SHADY OAKS PRIVATE HOSPITAL 7:30 a.m. Scully parked her car in the pebbled drive of the stately old hospital. Pink marble pillars lined the expansive front porch. She could see where the hospital got its name. Large, mature oak trees lined the drives and paths and dotted the grounds. The branches of the trees were now bare, frosted with snow, but in the spring and fall, in full foliage, they must be beautiful, painting the landscape with color and giving cool shade. Scully watched patients and staff hurrying under umbrellas between the main building and what appeared to be a residence building. She had tried to contact the only government official that she knew for certain had worked with Mulder. But Senator Matheson's answering service advised her no one would be in the office until 8:00 o'clock. She debated with herself whether to let Skinner know about the conversation with Mr. X. Her reluctance was in admitting to him that her partner had not been completely honest with them. X had implied that Mulder knew the girl. Scully tried not to think about the descriptive scene in the back seat of the cab. It was hard to believe her partner had a relationship with the girl because it had only been three years ago -- a time when he appeared to have no interest in anyone but Scully. She had been struggling with her cancer then, while at the same time trying to comfort a guilt-ridden partner whom she mistakenly told was the reason for her cancer. Scully found it almost inconceivable that Mulder could have been with another woman during that time. But then she thought back to instances over the last couple of days when she felt a nagging suspicion that Mulder was withholding something. In seven years, she had learned to read him like a book. His silence often conveyed much more than words. He had a way of fixing Scully with a gaze that spoke volumes. But lately, he seemed to turn that gaze away, knowing she could read the truth in his eyes. She realized the snowfall had let up a bit. Jumping out of her car, she hurried up the porch steps. Just inside the front door was an information desk. An elderly woman looked up expectantly, her smile friendly. "Can I help you?" Scully took out her ID, holding it at eye level so the woman could read it. "Oh my," the woman exclaimed, "I suppose you want to see Dr. Waterman." "If he's the Director, yes." While Scully waited, again she considered whether to call Skinner. Mulder's medical condition was her priority. They could deal with the consequences later, after he was safely back in the hospital and had been given blood. A shudder passed through her as she considered her personal oath to protect him to the death. "Agent Scully?" She turned to see a middle-aged man in a golf shirt and baseball cap walking toward her. In one hand he held a file folder. He reached out his other hand and she shook it firmly. "Dr. Waterman?" "Yes. I just got the call to expect you. I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you." "That's all right. Sir, I'm in rather a hurry." "Then let's step in here," he said, motioning to a small, but comfortable conference room. Each of them took a soft leather chair. As Scully quickly assessed the man, she found she liked his casual nature, his warm smile. Hopefully he would open up to her with the answers she needed. "I also apologize for not being available to speak to you on the phone this morning. We have a staff meeting every morning at 6:30." "Every morning?" "Because patient medication changes daily, so we need constant updates." Scully was trying to look interested. No doubt there was a high price tag on treatment at this hospital. Scully had noticed Officer Femino's name on the admittance papers as the financially responsible party. How was it that a police officer was able to afford to keep Mandy Morrison here for three years? "Sir, the patient we're concerned with is Mandy Morrison. She was released about six months ago." "Yes. I have her file right here. I hope you understand that I'm very limited in what I can tell you." "I do understand. I'm a doctor. And as a federal agent there are things I can't divulge to you, as well. I can tell you that we're investigating a case where Miss Morrison is the alleged victim of a sexual crime." Scully was quick to detect the quirk of an eyebrow. Maybe if she kept feeding him information, he would reciprocate. But she needed to appear detached. The least effective method of obtaining answers was to seem too eager. "Some of the facts don't add up." Scully considered quickly her next remark, then plunged forward. "The accused in this case is a federal agent." This time there was no masking his surprise. "A federal agent?" Scully suddenly felt goose bumps crawl over her skin and she couldn't explain why. But her experience with witnesses told her that Dr. Waterman had just jumped way ahead of her questioning, probably due to knowledge that he had not yet disclosed. She glanced at her watch, anxious for someone to arrive at Senator Matheson's office. Her heartbeat seemed to be keeping time with every tick of the clock. Time was getting shorter for her partner and she needed answers fast. Perhaps she could get those answers easier if she used an indirect approach. "Doctor, I understand your reluctance to talk to me, but time is critical right now. Miss Morrison's life could be in danger unless you give me some information about why she was here." He contemplated her statement for a moment, weighing the ethical obligations. Finally he settled back in the chair and peered over his glasses at her. "I'm assuming you mean a danger to herself." Scully thought, nodding slightly. Her acknowledgment wasn't completely untruthful. She had known from the start that once Mandy Morrison's role was finished, she would be a liability to the conspirators. That had been proved by the murder of her uncle. "Agent Scully, an incident of rape is highly probable in my opinion. I assume we're talking about rape?" When she didn't deny it, the doctor went on. "Mandy is a borderline schizophrenic. One part of her appears extremely normal - happy, intelligent, confident, but very, very . . . flirtatious." Scully again tried to dismiss the images of her partner with that girl. She had mixed feelings over the information she was getting. Dr. Waterman went on. "The other side of Mandy completely rejects the attention brought on by the flirtation. In other words, she teases - and I'm talking about serious teasing -- and then she puts a wall around herself. I was afraid one of these days some guy wasn't going to stop." Scully knew that wasn't what happened with Mulder, but Mandy's behavior disorder made her the perfect patsy. If there was one aspect of her FBI training that Scully valued more than any other, it was the ability to extract a key answer from a reluctant witness. Now was the time to put all her training, experience and psychological skills to use. Leaning forward slightly, looking pensive, yet professional, her clasped hands on top of her crossed knee, she implored him with her eyes to help his former patient. "Doctor, why was Mandy Morrison committed to this hospital in the first place?" Instantly she felt the defensive barrier go up between them. She continued on, not wanting to give him precious seconds to fortify his stand. "I promise you I will do everything in my power to protect any confidential information you give me. But I can't help Mandy if I don't know what I'm dealing with. We *will* find her eventually, but it could be too late then. I'm a federal agent, sir; I have the authority to refuse to disclose certain facts in the name of 'constitutional rights.' But at the same time, *knowing* those facts allows me to help her. Right now, Mandy is alone. Protecting her by withholding information is not in her best interest. And that is the ethical issue in a nutshell." The doctor looked long and hard at Scully. He glanced away only briefly enough to watch the snowflakes pelt the windowpane. Then he absently lifted his ball cap off his head, smoothed his hair back with the same hand, and then snugly replaced the cap. "Mandy was being prosecuted for assault. She had gotten involved in an obsessive relationship with a man. And apparently this wasn't the first time. But this time when the boyfriend rejected her, she began stalking him. It almost goes hand in hand with her disorder. She plays this sexual game, but there's never any score - if you know what I mean - so the guy ends up leaving her. I don't know all the details in the case, just that she assaulted him. The boyfriend was convinced to drop the criminal charges in lieu of her being committed here." Scully tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice, her words cool and even. "Do you know who the boyfriend was?" "I have no idea. His name was never mentioned to me or put in any records. But . . ." he hesitated, expecting a reaction to his next remark. "I heard he was a federal agent." Trying to slow down the spinning wheels in her head, she nodded. In the span of just a few seconds, Scully's mind raced through a maze of dreaded thoughts. For a brief moment, she even questioned the truth told her by Mr. X. But accepting that it was all a lie was too painful. It was her own insecurity that was waging battle with her better judgment. For now, she had to get past her emotional turmoil and focus on the facts. There was probably no way to find out who the man was. Scully had performed extensive background checks on Mandy Morrison, so evidently the criminal complaint was purged when she was committed to the institution. But somehow, with her past mental history being discovered, she became the perfect victim for the perfect framing. "Let me ask you a question. Could Miss Morrison be talked into believing something happened, that didn't happen?" "Let's get more directly to your point, shall we?" he said with a genuine