Description: Mulder/Scully UST

Summary: A mysterious death in the neighborhood brings Scully and Mulder into a wrath of intrigue.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are property of Chris Carter, Fox and Ten Thirteen Productions. No copyright infringement intended. All other characters are sole property of the author and may not be used without permission.

Prologue

*****
August 8, 1994

"So there you are! Everyone has been asking about you."

The words filled the air, suffocating her. The woman who had spoken them stared expecting a reply. A reply would be the polite thing to give. An enthusiastic "Well I just had to get something to eat," would be a 'right' answer. Instead she gave the opposite.

"I had to use the bathroom, all this boring talk makes me constipated." Dark sarcasm dripped from her tongue.

She waited for the shock to cross the woman's features. Instead the woman merely smiled and nodded. The action made her furious. She knew what the woman was thinking, "they've been saying Corena's gotten more difficult, I just never thought it could be true." Corena defiantly stared, awaiting the words and planning her defense.

Walking away, her aunt admitted defeat.

Satisfied and amused at her victory, Corena strolled into the crowded kitchen. Why must her parents insist on having these parties? They served no purpose other than to allow gossip to travel among relatives. She did not care to know who her cousin Fred was dating, or what color hair his sister Frances donned. The meaningless chatter annoyed her and caused resentment to build against her parents.

Competing conversations boomed in the air. Dodging the small talk, Corena reached the refrigerator. Pulling open the door she surveyed the assorted bottles and cans inside. Deciding on a Pepsi, she closed the door and began making her way across the room. Breathing a sigh of relief at having survived the kitchen nightmare, Corena retreated to a chair in the corner of the living room.

Looking around her she felt disgusted. The room was nauseatingly perfect, with light blue trim, carpet, and assorted lamps. The eggshell walls were crammed with family portraits that looked straight out of a Kodak commercial. Pictures of her mother staring out with short brown hair and brown eyes. Pictures of her tall strapping father, with a nervous smile and clenched teeth. And pictures of her fourteen year old body.

She was tall. Not tall in a good way, but tall in a bad way. All her life people had stared and commented on her height with Corena resisting the urge to spit on them. And her mother's reassurances had always fallen flat. What good was the talk of horizontally blessed supermodels when she was a scrawny bean sprout?

Wisps of conversation wafted through the room. "Did you hear about the Paoler's? Lynn says she's being stalked... what nonsense."

"Mrs. Tewlen had her baby yesterday."

"Oh, really! I knew she was due-"

It really is impossible to escape all the chatter.

Taking a sip of her Pepsi, she noticed her uncle Mark entering the room. He was not hard to miss, with his 6'5 build, and mop of brown hair gleaming in the light. She had always liked Mark he had always been reserved and critical, like her. He had an air of comfort around him, and he was the only one who could see past her crude defense. Mark had never flaunted it, though, quite the opposite. For this reason both her parents treated Mark with disdain. Corena knew it was jealousy. Just the thought of someone else mentally "connecting" with their daughter sent dear old mom and dad into fits of rage.

Noticing her with a small smile, Mark made his way over to her area of the room. Pulling a chair near hers, he carefully set himself down, all the while balancing a Sprite in his hands.

"So, how did you escape the kitchen crowd?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe what a little good natured growling can do."

Corena grinned at his response in spite of herself, feeling her spirits rise.

"I heard about your little disappearing act earlier, I have to give you credit for that one." His blue eyes twinkled as he said this, with a smirk forming on his face.

"Oh well, you know I have some good spots in the backyard. It's amazing how you are so soon forgotten in the midst of entertaining company."

Mark smiled in reply, and opened his soda with a load pop.

"What time is it?"

"Eight thirty."

"Ugh, how much longer is this thing going to go on for?"

"Well at least you can leave with Barbara and Jim, I can't get out of here. I still don't understand why you came with them in the first place. You could have just skipped this whole thing."

"Well, as nice of a concept that is, they would have never forgiven me. And with my car still in the shop I had no other choice but to come with them. Pathetic isn't it? Twenty four years old and still being drug to parties by my parents." His words were light, with a teasing tone.

"It could always be worse."

The seriousness in her voice startled him.

"How have you been, Corena?"

"Oh you know, I'm still alive aren't I?" Nervously pulling on her ragged shirt, Corena stared down at her jean clad legs.

Taking the hint, Mark dropped the subject.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

"Yeah, sure anything to get out of here."

The air was cool and brisk, but not uncomfortable. Corena started to relax after they began walking.

Immediately, they noticed a police car parked outside the Paoler residence.

Neither of them said a word as they continued their descent. Passing the house, they both jumped as a hideous wailing sound erupted into the air. The sound was torturous to human ears and held the unmistakable note of pain.

Disturbed they quickly left the area.

Since both of them were disdainful of conversation, they both walked in silence, deep in thought. It was a comfortable silence, though, with a mutual understanding.

Returning to Corena's apartment, they glanced at the clock on the wall. Both of them had the same fleeting thought, "My God, how much longer are these people going to talk?"

Three hours later, company began to dwindle. Barbara and Jim pulled Mark aside, and saying a polite goodbye to Corena, left soon after.

With only five relatives still in the house, she felt a wave of relief. Thinking of Mark, she felt a smile cross her face. Mark had also always been the social outcast of family gatherings. Being a man, though he had always had it easier than her. Mark had never had to put up with the snappy remarks thrown from aunts and nieces about not saying anything. Corena had always refrained from replying rudely, instead smiling nicely. That had all changed when she hit thirteen. She had realized her independence, of how she did not have to put up with the insistent comments from others on her quietness.

Corena now felt worthless. Her unsuccessful suicide attempt three days ago had remained a secret that haunted her. The small droplets of blood dripping from her wrist as she made the incisions coated her nightmares. Cutting deeper, she had been hit with panic - freezing in fear, with senses on alert she had heard a car door slam. Her parents hadn't been expected home for another hour, so it had been a shock to say the least. Corena's mind had turned on auto pilot. Close the bathroom door -- good. Grab a tissue, wipe the blood from the doorknob. Get more tissues for the floor. Turn on the faucet let the water clean your arms. Put on a bandaid -- hurry, they're coming. Corena had then opened the door with a smile and a greeting, her secret safely locked in mind.

