pretty woman, dark eyes and hair, full figured, he usually liked his woman small but....oh hell, snap out of it Mulder, no time for that. Shaking his head no, he began to dig into his wallet for the cash to pay the check. Cheap, hmmm., maybe he should consider the dairy state for a while. His cash stash could keep him well cared for quite a while here. Standing, too quickly, he began to sway, the waitress grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her. Leaning heavily on her now he was reluctant to let go, not sure if he could stand on his own. Carefully she helped him sit down again. Closing his eyes he sat back in the chair, "sorry, I guess I didn't realize I was this tired, been on the road for a while now." "Listen preppie," his head snapped up at that, terror in his eyes, "hey, hey, sorry, didn't know you were so sensitive about that college background. Anyway, let me get you some coffee to clear your head and then recommend a nice little motel just up the road." Mulder stood again, this time the ground stayed steady, "no, no thank you, I've got to get back on the road." She eyed him up and down trying to determine if it would be safe to send him off on his own. She knew the local law and, if necessary she was sure she could get him detained enough to catch a few hours sleep, she'd feel bad if she saw that pretty face on the evening news being described as just another casualty of the road. Uh oh, Mulder realized (a Scully look) , she wasn't going to let it drop, guess he hadn't been as careful about bringing attention to himself as he thought. "Listen," he assured her, "you're right, I'm really tired. Can you point me in the direction of the nearest campground, I'll park and grab some sleep." Satisfied now, she gave him directions to a small site just up the road, sending him off with a cup of coffee and a smile, she watched out the window to make sure he made it to his car okay. Thinking about those sad hazel eyes and his slumped shoulders, it was obvious he was loaded down with some heavy problems. Guess that just goes to show that money and looks ain't everything cause if it were that boy would be happy, any fool could see he came from money and any woman could see he had by far the most appealing face she'd seen in a long time. "Maggie....Maggie," the bartender shouted, "if you're though playing mother, can you come on over here and take care of the rest of our customers!" "Sure Dan, sorry," turning away from the window she realized that she really was sorry, she would've liked to have been the woman he turned to for a little comfort. "Maggie!" "Yah Dan I'm coming, I'm coming," she rushed back to the kitchen to get the next order. At first Mulder was tempted to head straight out of town and drive through the night but he knew the incident in the bar was a warning, a warning that if he wasn't more careful he would find himself passed out only to wake up looking at the ceiling of an emergency room. Mulder shuddered, no, he couldn't let that happen, they would tie him down again, touch him where he didn't want to be touched, control every movement.......taking a deep breath he could feel the sweat bead on his forehead. No, no he couldn't let that happen. He pulled the truck into the campsite, signed in under Will Johnson (one of several licenses he carried) and laid down his $5.00. Driving as far back from the road as possible he found a little site. He thought about starting a fire but realized he'd have to make his way back to the front to get some wood, it wasn't really that cold so he just crawled into the back of the car, placed his gun within reach, wrapped himself up in his blanket and drifted off to sleep. A sound, what was it, opening his eyes he reached for his gun only to find himself pinned by Skinner. He was saying something that Mulder couldn't hear, all he could feel was the blood rushing to his head as Skinner slammed him down heavily against the seat. "No, no," moaned Mulder arms pinned at his side, he was frozen. "Shut up Mulder, shut the fuck up," he flipped Mulder over on his stomach and quickly cuffed him. Grabbing the cuffs he pulled Mulder from the car not caring that Mulder's shoulders were carrying all the burden of his weight. Once outside the truck Skinner threw him to the ground and began to kick him viciously, continuing to scream his frustrations out on Mulder. Suddenly the kicking stopped, Mulder could feel his stomach heave, his recent dinner was not going to be with him long. Moaning he attempted to shift his body away from Skinner. Hands, strong hands held him down on the ground not allowing him any movement. Then he froze, she was here, she would help him. "Scully, Scully, help me...." he pleaded. "Mulder," reaching down to gently brush the hair from his tear-stained eyes, "Mulder, my poor Mulder, I wanted to help you but you wouldn't let me, you ran away again, you ditched me," eyes hurt she leaned in a little closer until her lips were so close to his ear he could feel her soft breath. "Scully, I'm sorry, help me," he begged. "Sorry, you're sorry Mulder, don't you worry, you don't need to be sorry, it's obvious you didn't know what you were doing. We're going to get you help Mulder, going to find a safe quiet place for you to get better." He started to struggle again, terrified now, "no, no Scully, I don't want to go there, I don't want to be locked away, don't make me go!" "Now Fox," she smiled", " it's for your own good" and with that she pulled out a large syringe and while they held him tightly she plunged it slowly, painfully into his straining arm. Struggling, screaming he could feel it burn him, he felt it travel through his body as the Black Cancer had, he felt the burning move its' way into his stomach, up into his throat, he couldn't breath, his throat.......... Gasping, crying, he pushed his way out of the car. Attempting to stand he felt his head hit hard against the roof of the door, causing him to fall to the ground bruising his shoulder. Sobbing now he crawled on his hands and knees away from the car, away from where "they" had been. The cold air surrounded him but he couldn't quite pull himself away from the belief that Skinner and Scully were here, waiting to take him. In a crouch position he surveyed the site gun in hand. This surprised him, he didn't remember grabbing it. How long he stayed this way he didn't know, a minute, an hour, slowly he came to the realization that he was alone, that, in fact, it had been a nightmare. He laughed a little at that, to think he didn't know a nightmare by now was humorous. As he started to relax he felt his stomach flip, quickly moving to the trees. When his stomach was empty, he rolled away. Sweating, exhausted, staring straight up through the trees at the night sky he stared, so many stars. Right about now a UFO could stop right above him, hover and reach down for him with a big old fish hook and he wouldn't have been able to fight it. Wasn't it in these woods, in this area that they had taken Max......he suddenly found himself laughing, laughing at the irony of this whole situation, the great Mulder, the wonder boy of the FBI, a fugitive laying flat on his back in the woods waiting for a flying saucer to come take him away. And when he was done laughing the tears came again, so many tears. Eventually he drifted off, laying on the cold ground, arms flung out at his sides, offering himself up though to what he didn't know. ************ Cold, why was it so cold, instinctively he reached for his blanket to huddle into but found nothing. He was having a little trouble breathing as well, nose stuffy, mouth tasted like he had been eating dirt and other disgusting things. Slowly he opened his eyes and began to take in the detail of his surroundings. Trees, beautiful trees everywhere, he had a sense of being in a cathedral made only of trees. How can I be seeing trees if I'm in my car? You can't genius, you are laying flat on your back in the middle of the Wisconsin woods in 40 degree weather. He wearily pushed himself up from the ground, "Mulder old man, if this is a sign of things to come, that institution is looking better and better." Chilled to the bone, hungry and by the smell of him, none to clean, he was a sight. Walking slowly over to the car, he reached in and pulled out his laptop. Booting up his Roadmap program, he quickly located his approximate location in Wisconsin. He had been randomly driving West from DC, it was time to make a decision, consider his options. South would take him to warmer weather and the way his head was aching and his nose was running, he could appreciate a little sun. North would take him up to Canada but that would put him at risk of crossing the border and he wasn't feeling ready to do that on his current papers. Hell, in a few months, when he was sure he had lost them, he would consider going oversees, maybe back to London and getting lost there, ots of places to get lost in England Maybe even Scotland, Scotland would be good, little cottages miles away from anyone else, he could almost see himself there. Not yet though, too much of a risk to pull that off yet. Okay, okay, so where am I going? For some reason the Rocky Mountains seemed to be calling his name, he could remember having a case there and really appreciating the area. Everyone was laid back and more importantly respected each other's need for privacy. Decided now, he stored the route in memory, ubbing his runny nose carelessly on his sleeve. Catching himself, he grinned, oh yes, he'd make a good mountain man. Gas, breakfast and on the road, in that order. The cloudy sky ndicated storms were on the way. If it got bad, this might be a good night to hole up in a little motel, grab a hot shower, plug in and send off an e-mail or two. Maybe he would even check with the Lone Gunmen to see if they had any useful information for him. Could they still be trusted?. He thought for a moment, Frohicke was in love with Scully, was Scully low enough to use that crush to gain information on his whereabouts? Was Frohicke strong enough to resist? Would he be strong enough to resist such a temptation? Well that settled it, he'd have to be very careful in his communication to the Gunmen but he couldn't completely cut them off. He needed them, their friendship and their knowledge if he was going to avoid discovery. The first few drops of rain began to fall. Gathering up his things quickly, he shoved them in the back. Starting the car, he hastily turned the heater up, he was still feeling chilled. Pointing the car towards town, he began to drive. "Hi honey, you're looking a little bit better today," purred Maggie. Mulder turned to look into the smiling face of his waitress from the night before. "Uhm, yah, took your advice and got some sleep, " looking down he realized his clothes were pretty rumpled and, dare he admit it, he stank. "Still need a nice hot shower though, thought I'd stop tonight and find a place to hold up. My goodness, even his sweat smells sexy, she thought as she leaned in close to him. Lowering her voice to insure no one else could overhear, she whispered "if you like, you can stop by my place and use mine. I won't even ask for a tip." Taking a quick step back, blushing bright red, he said , "thanks for the offer Maggie but," stepping back further towards the register, "I really have to go." Turning quickly he bumped into the chest of one of the largest men he had ever seen (and that alien Bounty Hunter had been pretty big). "Excuse me, sorry," he apologized. Mulder looked up to see that on top of being as big as a horse, the man was also a cop, local by the markings of his uniform. "No problem, in a bit of a hurry are you" , asked the giant. "Well, not really in a hurry, just anxious to get on the road, I'm running a bit late," Mulder continued to walk towards the register as he spoke. Casually, he pulled out some cash and paid for his gas, donuts, Sudafed, coffee and, oh yah, can't forget the seeds. Difficult as it was, he didn't turn to see if the cop was still there. The giant, sensing something was not quite right with this man, started to walk towards him. Suddenly Maggie called him over, "oh Jack, could you come over here and help me pick out the best night crawlers for my nephew, you know I don't know the difference between a worm and a crawler?" Jack, understanding who was going to keep him warm that night promptly forgot the strange young man and went over to join Maggie. Looking back just before he left the station, Mulder met Maggie's eyes and smiled, "thanks" he mouthed silently. She sighed and smiled in return and then returned to her conversation with Jack wanting to give him a few more minutes to get out of town. She wasn't quite sure what it was but something in that man's puppy dog eyes and that incredibly sexy pout