smile. "You mean if someone told her she was raped, but she really wasn't?" "Exactly." "That more closely describes her disorder. In paranoid schizophrenics, a person already anticipates some type of aggression toward them. They misconstrue the most innocent remark. And because of frequent lapses in memory, they will either create a fantasy to explain the lost time, or become highly susceptible to suggestion." "Isn't it true that schizophrenia is usually accompanied by an obsessive disorder?" Dr. Waterman looked impressed, quickly ascertaining that FBI agents must have some psychological training. "You are correct. In Mandy's case, her obsession was with sex." "But not in the physical sense." "Correct again. She acted out in a fantasy what she couldn't act out in real life. My guess is that the man who raped her - if in fact he did - did so out of anger. Mandy cannot have sex with a man. It repulses her. And yet she will make all the moves that indicate she wants sex. I know this may sound a little strange, but -- you hear about those real-life dolls you can order out of adult magazines? Well, that's the perfect answer for Mandy -- an inanimate object that she can make advances on and pretend with sexually, but can't return them. And because she has this dysfunction, she creates a sexual fantasy in her head that she believes is real." Scully nodded, trying to make sense of all the facts and fit the pieces together that would point to a set up. "Can you tell me about the assault on the boyfriend?" He shook his head. "I know nothing about that. Perhaps I can give you a better picture by describing an incident here not long after Mandy was committed. She made advances on one of the other patients, using some pretty obscene language and gestures to encourage him. But the instant the man touched her, she went into a frenzy -- scratching, hitting, kicking --" The doctor's words faded out as Scully thought about the bruises around Mulder's testicles, the scratches on his back. Then she stopped in mid-thought, horrified by her returning doubt. "Doctor. . ." She realized she had interrupted him. "Sorry." Scully's mind was quick-flashing through collected information. It naturally returned to the distasteful scene in the back seat of the cab. But if what the doctor just said is true . . . "Sir, you said the instant the man touched Mandy, she flew into a rage. Is that true of *any* man?" "Absolutely. A man's touch repulses her." The doctor paused, staring quietly at Scully as if considering whether he should go on. Then he relaxed in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Mandy was sexually abused as a child by her mother's first husband -- who was not Mandy's father. It went on for quite awhile before the mother found out. She was a photographer and traveled a lot, leaving Mandy with the step-father." "Did Mandy talk about this with any of her doctors here?" "No. She won't even admit it." "How do you explain the link between Mandy's current aberrant behavior and her childhood trauma?" "It's a reversal of control. When she's making the advances, *she's* in control. Now she's the one who is able to sexually dominate. Through her teasing, she has a sense of power over the man. That power is ripped away the instant the man responds, thus he becomes, in her twisted mind, the aggressor. And usually at the onset of Mandy's hysterics, the man stops. This only fortifies her control." "And if he doesn't stop?" "Her mind reverts back to her childhood, except that now she can defend herself, so she responds with violence." Scully recalled the cab driver's statement and then she knew that her partner could not have done any of the things the driver stated. Even though she had believed Mr. X, she now realized, with shame, that there had been some doubt still lurking in the back of her mind. But this reaffirmed her partner's innocence, and inwardly she sagged with relief. Fortified with renewed determination, she continued her questioning. "Doctor, how well did you know Tim Femino?" "Who?" "Mandy's uncle. The one who admitted her into the hospital and paid for her care here." Scully saw a look of total confusion on the doctor's face. He stammered a bit. "There was . . . let's see . . . who are you talking about?" Suddenly, Scully felt like she had plunged headfirst into ice water. The old familiar yellow-brick-road-to-nowhere stretched out behind her, the well-traveled path showing two sets of footprints. Hers and Mulder's. Maintaining her composure was worthy of an award performance. She was surprised at how cool her voice sounded. "Who admitted Miss Morrison into the hospital then?" The doctor opened the file folder and leaned forward, keeping it on his lap. He turned the folder around so Scully could read it, then tapped his finger at the bottom of the first page. The information section for responsible party was blank except for one word: ANONYMOUS. So the papers retrieved at the murder scene on Cherry Road were fakes. Someone had filled in Officer Femino's name. But why? And more importantly, who was it that was being protected? "Agent?" Scully realized he said something to her, but she had missed it. Her quizzical look prompted him to repeat it. "Are you aware that there is a trust fund?" "No. Is that how the account is paid?" "Yes. There's no paper exchange. It's an electronic transfer, so I don't even know where the money comes from. I guess you would have access to that information." Scully only smiled briefly. She needed to ask the question that was foremost in her mind at the onset of this interview. But first she needed to balance the sides a little bit while at the same time making it appear that she was willing to go the extra mile if he would. "Doctor, the man I just asked you about, Tim Femino, was a Georgetown police officer. He was found murdered last night." Scully talked through his surprise. "We know there is a link between him and Miss Morrison. That's why we need to find her." Scully knew that as sharp as the doctor was, he might have figured out where her questioning was leading. He looked down at the folder of papers, thumbing through them as if looking for something. "You need an address for her?" "No, sir. We know where she lives. But she hasn't been there since . . . for several nights. Is there some other location that you have in the records that would indicate where she might go?" He continued to flip through the sheets, shaking his head each time he turned a page. "I'm afraid there's nothing here. She was committed here by the State, remember. It's not like most of the other residents who could periodically leave on a weekend pass. She was not allowed to leave at all." Scully nodded patiently, avoiding looking at her watch. "In the time that she was here, what about any friends or family that visited. Surely --" She stopped seeing him shaking his head. "Agent, any visitors that she might have had would probably be anonymous." Irritated, as well as frustrated, Scully's shoulders hitched with a sigh. She was careful not to sound critical, but she knew her annoyance with limited facts was becoming obvious. She hoped it would be understandable. "Doesn't that appear just a little bit cloak and dagger?" she asked. "Not at all. We treat patients from some of the richest families in the country. Not only is our security on par with Fort Knox, but our refusal to disclose information puts the White House to shame." The doctor was trying to be helpful in spite of his own lack of knowledge. "Mandy took some correspondence classes in business and she had a tutor for awhile. That was the only visitor I'm aware of. But that was over a year ago and I believe the student moved out of state. All Mandy has ever said to me is that the only family she has lives overseas. I assumed the way the trust is set up to pay all the expenses, that must be true." "Where did she go when she was released? I know the State requires temporary supervision." "Yes, they do. She went to a halfway house for six months." "So she just recently left there?" He nodded. "But I'll save you some leg work. Once her time is done there, she's free to go where she wants without notifying anyone." Even though Scully believed the doctor was being honest and straightforward with her, she again felt that nagging tug of doubt. The mystery was too contrived. It seemed that Mandy Morrison was intentionally shut away, not primarily to get help, but to keep her from being an embarrassment, or keep her quiet, or both. Scully looked across at the doctor and smiled. "I do appreciate what you've told me about her diagnosis. It's been helpful." They both stood and Scully shook his hand again. "If there is anything more you think of that might assist us, you can reach me at the Washington Bureau." Scully knew they were empty words. She didn't even bother to give him her card because she knew there was nothing more he could tell her. "The storm is worsening. Let me grab an umbrella and walk you to your car." "That's not necessary. I parked close. Thank you again." He opened the door for her and she walked past him out into the corridor. It was all she could do to keep from sagging under the weight of defeat. The information she received pointed even more to a set up, but it would not help her find her partner. And Mulder would be growing sicker by the minute. There was one more place to go, and she was more determined than ever that this time she would get answers. * * * * * Manassas, Virginia 8:10 a.m. The cab driver dropped Mulder in front of a sprawling Cape Cod-style house. The gray wooden siding was in need of fresh paint, but the grounds looked tended. The house was single-story with a full front and side porch. Mulder knew someone was there the minute he pulled up. There was a car in the driveway. Coughing again into a bloody tissue, he grit his teeth against the pain and forced his weak legs to climb four