Her event in the bathroom had not been a secret, though. One lone man had watched with fascination - the way a cat watches potential prey. Unbeknownst to her at the time, the small shade that covered the bathroom window had revealed her silhouetted movements perfectly.

Pity had run through her as her parents began jabbering. They hadn't suspected that when she had said goodbye to them earlier, she had meant it in the truest sense of the word. The image of them finding her body had flashed in her mind. Her father would have been horrified and upset. Her mother would probably be raving about the spilled blood on the floor.

"Rena dear, maybe by the next time we see you, you'll be 6ft tall!"

As soon as she heard the words her body stiffened. It coiled, ready for the oncoming strike. Without even realizing her actions her right arm swung upward, connecting firmly with the verbal attacker's nose. Her aunt Susan gave out a startled cry and as Corena watched, flew backwards across the table with blood pouring from her nose.

Oh shit what had she done.

"CORENA! What the hell is the matter with you?" Her mother's high pitched voice filled her ears, panic evident in her tone.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dazed, she watched her father rush forward to help Susan. Her mother stood beside her, staring in disgust.

Her uncle was also helping Susan, struggling along with her father to lift her off the table.

Still seated, Corena observed in horror. Her arm ached horribly, and pain shot through her hand. Blood had splattered on the pale blue rug, speckling it with brightness.

The entire scene was reflected in the large window behind them. Bushes shielded half the space, so the family felt no need to cover the picture window.

If they had known of the man silently watching the enfolding scenario from the bushes, they might have re thought their earlier decision.

Portraits of Possession (1/4)

"It's been said that the fear of the unknown is an irrational response to the excesses of the imagination. But our fear of the everyday, of the lurking stranger, and the sound of foot-falls on the stairs. The fear of violent death and the primitive impulse to survive, are as frightening as any x-file, as real as the acceptance that it could happen to you." -Fox Mulder, 'Irresistible'

Present day

Fox Mulder strolled up the narrow hallway, an anxious expression on his face. His body language clearly reading, stay away from me.

Where the hell was Scully? She never missed a meeting with Skinner, especially not a case assignment.

Pushing open the freshly painted door of the X-Files office, he entered. The suit jacket was absentmindedly shuffled onto a chair, as he took note of an empty coffee pot.

Damn. Scully always made coffee in the morning.

How could she just take a day off from work without telling him?

Mulder felt himself grow more and more infuriated as various situations ran through his head. Scully going to her mothers. Scully going shopping. Stop it, stop it, he commanded himself. You know she would never miss work because of something like that.

The shrill sound of cell phone pierced the air. Mulder lunged across the room, grabbing it as fast as humanly possible.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's--"

"Scully, where the hell are you? You missed a case assignment with Skinner ten minutes ago, and you should be thanking me right now for covering for you."

Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort of indignation filtered in through the other line.

"Thanking you? Is that so?" Amusement was now evident in her voice, which peaked Mulder's curiosity.

"I have something here I think you might want to see."

"Something I might want to see? Spill everything, Scully." Mulder tried hard to keep the excitement out of his voice, but ended up failing miserably.

"A man that lived across the street from me died last night."

"Died, not murdered?"

"You didn't let me finish, Mulder." Scully's voice was teasing, which cheered Mulder.

"According to local police, it appears as though he died from fright."

Making himself comfortable in his chair, Mulder's eyes widened in surprise.

"Fright?"

"Yes, fright. He was found on his front porch with an unusual facial expression."

Mulder immediately ached to know more.

"I'll be right over."

Clear blue eyes surveyed the scene through glass. It looked like a typical crime scene, yellow tape marking the area, and scattered police officers crowding outside the area. Only it seemed like an alien landscape from her living room window.

Scully sighed, and reached for her coffee cup. The warmth of the liquid soothed her as she took a slow sip.

After waking to the familiar sounds of an ambulance early this morning, Scully had begun her descent into the case. Unable to sleep, she had risen from her bed and peered outside. To her surprise she had noticed an EMT, ambulance, and police car parked on her street. An hour later, with concern and curiosity, Scully had successfully maneuvered herself into the unfolding saga outside.

The man's name was Daniel Paoler, a fifty two year old solitary resident of the neighborhood for the past 10 years. He had become a widower four years ago, when his wife was killed in a tragic car accident. After that event he preferred keeping to himself, seldom being seen outside, except for the occasional late night porch sitting. The porch was where his hardened corpse had been found this morning. His body was found by a passing dog walker, it's form rigid in the wooden seat with his face twisted in a silent scream.

Immediately after seeing his body Scully had thought of Mulder.

"Scully, you in there?" Mulder's voice was followed by a loud knock on her door.

Pulled out of her reverie, Scully jumped at the sound of his voice.

"It's open, Mulder, come in."

Mulder walked into the room his usual easy stride replaced with a more hurried gate.

"Quite a scene out there. Apparently your little neighborhood doesn't get much action Scully, judging by the hoards of onlookers. I had to pay a copper a dollar just to keep people away from my car."

Scully couldn't help but give a small smile at his words.

"So, who's the old man?"

With amazing speed, Scully began rattling off all the known facts. After she finished Mulder rubbed his chin, saying nothing.

A mutual decision of heading to the crime scene was made between them, in a series of glances and gestures.

After the short walk across the street, Scully recognized a familiar officer. As Mulder pulled out his badge, Scully made the introductions.

"Officer Darsk? This is my partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder."

The heavy-set man glanced at Mulder, sizing him up. Apparently pleased with what he saw, he gave a friendly grin and offered his hand.

"So, this is the partner Agent Scully mentioned. We heard this would be your kind of case."

Mulder did not offer his hand in return, instead glancing past the man. "Yeah, well if a person dies without explanation you know who to call."

Scully watched for the officer's reaction to Mulder's sarcastic comments. He did not look pleased.