made you want to protect him from all the bad in the world. Protect him and do a few other things to him as well, too bad he wasn't going to be around long enough to let her try. Mulder set the coffee in his cup holder, tossed the donuts on the seat next to him and pulled out onto Highway 32. He swallowed two Sudafed hoping they would help clear the fog that had begun to settle on his brain. As he began to drive the rain fell heavily from the sky. With each swish of the windshield he found himself pushing away memories, memories of people he thought cared who in the end didn't, memories of a cigarette smoking man who might be his father, memories of a father who brutally beat him and forced the guilt and blame of Samantha onto his 12 year old shoulders. Every time a memory became too hard, he pushed it away, pushed it to the side exactly like those blades on his windshield. He was done with all that, he wasn't Fox Mulder victim anymore, he was, well he was whoever the ID of the day said he was. No one knew him, no family, no friends, no conspiracies and no chance to hurt or be hurt by those around him because, after all, there was no one around him. He laughed at that, squinted out at the rain -covered road and continued to drive. ************ Mulder had been driving all day, only stopping for gas and a plastic-wrapped sandwich he pulled out of a machine at the station. He'd only taken a few bites before he realized it was not edible. It was about 5:30pm and though he would have liked to have kept going, his cold had gotten progressively worse throughout the day making him miss a few of his turn offs and causing him to backtrack a few times. He couldn't afford these kind of mistakes and when he saw the sign for the small 12 room motel, the car seemed to turn on it's own. Checking in under Will Jackson this time, he paid cash for the room and pulled his car around the back of the building. Gun stashed at his back, cash shoved down the front of his pants, his laptop and a bag balanced on his shoulder, he headed into his room. He was in luck, the place may be small but it was clean. A queen size bed took up most of the room along with an older chest of drawers upon which sat a television. He walked over and switched it on, could he get lucky enough to find some cable? Yes, looked like things were definitely looking up, the place must have a satellite dish. Making his way over to the temperature setting, he turned the heat up, he couldn't quite shake the chill from his little camping experience last night. His nose was so full he had been forced to breath through his mouth most of the day which only lead to a sore throat. Heading for the bathroom, he stopped and turned back to the door. Looking around he located a chair, he carefully perched it underneath the doorknob. The door was locked but the chair could maybe give him the extra minute or two he would need to crawl out the back window. He didn't think that was going to be necessary but he was not going to make any more mistakes, that incident with the waitress in Lakewood had been a little too close. As he walked towards the bathroom, he began peeling off his clothes. Yikes, he must really be ripe because those jeans were practically standing up on their own. Standing under the shower he thanked God for motels that provided soap and shampoo, he started by just letting the water run over him, letting the steam fill the bathroom and clear his stuffy head, then he began to scrub, not once, not twice but three times from head to toe. He had forgotten how wonderful a simple shower could feel. What was it about freedom that made you appreciate everything so much more. Stepping out of the shower, feeling relaxed and clean, he buffed himself dry with a rather thin white towel (what do you expect for $22.50 Mulder?).. Once dry, he walked back into the room stark naked enjoying the additional sense of freedom it allowed. He flashed on what Scully would think if she could see him now and smiled, lecture, he would definitely get a lecture. Sobering suddenly he looked towards the door almost expecting her to push through it. He knew Skinner would have her looking for him at least for a while, he knew she ould be a tough adversary. Scully was smart, yes she wanted to have him locked away and that pissed him off to no end, but she was smart. She wouldn't give up right away unless he could make her believe that he was okay, that he was sane, that everything he did, he did not because he had gone off the deep end but because he couldn't have survived had he stayed. Surely she would be able to see that if he could just talk to her, without any Skinner, without any doctors around. What about Skinner, would he be easier to convince? If so, Skinner could pull her off, make her stop looking, give her other cases to work on with a new partner, one she didn't have to worry about all the time. His stomach grumbled loudly demanding food. Last night's meal hadn't stayed around very long. Dialing the front office he asked where the nearest pizza place was that delivered. The lady on the phone recommended Dino's and provided him with the number. Dialing, he ordered a large pizza, side salad and some bottled ice tea. Reluctantly he began to dress, don't want to give the pizza guy the wrong idea now, do we? Two hours later, the room toasty warm, food and Sudafed resting safely in his stomach, he stared at the screen of his laptop. He had logged onto the Internet using one of his many account Ids, only his government account actually lead back to him. He had sent off the following message to the Lone Gunmen and was waiting for an answer: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LG, Needed some time away, decided to take a little vacation. The weather has been a bit dark, some might even call it "Spooky". Richard Kimble P.S. Ran into a beautiful redhead the other day, she broke my heart. Just goes to show you should never trust a woman with hair the color of blood. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- His mail alert beeped, Mulder accessed immediately... Richard, Thanks for the advice on the woman, you know that has always been my weakness. It has been quiet here, no mutual friends have come to visit since you we saw you last We heard the roads you travel may have some heavy fog, can you confirm? LG -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mulder responded... The further I go, the less fog I encounter. Do not be concerned, reports indicate clear skies ahead. Richard -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mulder exited and re-entered under a different user name, his personal favorite, Peter PITA... Scully, I heard you that night, both of you, making plans to lock me away. I was angry at first but now, now I'm just tired. Tired of the constant debate, the struggle to make people believe, the psychos who crawl in my head when I drop my guard. Scully, the fact that I am writing this tells you I am alive, I have not put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Contrary to yours and Skinner's belief that night, I was not planning on ending my life. But let ask you this Scully, what if I were? So what, it's my life not Skinner's, not yours. It's mine to take if I feel a need. Why do you both feel that you have a right to control me so? I was very tired that night Scully, too many days, weeks in the mind of a madman. That "experience" is very difficult for me, you knew that. I am not like the other profilers, I can't keep myself apart from the horror that I see. I am constantly amazed at the other's ability to face the horror of a mutilated victim, to see the crime through the eyes of the killer and be unaffected. What kind of cold, hard son-of-a bitch could see what I see, feel what I feel and then go catch a good night's sleep. Needless to say this is why I didn't last long in VCS. They called me Spooky, knew that my own life was one thread away from being one of these monsters. They see the same nightmares every day Scully and they appear to feel nothing. Who's the sick one here, someone who feels the pain, lives the horror of the monster or someone who feels nothing in the face of it? Please stay away Scully, don't try to follow. Go back to Quantico, meet a normal man and "get a life." Tell your Mom (and my Mom) good-bye. Mulder He inhaled harshly, refusing to feel anything, and hit the send button. Now for Director Skinner... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Director Walter Skinner: This is to officially inform you of my resignation as Senior Agent in charge of the X-files and as an agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. April 17, 1998 marked my final day of service to the bureau. My resignation from the bureau releases you from any responsibility you may be feeling for my well being. While I certainly appreciate your recent attempt to "assist me", it is no longer necessary to do so. Also, feel free to deduct from my last check and savings fund the cost of the laptop and weapons provided. I have found that during some recent activity these items have been misplaced and feel a responsibility to personally cover the cost. On a private note, I would like to beg a favor, please reassign Dana Scully to Quantico. She is a brilliant teacher and pathologist and should be allowed to excel in her field. Please don't send her to find me, doing so could put her in danger and I can't live with that anymore. Fox Mulder P.S. Cheer up Skinner, think of the calendar time I just freed up now that there'll be no more Mulder "reaming" sessions. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hitting the send key, Mulder then logged off. Carefully unplugging the PC from the phone jack, he switched it off and placed it back in his case. Placing his dirty clothes into an empty motel trash bag, he kicked it to the side of the door. In another few days he'd need to find a Laundromat, now that was a scary thought although he had often thought the missing sock situation could be categorized as an X-File. He could see the report now, aliens were stealing the individual socks due to the fact that they were color blind (no need to match) and their feet size were uniquely different from each other. Skinner would love that and Scully would of course counter with a report that explained how socks often get caught within the mechanism of the machines (like anyone would believe that a singular dryer could house that many lost socks). But now was not the time to worry about his next case, now he was beat. Stripping off all but his boxers, he climbed under the covers of the bed. He reached over and switched off the light , aimed the remote at the television and began to search for something decent or, indecent if he were lucky. It was about 11:30pm and he knew, as tired as he was, he wasn't ready for sleep. He channel surfed until he found the Playboy station, lowered the sound and laid back against the pillows. Mulder drifted off to the groans of the movie. ************ Scully was no closer to him today then the first day of her investigation. They had checked airports and bus stations and were now hitting all the rental car options. While she was waiting she decided to care for some of the administrative work she'd let slip. E-mail first, she signed on to the network. Reviewing her inbox, her eye caught on one from a Peter PITA, curious she opened it to read. ************ Skinner, having just arrived in his office, sank gratefully into his chair. This Mulder thing was stealing a lot of sleep from him. Reaching for the coffee on his desk, he started his day as he usually did, reading over his new mail. Scanning the inbox he saw a message from an unfamiliar name, "who the hell is Peter PITA?