narrow steps up on the porch. He rang the doorbell, hearing the chimes from inside the house. Leaning heavily against the doorframe, he waited. Almost a minute later, he caught movement at the window -- the beige lace curtain moving slightly. Then he heard the lock sliding open on the door. Straightening up and bracing himself both mentally and physically, he watched the door open and then he faced the true vision of his nightmares. He expected surprise from her -- but then again, that would have been a normal reaction. This woman was anything but normal. She cocked her head, her eyebrows raised as if she expected a question from someone who was lost. But he knew she recognized him. Slowly, her mouth curled into a smile and she casually tossed her long black hair back over her shoulder. Then she opened the door wider. "Come in, Fox," she purred. He hesitated only an instant, realizing that he was willfully stepping into the snare. But he thought again about Scully, closing his eyes briefly at her image, knowing he had to do this for her, for *them*. Then he walked inside. She closed and locked the door behind her. Mulder felt himself sway, and he headed over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. His vision was graying out from standing just for a few minutes, and he shook his head once to clear it. He was disturbed to see that she sat close to him on the sofa, turning slightly to face him. The smile was still planted on her face. Mulder inventoried her quickly. He studied the bruises on her face, her blackened, swollen eye. Glancing down at her hands, he saw purple marks on the backs of her wrists that to a trained investigator were indicative of a restraining hold. In spite of the fact that he had little or no sympathy for her, he was sickened by the thought that he might have inflicted those injuries. Had he not known what lay behind those long-lashed brown eyes, that flawless pale skin, the perfect figure, he would have found her beautiful. But in his eyes, events of the past had marred her for life. He felt pity for her, but at the same time, he despised her. He was surprised at his own reaction to her, the loathing he felt as their eyes met. But he saw none of that in *her* eyes. He saw the same blank, disturbed gaze that was there three years ago. Despite the chill in the house, she was wearing long black stretch pants, no shoes or socks, and an orange satin tank top. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, and she leaned back against the sofa, emphasizing that fact, trying to draw his eyes downward. But he wasn't playing that game. His eyes stayed fixed on hers. Mulder could feel the heat radiating from his body. His skin was pale, his cheeks flushed and his eyes burned. He could taste blood in his mouth, occasionally wiping it from his lips. But the woman sitting next to him saw none of that. As usual, she saw only what she wanted to see. She smiled sweetly. "Would you like a drink, Fox? I've got a bottle of spiced rum. As I recall --" He cut her off. "It's not even nine o'clock in the morning." "Vodka and orange juice then?" Mulder couldn't tell if she was trying to be funny. He had never been able to figure her out. Profiling a psychotic was one thing, but with a personality disorder, there was no consistent behavior pattern. With Mandy it was as if you started out down a long tunnel, then found yourself totally lost in a complex labyrinth. He wiped the back of his hand across his hot forehead. "Mandy, I could use a glass of water." "Anything for my Fox." She hopped up off the sofa and disappeared from the room. Mulder reached inside his jacket and flipped on the tape recorder hidden in the pocket. As Mandy came back into the room, he looked up at her, taking the glass from her hand. Then he saw her expression. It was as if leaving the room caused a sudden transformation. Her mouth was a tight, thin line as she drew her lips in. Her eyes were cold, accusing. When she sat back down, it was not like the first time where she eased herself on the cushion. She plopped down as if she simply surrendered to gravity. The jostling caused Mulder to wince, and he thought he detected a gleam in her eye. He took the glass from her and carefully swallowed the cool water, trying to wash out the coppery taste in his mouth. Her icy words startled him. "So, did you come to apologize, Fox?" He was cautious, keeping his voice moderate. "Apologize for what?" Her expression changed again, this time looking coy, slightly embarrassed. "You know. You didn't have to beat me up to have sex with me." "Mandy, I'm having a little trouble remembering that night. I was hoping you could clarify for me what happened." "Don't play games with me, Fox. You know perfectly well what you did." "No, I really don't." Mulder watched in morbid fascination as her face contorted into rage. Her long fingernails punched into the sofa cushion, making fine slits in the leather. "YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR! Look at my face! Would you like to see what else you did!" she screamed, hooking her thumb into the waistband of her pants. "No!" he answered quickly. He forced his voice to remain calm. "Mandy, listen to me." "You asked me to meet you at the bar, then you get me drunk!" Mulder started to shake his head, but the dizziness came in waves, making him nauseous and weak. "I never invited you there. Think, Mandy. Think hard. What do you really remember?" "I remember you telling me that you'd made a mistake years ago, that you could never get me out of your mind." "No. Those things night have been told to you, but not by me." "LIAR!" she spit the words out. Mulder was beginning to feel the futility of trying to reason with her. Nothing about her had changed since the first night he met her. But he couldn't give up. He had risked too much to come here. If only he could record one slip up, one contradiction. A violent cough erupted from him suddenly, and he tasted more blood in his mouth. As he wiped his lips, he felt Mandy rise from the sofa. His eyes followed her as she silently walked down the hallway and entered one of the bedrooms. He tensed, wondering if she would return with a gun and shoot him. Mulder reached around to the back of his jeans where he'd stuck his gun. The movement almost caused him to pass out. Mandy reappeared with a blanket under one arm. She sat back down on the sofa and tried to cover Mulder, but the gesture reminded him too much of Scully so he roughly pulled it off. "Fox, you look sick or something." He ignored her remark. "Why did you even let me in here if you believe I assaulted you?" "Because you were drunk that night, and you lose control when you're drunk." He shook his head, his frustration making him feel more and more helpless, like he was driving in circles. "You talk like you know me. You don't know me at all. We talked for about 15 minutes at the Senator's party." "What about our night together," she said, smiling shyly. "There was no night together! Not ever! You've let your fantasies become reality. And you've let others manipulate you." She had tuned out his words. Mulder flinched when Mandy moved closer to him. He knew he had to do something that would prove how unstable she could be and how her behavior could alter so radically. But he also knew that it was potentially dangerous, especially in his weakened condition. He was extremely defenseless and using his weapon was out of the question. "Fox, we can start again." Mulder was appalled at her suggestion. She reached over and fingered the top button of his shirt. Mulder didn't move, feeling more repulsed when he saw her running her tongue seductively along her bottom lip, then top lip. He looked away, not wanting her to see him watching her. Slowly, her fingertips trailed down his shirt and when he felt them at the zipper of his jeans, he grabbed her hand roughly. "Stop it!" he demanded. She tried to free her hand from his, giggling like he was intentionally teasing her, while still trying to slip inside his pants. "Let me taste," she said, wetting her lips again. Mulder had never in his life wanted so badly to hit a woman. In light of the circumstances, that thought scared the hell out of him. As hard as he had worked to control his anger, he now lost it. She had put him and his partner through a living hell the last few days. His job was on the line, not to mention his freedom. Yet here she sat, trying to seduce him, acting as if nothing had happened. While her apparent forgiveness of the alleged attack might seem suspicious to a normal person, the undisputed fact remained that Mandy Morrison was disturbed. That could explain her willingness to forgive and forget -- much as a battered wife continues to stay with the abuser. Mulder knew it wasn't enough. He had to push her into revealing how really sick she was and what she was capable of doing. "Why were you committed to the institution? Think! What did you do that you had to be locked up!" Mulder prompted. Finally he saw the flash in her eyes that signaled he was treading on forbidden ground. "Why, Mandy?" he repeated. "Because you broke my heart! You promised me we'd be together always, then you dump me with no warning!" "That's not what happened and you know it! Locked somewhere in your head is the truth!" "You wanted me out of the way so you and your little partner could be together!" She was now shaking with rage, her fists clutching the blanket. Mulder knew if he followed this path, he needed to divert her anger away from Scully. "You're wrong again. My partner and I work together. We're friends. The fact of the matter is that I wasn't interested in you and --" "SHUT UP!" she screamed. " -- you couldn't handle it!" She jumped to her feet, leaning over him, her fists raised, threatening. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Mulder had to go forward. This was one more time added to the list of risks he took for the truth. Her display of erratic behavior was not a confession. He moved to the edge of the sofa, trying as best he could to be alert, but his own display of emotion was taking its toll. His breaths were shorter, almost a wheeze. He spoke as if he was walking on rice paper. "I didn't hurt you either time -- three years ago, or the other night. Maybe you can't remember what happened after you left the bar, but I think if you try, you can recall what happened before you left." "You came on to me! You couldn't' keep your hands off of me. The bartender threatened to throw us out!" Mulder knew from the statement the bartender made that he was only aware of Mulder and the girl leaving together. He pressed on. "No. You sat down next to me and I moved to another table. Then you followed me there and I told you to leave me alone, that I was expecting someone." "Yeah, that whore of a partner you were fucking!" "I was waiting for my boss, and I told you that." Mulder saw tears in her eyes, but they were tears of anger. She quickly grabbed the water glass off the table and her arm went back. Mulder threw his hands up defensively, as the glass sailed past his ear and shattered against the wall behind his head. His sudden defensive movement caused him to start coughing. Wrapping his casted arm around his abdomen, with the other hand he clutched the arm of the sofa to keep from falling forward. "LIAR! LIAR!" she accused him repeatedly. Mulder was trying to focus on her, but his vision went from a single blurred image to a double image. The dizzying effect it caused along with the blood he had swallowed made his stomach recoil, and he fought not to throw up. He couldn't give in now; Mandy was close to hysterical. "Mandy, I can't have a relationship with anyone. My work is dangerous. It would endanger whoever was with me." "*She's* with you!" "She's my partner. It's her job." "Bull shit! I saw the two of you together!" "When?" "You fucked her the night after you raped me!" Mulder snapped to attention in spite of his rapidly deteriorating condition. She was following the path of her fantasy and he was glad to feed her the breadcrumbs. "You saw that? Where were we?" he asked. "Her apartment. I watched you, just like before." Mulder was silent, hoping she would keep talking. He was with Scully and AD Skinner the night after Mandy's alleged rape, so he had a documented alibi. Mandy's eyes were wide, her voice loud and shrill. "YOU BASTARD! I SHOULD HAVE STUCK HER INSTEAD OF YOU!" "She's done nothing." Mulder guessed her reaction to his defending Scully. Again he raised his hands in defense when he saw her lunge for him. But the cast limited him, and weakness had affected his coordination. Mandy's fist glanced off the side of his head. The impact stunned him as he tried to grab her arm. But she was quicker and she caught him again, this time a full hit to the ear. She was a fury of flailing arms as she tried to land blows anywhere on his body. Mulder knew he had to try to get out of the way, despite the excruciating pain of standing up. But the minute he stood he knew he'd made a mistake. He had only given her more of a target to hit. He tried desperately to protect his side. "Mandy, stop please," he pleaded. "I HATE YOU! YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE!" she cried. Just as Mulder staggered backwards to put distance between them, she shoved him by the shoulders. The added push threw him off balance and into a small table. Trying desperately to catch himself, he turned to grab the table when suddenly he felt exploding pain on his right side below his armpit. White-hot agony gripped him, as a gray film seeped over his vision. He was barely conscious as he crumpled limply to the hard floor. He laid there, oblivious to all his senses except the screaming torment he felt in every cell of his body. Then he felt a warm liquid surging up his throat, temporarily choking him, before vomiting a mouthful of blood. Just as darkness enveloped him, he silently mouthed a one-word prayer. * * * * * SENATOR MATHESON'S HOME 9:21 a.m. Scully pulled her car up in front of the brownstone just as a black Mercedes began to back out of the garage. Gunning the accelerator, the tires spinning on the wet gravel, she drove her car up behind the Mercedes. Then she hit the brake and skidded her car to within inches of the Mercedes' bumper. The black car had only pulled about three feet out of the garage, so essentially it was trapped by Scully's car. By the time she exited her car, a very angry U.S. Senator was approaching her. Matheson slowed his steps when he saw who it was, but he was still mad. "What the hell are you doing!" he shouted at her. "Senator, I'm sorry. I'm Agent Dana Scully." "I know who you are!" "Do you know why I'm here?" she asked sharply. "My office said you wouldn't tell them." Scully stepped under the eave of the garage to get out of the snow. "Sir, I have to talk to you." "I'm late for a meeting. Please move your car." "Not until you tell me what you know about my partner and Mandy Morrison." "I don't know what you're --" Scully got right in his face. She was at the point of desperation. Her rigid stance and the fury in her eyes were unmistakable. "Don't insult my intelligence by denying it!" "Agent Scully, you're interfering with the business of a U.S. official." "And you may be withholding information from a federal agent!" she threw right back at him. There was a long moment of standoff. Matheson could see that Scully wasn't about to back down. He knew as much. He was aware of the close partnership she shared with Fox Mulder. She would go to the ends of the earth for him, just as he had done for her. He also suspected that Scully knew Mulder was sick -- just how sick, he wasn't sure. "Senator, I know that you've fed leads to my partner at times. But don't think he's confided that to me. In the seven years we've worked together, Agent Mulder has never revealed any of his sources. The ones I've found out about either came to me on their own, or dropped hints about the others." Scully saw Matheson softening. She needed to appeal to that side of him. If the Senator was anything like the informants she knew about - Deep Throat, Mr. X., and even the Lone Gunmen, then he, too, cared what happened to Fox Mulder. "Sir, Agent Mulder left the hospital just before it was discovered he had a punctured lung. He's bleeding internally. I have to find him . . . soon." Matheson put his hand under Scully's arm. "Let's go into the house where it's warm." They went in the same room Mulder had been in less than two hours before. Matheson didn't mention the irony of watching Scully sit in the exact spot on the leather sofa where her partner sat. "How much do you know?" Matheson asked, sitting in the same armchair as before. "Mandy Morrison was committed to a psychiatric hospital in lieu of criminal assault charges. Her anonymous guardian is someone whom I believe is a family member. But for whatever reason, perhaps embarrassment, Mandy has been shunned by her family. And I think somehow you're the key to this." There was no response from him. "Are you aware that a man claiming to be her uncle was murdered last night?" There was genuine surprise on Matheson's face. Scully went on. "And that same man was listed on false papers as Mandy's guardian?" "No. I didn't know that." "There's more. This murdered man, Tim Femino, was coincidentally the police officer who arrested Agent Mulder." Scully saw a look on Matheson's face that was more than puzzlement, and it gave her pause. It was as if he was contemplating a decision. So she waited. Finally, Matheson nodded to himself, as if answering a question he didn't ask. "Agent Scully, Fox Mulder trusts no one - no one but you. For anyone who's known Fox through the years, that's the highest compliment he could ever give. So I must trust you as he does." His statement was more a question, and Scully nodded affirmatively. Matheson cleared his throat, then looked her in the eye. "About three years ago, I gave a Christmas party here at my home. During that time, I had been lobbying for private funding to re-open the SETI project in Arecibo. I had invited a few of the financial hopefuls to the party, and I decided it would be beneficial to have them meet Agent Fox Mulder. Scully smiled faintly. There was no match for her partner's natural charm and brilliance. The Senator chose the perfect spokesperson for his cause. "You were also invited, but . . ." When Matheson stopped intentionally, Scully realized what time frame he was referring to. "I was fighting my cancer then." "Actually you had just gone into remission. Fox wanted to make it kind of a victory celebration, but he was afraid you weren't quite up to it yet. So he came alone." Matheson stopped to see if Scully could add a puzzle piece or two, but he realized she had no clue where he was headed. Apparently she was hearing this for the first time. "Fox met Mandy at the party. Realizing she had latched on to him, I tried to get him away. I could tell his mind was in one place only that night," he said, his gaze holding Scully's. She blushed a little. "But the damage was already done. With Mandy, all it takes is a 'hello' and you're doomed." "How did she come to be at the party?" Matheson hesitated, his expression regretful. "She's my niece." "So you're the uncle!" Scully said in surprise. "Why such an elaborate cover up to hide her?" "It was no such thing. It only seemed that way when others began to manipulate the circumstances. My brother, Mandy's stepfather, is a U.S. ambassador living in Peking. For obvious reasons, he wishes to remain anonymous. He set up the trust for Mandy and I oversee it. I have very little to do with her." "Yet you invited her to your Christmas party." Matheson let out a sigh. He nodded. "Mandy came with her parents to Washington five years ago. When