The grin faded from his face, as he retracted his hand. "In that case we'll give you a call for every murder investigation Agent Mulder."

Ouch.

Glancing from one man to the other, Scully quickly guided Mulder away.

"Mulder, remember it's not our case," Scully said with a warning tone.

"Who me? I've been on my best behavior."

Giving Mulder a look, Scully said nothing.

The body was in the process of being loaded into the coroner's van. After convincing the impatient coroner of their speed, they unzipped the yellow body bag and looked inside. Scully had already viewed the body so she prepared herself for the sight. Mulder did not, and almost gasped when he caught sight of the grotesque form.

After staring for a minute, Mulder switched his gaze to Scully. Their eyes met as a silent conversation was held between them.

An agreement was soon made: autopsy.

Two days later

After sifting through a puzzling corpse for several hours, Scully's feet ached and her head throbbed.

Presently, all that remained of the rigor mortis laden corpse was an empty shell with various organs in different sections of the room. The wide-eyed toothy grin on his face looked straight out of a horror movie.

Formaldehyde clung to Scully's nostrils, the repulsive odor worsening her state of being.

Announcing his presence with a loud knock on the door, Mulder moved across the room with amazing speed.

"What did ya find, Scully?"

Rapidly giving him a brief summary of her findings, she removed her gloves and rubbed at her neck.

"So, in other words you don't know what killed him?"

"Mulder, it's obvious he died from cardiac arrest-"

"Yes, but you don't know what caused the cardiac arrest. Technically everyone dies from cardiac arrest."

Scully was becoming increasingly more irritated. "Mulder with his age it's not uncommon for a heart attack to happen."

Mulder looked at her with an incredulous expression in his eyes. "Scully," his voice barely above a whisper now, moving in closer he invaded her personal space. "Look at the man's face - does he look like he's just having a simple heart attack to you?

"I'll admit his expressions are unusual, but not extraordinary."

"Scully." Looking into her eyes, he questioned her words with his tone. "There have been cases of people dying of fright because of a spirit or apparition... now I did a little digging of my own, and found out that there's more to Mr. Paoler than meets the eye."

Pulling out a file tucked beneath an arm, Mulder began ruffling through some papers. Finally satisfied at what he held in hand, he began reporting his findings.

"On August 8, 1994, Daniel Garret Paoler, was sitting in bed watching television when he felt a sharp jolt of electricity go through his body. Shocked by the impact, he proceeded to dial 911 for an ambulance. Ten minutes later the ambulance arrived to find another city vehicle in the driveway. A police car, because at that moment Mr. Paoler was receiving the news of the death of his wife, Lynn Fronern Paoler, who passed away in an automobile accident five miles from his house. That was August eighth, Scully, the date of Mr. Paoler's death. Now, what I am suggesting is that at the moment of her death, some electric current, or spirit entered Daniel Paoler. The same spirit that exited with his death."

Now it was Scully's turn to have an incredulous expression. "Mulder, I know you were expecting more here, but you can't make an X-File out of everything." Her words were whispered with an urgent intimacy in his ear.

Recoiling, Mulder glanced at her quickly. "Is that what you think I'm trying to do?"

Sensing the hurt in his tone, Scully chose her words carefully. "Mulder, you have to admit you're not looking at the evidence here." Her voice was soft, which served to calm Mulder slightly.

Seeming to suddenly realize her exhaustion, Mulder met her gaze. Turning, and moving past her, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"Back to the police station."

This time anger poured through Scully's veins.

"For what?"

"It's obvious there's something more here, Scully."

"Mul-"

Turning and giving her a small smile he left the room.

Damn him. Rage boiled inside her as she thought over his actions. It always hurt like hell whenever he ditched her like this. Just a small wave, a "keep up the good work, Scully!" and then he was off, leaving her to trail after him like the faithful partner. And a faithful companion she was, it almost made her feel canine sometimes. One thing for certain, she definitely knew the true meaning of "man's best friend."

Portraits of Possession (2/4)

"Is this evil something born in each of us? Crouching in the shadow of every human soul waiting to emerge? A monster waiting to violate our bodies and twist our will to do its bidding? Is this the monster called madness?" -Fox Mulder, 'Grotesque'

Heavily shuffling through the airport, Corena searched for a coffee shop. Usually those damn things were everywhere, but now she could not find a single one. Her luggage was gradually taking its toll on her arms, the weight slowing her down considerably. As she rode down another escalator, Corena felt a rush of joy at spotting a small café.

Relaxing with her bags beside her, she took a slow sip of the rich liquid. There were only three other people in the room, one younger couple and a man. The young couple was oblivious to their surroundings, instead engaged in constant chatter. The man sat to her right, a slim business type with briefcase in tow, his head buried in a newspaper.

Just then another man strode through the doorway, stopping when he caught her gaze. Looking quickly down at her cup, Corena cursed herself for staring. The man was of average height, muscular, with the trademark haircut of the army. He was not dressed in army attire however instead donning jeans and a black T-shirt complete with running shoes. His eyes were a prominent feature on his wide face, narrow dark brown pools that darted nervously. Oddly, the man seemed to recognize her, although she was positive she had never met him before.

Gulping down the last of her drink and gathering her bags, Corena headed out the door. The man kept his position in the doorway, forcing her to brush against his shoulder in passing.

The touch brought a chill to her skin. Corena took a sharp right and headed into a nearby gift store, intending to ease the feeling of unrest the stranger brought to her.

Brightly colored T-shirts with stitched patches reading 'Philadelphia' and 'Pennsylvania' dotted the store, along with numerous magazines and key chains. Within a few minutes she had decided on buying a small key chain adorned with a liberty bell and the city name.

For some odd reason buying the key chain made her feel a rush of independence. It succeeded in reminding her of her new home, along with her newfound freedom from her parents. Spending 18 years with them had nearly killed her. The tall blonde woman was now happily moving into a Philadelphia apartment for her first semester at Temple University.

She was also currently thanking herself for the two jobs she had held down last year. That money would be keeping her alive while she searched for a new job in the city.