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Director Walter Skinner: This is to officially inform you of my resignation as Senior Agent in charge of the X-files and as an agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation...... Fox Mulder -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Skinner wasn't sure what he was feeling, his emotions seemed to leap from relief that Mulder was still alive, anger at his resignation being given in so insolent a manner and bitter humor over his last statement. Mulder, he thought, you don't know what a good reaming is. "What was with the name though, Peter PITA, where did that come from," mused Skinner aloud. "Pain In The Ass," said Scully, standing in his office door. "Excuse me Agent Scully." "PITA stands for Pain In The Ass, leave it to Mulder to inject humor into this situation." She dropped a copy of her e-mail on Skinner's desk for him to read. Skinner looked up after reading through it, rubbed his fingers absently across his forehead, "it doesn't take a psychologist to feel how angry and upset he is. He's actually trying to convince you that it's normal for him to want to take his own life." Standing up, he began to pace, "but Scully, he does have a point." "What point is that, sir", she asked. "Well, he's very convincing in this argument regarding being a profiler. I've often wondered myself how a person could do that job and remain unaffected. Why do we get so upset when Mulder feels everything so deeply?" Moving closer to her now, he questioned, "tell me Scully, what caused this, surely it can't be our conversation only. Mulder's been threatened with this type of treatment in the past and has always been allowed to avoid it if he felt very strongly about it. We're missing something here, what are we missing?" "Sir, I think overhearing our conversation was just the final straw When you look at his life over the last 4-6 months, we should have been able to see it coming. Samanatha was just the beginning and as hard as I tried to keep the total autopsy reports from him, I found out yesterday that he had accessed them and read every word right before we went off on this last case. He also broke into my desk nd took her file with him. And sir, this last case was," she paused, looking for the right words, "horrible, ghastly, obscene in its' detail. Mulder profiled this monster down to the donuts he liked to eat after he was through with his sacrifices. Mulder WAS that monster, but this monster had little emotion and so Mulder just locked himself away in his head, calm, cool, no rage, no loss of control this time. There were times I would have preferred Mulder with a touch of madness than the cold man he became during this last case. "Sir... Walter, I think he just broke, I think he just couldn't see himself continuing here. I believe in order to survive he needed to let people get close and help him through it and in the end, that was what scared him most. After all, when, in Mulder's history, has he ever trusted someone, opened himself up and not been betrayed?" "We didn't betray him Scully." "No", she agreed, " but to him it appeared that we did and you know what they say about perception being reality." They sat quietly for a while, finding some comfort from their guilt in each other's company. It was strange for her to be here without him. If , no, WHEN they found him, would they ever be able to return to the life they had or would the damage be unable to be repaired? "Any new leads Scully," Skinner asked. "Waiting sir, just waiting, hoping to get something soon." Standing, she smoothed her skirt and walked to the door. ************ Mulder awoke clawing at his neck, gasping for air. He had been dreaming, seeing images of what they may have done to Sam before she died. Pushing the covers away, he eased himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed. His head was pounding again, his nose was stuffy, eyes runny, "enough," he demanded out loud, "enough of feeling like this, enough of these damn nightmares." He headed to the bathroom, stripping off his boxers just before he entered the shower. The water was cold and sliced into him like tiny razor blades. It hurt, but it was a hurt he could identify and understand, he liked this pain. Stepping out of the shower, he brushed and shaved quickly. Dressing in fresh clothes, he tossed his dirty laundry in the corner along with his other bags. Scanning the room one more time, he threw his luggage in his car and headed to the office to check out. Feeling somewhat refreshed after his 6 hours of sleep, Mulder once again began to drive. ************ Skinner was startled by the click of his office door, it was very late, who was still here? "Who is it," he called out right before he caught a whiff of the odor. The odor he had come to hate. "Walter, so good to see you again," the cigarette-smoking man stepped into the room. "What do you want," Skinner asked, already knowing the answer. "Well, Walter, my associates and I were curious as to the progress that was being made in locating Agent Mulder. They are very anxious to be of assistance should your efforts fail," he took another drag on his cigarette. "I, we will not fail, there is no need for any additional assistance in locating Mulder at this time," Skinner stated coldly. "Are you sure Walter, it would be very disappointing for us to lose Mulder at this point in the game. As you have always suspected, he has a place in our future plans." "Why don't you take the time to explain what that place is," pushed Skinner. "Now, now Walter, what fun would that be? The pleasure of the game is in the playing, not in knowing who will win or......lose." Leaning in now he whispered, "where is our boy, where would he have run?" "We don't know yet but we have several leads that we expect to come through anytime now." "I've heard some interesting rumors Walter, perhaps you can clear them up?" Skinner nodded for him to continue. "I heard Mulder was upset when he left, I heard that he may have been ill, something about a knife in his back," he smiled fully now. Skinner choked with rage, "he was ill, he was burnt out and we were planning on helping him as we have always helped him in the past. This time he didn't want any help, this time we underestimated how much pain he was in." Needing to throw off the bastard, he pressed on, "you know what his capabilities are, this is not just another missing persons case. This is truly a game of Fox and Hound and in this case the Fox is very sly and crafty. He knows the rules and he knows how to break them. He's made contact with us that we cannot track back to him, he's operating under an assumed identity," pausing for affect, " perhaps more than one. Looking over the details of his exit it's obvious he has considered doing this or something very much like it for a long time just in case he had a need to disappear." Skinner stepped up to this man and looked him squarely in the eye, "how about you, what do you know about Mulder that I don't know, what can you tell me that can assist me in finding him?" Slowly reaching down to snuff out his cigarette, the man smiled. "I will see what I can find that may help you in this endeavor Walter but, if I do, what would I get in return?" "You bastard, you get exactly what you want, the whereabouts of one Fox Mulder!" Walking towards the door the man turned, "oh yes, there is that." The door shut quietly behind him. Skinner slammed his fist against the closed door, slammed it hard several times before he could feel the pain. Pain was good, pain made you think more clearly, "Mulder, where the hell are you?" ************ Several hundred miles out of Boulder, Mulder had ditched his rental car in an airport parking lot. From there he dragged his bags to the nearest bus stop and took it into the downtown area. He then hailed a cab and asked to be driven across town to a remote pick up site for the next bus out of town. There he loaded a bus headed for Boulder. The bus was mostly empty so he tossed his bags on the seat next to him, leaned against the window and watched the land slide by. He didn't doze, he wanted to, but he still felt extremely wary. Mulder sneezed, "damn, I hate being sick." ************ Maggie pulled into the front of the local police building and turned the car off. Reaching over the seat she grabbed the basket with the lunch she had made for Jack. "He aint' much," she mumbled, "but he's the best I'm going to do in this town. Besides," she smiled, "there's a lot to be said for a big man." Humming she made her way into the building. Jack was busy on the phone so, nosy as usual, she began to read the board he always kept with recent updates. She gasped, stepping back suddenly from the picture hanging on the wall. Jack, noticing her reaction, ended his call and immediately joined her. "What is it Maggie?" She turned and eyed him up and down, could it be he didn't know it? "Jack, this picture, this man, what did he do?" Jack pulled down the notice, remembering he had just hung it up yesterday. "Honestly Maggie, I'm not sure but whatever it was he must be pretty dangerous. My instructions are to NOT approach him and to call the FBI if I catch sight of him." Thinking she was concerned for his well being, he patted her gently on the shoulder and soothed, "don't you worry Maggie, I can take care of myself." "So, you're saying that this man is so dangerous they don't want a regular cop to approach him?" A little stung by her use of the term regular cop, he pouted, "Maggie he's probably a serial killer or something, they don't put out this kind of stuff unless the guys a psycho or something." That little piece of news had settled it in her head. He may have been pretty but she was not going to be responsible for a serial killer going uncaught. "Jack, don't you remember, this is the guy who bumped into you at the pumps a few days ago." She had Jack's full attention now, "you remember honey, your instincts must be really good because it was obvious you were going to give him the third degree. I, I felt sorry for him because he looked so tired and sick so I called you over to help me pick out the night crawlers, do you remember now Jack?" "Shit, shit, shit, shit," was all he could think to say as he dialed the number on the notice. ************ Scully stopped by Skinner's office to give him an update on current information. She was scheduled to fly out in a few hours but wanted to keep Skinner in the loop. He was in a meeting but ended it abruptly at her arrival. "What have you got Scully?" "First, it appears he began his trip by renting a car. He did so through a low budget dealer less than two miles from his apartment", she shook her head at this still not believing she had missed something so obvious. "The car was returned and a new one picked up at the AVIS counter in Milwaukee, WI." She paused, scanning the rest of her notes. "He rented the first car under Will Johnson and the second under Will Jackson, interesting how close the names were, " she mused, "he obviously planned the use of the fake Ids in the past, they are different but very close allowing for less mistakes on his part in forgetting his name." Funny, she thought, a man with a photographic memory concerned about forgetting his name. "Anything else Scully," Skinner asked. "Yes sir, possibly, I'm flying into the Lakewood, Wisconsin area this morning to question a local sheriff on a possible sighting. He saw the alert I put out and called in just a short time ago." Skinner gathered a few files and threw them in his brief case. Grabbing his coat, he asked, "what are we waiting for Scully, let's go." "Sir, I didn't realize you would be traveling with me." "We need to find him Scully, there's little time to waste here." Scully wasn't sure whether to be insulted or complimented by Skinner's offer, shrugging, she picked up her coat and f followed him out. "Don't say I didn't warn you sir," she called. Skinner turned, "about what?" Smirking now, "the plane, it's a four seater, it's the only thing that can get me close to Lakewood." "I served in Vietnam Scully, how bad could it be?" With that they headed out to catch their flight. ************ "Maggie, now that we're alone," Dana peeked over her shoulder to confirm Officer Jack Warninski was out of ear shot, "can you tell me again about your encounter with Age..., Mr. Mulder?" Maggie licked her lips and took stock of Special Agent Dana Scully. The woman was tough, cold as ice but there was something in the way her voice softened when she spoke this Mulder's name that made Maggie suspicious. "Listen Agent Scully, we've been through this, I'm tired." "Please Maggie, one more time." "Okay but no one is going to convince me that that man is a psychotic nutball or some kind of serial killer. No m'am, I've been waiting tables for over 20 years and I know how to read people and that boy was not crazy. Tired," she paused for a moment thinking back to her meetings with this Mr. Mulder, "yes, he was exhausted, kind of out of it, but not crazy like mean crazy." "Maggie, please tell me in your own words what happened," concern evident in her voice now. "Okay, okay, a few nights ago, he comes stumbling in the door, I don't know about 7-8pm, not sure, we were a little busy that night It wasn't like you could miss him, he was a bit of a mess." "How so Maggie, describe him to me." Maggie smiled a little smile, she knew that man wasn't a killer, just a man in some trouble. "Maggie, please." "Well, looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days, rough beard, you know." Scully nodded, not wanting to interrupt her flow. "Hair was messy, looked like he just ran his hands through it before walking in the door. His clothes were rumpled like he'd been in them for a while but even with all that against him, he was still the best looking thing I'd seen in a long time," taking a