Dan got the reassignment to Peking, they left Mandy behind." His voice turned bitter. "Unfortunately they neglected to tell me about her medical condition. She's a beautiful girl. But I learned rather quickly that her beauty is skin deep - as they say." Despite what she was being told, Scully found a tug of jealousy at the idea of her partner innocently being attracted to a beautiful girl. When she turned her attention back to Matheson, she realized he was scrutinizing her reaction and his assessment couldn't have been more on target if he had read her mind. "It's not what you think, Agent Scully." He went on with the story. "I thought that meeting people her age would help her. I really had no idea how sick she was. The invitation to the Christmas party was simply 'the family thing to do,'" he said with a shrug. "Then I saw her with your partner. I saw him try to walk away from her and she physically grabbed his arm. He was trying to be polite, knowing she was my niece. Fox was quite uncomfortable when I took Mandy aside. And she was furious. At that point, she left the party and I assumed that was the end of it." "So that was the extent of her communication with Agent Mulder?" He nodded again. As he waited for Scully to assemble the facts so far, he straightened his tie and checked his cufflinks. "Senator, how long after the party that night before Mandy assaulted her boyfriend? Matheson's face went blank. "Boyfriend?" "How did Agent Mulder get involved in that? Did you ask for his help somehow?" She hoped that the Senator couldn't detect that she dreaded hearing the answer that she already suspected. The Senator's silence was accompanied by a look of confusion. "Who told you that?" he asked. "Dr. Waterman stated that Mandy stalked and assaulted a former boyfriend." Scully watched him look down at his hands a minute, then take a deep breath before starting again. "Agent Scully, the 'boyfriend' you speak of was your partner." He carried on past her shocked reaction. "But he wasn't her boyfriend. Only in *her* mind." Scully folded her hands in her lap, hoping he didn't notice that they were shaking. Although she trusted her partner, some deep part of her - the part that tried to caution her about getting too close to him - expected sooner or later to be crushed by disappointment. The last few days had been a roller coaster of good news/bad news. Now was no exception. Scully could only hold her breath, letting her intuition restore her faith in the outcome. "Fox met with the financial backers, then he went home. But Mandy hadn't exactly left the party yet. She waited for Fox to leave, then she followed him." "I find that hard to believe," she said, playing the devil's advocate. "Agent Mulder not only looks for someone following him, he expects it." "Well, maybe that night he was preoccupied," he said, again implying something without coming right out and saying it. Scully brushed aside the remark. "Why did she pick Agent Mulder from every man at the party? Why him?" "You're a woman. You figure it out. I can tell you that every female at the party had eyes on your partner." Scully could believe that. She'd seen Mulder in a tux and he was breathtaking. And then once you'd realized there was a brilliant mind to complete the incredible package, a woman could be instantly infatuated. "Agent, what I'm relating to you is what both Mandy and your partner put in the police report." "I see. Go ahead." "Fox contacted me to tell me that Mandy was calling his office numerous times a day, and he had seen her on many occasions around his apartment. It erupted into a confrontation when he spotted her outside *your* apartment. Within earshot of several people, as if to bring public attention to their nasty argument, she accused him of adultery. Fox came to me again and I really felt for the young man. But I didn't know where Mandy had gone. He was really exhausted - still worried about you but hesitant to take matters into his own hands for fear of offending me. But I think his real concern was the possibility that Mandy might retaliate against you." "Agent Mulder kept all this from me. I had no idea this was going on." "That surprises you? I think he kept hoping it would finally just blow over. But instead, it got worse - much worse." Matheson stood from the chair and walked over to a large picture window. He opened the blinds wider and stood silently watching a light snowfall outside. Scully wondered how many times her partner had been in this very house working with the Senator on clandestine projects. She was aware that the man standing in front of her had powerful allies, and powerful enemies. He and Mulder were alike in that respect. And she also could see that Matheson was clearly disturbed by the current circumstances, perhaps feeling a little responsible. Scully waited politely, but anxiousness finally got the best of her. "Sir?" Matheson turned around as if just remembering he wasn't alone. There was a vague sadness in this features. "It's actually getting darker outside. Did you hear any weather reports of heavier snow?" He had momentarily separated himself from thinking about Mulder's ordeal. Scully just shook her head, pursing her lips to emphasize her impatience. Matheson took the hint and walked back over to sit in his chair. He made eye contact with Scully. "Mandy again followed Fox to your apartment. She waited outside for him . . . all night." * * * * * SENATOR MATHESON'S RESIDENCE Scully tried to think back to the time he was referring to, right around Christmas, but there were many occasions during that time in her recovery that her partner spent the night - on the couch. Scully recalled the affection and humor that Mulder had given her, underscoring the relief they both felt at her sudden remission. She remembered his tenderness one particular night when all her withheld tension and fear finally broke loose. She cried for hours, as Mulder crawled into bed with her, holding her tightly and reassuring her until she fell into a peaceful sleep. Now, she agonized over that night, knowing that it was one of the intimate moments referred to in the polygraph. It would be impossible to explain that Mulder's depth of compassion was far greater than his sexual desire that night. Scully noticed that Matheson had stopped talking, perhaps waiting to see if she wanted to explain why her partner spent the night with her. But he saw that she had no intention of doing so, as if justifying their actions was a ridiculous waste of time. "So Mandy saw Agent Mulder leave my apartment the next morning?" "Actually she left ahead of Fox, knowing he would be on the lookout for her around your apartment. She waited at his apartment building for him to return, which was about two hours later. When the postman arrived and Fox went to the mailboxes, she slipped upstairs and into his apartment. She hid in the hall closet until he got in the shower. Then she attacked him with a butcher knife." Scully gasped. "In the shower?" "Remind you of a classic horror scene?" "On my God," Scully whispered. "She cut him superficially in the shoulder. Fortunately his reflexes were good. But he slipped and she came at him again. He had no choice but to try and grab the knife, and she cut him deeply across his forearm. He did manage to get the knife, but she had sliced the artery and he was bleeding badly. She was fighting him, screaming. Fox said she had the upper hand because he was beginning to lose consciousness. And then, she just let him go and left. He said all he could figure was she was afraid the neighbors heard the screaming." Matheson gave her a minute to process the grisly facts. Her horror was apparent on her face. Scully remembered now. Mulder had left her apartment that morning and she tried to reach him several times later that day. When he finally answered his phone at home, he admitted that he'd had a minor accident while running - he'd tripped and fallen on a broken bottle. Scully recalled clearly that something in his voice alarmed her so much that she immediately drove to his apartment. She found him groggy from medication, his face slightly bruised, and bandages covering his left shoulder and right forearm. She was surprised that her refusal to leave upset him so much. So she suspected there was more to the story than he was telling her. He was already feverish and when she went into his bathroom for a cool cloth, she was stopped dead in her tracks at the amount of blood. Mulder claimed he was close to home when it happened and he rushed upstairs to stop the bleeding. But he couldn't explain the blood in the bathtub, nor would he let her see either of the cuts. Scully finally gave up, realizing she was getting nowhere and only upsetting him more. She could have gotten hospital records and at least found out more details about the injury itself, but she didn't. Going around her partner to get answers would not be worth it in the long run if he ever found out. The fact that she never got answers bothered her for a long time, until she finally let it go. Now she understood how much pain he must have been in, how difficult it was for him to hide it from her. Her heart ached that she wasn't able to care for him when he needed her, as he had done so long for her. Once again, Fox Mulder suffered the consequences to protect her. Remembering the incident, and putting together current facts, Scully suddenly realized something else. She rubbed her eyes, determined that she would not succumb to worry and exhaustion. She looked at Matheson. "Was it Agent Mulder who called the police?" Matheson snickered and shook his head. "No. Foolish boy that he is, he decided to take a cab to the hospital and call me from there. His neighbors had in fact been alerted by the screams and several of them were standing in the hallway when he passed out at their feet." "So the police *did* become involved. There was a