Her mother had insisted she fly up and as a last show of respect, Corena had agreed. Why not, she was paying for it.

Corena loaded her luggage in the small rental car, and after consulting a map set off to find her new apartment.

The dimly lit apartment only caused Scully's thoughts to darken as she entered it. The walls felt as though they were crowding her, making her more edgy. Shrugging out of her jacket and heels, Scully padded across the floor to her bedroom.

The setting sun could be seen outside, causing a beautiful ray of light to pour through the window.

First taking time to pull across the blinds, Scully changed out of her dark brown pantsuit into worn jeans and a comfortable T-shirt.

The change of clothes helped her considerably, and as she re opened the blinds, the fog on her emotions began to lift.

What a day.

First spend hours in a corpse, then get ditched by my partner, I know I sure planned that for today.

Letting herself fall backwards onto the bed, Scully felt golden sunlight wash over her body. As she relaxed Scully tried to fight the oncoming nap, until finally she surrendered.

**

"Scully?"

Vaguely, she could hear someone's voice. She wanted to open her eyes, but her tired body refused to be interrupted from its sleep.

"Scully?"

Mulder swung around the corner of her bedroom, concern etched on his features. Taking in the sight before him, he opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it once more. Embarrassment shaded his face.

"Sorry... I knocked but you didn't answer, so I just, uh used my key." Mumbling softly and refusing to look at Scully, he meekly raised the key in hand.

Scully shifted slightly on the bed, making a small noise. She was still in a half sleep, and starting to become aware of Mulder's presence.

At last Mulder lifted his gaze to Scully's form. The stream of light through the window highlighted her mused auburn hair perfectly, increasing its brightness. Now turned on her side, the ruffled clothes clung to her slim form. The effect of her beauty made Mulder's breath catch in his throat.

Seeing a glimpse of casual Scully frightened Mulder - he was used to Agent Scully, all business. Not Dana Scully, the woman before him who was cat napping on her bed.

Gradually waking up more, Scully rubbed her eyes, a gesture that seemed almost child-like. Captivated by the scene before him, Mulder found himself unable to look away.

Scully lifted her face from the sheets, piercing Mulder with her gaze. After catching Scully's eye, Mulder lost all hope of ever moving his line of sight. Flushing with embarrassment, Scully struggled to sit up, then emitted a small gasp of pain that the movement brought to her tired muscles.

On instinct, Mulder jetted to her side at the sound of discomfort. Once there he looked unsure of his actions, with Scully watching him. Her hair cascaded gracefully over the side of her face, veiling it. As one strand began a slow descent toward her eye, Mulder reached out and stilled it. Letting his hand linger for a moment more than necessary on her soft cheek, Mulder heard Scully's sharp intake of breath.

Mulder's hand gradually fell away, but not before gently letting his fingers slide down her face.

"Mulder..." Scully's voice was rough from sleep. Clearing her throat, she thought over what she was about to say.

"I don't appreciate what you did earlier today."

Puzzlement filled his features as he, now kneeling, inched back. Saying nothing, Mulder encouraged her to continue with his silence.

"When you do that - just leave like that, it seems as though..." Scully trailed off, a pained expression on her face. It was clear the subject hit a nerve.

Even though terrified of what she was going to say, Mulder gently urged her on. "What?"

"When you do that it seems as if... you don't respect me."

Mulder gaped at her in surprise.

"*Scully*? How could you possibly think-"

"Mulder, you are not thinking of me as your partner when you just run off like that. Today you did not give one thought to my findings before disappearing. Normally I can take it-hey, I'm used to it. At times like today, though - that's different, Mulder."

Closing his mouth, he stared at her in silence. Scully's eyes were cautious. It was clear that it had been a very hard thing for her to say, and before now he had never even took note of how much this situation bothered her. Real sensitive, Mulder, he thought sarcastically.

"Scully, I've never meant to insult you in anyway-"

"Mulder I know that, it's just that as my partner you need to show a little more consideration towards my opinion on things."

Mulder switched his glance from Scully's face to her now-clenched hands between them. An awkward pause suffocated them both. Scully sat motionless, waiting for his reaction.

Meeting her gaze, Mulder gave a slight nod of his head.

Understanding the meaning behind Mulder's action, relief shown in Scully's eyes, as her hands unclasped.

Another moment of awkwardness hung in the air, until Mulder broke the tension.

"They don't have anything more at the police station. We have to keep investigating, Scully. Otherwise Daniel Paoler's death will go unnoticed as a simple coronary."

Taking a deep breath, Scully said, "Mulder, after you left I received a phone call."

"From..."

"A Mrs. Hayes, a woman who lives across the street from me. She had never spoken to me before, and I have no idea where she got my phone number. She claims she saw a man outside Mr. Paoler's house the day he died."

Mulder's face lit up at Scully's words. "A man?"

"Yes. Apparently she only caught a fleeting glimpse of a man emerging from the bushes."

Mulder had inched closer now, but his voice grew louder with excitement. "Bushes?"

Scully conveyed meaning with her glance.

Understanding immediately, Mulder said nothing, silently pondering the new information.

"And Mulder? She told this to the police."

"What?" His voice was abnormally high, and Scully would have laughed if she had not had the same reaction.

"Scully I was just down there... why would they just drop a lead like that?"

Tiredly rubbing her eyes, Scully said, "I don't know, Mulder. I don't know." She leaned into her hands, shielding her face.

Mulder reached up and carefully removed a hand from its position. Grasping it tightly, he whispered, "Well, we're going to find out, Scully."

Corena pulled to a stop in front what she hoped was not her apartment. Unfortunately, as she checked the house number she learned that the hideous broken down dump was indeed very much hers.

Checking her rearview mirror, Corena backed the rental car up slightly before parking.

She had noticed a black car that seemed to have been following her earlier, but now noted with relief that it was nowhere to be seen. That relief was shattered when a small black Toyota turned onto the street and began inching forward, three parking spots behind her. The windshield of the car revealed a man's face - easily recognizable as the man from the airport coffee shop.