moment to linger over the memory. "Oh my, hazel eyes that had the weariest look I'd ever seen, you just wanted to put your arms around him and hug, you know," she asked Scully. "Yes Maggie," she said softly, "I know, please go on." Maggie smiled a little smile, oh yes, Agent Scully knew something about wanting to hug that man, that was pretty obvious. Maggie continued, " Now let me see, we usually don't seat people. Locals usually just come in and make themselves at home but it was pretty obvious he was a stranger and not used to making himself at home. I gave him a smile and asked if he was here for dinner or just a beer. At first I thought he didn't hear me but then he looked at me with those sleepy lids and a bit of a pout and said he was feeling a bit hungry." Leaning in to Scully now, she whispered, "I was feeling a little hungry myself." "Maggie, please." "Oh, okay. Gave him my best table and took good care of him I did, made sure his food was good and hot. I noticed he ate real low, at first I thought he was just enjoying the food but after a while I could see he was almost falling asleep in it." Maggie looked up at Agent Scully and asked, "what did he do, is he really bad?" Scully wasn't sure how much she should say at this point but Mulder being Mulder, it appeared he had stolen another heart, even unshaven. "He didn't do anything Maggie, it's what.....what he might do. Unshed tears sparkled in Dana's eyes, "he's sick Maggie and I just want to find him and get him home." Maggie understood, she knew the look. "He was just getting ready to pay the check when he stood up and nearly fell down. Being the good Samaritan I am", she smirked, "I grabbed him around the waist and then lowered him very slowly back into his chair (smiling she thought, real slowly). I told him he needed to go hold up in the motel and at first it didn't look like he was going to listen but then, I guess I got to him because he took directions to a local campground and left." "And that was the last you saw of Mulder?" asked Scully. "Well no, he must've stayed the night because I ran into him the next morning at the minimart gas station just down the street. He was buying some stuff, donuts, I think and some kind of pills. Must have been for that cold he looked like he was fighting. I was just checking up on him, making sure he was all right," blushed Maggie, "when Jack came in. This Mulder bumped right into Jack," Maggie laughed, "thinking about it now it was kind of funny although I doubt he thought so. Jack let him pass with an excuse me but, well Jack's a cop, it was almost as if he could smell something wrong. He started to walk towards him and I thought he was going to start harassing the poor guy so I gave him my best smile and called Jack over to me, giving your friend some time to slip out and drive away." "Except for the cold, did he seem all right?" "He looked okay, still messy and, a little smelly. Stuffed up from the cold I guess, oh yah, I also noticed a bruise on his forehead, kind of high up, like he hit the top of his head on something. And like I said, he was tired, less tired than the night before but you could tell he had a long way to go before he was going to be able to really sleep." "What about the car, what can you tell me about it?" "Nothing to tell, didn't really pay much attention." Skinner joined them now, his presence still felt oppressive to her. She was used to him in his office, not out here in the field and certainly not looking for Mulder. She was wary of him, not sure how to behave. "Scully I checked with the campsite down the road. The owner vaguely remembers a Will Johnson hecking in that night in a dark-colored Ford. I showed him the picture of Mulder and he ID'd it on the spot." Officer Warninski had joined them again as well. One more question announced Scully, "any thoughts, ideas on where he might be heading?" Both Maggie and Jack shook their heads no, neither had been paying attention by the time Mulder pulled out and Mulder didn't say anything to Maggie that would indicate his final destination. Thanking both of them for their time and cooperation, Scully and Skinner headed to their borrowed car. A friend of the pilot had agreed to let them use it. Scully turned to Skinner, "Maggie described him as being exhausted and a bit banged up but otherwise healthy." "The trailer park manager didn't seem to notice anything unusual bout his appearance, probably gets a lot of guys that look like that , looking for a cheap place to catch some sleep." Skinner started the car, "what now Scully, we have no idea what direction he's headed in.?" "Sir, I'm sure I'll be able to narrow it down to a small area shortly," insisted Scully. "How can you be so confident?" "Well, it's a little unorthodox but I think, considering it's Mulder were looking for, it'll work," Scully smiled that small smile she reserved for special occasions, for those when she knew she had outwitted Mulder. Skinner gave her his full attention, "Scully, what have you done?" "I put out Mulder's picture to every emergency room in the country." "and...." "I may have mentioned that if he were to check in with an injury that they should sedate him heavily and contact me immediately," she said smugly. "Shame on you Scully," Skinner feigned shock. "How can you be so sure he'll need an emergency room?" Disbelieving she stared at Skinner, "sir, this is Mulder we're talking about!" "Point taken Scully," agreed Skinner as he started the car, "point taken." ************ Okay, so your head hurts, get used to it, growled Mulder to himself. He hadn't slept on the bus and he was hungry. The bus had deposited him at what appeared to me a local mall in Boulder, Colorado. He shoved his bags into two large lockers and headed for a little bagel shop on the second floor. With two plain bagels, cream cheese in hand along with the largest cup of coffee sold by the place and a local paper, he parked himself in a corner table near a window. Looking over the rentals for the area, he circled a couple possibilities. While thumbing through the rest of the paper he couldn't help but notice the articles on the Ramsey case, he had forgotten about that one, to him it was pretty cut and dried, just a matter of pulling enough evidence together to make it a case. He'd have to make sure he didn't hang around Boulder too long, didn't need to worry about running into any old friends from the bureau working the case. God they would like that, tracking and turning in Spooky Mulder, he knew men and women who would pay for that experience, sobering suddenly, he realized he knew at least one man (Skinner) and one woman (Scully) who were being paid to track him. He also knew he couldn't underestimate them but he still had hope that after a while, they would just let it drop and leave him alone. Remembering his nightmare in that Wisconsin trailer park he shuddered, no, mustn't underestimate those two. Absorbing the rest of the news quickly, he also read an article documenting two apparently unrelated murders that had occurred recently, one in a nearby suburb and another right on campus, a professor, about 50-55 years from the picture. Looked like from the article both men were well liked and respected by the community although both died in different ways, one allegedly had been pushed off a cliff and into a rushing mountain stream and the other was found dead in his own home police suspected he had surprised a burglar and been bludgeoned to death. Interesting, Mulder flipped the pages, looking for a bit more information on the cases somehow he felt they were related, he just wasn't sure how. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he laughed out loud, startling the two ladies sitting at the table next to his, "oh, uhm, sorry," looking down at the paper, the Dilbert cartoon caught his eye, " I just love that Dilbert." His smile was difficult to resist and the woman at the next table smiled back widely hoping he might reveal a bit more information about his likes and dislikes. Taking their interest as his clue to leave, Mulder stopped by the counter and refilled his coffee before leaving the area. Next he located a group of pay phones off in a quiet corner and began dialing. In under 20 minutes, he had two appointments set up to look over some rental property. Contacting a local car rental, they delivered a car to the Sears entrance in under an hour. American Express this time under the name Will Jakes. Recording the directions to each sight in his head, he headed into the mountains. The first place was one of those dome homes built in the 60s. It was pretty run down and easily accessible off the main road. Something about living in a round home didn't appeal and he had hoped for something a little more remote. Heading further into the mountains, he made his way down several back roads, thinking a four-wheel drive vehicle was going to have to be next on his shopping list. Without it he'd never be able to manage this road in bad weather. Pulling into a small driveway marked with a large Private Property sign, he stepped out of his car and walked towards the cabin. The apparent owner arrived just a few minutes later. As the man's truck pulled in Mulder felt his pulse quicken and automatically reached around his back for the comforting feel of his gun. Until he could see the man clearly, he wasn't taking any chances. Pulling up his truck right behind Mulder's car, the man slowly climbed his way out. He was older, Mulder observed, oh heck who was he kidding, this guy was old, 85 years if he was a day. The man, about 5'6 limped his way over to join him. As he approached, Mulder felt himself begin to relax and let his arms fall to his sides. "Are you Will, Will Jakes," he inquired taking in the young man's haggard appearance and swollen eyes. He was old, but not stupid, this boy was running from something or someone. "Yes sir, that would make you Mr. Henderson?" "You got that right boy, c'mon let's go inside and look around, get to know each other a little," walking up the stairs he fumbled to find the keys. Mulder followed him, walking at the old man's pace, not wanting to make him feel rushed. Looking around, Mulder decided small talk was his best option, he needed to sell this man on his own harmlessness. "Beautiful country up here Mr. Henderson." The old man turned as they entered the cottage, "yes, it is beautiful, it's the kind of place a man comes when he needs to forget." Mulder stumbled on the floor board, recovered quickly and innocently asked, "forget?" "Now son, you can't fool me!" Mulder wasn't sure how to continue, "I.....I can't". The old man chuckled, "son, anyone can see you're either recovering from a seriously broken heart or you're one of those executives who just decided to chuck the corporate world and leave it all behind." "You're very perceptive Mr. Henderson, I didn't realize it was so obvious." "Not to most but you know, I have been around the block a few times. So...." "So...., " Mulder repeated. "Which is it, a girl or a job?" "Well actually Mr. Henderson, it's .....," looking down, afraid his eyes would show the lie, "it's both." "Both, a woman and your job, poor kid." Mulder felt bad lying but depending on how you interpreted his current situation, it could be the way this man suspected. Scully was the woman who betrayed him, the FBI was the career that disappointed him, yes, it made sense. He felt his eyes well up with tears again as he thought of all he had left behind, he didn't hear the old man talking to him. Glancing up, the man couldn't miss the pain in his eyes. "It's okay Will, I tell you, it'll get better," patting his arm now, he continued, "it can only get better." Mulder, not expected any human contact flinched a little. The old man saw it and chalked it up to a man who had been burned one time too many. "Well, what do you think, do you want to live the life of a mountain man?" Mulder looked around, one room, small kitchenette in the corner table and chairs, double bed, it didn't look bad. Sparsely furnished, it needed a good cleaning, but he could handle that. Entering the kitchen area he checked the appliances and found a very old but working stove and refrigerator. He entered the extremely small bathroom and was immediately gratified to find it had a shower, things were looking up. "A few questions Mr. Henderson," easily slipping into his interview mode. "Yah?" "Hot water?" "Most of the time." "This jack, does it work?" "My God boy, do you think were savages," he laughed. "Yes, it works, you just have to call U.S. West and ask for service, I can write down the actual service address if you like." "Great, that would be great," Mulder nodded. "What about," raising his eyebrow, "cable?" "Sorry, not in this area," the old man answered smiling at Will's disappointment. A