police report." "Yes, but . . ." "But it was covered up." "Not exactly. It never reached the papers, if that's what you mean. I assured Fox, that if he didn't press criminal charges, I would have Mandy committed. He readily agreed, number one, because Mandy was obviously very sick, and two, he just wanted it over." "So I wouldn't find out about it?" "What would be the purpose? It had been very hard on Fox after what you had been through, and the whole conspiracy thing with Blevins and the FBI, to suddenly have a crazy woman stalking him . . . yes, I would say one of his main reasons was to avoid bringing that stress to you." "But did Mandy know of Agent Mulder's part in having her committed?" "Oh, yes. Fox had to testify at a formal hearing. It was the assault on him that put her away." Scully again thought back to that time. It wasn't that difficult to remember the days and weeks following her remission. She had been aware of her partner's severe fatigue, but there were plenty of reasons for that without ever considering anything so extreme as a psycho's fatal attraction. Matheson saw her face cloud with sympathy and regret. "Your partner's an amazing man." She squared her shoulders. It was time to face the music. "My partner is very badly hurt right now, and I must find him. I suspect he's gone to talk to Mandy." Scully didn't see Matheson physically pull away, but she felt it. She was afraid there would be a limit to his cooperation. "Senator, I need to know where Mandy is. I don't doubt for a second that you know." He leaned back in the chair, figuratively putting more distance between them. Scully resented the gesture and her voice was razor sharp as she perched on the edge of the sofa to counter his movement. "These charges against my partner have devastated him. I can't even begin to describe what he's been through. Our partnership, our relationship has been questioned. They're trying to break us up. It has looked worse for him because he didn't tell the whole truth." Matheson stood abruptly and turned toward the window, his back to Scully. But she was as quick on her feet and she grabbed his upper arm, spinning him back around to face her again. Deep within herself, Scully had found the strength she needed. Her voice was strong, her gaze penetrating. "Goddamn it! You're going to listen to me!" Recounting the last days' events magnified the gravity of the situation. Scully felt she had a tenuous grasp on her emotions, but she was determined not to show any weakness to the Senator. She was terrified, however, that she could be wrong about him knowing her partner's whereabouts. "I want to tell you something about a man you think you know," she said curtly, releasing his arm. She had his full attention, and she sensed his eagerness to hear her out. "In Mandy's statement to the police, she described a scar my partner has from a bullet wound, a scar that only someone intimate with him would know about. But she wasn't intimate with him; she saw it when she attacked him in the shower. And yet Agent Mulder said nothing. He gave no explanation to the police, or us. Why? Because he was still protecting you. What do you think it did to him knowing what AD Skinner and I must have been thinking about that, wondering how Mandy could know about that scar? But as much as we all hurt, in spite of the hell he was going through, he still kept quiet! Where integrity and trust are concerned, there is no gray area for Fox Mulder. You either keep your word, or you don't!" Scully's words were meant to strike some weak point in Matheson's resistance, but they were having a momentous effect on her as well. From the point where she began to realize her partner was keeping things from her, she was consumed with the question, *why?* But now, hearing herself explain that Fox Mulder can only be true to his character, she felt ashamed. She knew better than anyone that because of the lies and deceit, he had to stand for the truth. But if getting to the truth meant compromising, then he would find another way. And that's what he was doing right now. That's why he left the hospital. Keeping her and Skinner in the dark wasn't his choice, but his nature. And he could no more change his nature than he could fly to the moon. Scully closed her eyes, letting the impact of emotion wash over her. In her mind's eye, she saw her partner in his office, sitting across from her, leaning back just to the point the chair wouldn't tip over, his feet propped on the desk, tie loosened, shirt cuffs rolled up, giving her a dazzling smile as she walked in. Scully felt the prickle of tears behind her closed lids. Her throat tightened from the effort of holding them back. But then she felt slight pressure on her arm and it startled her out of her thoughts. Matheson saw her liquid eyes, felt the tremor under his hand. But he also saw that she made no extreme attempt to recover. She allowed him to see what Fox Mulder meant to her. "Scully," Matheson said, leaving his hand on her arm, "there's a thing or two I've learned from Fox Mulder." He smiled, emphasizing his point and trying to get her to relax a little. "You're right about Fox's integrity. As much as we might try to emulate it, it can never be matched." He dropped his hand, but moved half a step closer to her. "My reluctance to help you was not to protect myself, or even my brother, but to keep my word to Fox." It only took the span of a heartbeat for Scully to understand what he meant. Her eyes grew wide, her mouth opening slightly. Then she let out the breath she was holding. "He was here, wasn't he?" "Yes," Matheson said, turning around to his desk and picking up the same pen and note pad he had used earlier. Scully's first reaction was anger, but she was too drained to expend any more energy, and besides, it would serve no purpose. She silently watched him writing quickly across the paper. Matheson continued to write as he spoke. "If he went straight there, he arrived some time ago." "How was he?" she asked, keeping her voice sturdy. He finished what he was writing and tore off the sheet. He looked up into a worried face. "Not good. For what it's worth, I did try to persuade him to call you." He handed the paper to Scully and she glanced at it, seeing he had drawn a map. As she started to turn toward the door, she again felt his hand on her arm. "Agent Scully," he said, returning to her more formal title, "Fox Mulder is willing to die for a cause. I, however, am not willing to let him do that." She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. Quickly the two of them walked outside and back to Scully's car. She said nothing more as she slid behind the wheel and started the engine. She looked through the glass over at Matheson standing still next to her car. His hands were in the pockets of his black wool overcoat, his shoulders hunched against the brisk wind and the snow falling around him. He continued to stand, motionless, as Scully rolled her window down. "Senator," she said, pausing as he leaned down slightly. "That night at the Christmas party -- did you get your funding?" He smiled at her. "Yes." As the car maneuvered out of the driveway, Senator Matheson continued to stand in the snow watching, until it finally disappeared down the winding roadway. * * * * * The snow had let up a little, but dark, heavy clouds hung low in the sky, making morning seem like dusk. The icy road was mostly deserted; the landscape that stretched out before her a breathtaking winter white, but Scully saw only landmarks and road markers. She heard only the windshield wipers clicking off the precious seconds it was taking to reach her partner. She jumped slightly at the sudden ringing of her cell phone laying on the seat. "Scully," she answered. "Dana?" said the familiar voice. "Mom?" "Where are you, honey? I called the hospital, but they wouldn't put me through to Fox's room. There seemed to be some confusion there." "Um, Mom, I can explain everything later. But right now --" "Dana, I got a strange phone call a few minutes ago." Scully's hands tightened on the wheel. "From who?" "My bank. They informed me that an electronic deposit was made into my account this morning -- for $75,000." "What! Who made it?" "They didn't have a name, only an account number. But they wouldn't give it to me. Dana, that's the amount of money I contributed toward Fox's bond. Did it have anything to do with that?" Scully hadn't even considered that Mulder's disappearance could jeopardize his bond release. With all that was happening, he managed to think about how the consequences of his actions would affect Maggie Scully. Both women's unasked question was where he got the money. "Dana, how did he get my bank account number?" The answer came instantly to Scully. A ripple of renewed anger coursed through her upon realizing that Mulder had organized this so completely and they had helped carry out his secret plan. But then in the next breath, she remembered her conversation with Senator Matheson. She knew that Mulder had chosen his friends because of their commitment to him, and whether they agreed with his actions or not, they should be true to their word. "Honey?" her mother broke the silence. Before Scully could reply, her other line beeped and she saw on the readout it was Skinner. "Mom, I'm getting another call and I have to take it." "Don't keep me in the dark. I'm worried about both of you." Scully smiled to herself, touched that her partner had made his way into her mother's heart as well. "I'll call you later, Mom. I promise." Scully accessed her other call. "Hello, sir." "Scully, how close are you?" Skinner's voice sounded anxious. "I'm about 10 miles from the turn off. How about you?" "About 20 minutes behind you. I've got a medi-vac helicopter on alert at Richmond General. They'll transport Agent Mulder to Bethesda." "Good. Sir, did you happen to get a call from your bank?" "What?" "I