She made eye contact with the stranger, who did not appeared shaken from the familiar face. Tightly curling her fingers around the steering wheel, she fought a sickening wave of fear that rose through her body. Suddenly, she felt extremely vulnerable. Now that she was in Philadelphia, she realized no one would care if she dropped off the earth. Sure, her parents might call occasionally and become concerned after not receiving a response, but somehow she thought complaints of smell would be the more likely cause of her body's discovery.

Sitting in her car, she felt like a sitting duck - more accurately, a wounded zebra with a lion on her tail.

**

The man behind the wheel was breaking out into an anxious sweat. He couldn't believe his luck. Four years in the army, and to come home and be able to find her. This made his dishonorable discharge feel much better. Of course it had taken 3 days to discover her new location. Hanging casually around the old neighborhood, he had managed to find out exactly where Corena Ferber was relocating.

Damn it felt good not to be behind bars anymore. Although, the military prison hadn't been nearly as harsh as he'd thought it would be. It seemed ironic that after murdering a woman, he could join the army, get busted for drugs and then have to spend time in jail for drugs. Well, it was all because he had not been proven guilty of murder.

Proven guilty, hell he'd never even been suspected. All because the "accidental" death of Lynn Paoler had been blamed on a dog. A dog! It had never occurred to them that she had swerved to avoid hitting a human. A human intentionally standing in the road.

He had wanted to murder her the real way. Had fantasized about it. Feeling the coolness of her skin under his fingers as he carefully slit her throat. Watching the expression in her eyes as he claimed her life. Only he knew the truth. Lynn had not belonged to her husband, or herself. Lynn had belonged to him. The only way to prove it had been to take her life... the ultimate possession.

He had made that decision in the first second he laid eyes on Lynn Paoler. On the graceful length of her body - the delicate curve of her jawline, the beautiful green eyes. The curvaceous chest leading down to a narrow waist and firm, smooth legs with just the right amount of tanning. She had belonged to him, even though then she was unaware of it. He had tried to show her the truth with his letters and poems. Instead her husband had gone to the police, demanding an answer. Silly man. Actually thinking the police would do something. That man had prevented him from killing her the right way. He was the one who had forced him to resort to desperate measures.

He had deserved to die.

Portraits of Possession (3/4)

"What impulses moved it to kill? Could this be the same dark force at work? Its ultimate expression the destruction of the flesh?" -Fox Mulder, 'Grotesque'

Mulder stood next to Scully in silence, waiting for her to ring the doorbell. Scully raised her arm, brushing it against Mulder's in the process, and pushed the small button with a sticker reading "B" on it.

A short and stocky woman with large eyes and a friendly smile answered the door, letting her surprise in seeing the couple show on her face.

They were quite a sight - Mulder in a black suit and tie, tall and lanky the picture of professionalism. Scully in a rumpled T-shirt and faded jeans, with faint sleep creases on her face. Although, the look in Scully's eyes left no doubt of who was in charge.

"Mrs. Hayes?"

"Yep, that's me. Are you Dana?" Her voice was loud and clear, demanding, but not offensive.

"Yes. This is Special Agent Fox Mulder, my partner."

Offering his hand, Mulder gave a small smile.

After accepting the handshake, Mrs. Hayes waved for them to follow her into the small apartment.

The loud screams of fighting children could be heard from the back rooms as they made their way through the mounds of toys on the floor. After reaching the living room, a small boy with a smattering of freckles stared at them, curiosity evident on his face.

"Jerry get over here and clean up these trucks," Mrs. Hayes ordered, pointing towards the small heap of metal on the carpet. Smiling shyly at Scully and Mulder, he dashed over to claim his belongings before disappearing into another room.

"You can sit down over there on the couch if you want. Sorry about the mess, with all these kids its impossible to keep clean anymore."

"How many children do you have, Mrs. Hayes?" Scully inquired, taking a seat on the worn sofa.

"Three children, if you can call them that. Wild animals is more like it."

Smiling, Mulder sat down beside Scully.

"Mrs. Hayes, in your phone call you mentioned seeing a man in your neighbor's yard. Also, you mentioned telling this to the police?" Scully shifted in her seat, causing a loud creak in the sofa. Startled she moved back which only increased the noise. Mulder smirked at her, and was rewarded with a glare.

Mrs. Hayes appeared oblivious to their actions, plopping down Indian style on the floor with a faraway look in her eye.

"Yeah, I told the police about him. They told me the case had already been taken care of - that I must have seen a shadow. I know what I saw and it wasn't a shadow, that was a full grown man."

The bright light reflected off Scully's face, shadowing a portion of it. "Describe him."

Mrs. Hayes wrinkled her brow in concentration. "He wasn't too tall... or short, just average height. Muscular and he didn't seem to have any hair. I would say twenties or maybe early thirties."

Pulling a notepad from his pocket, Mulder began jotting down the description.

"Can you tell me exactly what you saw?"

"I'll show you." Springing up from the floor with amazing speed, Mrs. Hayes bounded toward the window. Scully quickly stood up, glad to be free of the annoying seat. As Mulder followed, he noticed a photo lying on the table. The photo was of a younger Mr. Paoler, flanked by a young attractive woman who looked the same age. The woman had her arm around a small boy kneeling in front, the same boy they had met earlier. Although in the photo he appeared much younger, the only similarities being the trademark freckles and a toy truck clenched firmly in hand. Reaching down, Mulder picked up the picture and brought it with him.

"I saw the man right there," Mrs. Hayes said, jabbing the window with her finger.

Looking straight through the glass brought Scully face to face with the side of a building. Following Mrs. Hayes' finger, Scully remembered she was in an upstairs apartment and glancing down saw the bushes alongside the brick building. The Paoler's had owned the large house, choosing not to rent out portions of it unlike the other nearby houses. Therefore they had managed to decorate what little lawn they had very nicely. Apparently this had all stopped a couple years ago, since now the only diversions in the grass were the small scrubby bushes. The first thought crossing her mind was how would a grown man hide in those?