naughty channel boy if he'd ever seen one. "Most people up here order up one of those satellite dishes, that'll get you just about any channel you can imagine." Mulder perked up, "any channel?" "Any channel," the man confirmed. "How much, Mr Henderson?" "Well, to be honest, it's been sitting empty for a while. Kind of far back for most people you know." Mulder nodded. "Listen, you seem like a nice young man, how about $400 a month?' Mulder scanned the room once more, taking a chance he countered, "make it $350 and I can provide you with first and last month's rent." The old man chuckled to himself, he would've taken $300. Holding out his hand he agreed, "deal Will, let's shake on it." Mulder reached out and shook his hand, then reaching for his wallet, he counted out $700 cash and handed it over. Eagerly accepting the cash, Henderson asked, "so, what kind of work do you do now?" Mulder froze, he hadn't thought through how to answer that question. Quickly compiling his own profile in his mind, he found the answer. "Oh well, I write some, article here and there, just enough to keep food on the table." "I read a lot Will, would I have read anything by you?" "Now Mr. Henderson, what would a successful writer be doing in a $350 a month cabin," he joked. "I said I was a writer Mr. Henderson, not necessarily a very successful one." Henderson laughed, he liked a man who didn't take himself too seriously. Giving Mulder directions to the nearest town for groceries and the number of the phone company, his landlord went on his way leaving Mulder alone, alone in his new home. ************ Lone Gunmen Office: Frohike was alone, Langly and Byers had gone out to pick up some lunch while he stayed behind and watched for any word from Mulder. It had been a few days and they were all concerned. While Frohicke searched the chat rooms for signs of Mulder, Scully prepared to knock on his door. Dana Scully was an attractive woman and although she rarely took advantage of that fact, she had accepted that there's a first time for everything. Doing a quick check on her hair and makeup, she raised her hand to knock. He was startled when he heard the knock, who could this be, Byers or Langly would have never knocked. Logging off quickly, he went to the door and checked out his visitor through the peephole they had installed. He was not surprised to see the sexy Dr. Dana Scully, he had been expecting her. Opening the door, he allowed her to enter. "Why Agent Scully, what a pleasant surprise," stepping behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, "may I take your coat," he asked. Dana had the good grace to blush, it was obvious that Frohike knew why she was here. She had planned on charming him just a little, but knowing him, he had probably already worked out a more detailed fantasy in his mind. "Thank you," she shrugged it off to reveal a shorter than usual skirt and a blouse that gapped a bit when she leaned forward in just the way she was doing now. Yes, Frohike knew this was going to be a very difficult temptation to resist. Standing quickly he mumbled, "the guys will be back soon, just grabbing some lunch, would you like something to drink?" Dana looked up at Frohike with bright, tear-filled eyes, Frohike was lost. "Agent Scully....Dana, what's the matter," he begged. Leaning into him, Dana moaned, "oh, it's Mulder....Fox, he's gone and I'm just sick with worrying about him." She allowed herself to lean in a bit more heavily on him. Frohike gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and just held her for a few brief seconds. Pushing her back gently, he began, "you're a very bad girl Dana which usually I find to be a very exciting trait in a woman," she started to pull back but he wouldn't release her. Inches from her face now, he whispered softly, "Fox Mulder has been my friend for too many years. As much as I am just crude enough to attempt to take advantage of this situation, it is my friendship with him and," meeting her eyes now, "you that will not allow me to continue with this conversation. Don't ask me, us, to help you find him, he's a big boy, he'll come home when he's ready and, it's safe." He released her then and quickly moved away from her. He was very vulnerable when it came to this woman and if she really decided to turn it on, he doubted he would be able to resist her. Dana stood, tears miraculously gone. She advanced slowly on him until she was in his face. "Now you listen to me Frohike, Mulder is sick, do you hear, sick. I am a medical doctor and believe me I know a sick puppy when I see one. I don't want to find him so I can hurt him, when have I ever hurt him", she demanded. "Well, there was that time you shot him, " he challenged. "Oh well then," waving her hand to the side she sputtered, "that, that was for his own good." "And what about that time you turned him in for drilling that hole in his head," he added. "The man let another person drill a frigging hole in his head for God's sake, is that normal Frohike? Normal people do not let that happen!" "Being normal is highly overrated Dana," Frohike actually purred her name. "Fox Mulder is not normal, he will never be normal. Why do you demand it of him?" Dana was silent, not wanting to listen but finding herself unable to avoid it. Was it possible that this was the reason Mulder frustrated her so. Did she have some deep-seated need to make everyone around her normal? "Dana", Frohike queried, her eyes snapped up at him, she was extremely angry. "Agent Scully," he corrected, "can I ask you one more question?" "Go ahead," tired now she didn't even look up. "Is frigging a navy term?" He ducked as a large book on the JFK conspiracy flew at his head. "You, Byers, Langly AND Mulder are all going to end up in the same insane asylum," she screamed as she grabbed her coat. She shoved her way through a surprised Langly and Byers and ran down the stairs. Frohike smiled at them, "Mulder". They nodded understanding what had just occurred. They had actually expected her much earlier. Langly pushed his blond hair away from his face and said, "you know, there are worse people to be in an asylum with, at least we'd have something to talk about." "Absolutely," agreed Byers. "Especially if the lovely Dr. Scully stopped by for a visit now and then," Frohike added. Chuckling they went back to work, scanning the sites for news of Mulder. ************ Jogging up the mountain path, Mulder was feeling better than he had in a very long time. The peace and solitude the mountains offered him these last few weeks had allowed him the time needed to come to terms with his decision to leave his career and his friends behind. He had even gotten to the point where he could think about Scully and Skinner without feeling the anger. Thinking back, they thought they were doing the right thing. That didn't make it right, but he no longer raged when he remembered their intentions. Truth be told, he missed DC. He missed the work, he missed arguing with Scully and getting bitched at by Skinner. It may have been a strange life but it was his. The last few weeks had kept him busy. He had cleaned and scrubbed the cabin from top to bottom and stocked his refrigerator. He had also managed to purchase an old truck for trips to and from town. It looked bad, rusty and dented, but the engine was solid and it ran well. The phone had been connected and he felt a need to contact Scully. He had been fighting it for weeks now not really understanding how he could feel so desperate to run from her and to her at the same time. He kept reminding himself of her plans for his future. Panting hard now he continued his run up the steep incline of the path, he was determined to make his five miles today. Usually that would have been a breeze for him but he had only just begun to regain his health after that last case and his week long jaunt across the country. The altitude up here still made it difficult for him to breath too. Bored with his new found free time, Mulder had begun to take an interest in the local news. Five more bodies had turned up since he had first arrived in the Boulder area. He accessed all the newspapers daily in an attempt to follow the case. The FBI had been called in but no progress appeared to have been made. Gasping for air now, Mulder slowed down to a slow jog as he reviewed the details in his head. His cabin had begun to look like his office, photographs of the victims and any personal information he had been able to gather through on line searches, the press and a few other information sources he had back door access to. Last week, feeling brave, he had even accessed the FBI database using Scully's ID and password to pull a copy of the current case file, this gave him information the newspaper would never see. He assumed Scully, like the rest of his co-workers never read those security summaries they sent you confirming records accessed and it was the only way he could see the crime scene detail. It had been a week with no problems, so it looked as though his assumption was correct. Veering towards the left, he continued uphill. What Mulder had forgotten was that Scully did not miss anything. When she had received her summary of information accessed last week, she quickly scanned it, preparing to toss it immediately. The fact that she had been working only on finding Mulder for the last month made it a little easier to spot of course. You've got nerve Mulder, I'll give you that. Within a few hours she and Skinner were on their way to Boulder, CO. At first Scully couldn't understand why he had been so careless, Mulder usually wasn't this sloppy. He wanted that information badly. Somehow he had become interested in the Boulder murders and was probably attempting to solve the crime. This man was strange, he takes off, separates himself from everything he knew and held dear to go out and solve a serial murder case that if VCS had tried to assign him he would have been pissed. Never would she completely understand him. She was concerned about him though, he never took care of himself, especially when he was working. It had become part of her job to insure he didn't fall too deeply and right now she wasn't there. She did not like the thought of him attempting such a thing without any support, he was so very vulnerable in these situations. He was sensitive and perhaps she should just accept that and stop trying to harden him to the world he lived in. All she knew was that she wanted him back, insecure, pain in the ass eccentric that he was, she wanted him back. ************ He stopped, bent low at the knees and inhaled huge gulps of air. The altitude was making him dizzy again and he had pushed himself too far too fast. Suddenly he flashed on a woman, a woman with a knife. She was embracing the man and before he could shout a word of warning, he saw the knife penetrate the man's back. Gasping, he fell against a nearby tree. The murderer was a woman, yes, it was all making more sense now, he had to get back to his cabin. He didn't see the depression, due to ground cover, until it was too late. As he stepped forward, he could feel his ankle turn and the ground rush up quickly to meet him. He attempted to break his fall by grabbing a nearby tree but only succeeded in banging his shoulder hard up against the trunk. Grabbing his injured arm instinctively with his other, he didn't roll well and ended up cracking his forehead on a small rock embedded in the path. Stunned, he lay on his side just off the trail. If it didn't hurt so bad, it would be funny. The Keystone Kops had nothing on him. Spitting the dirt from his mouth, he began to ease himself up when he was struck by more images, images he had stolen using Scully's ID of the recent murder scenes, images of bloody, broken bodies. Helpless now, his mind replayed each death, each placement of the body. He knew how to find the killer, knew where to look next.... Surprised to find himself still laying on the ground, Mulder came slowly back to himself. He attempted to shake his head in an effort to clear it and realized almost immediately that this was a mistake. Such a little rock, he thought, to do so much damage. He ran his good arm over his other shoulder and discovered blood, he had gashed it fairly deep. Next he examined his ankle, it appeared to be a sprain, nothing broken thank goodness. Leaning heavily on the nearby tree, he began to pull himself slowly off the ground. Carefully, he placed some of his weight on his twisted ankle, immediately regretting it. "Damn, damn, damn, I just don't need this now", he moaned. Well Mulder, whether you need it or not, you got it. With that he began the mile long journey back to his home, gritting his teeth hard with each step he took. ************ Smoke circled gracefully around his head as he sat back in Skinner's office