just talked to my mother. A $75,000 deposit was made anonymously into her bank account this morning." "Oh." "Oh? You don't even sound surprised. Did you also receive such a deposit?" "No." Scully knew there was an explanation behind his reply, but Skinner was quiet. "Sir, is that money from you? Are you making sure my mom doesn't worry about losing the bond money when she finds out about Mulder? "No, it's not from me." He debated whether to tell the truth, but his conscience won out. "It's from Mulder." "It can't be. How would he come up with that much money so quickly?" "Scully --" "First of all, my mother will not accept it when she finds out. She'll insist on splitting it with you." "Scully --" "And second of all, Mulder's not running away. He'll make his court appearance so no one's going to lose anything." "Agent Scully . . ." he said sharply. She was silent, all too familiar with that tone of voice. "Listen to me a minute, and hold your tongue until I'm finished." Scully glanced down at the map and squinted up at a road sign. "Yes, sir." "Knowing Mulder as we do, when he plans something he leaves nothing undone. He knew that by leaving the hospital without telling anyone where he was going, that there was a chance things could go wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was have your mother think he had so little regard for the money she put up for him." "I know that." "Scully," he warned. "Sorry." "As for splitting the money, there's no reason to do that because I didn't put any in." He heard her take a breath. "Wait. When the bond was set, Mulder and I talked about it. He knew from what the attorney told him that he might spend only a few days in jail, and then he'd be released O.R. He was willing to wait it out rather than going to so much trouble to put up that much money. But your mother was afraid he'd be in jail until the trial and she wouldn't hear of it. She planned to put up *all* the money. When Mulder learned that from his attorney, he called me. He asked if I would post the whole bond so your mother wouldn't put out any money." "Mulder asked you to do that?" "Let me finish. I called your mother to tell her I was putting up the $150,000. She flatly refused to accept that. She said it was absolutely imperative to prove that she stood behind Mulder one-hundred percent and to show how important he was to your family." Scully felt a rush of immense gratitude toward her mother, as well as for Skinner. "But there's something I couldn't tell you or your mother. I didn't put up a cent. Mulder has the money, Scully. A lot of it." "From where?" "His grandparents on both sides were very wealthy. His parents inherited all their money. Didn't you ever wonder how a State Department employee afforded a half million dollar home, a summer home, and sending a son to England for three years?" "I thought maybe they sold Amway." Skinner brushed over her remark. "When they got divorced, he retired and Mrs. Mulder bought a quarter million dollar home . . . and never worked." "I wondered more about how Mulder afforded his Armani suits. "Well, Mulder got an enormous amount of money when his father died. He got the rest of his inheritance when his mother died a few months ago. But let me get back to the story. Your mother would only compromise so far as splitting the money with me, so we had her believe I put up the $75,000. But it was Mulder's money. He was forced to put up half when your mother refused to let him sit in jail. I swore not to tell your mother the truth. The only stipulation was that your mother not suffer any hardship or lose a penny of interest by paying her share. Mulder hated doing it, accepting her money, but there was no way without exposing his wealth." Scully couldn't believe it at first, but it all made sense. There were still loose ends. "Why didn't Mulder want me to know?" She heard nervous laughter from Skinner. "This is crazy. Mulder keeps things from you. I keep things from your mother. I promise to tell you if you don't tell Mulder. This is ridiculous." "I give you my word I won't let Mulder know about this conversation." "His money, Scully. You can't know about the money." "All right. Just tell me why." "All those times the Bureau denied certain things on the X-Files' expense reports -- the unauthorized trips, special equipment, lost cell phones -- you thought Mulder successfully appealed them." "He paid out of his own pocket?" "Insignificant, believe me. But that's not the real reason. When . . . you had your cancer. The 20% the insurance didn't cover -- you never got a bill for that, did you?" He heard Scully gasp in surprise. "No! Wait a second. I got a letter from the insurance company notifying me that when I first signed on with the Bureau, there was an automatic rider attached to the insurance policy that covered all unpaid expenses incurred by cancer. The additional cost would be included in the premium. If I didn't want the coverage, I would have signed an exclusion. And of course it was so long ago, I didn't even remember. The letter explained that when I signed for the insurance, I was automatically enrolled in that coverage." "No. There is no such coverage. The Bureau offers a completely separate cancer policy." "But I got a letter . . ." No sooner had she said the words, she understood what Mulder had done. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hug him or slug him. "Sir, it must have been tens of thousands of dollars." "It's still insignificant. It was one less thing for you to worry about. You know that Mulder felt -- and still feels -- that he was responsible for everything that happened to you. Being able to just do that much helped him hold on to a thread of sanity." Tears came to her eyes when she realized the magnitude of what her partner had done. But she couldn't think about that right now. "Scully," he said softly, knowing how hard it would hit her, "please don't let him know. He really needs to do this." "I gave you my word." The urgency to reach her partner was greater than ever. When she felt the car slide gradually on the ice, she realized she had pressed harder on the accelerator. She let up, looking for another street sign and spotting her turn off. "Sir, I'm just turning on to Burning Leaf Road. I'll let you know if I find Mulder before you get here." "Be careful, Agent Scully. Use your head." "I will." She punched the phone off and put it in the pocket of her coat. The street made a sharp left turn where the asphalt ended and became a dirt road. Previous tire tracks made when the ground was muddy left deep grooves in the now-hardened surface, making for a very bumpy ride. The houses were spaced several hundred feet apart. Oak trees and tall hedges provided additional privacy. The neighborhood looked deserted except for lights shining through some of the windows and smoke curling from chimneys. Scully slowed the car to a crawl, looking at house numbers. She spotted the house near the end of the street and noted the car in the driveway was not Mulder's, nor a rental. Pulling the car past the house she parked at the side of the road. She drew her gun from her holster and then exited the vehicle. The snow was just a few inches deep but in places there was a foot to two-foot drifts. Crouching low, Scully crept alongside the edge of the property, with the house being on her right. There was a row of windows on the upper half of the wall on the side of the house facing Scully. Shutters in the windows were open. She had a feeling someone was in the house, but there was no way to know exactly where. There was no choice but to take a chance and peek inside. She decided to move around to the back. Skinner had ordered her to wait for him, and she would, but she couldn't just sit there, not knowing whether her partner was inside, hurt, maybe even unconscious by now. She made up her mind and moved forward. * * * * * MANASSAS, VIRGINIA 10:07 a.m. Mulder fought his way up through the darkness. He immediately felt searing pain starting on the right side of his body and radiating around to his back and down each extremity. He was cold, the kind of cold that felt like ice water was pumping through his veins. His body was shivering, trying to generate heat, but it was agony for Mulder. He moaned softly, then felt a hand on his forehead. He struggled to take a deep breath, but his lungs felt closed up, as if they were full of water. The hand on his head moved down his cheek. Relief seeped through the layers of pain. Unable to open his eyes, his mind foggy, he presumed to know who soothed his fevered brow. His lips parted slightly and his voice was a mere whisper. "Scully." The soothing touch he expected suddenly jerked his head up by the hair and he almost screamed. His throat constricted and he lost his breath, as his eyes popped open in fear. His vision at first was like looking through frosted glass. Hovering just above him was a face, but it was framed in dark hair, not the burnt copper he had prayed for. "NOT SCULLY, YOU BASTARD!" the voice shrieked at him. Mulder blinked and his eyes cleared a little. He was laying on a bed in one of the bedrooms. As far as he could tell, he was fully clothed, but he had no idea how he got there. His head was shoved back on the pillow and he moaned again. Then the voice softened and the hand returned to rest on his forehead. "Fox, I have a surprise for you." Mulder swallowed, willing his voice to speak. "Mandy," he rasped, "I need help." When she giggled, he realized she was lost in her own head. Reasoning with her would be impossible and for the first time, Mulder was afraid he would not make it out of the house alive. Mandy bent over and kissed his cheek. "Ready for your surprise?" It was all Mulder could do to keep from passing out. He said nothing, concentrating on breathing. In one swift motion, she pulled her tank top over her head and threw it across the