Almost reading her thoughts, Mrs. Hayes said, "It was dark when I saw him. The man wore all black clothes so it was easy for him to hide in back of them. He walked away from that area and crept along the house, heading toward the porch in front. I thought he was just a burglar and didn't think anything of it. The next day when I found out about Dan, I immediately thought back to that man."

"Mrs. Hayes why didn't you call the police if you suspected a burglar?"

"It would have just caused trouble." Catching Scully's puzzled glance she explained further. "Dan hated cops. He used to say he would rather be murdered with a jackhammer than speak to a cop and he meant it."

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Why did he dislike cops?"

"About four years ago he claimed Lynn was being stalked - said someone was sending her flowers, notes, I don't know. Anyway he called the police and brought the letters into the station. They told him there weren't any fingerprints on the papers and to just lighten up about it. Really pissed him off."

"Did they ever catch a suspect?"

Mrs. Hayes abruptly turned, facing Scully. Her jaw tightened as she bitterly stated, "The cops never found anyone. Didn't even take Dan seriously. Then, to top it all off the neighbors started calling him a nutcase and accusing him of making the whole thing up. It was completely outrageous... they would even shout at Dan and Lynn sitting on their porch."

Scully was suddenly appreciative of her quiet, private, apartment across the street.

"They tolerated that for a couple months until Lynn died, then Dan just shut everyone out."

"Including you and your family?" Mulder spoke loudly from behind them, surprising them both. Holding up the photo, he continued, "Were you friends with the Paolers' before his wife's death?"

Grabbing the picture, she angrily replied, "Where did you get that?"

"It was on your table... I recognized Mr. Paoler and-"

Mrs. Hayes interrupted him, her voice almost wistful. "This photo was taken on Jerry's third birthday. Lynn and Dan were sitting on the porch and saw him playing outside - they gave him his first truck." Her eyes began to moisten as the memories filled her.

Scully looked over at the photo, recognizing the now familiar faces.

"And after Mrs. Paoler's death..."

"Like I said before, he shut everyone out. I tried to help him... after all I had always liked Lynn. The accident really affected him, though. He started to rave on and on about some guy that had killed her even though everyone knew she had just swerved to hit a dog. From that point on that's all he would discuss - plotting revenge on the person who killed his wife."

Looking up, Scully softly asked, "Was she drunk?"

"Oh no, not at all. The dog is all they could figure. She was going about 30mph around a sharp bend when she slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting something and skidded onto the sidewalk. She wasn't wearing a seatbelt, so when the car crashed into a telephone pole she flew through the windshield, landing on the sidewalk. It was a horrible, horrible accident."

Choking back tears, she continued. "The worst thing about it was that someone nearby must have witnessed the accident, because the next day three pictures were sent in to the local newspaper. The pictures were of the accident scene before the police and rescue crews had arrived. They were all close-ups of Lynn's body... specifically her face." Mrs. Hayes managed to finish her last word before the tears came pouring down her cheeks.

"Oh God," Scully whispered, enveloping the sobbing woman in her embrace.

Mulder turned away sickened by the cruelty in her story.

The woman continued her crying and began talking, her voice muffled against Scully. Most of her words were inaudible, except for one sentence. "What kind of sick son of a bitch would do something like that?"

The same sick person that stalked Lynn Paoler before her death, Scully thought to herself. Looking over the smaller woman's head, Scully caught Mulder's glance.

In one silent look, Mulder communicated that he agreed completely.

It had been three days now - three days since he had seen her in the airport. Every night since then he had watched from outside her apartment, slouching clumsily in his car. He followed her everywhere. He had accompanied her to the grocery store yesterday and to the dry cleaners today. Now, as a pizza delivery car pulled up it appeared she was about to eat dinner.

He held his breath as the apartment door opened. He could sense the fear radiating from her body as she hastily grabbed the large box. The nervous flick of her hair told him that she was aware of his watching eyes. Shoving money at the delivery man, her eyes darted toward his car. This was what he loved best - seeing that look come into her eyes... the look that belonged only to him.

She had finally confronted him last night, screaming at him from outside the car. It was then that he had seen her frustration and anger face to face. Her threats were meaningless, and she knew it. The police would not arrest him. Calmly watching her outraged face, he had begun writing a poem in his mind. After her descent back into the house he had scribbled it down on paper and gently set it outside her door. The thrill he had gotten from seeing her read it this morning had been indescribable - the feeling of power and control. He could only imagine the incredible impulses he would receive after claiming her life.

Stretching his cramped muscles, he wished for an outdoor hiding spot. Unfortunately her apartment did not have any landscaping whatsoever, so anyone kneeling outside would be easily seen. Besides, she had an upstairs apartment, so sitting on the ground would be meaningless.

His memory flashed back to that night - the night when he had first laid eyes on a scrawny girl about to commit suicide. He had been absolutely fascinated - after that he had begun to casually glance over to the right, when Lynn was not in view. With his cozy spot in between the two houses he could watch them both at once, which had delighted him.

He remembered the night it happened. He had been in his normal position, panting slightly after the run from the accident scene. The wail had erupted into the air, Mr. Paoler hearing about his wife's demise. A grin had spread across his face, as he moved closer to the sound. A camera clinked against his chest as he caught sight of the other house. The living room window was never covered, giving him a nice view. The girl had just done something and was the object of hideous screams. Amused by the sight, he had watched out of curiosity. At that moment he had realized the truth... she belonged to him.

Scully sat with her back to the window of the cluttered newspaper office. Mulder was next to her, making his presence known by tapping his foot impatiently against the wooden bench.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Mulder..." Scully said softly, her voice insistent.

Confusion crossed his features as he took note of her annoyance. He mouthed, "What?"

Dipping her head in his foot's direction, Scully narrowed her eyes.

He silently mouthed back, "Sorry."

Giving her head a small shake, Scully gave him a look of faked exasperation.

"Agents Scully and Mulder?" A small man with a receding hairline spoke from behind a door, with the name "Carl Hetcher" engraved on it.

The two agents jumped up a little too quickly, both relieved that their waiting had come to an end.