chair. A comfortable chair, he thought, he'd have to ask Skinner where he got it. It was definitely not FBI standard office furniture but then Skinner was a big man and probably purchased it as a result of his long hours. He was not here today, he was out in the field with Agent Scully, the Mulder chase becomes more interesting every day, he mused. He was almost tempted to join in this chase personally. The thought of getting his hands on Fox Mulder, especially this Mulder, distressed over the recent betrayal of his closest friends, was just so appealing. With the right amount of coercion, he smiled at the thought, this might be the perfect time to convince Mulder of his need to potentially change camps. After all, the only way Mulder would ever truly learn the truth would be by working for him. This Mulder would be vulnerable to such a suggestion, he felt it strongly. He was close, so close. His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone. "Yes," he answered. They had followed Skinner and Scully to Boulder and were awaiting their next move. "Patience gentlemen, let them lead you to him but I want him first, understand," he paused for affect, " he's mine." ************ Mulder painfully made his way into his cabin and headed for the bathroom sink. Looking in the mirror, he could see that the injury to his head was bleeding heavily. He dampened a town and held it to his forehead. He needed to get back to his profile quickly. Pulling a bag of ice out of his freezer, he stumbled over to the table, flipped on his PC and sat down. Pulling over a second chair, he perched his foot up and wrapped the ice bag around his ankle. The shoulder had stopped bleeding on it's own as he stumbled his way back to the cabin. "Mulder survives again, film at 11," he joked out loud. Anxious to capture his profile on paper, he dropped the bloody towel to the floor and began to work. Two hours later, feeling dirty, tired and dazed, he completed his profile on the Boulder Butcher. His head had continued to bleed and he had had to wipe it out of his eyes several times, an unneeded distraction. He was a she, he was sure of it. The local cops and he FBI had ruled out a female early in the game due to the nature and strength needed to have pulled them off. If there was one thing hanging around in this area had taught him was that people were fit here. He had seen many woman out jogging or in town that looked like those American Gladiator women. The murderer was also very close to her victims, probably knew them personally. If he could just talk the victim's families, he was sure he could locate the killer. Well, he had the name of the agent in charge from the files he had read, addressing an anonymous note, he attached the profile to it and hit send.... It was somewhat risky but he couldn't sit by and let anymore people die while he did nothing. He had been sitting there for a while, enjoying the soothing cold on his ankle, zoning out as he stared at the screen. What was he expecting to see there, an answer, a thank you. Now you wait Mulder, now you wait, wait to see if they're smart enough to interpret the information you provided and catch a killer. Sighing he eased his foot down to the ground, it was a little better now, probably not even a bad sprain. Yah Mulder, you just keep telling yourself that. He was about to head for the shower when he heard a truck coming up the road, sounded like Mr. Henderson's. Mr. Henderson walked slowly towards the cabin. The door opened to greet him as he began climbing the porch steps. He was stopped short by Will's appearance. "Will, what happened to you," he asked worriedly. Mulder limped onto the porch, he didn't want to the old man to see his clippings if it could be avoided. "Just a little fall during my daily jog," Mulder answered lightly. "A little fall, it looks like you broke that foot there and your head is bleeding something fierce." Mulder, leaning heavily on the log banister above the stairs, reached up to touch his head. Blood, it was bleeding rather heavily. He didn't remember it being so bad. He needed to get to the bathroom and clean it up. As he turned, the world around him decided to move in the opposite direction. Before he could catch himself he felt himself falling down the five porch steps landing painfully on his previously abused shoulder. He stayed conscious for a few seconds before the darkness embraced him. ************ "Any luck sir," Scully asked. "Nothing," Skinner grunted, "no sign of him here." With that his phone chirped loudly in his pocket. He answered it immediately, "Skinner." Scully watched Skinner's face closely, something was up. He looked confused and Skinner did not confuse easily. "Agent Rullman, I did not assign another agent to work with you on the Boulder Butcher case," he insisted, "what leads you to believe I would?" "That's bullshit Skinner and you know it, he may have not signed his name but I know who wrote this profile." Skinner could here the man's words echo as he spoke. Turning around, he saw a large red-faced man, around 45 screaming into the phone. Disconnecting the call, he turned and walked towards him. "Agent Rullman, I presume." Rullman looked up at the interruption and choked. Oh crap, what was Skinner doing here, it was one thing to bitch him out on the phone, but not to his face. "Director Skinner," he nodded. "Perhaps we could discuss this privately," Skinner asked. His anger disappearing Rullman agreed and lead them to a nearby office and shut the door. Trying to save some face, Rullman began, "listen Director Skinner," stressing director, "I'm not saying I don't appreciate the help but if you're going to give it, at least tell me. Christ," running his hands quickly through his hair as he paced, "this has been a difficult case, we had hardly anything and then I get your boy's profile...." "What boy is that, " Skinner leaned closer. "Oh, c'mon Skinner, you know, that oddball you have working for you. The one who gets all Spooky and is always zoning out or running off when you try to talk to him. C'mon Skinner, how many loose cannons do you have?" Skinner made no reply, waiting for the man to say the name. Scully could wait no longer. "Where is the profile, Agent Rullman, may I see it." "Certainly Agent...." "Scully," she provided as he handed her the document. "Scully," he repeated, "aren't you his partner?" "Whose partner," she asked innocently. "Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but I know Mulder's work when I see it. It's required reading. The guy may be nuts, but he is good after all," he finished lamely. Scully's eyes widened as she skimmed the profile quickly handing off the pages to Skinner as she did so. "It's his," said Skinner flatly, "I can spot his work in a dark alley with sunglasses." This time it was Scully's phone that interrupted. Answering it quickly, "Scully." She listened and snapped, "what's his condition? Okay, okay, under NO circumstances is that man to be allowed out of that hospital. Put as much security on him as you can until we arrive." Ending the call she rushed towards the door. Skinner turned to Rullman, "did you catch him?" Rullman, "her." "Excuse me Agent Rullman," "Her, Skinner, her. Our killer was a woman, the niece of one of the first victims. We," shaking his head now, "we weren't even looking for a woman, we had ruled that out early in the case." Looking up at the pictures of the victims that surrounded him on the wall, Rullman returned his gaze to Skinner, "tell him thank you sir, he may be crazy but if he hadn't stepped in, I'm not sure how many more there would have been." "I'll tell him Rullman," Skinner said softly. "And sir," Rullman stopped him as he was about to leave, "tell him if he wants to work a case with my team again, to just ask. We'd be glad to have his help." Skinner nodded understanding how much effort that had just taken. He'll appreciate that feedback. I'll have him contact you personally." With that he left to catch up with Scully. She was already out in the parking lot, getting into their car. He caught up with her quickly,, "what's up?" "We need to hurry sir, as we suspected, he's here in Boulder," she explained as she started the car. As she pulled out, she added, "he's been hurt." ************ Henderson had sat patiently in this waiting room of the Boulder Community Hospital for way too long. Once again he made his way up to the desk. Smiling his most charming smile, which wasn't bad for an 83 year old, he cleared his throat loudly to get the attention of the pretty blond nurse. "Mary," he said, noticing her name tag, "it is Mary isn't it?" "Yes Mr. Henderson," she grinned. Before he could say another word, she added, "no Mr. Henderson, I don't have anymore news for you than I gave you 10 minutes ago. Mr. Jakes is still unconscious and being watched closely." Crossing her heart with her right hand as she said it, " I promise to tell you as soon as I hear. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat, it'll probably be a little while." "Okay, okay," he grumbled, he knew when he wasn't wanted. Grabbing the newspaper off the table, he shuffled his way to the cafeteria. Skinner and Scully rushed in through the emergency entrance. Displaying her shield prominently to the admitting nurse she demanded to know the whereabouts of Fox Mulder. If the situation had not been so serious, Skinner might have laughed, he didn't think he'd ever seen Scully in her fully equipped Dr. Dana Scully stance before. Eyes blazing, voice sharp, every action dared them to get in her way. The admitting nurse grabbed for the phone and paged Dr. Thompson. Dr. Thompson appeared immediately and escorted Skinner and Scully to an area just outside of Mulder's room. A hospital guard was standing firm before his door. "You're welcome to consult if you like Dr. Scully but I assure you, we're doing everything for him. There was no need for sedation, as the flyer indicated, since he came in unconscious. Took a nasty fall, two in fact, if you can believe the old man that dragged him in here." Shaking his head, he chuckled, "that old guy was half his size but he still managed to drag the man into his truck and to our emergency room. His ankle also has a bad sprain, shoulder needed a few stitches, but otherwise, he's not too bad. We'll have to watch the head wound closely of course." "Can we see him now," she asked in a shaking voice. Quietly they entered the room Mulder looked very pale. His head wrapped in white, foot elevated awkwardly and an IV dripped quietly beside his bed. His arms were in restraints, the hospital feared him based on the flyer they had received. Scully stifled the sob that had begun to well in her throat, what had she done, she had caused this. She shouldn't have pushed him away, why couldn't she just accept him for who he was, Mulder. Mulder was Mulder and that meant wild ideas, sleepless nights, constant guilt and emotions that always stayed too close to the surface. This was who Mulder was and what made him so damn good at his job, it was time for Scully and Skinner to accept that and help him or get the hell out of his way. Skinner understood what Scully was feeling. He too felt guilty at what he had put his agent through. If he had handled the situation differently, they would not be standing here today. Leaning into Scully, he whispered, "we can't expect him to be like everyone else anymore Scully, we need to stop fighting him all the time and only then," he paused, "only then will he ever let us close enough to help him." Scully nodded as she attempted to wipe away her tears discreetly. "Should we call Dr. Schumacher?" Skinner looked at Mulder, the tubes and monitors hooked seemingly everywhere. He knew they were there to help but he also knew how much Mulder hated it all. His decision made, he turned to Scully, "I don't think there's any need for Dr. Schumacher. I think Mulder needs some help from his friends, you know what a friend is Scully, someone who knows who you are and accepts you regardless of your differences. She drew a ragged breath and stared down at Mulder, "yes, I know what a friend is." ************ Several hours later, Scully leaned over and check he IV drip, she had done so at least twice in the last 15 minutes. Skinner and she both agreed that he should not wake with restraints on so they were removed. She was nervous, nervous how he would react when he came to. Glancing quickly at Skinner who was checking his voice mail in the corner, she reached over and pushed his hair gently off his forehead. She smiled, his hair had grown a bit in the last month. Unable to resist she moved her hand down his cheek and across his chin, his thin beard gently tickling the palm of her hand. "What were you doing Mulder chasing aliens through the Rockies again.", she softly