room. Mulder was aware of what she'd done, but for once he felt thankful that his vision was so impaired. From what he could tell, she had tiny breasts, about what you would expect to see on a fat man. Mandy laughed, envisioning a response from him that was purely a product of her imagination. But in his mind he was seeing his partner, more endowed for her petite size than one would expect -- soft, shapely, perfect. Mandy sat on the bed beside him, scooting up to sit next to his shoulder. Then she bent over seductively, placing her forearms on the pillow above his head. Mulder felt one of her breasts brush his cheek and when she slowly dragged her nipple toward his mouth, he turned his head in the opposite direction. Angrily, she took hold of his chin, trying to force his head back around, but his own anger gave him a reserve of strength. He fought her, knowing it would antagonize her more, but repulsed by the thought of touching her. Sitting up slightly, ignoring the blood that bubbled up his throat, he grabbed her hand. "Mandy, I just need to rest a little bit. And I'm a little hungry," he lied. "Would you fix me something to eat?" He understood Mandy's mood swings enough to know that if he could calm her down, get her busy with some routine domestic task, she might fall back into that very narrow realm of normalcy. It was his only hope of getting out of there. "What do you say, Mandy? Could you do that for me?" he asked hoarsely. She contemplated him a minute. "Since when did you ever want food over sex, darling?" Mulder cringed. "I need some strength before we . . ." he stopped, thinking she would be pleased at the inference without him saying the words. She giggled again. "Fuck?" She wrinkled her brow, her eyes growing cold again. "Say it, Fox. Say it!" To Mulder, the words meant nothing, but this wasn't the woman he wanted to say them to. He wasn't worried about what Mandy expected of him because her teasing would only go so far. He also knew from reading the evaluations on her that she had to be the aggressor and if he so much as touched her, she could snap. She was waiting for his answer. "Yes," he whispered, swallowing more blood. "Before we fuck." In a fraction of a second, she brightened again. "Why don't you get your clothes off while I'm in the kitchen?" He nodded. As she casually walked topless out of the bedroom, Mulder pondered how he could have gotten so deeply into this unthinkable situation. Sliding his hand inside his jacket pocket, he found that the small tape recorder was still there. Quickly he removed it and turned the tape over, then put it back in his pocket. When he heard her in the kitchen, he got off the bed. Dizziness made him grab the bedpost to keep from falling. His vision was filled with white stars and he squeezed his eyes tight. Soon the vertigo passed and he began to make his way down the hallway, his hand against the wall for support. He heard a metal drawer slide open and the rattle of pans. Taking advantage of the noise, he quickened his step, but a severe cramp seized his chest and abdomen, doubling him over as he leaned sideways against the wall. His fists clenched and he grit his teeth, trying not to cry out. This time he couldn't stop the blood that surged up into his mouth and he coughed it out. Another spasm seized him and he started to slide down the wall, almost giving in. The brightness of the room faded into muted gray and darkness began to overtake him, when suddenly he saw a vision appear before him, an angel with sparkling blue eyes and copper hair. He knew it was an hallucination borne out of his delirious need, but he didn't care. He locked his knees, refusing to go down. He knew his mind was seeing what he wanted to see, but the vision of his partner was so real that he took a step to move closer to it. That's when he realized that the vision *was* real. Scully was watching him through the open shutters in the first bedroom off the hall. Her hand was on the glass as if trying to reach out to him and he saw the look of fear on her face. She had just seen him cough up a lot of blood, so he knew why she was worried. She motioned with her gun for him to go back down the hall into the bedroom he just came from, but at that moment, he heard footsteps coming across the wood-planked floor. He quickly looked away from the window as Mandy came around the corner. She must have gotten cold because she had put on a shirt, but didn't bother to button it. "Fox, good. You've come to help." She was completely oblivious to his condition. Mulder was fading fast but he had to keep her distracted and her attention away from the window. Once again he leaned against the wall, wrapping his other arm around his chest, as if he could squeeze more air into his lungs. He glanced up at the window and Scully wasn't there. She would have to come in either the front or back door, and he remembered that Mandy locked the front door. Scully had no doubt seen Mandy in the kitchen. If the back door had been unlocked, she would probably already be in the house. The front door was the best entry because the glass pane in the door could be broken to reach in and unlock it. Mulder had to use that intuitive link that existed between him and his partner to formulate a plan. If it weren't so tragic, it would be laughable. "Do you want to help me get my clothes off?" he asked. Her face contorted in anger again and Mulder stiffened. He realized that she had indeed started to return to a diminished state of normalcy, and in doing so, she would know that Mulder's suggestion would be bogus. he screamed in his head. "You came here with one thought in your mind, didn't you, Fox?" "No, Mandy. Listen --" He stepped back but she grabbed the open front of his jacket. "I don't think you could harm a fly right now, so I'm not afraid of you," she said. "You've no reason to be afraid of me," he replied. Looking over her shoulder he saw a shadow pass by the living room window. Mulder had to keep Mandy's back to the door. "Look," he said, "I think if we just talk we can clear some things up." "Talk," she said bitterly. "In the bedroom." It was not a question. She turned away from him. "I don't think so." Before she could walk away from him toward the living room, Mulder caught her arm. He knew it would be a mistake, but he had to, because Scully was at the front door. Mulder tried to brace for her attack, but in his weakened state he would have trouble defending himself. Unfortunately this time his impromptu profile was right on target. She spun around and launched at him, shoving him in the chest with her fists and knocking him into the wall. He gasped for air, falling to one knee and lowering his head to keep from passing out. He was vaguely aware of her running through the living room and into the kitchen. He froze for an instant, realizing what she was going after. A knife. Mulder got to his feet just as he heard the glass break at the front door. Propelled by the instinct to protect his partner, he rushed down the hallway just as Mandy was headed to the front door. Mulder saw the flash of a silver blade in her hand, and Scully reaching in to unlock the door. Mulder threw himself at the crazed woman, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her to the floor. The impact drove the bone splinter further into Mulder's lung and he gasped in agony. He rolled to his back, unable to move, as blood bubbled from his lips. Scully had burst through the door just as Mandy and her partner hit the floor. She swung her gun in their direction, but they were a tumbling mass of arms and legs and she couldn't shoot for fear of hitting her partner. When Mulder was still, Scully pulled the hammer back, ready to fire, but Mandy had shielded herself behind Mulder's prone body. Scully took two steps closer then stopped dead still. Mandy had Mulder's gun pressed to the temple of her unconscious partner. "Drop your gun!" Mandy screamed, still lying flat on the floor next to Mulder. "DROP IT OR I'LL SHOOT HIM!" Mandy's shout awakened Mulder enough to understand what was happening. He felt the knife piercing his skin just above his hip and knew Scully couldn't see it because it was between their bodies. "Scully, no," he whispered. He felt the point of the knife go in deeper and felt a wet warmth on his skin, but his body was so weak it could no longer respond to pain. "SAY GOODBYE THEN!" Mandy shrieked, cocking the gun. Scully instantly raised the barrel in the air and slowly let the hammer slip forward into a safety position. "All right," Scully said, her voice unsteady. "All right." Scully's gaze went to her partner. An intense sense of déjà vu hit her. Why did this scene seem tragically familiar -- her partner lying prone on the floor, eyes staring upward, gasping for breath as blood pooled around him. "Mandy --" Scully started. "LAY THE GUN ON THE FLOOR!" Scully saw Mulder flinch at the screaming woman next to him. Immediately she crouched down, laying her gun on the floor, then slowly stood up again. "Mandy," Scully said, forcing her voice to be calm and quiet. "You don't need to yell." "He could have loved me!" Scully's mind was racing a million miles a minute trying to analyze the behavior of the dangerously disturbed woman holding a gun to her partner's head. She had to say all the right things or Mulder would pay dearly for her mistake. Suddenly there was the sound of gurgling in Mulder's throat and his body convulsed once. "He's choking!" Scully shouted. Instinctively she took a step toward Mulder but the gun was leveled at her and she stopped. Not because she feared being shot -- she was willing to take a bullet for her partner -- but because if she died, Mulder would surely die also. "Mandy, he's choking! Let me help him! Please!" she pleaded, watching blood bubble from his lips and run down the corner of Mulder's mouth. "STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"