After the introductions, Mulder and Scully made themselves comfortable in the large office. The wooden desk in front of them held a manila envelope, with numerous papers surrounding it.

"Sorry for the wait - since these photographs were published in the paper four years ago, it took a while to find them." Unhooking the clasp on the envelope, he pulled out a small wad of 5x7 pictures.

As soon as Scully saw the top picture she froze. The photo depicted the accident in vivid detail, with the bloody form of Lynn Paoler in clear view - exactly what Scully had prepared herself for. What she hadn't intended was the expression on the victim's face. The horrified enlarged eyes, mouth twisted up in a sadistic grin and the facial muscles contracting in terror - a mirror image of Mr. Paoler.

Oh my God, thought Scully. How could this be?

Immediately turning his gaze on her, Mulder transmitted shock and surprise through his glance.

"Could we take this picture with us?"

"Sure, just return it eventually. The photographer's anonymous so the pictures belong to us." Carl seemed oblivious to the reactions of the agents instead, engrossed in a newspaper.

"Thank you for your time, sir." Scully stood up to leave, with Mulder on her heels.

"Wait... don't you want to see the rest of-" Carl stopped, noticing that the agents were already out the door. Giving a shrug, he went back his reading.

"We're going back to the police station, Scully." Mulder slid into the passenger's seat swiftly closing the car door.

Scully turned the key in the ignition and spoke with a teasing annoyance. "Mulder, I have to get my seatbelt on first."

Smiling at her response, Mulder realized he should have never doubted his partners travel intentions.

Sneaking a look at Scully, he studied her profile from the side. The road held her eyes, which stared ahead with a determined look. Her lips were formed in a firm line and the delicate slope of her nose was highlighted beautifully against the car window. Taking in her appearance, Mulder was hit with the full essence of Scully.

A comfortable silence settled in the air, easing both of them. Mulder enjoyed the momentary peacefulness it brought him, content with Scully beside him.

The only grisly reminder of what was to yet to come, the photo of Lynn Paoler lay face up in Mulder's hand.

Sergeant Gary Brush strutted across the room, the disturbing combination of a bulldog's attitude and a boss' paycheck.

"Are you the feds?" In this case the man's bark was indeed worse than his bite.

Scully reacted first, easily taking control of the situation.

"Yes. I'm Agent Scully, and this is my partner Fox Mulder. We were told we would be speaking with Lieutenant Darsk..."

The man gave her a questioning look, as if to say "aren't I good enough?"

"We spoke with him earlier on the case we're interested in. Since he is already familiar with the situation-"

The man rudely glared at her as she spoke, aiming to unnerve. "He's in the other room."

Scully looked at him with a steely expectancy.

Finally, he gruffly conceded. "I'll go get him."

Within minutes, the familiar plump form of Chuck Darsk rounded the corner. Now donning a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, his gave off an air of seriousness.

"Hello, Agent Scully. Nice to see you again." His voice was friendly, but restrained. Accepting her hand, he roughly shook it. Then with a small nod of his head, he curtly acknowledged Mulder.

"Now what can I do for you?"

Mulder spoke up, inching closer to Darsk. "We found out about this picture, which appears to have some connection to the death of Dan Paoler."

Taking the picture, the shorter man concentrated on it. "My God... this woman's face looks exactly like..." His eyes widened as he looked up from the photo. "But how could this be? And who is this woman?"

"That woman is Lynn Paoler, wife of Mr. Daniel Paoler, who died in that automobile accident on August 8, 1994. The photographer is unknown, some sick freak who took pictures of her body and then split. The next day this was sent to the local newspaper."

Scully studied Mulder as he made these revelations to the detective. Eyes positively gleaming from excitement, he looked like a boy on Christmas morning, with too many presents to pick from. Briefly, she wondered what his new theory was. Obviously spirits don't own cameras, so he must have gave up that idea - or, at least she could hope he had.

"What are you suggesting, Lynn and Dan Paoler were murdered?" As the detective said this, a look Mulder knew all too well crossed his face.

"How else do you explain two people dying with the same facial expressions four years apart?"

Scully could sense the excitement radiating from Mulder's body. This was what he loved best - not only expressing his opinion, but expressing it where it was not wanted.

"Well, how would you explain it, Agent Mulder? Agent Scully, you autopsied Mr. Paoler and found cause of death to be cardiac arrest. Cardiac arrest, not murder."

Not missing a beat, Mulder raised his voice slightly. "Did you find any evidence of burglary at the scene?"

"Burglary? No. Besides-" Detective Darsk stopped mid sentence when he heard the whispered words of Scully.

"Footprints."

Sudden realization had struck her - of course, why hadn't she thought of it earlier.

Both men turned to stare at Scully, saying in tandem, "What?"

Startled that she had been speaking aloud, she sharply glanced up. "Footprints... did you notice any footprints around the house?"

Dumbstruck by her words, the detective repeated his confused query.

"Mrs. Hayes, the next door neighbor, mentioned seeing a man outside Mr. Paoler's house on the day of his death - behind the bushes on the side. If you check, I'm sure you'll find some footprints there. Not to mention fingerprints on the side of the house."

Mulder immediately thought back to the woman's account of the intruder - it all fit together perfectly. "Good catch, Scully."

His praise was light, but Scully realized the depth of feeling beneath his words.

The detective stuttered for a minute, then regained his composure. "I can get a team over there right away."

Lying awake in his car, the only thoughts crossing his mind were of her hair. Specifically, the smell of the short ash blonde locks clinging to her neck. The elegant straightness of her neck was admirable, highlighted by her poise. Poise that carried her lean body perfectly making a mockery of clumsiness.

Oh God, her face. That beautiful curved nose and perfect eyes complemented by thin lips that somehow made her even more sexy.

This was getting to be too much. The last time he had had these thoughts about a woman was four years ago. He remembered having to bite his lip when the vivid fantasies of murdering Lynn became too much to bear. The next day he had bought a cheap camera at Wal-Mart and driven to the stop street. It was the only route she took from work and he had known the exact time she would be passing through. Memories of the crash flooded him... the blood, all the fucking blood. He had never imagined a person could bleed that much. Seeing it's rich color in front of him had served to terrify and arouse him at the same time. Then the power had overtaken him... it had sucked him in and held him captive. He had felt the complete control that came with the realization of taking a life.