asked. Suddenly there was a loud commotion outside the door and both she and Skinner pulled their guns and pointed at the sound. Henderson pushed his way past the security guard who wasn't quite sure how to handle an 80 year old assassin. "I want to see Will and I want to see him now! You need to get your records straight, his name is Will, Will Jakes, not some Wolf or Fox or whatever......," he mumbled. Henderson froze, what the hell was going on here. "Hey, calm down now," he squeaked throwing his hands in the air, "I'm just coming to check on my boy here." They both lowered their guns understanding immediately that this man was no threat. Stepping towards him slowly Scully asked, "your boy?" "Well yes," he answered as he approached the bed, "Will is my tenant, he rents a little cabin up in the mountains from me." He stopped, shocked at how pale and still Will looked, "he's a nice boy, always respectful, you know," looking to Skinner for some assurance. Skinner wasn't sure he could agree with that statement but there was no point in opening up that conversation, at least not today. "He's a nice boy," Skinner agreed softly. "You're the girl then," Henderson looked directly at Scully. "The girl?" "When he came I asked him if it was a girl or his job he was running away from, you see I could tell he was running and it usually comes down to one or the other." Scully moved closer, "and what did he say Mr....?" "Henderson," he mumbled, "Sam Henderson is my name. He said both, said I was real perceptive," adding this last statement with some pride, "said I had him pegged perfectly. I'm usually pretty good with people you know." He reached over an patted Mulder's arm gently and asked, "is he going to be all right? When I first picked him up he was covered with so much blood and dirt and shaking so badly. I didn't think we'd make it to the hospital in time." "So, Mr. Henderson, you were the one who brought him to the emergency room," Skinner inquired gently, not wanting to startle the old man anymore than they already had. "Yah, I hadn't seen him in a few weeks and I thought I would stop by and check how things were going. He said he fell but didn't seem to realize he was bleeding so much. He acted surprised when I pointed it out. I think he was going to go back in the abin when he lost his balance and fell off the porch." Sam winced as he remembered the sound of Will's body thumping down those steps. Mulder awoke slowly, hearing the soft murmuring of voices and the mechanical sounds of the hospital equipment surrounding him. He began to panic, moaning as the realization of where he was set in. "I think he's waking up,"called Mr. Henderson cheerfully. Scully pulled Mr. Henderson to the door. "Mr. Henderson, Sam, I think it's time for you to go. If you leave your number at the desk, I'll call you in a few hours and let you know how he's doing. Pushing him physically out the door now, she shouted her good-byes and ran back into the room. Mulder was extremely frightened now, Skinner's face was inches from his and he was holding him down on the bed. He continued to struggle, hearing some type of alarm go off somewhere. "No, no", Mulder screamed. Scully ran to the other side of the bed and put her hands to his face, trying to force him to focus on her. "Mulder, Mulder, it's me Scully," his eyes were wild, jumping between Skinner and Scully, he cried out, "Scully, Scully, help me," and continued to struggle painfully against them both. His head wound had begun to bleed again and he fought hard against their efforts to restrain him. He was sweating profusely, biting down hard on his lower lip as he continued to struggle. He was awake but confused as to what was actually happening, his head throbbed painfully. Scully grabbed the sedative from the nurse and moved quickly towards Mulder's arm. He looked up just as she was about to inject him and screamed. He screamed like a man possessed, Skinner was startled and relaxed his grip. Reacting quickly to the opportunity, Mulder wrenched his arm away and threw himself out of the bed, ripping out the IV line as he did. "Mulder, no, stop Mulder, we're just trying to help you," Scully soothed in a gentle voice. "You've been hurt Mulder, let us help you." Mulder stumbled backwards towards the door, wincing each time his ankle took on any weight. Scully continued to speak softly to him, moving forward slowly. "No, no hospital," he begged, "no doctors, I.....I," rubbing his long fingers over his eyes, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to descend on his mind. Looking up, he saw Scully was closer now, she was too close and she had that needle, his eyes froze on the yringe. He began to whimper and cry softly as he felt the wall behind his back. He needed to get out, needed to get to the door, "go away Scully, leave me alone." Skinner had seen enough, in under two minutes Fox Mulder had managed to completely disrupt the staff of the floor. He had Scully practically on her hands and knees begging to help him and to make matters worse, it appeared he had hurt himself again. His arm that had housed the IV wasn't looking extremely unpleasant. "Agent Mulder, FREEZE," Skinner commanded. All movement in the room stopped cold. The doctor and nurses who had come running into the room when the alarm went off roze in their places. Scully turned to look at him as if he was nuts in raising his voice to this poor fragile boy. And Mulder, well Mulder was confused. Waiving Scully to back off, Skinner approached Mulder. "Agent Mulder, calm down NOW! You have been hurt." Mulder's brow furrowed into a frown as he tried to remember what happened. "What," he croaked, as he looked down for signs of his injury. He reached to touch the bandage on his forehead and felt the dampness of the fresh blood. He stared at his hand. "Agent Mulder," he stated forcefully, "listen to me," inches from him now, "Fox, you are in a hospital because of your physical injuries. You are NOT on a psyche ward Mulder, your mind is fine, right now it's your body we're worried about." Mulder searched for and found Scully, she was nodding her head in agreement, smiling softly at him. "But, but you were going to send me away," he whispered softly, his voice full of hurt, "you were going to let them in my head again." Skinner was right next to him now and put his hand gently on Mulder's shoulder. Mulder flinched from the contact but Skinner did not allow him to move away. "We were wrong Mulder, we were wrong." Mulder wanted to believe Skinner, wanted to believe in Scully but she still had that damn needle in her hand. Looking over at her, he moaned softly, "no needles Scully, no more needles, please." Scully hadn't realized she still had it in her hand, she turned to the nurse and gave her the syringe. Then holding out her empty hands to Mulder, she promised, "no more needles Mulder." "Okay, okay," he hicupped, leaning heavily into Skinner. Skinner and Scully helped him back into the bed. The nurses went to work getting him settled. He laid back against the pillow drowsily following all the activity. Scully was standing at the foot of the bed gently stroking his lower leg, trying to maintain some connection with him. Skinner stood directly in his sight with a stern look on his face that clearly said, don't move. A few minutes later, all but one doctor and nurse remained in the room with them. They each stood on opposite sides of the bed and before he had time to react, placed his arms in restraints. Mulder's eyes few open immediately attempting to twist his arms out of the wristbands. "No," he cried, his eyes glaring accusingly at Skinner and Scully, "you lied to me." He kicked his feet and thrashed wildly on the bed, ignoring the pain of his injured leg. "Release him immediately," demanded Dr. Dana Scully. Scully pushed the nurse out of the way and moved to release one of his wrists. Skinner stepped in front of the Dr. and nurse and in no uncertain terms told them to leave. "But, he is a danger to himself," argued the Dr., "we only do this so he won't hurt himself." Seeing the tangled mess Mulder had caused with his most recent struggles," Skinner replied sarcastically, "that theory doesn't seem to be working with Agent Mulder, would you agree?" The Dr. could see Skinner's point but, oh hell, frustrated, he threw up his hands and shouted, "fine, whatever, you both can take responsibility for his actions because if you don't allow us to do our jobs, we can't be held responsible." Scully stepped forward, "I'll take responsibility, please leave." With that the doctor. and nurse left the room. Turning back to the bed they found Mulder struggling to free himself from his remaining constraint. He was exhausted, Scully didn't know how he could still be conscious with all his recent effort. Gently, she put her hands over his, halting his efforts. He fell back against the pillow his eyes never leaving his bound wrist and her hands. Dana loosened the band and tenderly pulled his hand free. She looked up to meet his eyes and saw him then, saw him as she had never seen him before. This kind, gentle soul who through some strange twist of fate had been given so many gifts and in return had had so much taken from him. This fragile human being, so sensitive and attune to other's pain and yet no one had really returned the favor. She had tried but until now, until this moment she knew she had failed. Holding his hand in hers, she reached up and stroked the side of his face. "It's okay Mulder, I won't let them hurt you again, I promise." "Scully," he croaked, "I'm so tired." "I know Mulder," caressing his face, "close your eyes and rest." Wincing as he attempted to shift into a more comfortable position, he nonetheless felt the fog of sleep descend upon him. He was forgetting something, what was he forgetting, "Scully," forcing his eyes open, "stay, please stay." Smiling widely, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I'll stay as long as you need me, I promise." Mulder's body relaxed as he fell into a deep, healing slumber. Stepping back from the bed, she noticed Skinner standing off to the side with a suspicious glint in his eyes. He was quite a bit taller than her but that didn't stop her from reaching out and embracing him. "Thank you," she said, " thank you for helping him." He hesitated only a moment before he returned the embrace. "Don't thank me Scully, he's my friend too." ************ Three days later... "Mulder, Scully, we need to get going soon." "Yes sir," they both answered Skinner at once. Skinner took a step back and looked over his two red-faced agents. "Explain to me why I can't get that reaction from you two at the office," he joked. "Almost done, sir, I just need to get this last stash," Mulder attempted to reach behind a loose brick. "Oh damn," he pulled his hand down and caught himself before he fell. He still found himself light headed if he moved too quickly. Skinner got to him first and eased him down on the sofa, "take it easy Mulder." Walking to the fireplace, he reached up easily and pulled out the package. Handing him the package, he asked, "how much cash do you actually have Mulder?" "Mulder, what are these," asked Scully waving several pictures in front of his face. Mulder leaned back slowly on the couch remembering how quiet this place was before they found him. He took the papers from Scully and said, "aren't those amazing Scully, a woman in the grocery store ornered me by the produce and offered to sell them." He leafed through them affectionately, "it's some type of creature that's been seen around fifty miles south of here. She offered to take me camping and look for it," he grinned suggestively. "Sure Mulder, I'll bet she wanted to show you more than this missing link." She grabbed the pictures back and stuffed them into a nearby box. "We'll ship most of this stuff back to your apartment." "I still have an apartment," he asked. "Yes Mulder," Scully affirmed, "you still have an apartment. But," she added, "you owe me this month's rent." Mulder raised himself carefully off the couch. He stuffed the cash package in his carry-on bag. Suddenly he froze. "Mulder, what is it, are you in pain," asked Scully's concerned voice. "No", he shook his head, "I just realized I can't leave, I need to finish something." Skinner was losing patience, "Mulder you are in no shape to finish anything." Mulder stubbornly stood his ground, "I'm not done here sir, I can't leave yet." Now Scully was losing patience, "Mulder, what is it you have to finish. Tell me and I'll stay and take care of it." Tugging his arm, she tried to lead him towards the door. He pulled away, insisting softly, "I need to stay, I," guiltily dropping his head, "I was following a case and I need to make sure it's settled." Damn, Skinner thought, I forgot to tell him. "Mulder, are you referring to the Boulder Butcher murders?" Startled Mulder, "yes sir, how did you know?" "The killer was caught and confessed to her crimes the day you were admitted in the hospital," he informed. "Her capture was a direct result of your profile, I'm sorry, with everything else that happened, I had forgotten to tell you." Mulder shrugged, "are you sure they don't need me to stay around a bit and finish up the paperwork," he asked eagerly. Skinner looked up sharply, what was going on here. Mulder stood, balanced against a nearby chair, eyes pleading. Scully, concerned, placed her hand on his arm, "Mulder, what's going on?" "Nothing, I'm fine," he insisted limping away from Scully's touch. He felt a need for a little more space. Apprehensively he pushed at the pile of files Scully had neatly stacked. "I just feel a certain responsibility to finish the job I started." "Bull shit," Skinner snapped, "we've been through hell and back tracking you and now you want us to leave you here to finish some paperwork." He fearfully backed away from his angry director. He was confused, when he decided to leave, to run, it was because they had planned to lock him away. He glanced up and caught Skinner and Scully exchanging a look, the same look he had seen when he sat in Skinner's office so many weeks ago. His leg was aching, he leaned his weight against the table. "Mulder," Scully asked softly, "tell me what you're feeling." She could see he was confused. In the hospital, hurt and in pain, it had been easy to convince him that everything would be all right, that they wouldn't force him into treatment. But this Mulder was a bit stronger and his natural distrust was beginning to kick in again. "Mulder, please, tell me what frightens you," she pleaded. "Scully," he haltingly began, "I believe you and," nodding towards the stoic Skinner, "Director Skinner have every intention of not forcing me into some type of therapy. I think right now you both believe that. I also believe that the same things that made you attempt to find me, to...", he choked here, "...attempt to help me, will not allow you to NOT interfere if I begin to behave in a way either of you find unacceptable." "Damn Mulder, we thought you were suicidal," Skinner declared. "You have to admit Mulder, you were extremely upset," added Scully. It wasn't going to change, he thought. The real question was could he live with it? Could he live with their constant scrutiny, waiting for him to break in a million pieces. Looking down at the table his hand found the file, Samantha's file. He had read it, read it many times over. He read it again every time he closed his eyes. Skinner and Scully again exchanged that look though this time he didn't notice. His eyes were pinned to her file. At this point neither of them knew how to proceed. "Mulder," Scully murmured, "don't shut us out, we only want to help." "I..., I don't think I'm ready to come home yet," he said quietly. "It still hurts too much," gripping her file tightly, "it's too hard to pretend it doesn't matter." Dana gasped, "you don't have to pretend anything Mulder, we can help you or get you help if that's what you need." "Mulder, you are coming back with us," Skinner insisted. Shutters slammed down on his eyes, they became cold, unemotional. He turned his back swiftly to the both of them. She had seen it though, so had Skinner. Mulder walked to his backpack and stuffed in the last package of cash and Sam's file. The file joined the few photos he carried of her and his laptop. He tossed on his jacket and strapped the pack onto his back. He limped to the front door of the cabin, stopped and waited patiently for them to join him. It was clear they would not take no for an answer, they were not listening. Scully and Skinner quickly gathered up the last of Mulder's things. Scully was only a few short steps away from Mulder when the door slammed in forcing Mulder into the wall. His head slammed heavily against the old logs and he noiselessly collapsed to the floor. Two men dove into the room guns raised, scanning quickly for something or someone. "Where's Mulder," they shouted, "where is he?" Scully froze, her hands raised in apparent surrender. Skinner, shielded by the sofa, shouted, "freeze." Both men swung to cover Skinner. "Drop it Skinner, no one has to get hurt here, we only want him." Scully had slowly begun moving backwards attempting to put distance between her and the gunmen. She could see that Mulder was awakening. She prayed he would do so silently. Her prayers went unanswered as Mulder groaned noisily. Both men turned on him as one and Scully, desperate to distract them, grabbed the arm of the man closest to her attempting to dislodge his gun. The man knocked her roughly to the ground. Skinner, understanding he was looking at his only opportunity, fired and easily hit the man closest to Mulder in the back. The other man who appeared ready to continue his attack on Scully attempted to return Skinner's fire but he was too late. He appeared stunned as the blood began to ooze from his chest. In the meantime, Mulder had crawled over to Scully. Holding her face gently in his hands, he cried, "Scully, Dana, are you okay?" She winced as he ran his hands over her bruised jaw. She took both his hands, looked him straight in the eyes and assured him she was fine, just a little shaky. None too stable himself, he still managed to help her to the couch. He treated her like fine china. "You're sure you're okay Scully?" "I'm fine Mulder," she reached to trap his face in hers and attempted to examine him. He had been out for a few minutes there. Pushing her away, he stood shaking his head angrily, ignoring the pain. "I did it again Scully, only this time I did it to both of you." Skinner, who had been checking one of the intruder's pulse sighed, confirming both were dead. "Mulder," he said sharply, "you did nothing to either of us, someone else is the cause of this attack." Mulder snorted, "you can't deny it was me they wanted. They'll never stop, they won't leave me alone!" Skinner soothed, "that's why you need to come back with us, together we're stronger." Mulder glared wildly around the room, Scully was on the couch nursing a sore jaw just barely keeping herself from dozing off. Skinner was standing over two dead bodies, all because of him. None of it was right, it would never be right again. "No," he sobbed, rushing towards the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Once inside, he slid to the floor and wrapped himself into a small tight ball. Head down, back against the door, he fought to gain control of his raging emotions. Scully attempted to pull herself off the couch and follow him. Skinner stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Leave him be for a few minutes Scully. I'm going to call the police and get these bodies picked up. She nodded, understanding Mulder's need for privacy at this time. Leaning her head back against the soft sofa, she shut her eyes and welcomed the darkness. ************ The cabin was swarming with local cops and FBI. Even Agent Rullman, having heard of the incident, drove up to confirm everyone was okay. The whole time the investigation was underway, Mulder sat quietly on the front porch, his pack at his feet. Both Scully and Skinner had attempted to talk to him but he only answered in monotones, he had emotionally withdrawn from the scene. Knowing now was not the time for a confrontation, they assured themselves that he was unhurt physically and let him be. There would be time later to talk through everything that had happened. Several hours later, all questions answered, Skinner and Scully were given the okay to leave the scene. Skinner shoved Mulder's duffel in the trunk of their rental car while Scully went off to collect Mulder. Scanning the porch she saw no sign of him, must have gone inside, she thought. Entering the cabin, she weaved her way around the evidence team, searching the room swiftly. No sign of him. The bathroom was empty as well. Frantic now she rushed out to the porch grabbing the officer in charge, "have you seen Agent Mulder?" The officer shrugged and called out to the others. " Has anyone seen Mulder?" Negatives were returned all around. Skinner had joined her by now, concerned. A small voice attempted to be heard through the search for Mulder. A young female officer tapped impatiently on Scully's arm, attempting to secure her attention. She turned, "yes officer, have you seen him?" "I believe he left with Agent Rullman, they appeared to be discussing his last case," she informed, " they left around 40 minutes ago." Scully grabbed her arm, "is there anyway to radio or call Rullman?" By now the officer in charge had joined them puzzled. "Is there a problem here, this Mulder is an FBI agent, right", he asked. Skinner waved away his question, "do you have Agent Rullman's cell phone number?" ************ Mulder eased his way carefully out of the car, clearly in pain. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the Denver airport," Rullman asked Mulder, "it's the least I can do for you." He leaned his head back into the car and smiled. "Not necessary Rullman, we pushed the flight out to a later time. I promised to meet Skinner and Scully down here at the hotel. I just wanted to grab a shower before we flew out." Rullman grinned taking in the agents disheveled appearance, "good idea, the way you look they wouldn't let you on the plane without a full body search." Mulder laughed, "that would be the best action I'd have in a long time Rullman." "You and me both Mulder," he grinned as he pulled away. Mulder watched him disappear from sight, entered the hotel and, handing the concierge a $10.00 demanded a cab immediately. The concierge pocketed the tip and sent the scruffy man on his way in under three minutes. Rullman reached for his ringing phone as he maneuvered his way through traffic. "Rullman," he answered. "Agent Rullman, this is Director Skinner, is Agent Mulder with you?" "Uh no sir, I dropped him off at your hotel around ten minutes ago," he answered. "And what hotel is our hotel," Skinner asked calmly. Uh oh, thought Rullman, what had Mulder done now? "The Sheraton sir, he said he wanted to grab a shower before you headed to the airport. You were busy when we left sir and he was pretty insistent on getting cleaned up before heading home." Silence met his explanation. "Director Skinner, is there a problem?" "No Agent Rullman, no problem, thank you for the information. ************ Before returning to Scully, Skinner called the Sheraton on the off chance Mulder might have checked in. No such luck. Skinner returned to the porch to inform Scully of Mulder's actions. "He left Scully, he's disappeared again." She was angry, "that bastard", she muttered under her breath. "That bastard doesn't know what he's gotten himself into," said Skinner, worry clear in his tone, "as long as he's on his own we can't protect him. Hell, it's hard enough when he's with us, separate, I don't know how long he can survive." "What do we do now sir," asked Scully. "We wait Scully, we wait until he's ready to come in from the cold." "And when he does?" Skinner squinted as he scanned the beautiful Colorado Rockies, "when he does Scully, we'll be there waiting to pick up the pieces." Lips pressed tightly together, frowning, "if there are any pieces left to be put back together." ************ Smoke curled insidiously around his head. He had just been informed that Mulder had eluded capture once again. "He must be found, you must find him and return him to me." Alex Krychek smiled, "of course, you know I have always enjoyed a good Fox hunt." "Alive, I want him alive," he insisted. "We want the same thing sir," he assured, "I'll find him and bring him back....alive." With that the younger man left the room anxious to begin the chase. Feedback: This being my first attempt at fan fiction, I am anxious for feedback. If possible, please provide me with your feedback in the following format. 1) What did you love? 2) What did you like hate? 3) What would have improved the story and made it more interesting to read? Feedback to: karoshi12@ameritech.net Challenge: I like the idea of Mulder as a fugitive constantly on the alert for danger from friend or foe. I also like the idea of Mulder attempting to solve X-Files on his own, outside the restrictive environment of the FBI. Don't get me wrong, I love the show but have often wondered if Mulder could survive and thrive on his own. If you like this path, please continue Mulder's adventures on the road. I've read so many authors out there who write Mulder angst, torture, humor, slash and romance so well. I would be honored if one of you liked this story line enough to continue it. All I ask is that you send me a note so I can watch for your story.