A slow stream of blood trickled down his bottom lip as teeth tore at the tender flesh.

Portraits of Possession (4/4)

Mulder: Listen to this, Scully. "One must wonder how these monsters are created." Chaney wrote this. "Did their home life mold them into creatures that must maim and kill, or are they demons from birth?"

Scully: Well, that's poetic but it doesn't help us much.

"We found a print, sir!" A short woman with a pudgy figure and thin blonde hair shouted from across the street.

Mulder, Scully, Darsk and numerous other officers were grouped together there, quietly discussing theories while the team busily accomplished their work.

"Off the house?" Lifting his head the Sergeant shouted back the words, his mind churning with excitement.

"The outside window sill."

Squinting his eyes against the afternoon sun, Darsk crossed the street with the pair of FBI agents close behind. Mulder's slow easy stride competing against Scully's short, confident one.

The dark powder shaded the white paint on the sill, highlighting the print for all to see. The newly discovered footprints in the dirt below awaiting removal were carefully avoided.

"Great, we can run a match on them as soon as possible." Darsk now turned to the officers, briefly conferring.

A wisp of Auburn hair blew across Mulder's cheek as Scully moved to face him. Lowering her voice discreetly, she moved in close. "Mulder, just what exactly can we accuse this person of. We don't have any evidence that Mr. Paoler was murdered, and we cannot very well bring this man in on a four year old stalking charge."

Mulder bent his head down, murmuring in her ear. "We're getting a little ahead of ourselves here, aren't we Scully? What if we don't even find this guy?"

Scully merely arched a delicate brow.

"Okay... we're probably going to find him. But, we can still hold arrest him for breaking and entering. If his prints were on the windowsill, it won't be hard to accuse him of trespass. Also, let's not forget we have a witness."

"Mulder, what do you think this man actually did? Murdered Dan Paoler? You can't just scare someone to death, Mulder. It's not as easy as running up behind someone and yelling 'boo."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Scully. It depends on who's yelling 'boo.' Now if that was Marilyn Manson..."

Sighing, Scully chose to ignore his smirk. "Well then what's your great theory here, Mulder?"

"Obviously there is a connection between his spouse's death four years ago and his own." Looking into her foaming blue eyes, he was reassured of her agreement with that statement. "We just have to figure out what it is. Maybe the killer placed the victim's faces in that expression postmortem-"

Frowning slightly, she whispered, "Mulder, you cannot place fear in someone's eyes after death."

Stricken by a new idea, Mulder's eyes sparkled. "Wait - maybe your right, Scully. The killer did not arrange the face after death... he never arranged them at all. The victim's expressions were the reactions to the killer's presence. Their last sight before death."

Scully licked her lips nervously as she softly mused aloud. "The stalking would have been related to the killings - the reaction from knowing the person. If this same man caused the accident that killed Lynn Paoler and then later sought revenge on her husband..."

Panic coursed through Scully as the implications of the finding hit her. Looking to Mulder, she saw her own emotions reflected back at her.

"When we find the owner of that print we have to arrest him on something, Mulder. We have to. Otherwise who knows what other victims he could chose?"

The small police cruiser inched through the streets, slow and watchful. Drug dealers were everywhere in this neighborhood you just needed the careful eye to find them.

Passing an apartment building, the officer took note of a man waiting on the front steps. A paper bag was tucked tightly under one arm, no doubt with drugs inside.

"What, are dealers making house calls now?" the officer softly muttered to himself with a bemused expression.

Easing his foot off the gas pedal, he took a closer look at the sight before him. The man faced the door and began pulling something out of the bag. Gasping, he saw a glimmer of silver. A knife? What kind of doofus is this guy, pulling out a weapon in front of the police? He reached for the door handle, taking a last glance out the windshield. The steps were empty now, the former occupant apparently inside. Questions tore through him - the guy could live there, but then what was he doing outside his house at three am with a knife? Conflict resolved - this guy was definitely cause for investigation.

**

The police station was quiet and peaceful, much as it had been during their earlier visit. Darsk's figure emerged from the corner, the look on his face already speaking the answer to the question they sought.

"We found a match on the print."

Mulder and Scully immediately snapped to attention.

Pulling out a file he continued. "Richard Fuller. Age 25. Received a dishonorable discharge from the Army a week ago after serving a six month sentence for drug possession. Now residing in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."

"Is that all you have?" Scully asked, her voice hinting at disappointment.

"For now, but we still have to do a little more checking."

Handing Mulder the file, he looked directly at Scully adding, "There's a good picture in there... you might want to take that over to your neighbor friend to see if she recognizes him."

How the hell did he know that? Shock coated Scully's features as Mulder sharply glanced at the detective, voicing her unspoken question.

"I have my sources." Not saying another word, he left the room.

**

A clock kept up a slow rhythm as the predator slipped inside. Crouching behind a chair, he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the room. If he concentrated hard enough he could even smell the shampoo from her morning shower. Careful not to scuff the furniture, he moved past the assorted chairs and recliners cluttered in the small room, easing toward his destination.

A light was on... she couldn't be up this time of night could she? If so this would be a first. No, it was just a night lamp in the kitchen, a dim glow upsetting the darkness.

The bedroom door was ajar, the inside blanketed in black. Creeping through the entranceway he caught sight of her - the double bed gave her plenty of room, so her form was spread out across both sides of the mattress. Allowing his eyes time to readjust he stayed still, listening to the steady rise and fall of her breathing. In a couple of minutes her breath would be taken from her... taken by its rightful owner.

Booted feet padded across the carpet, arriving next to the bed. Reaching out a hand he took a strand of hair, savoring the softness of its texture as it slipped past his grip. The lean neck arched beautifully against the sheets, every bit as long and elegant as he had remembered. All these years... and now to finally be close to her. It was just amazing. Tightly gripping the knife in one hand, he debated on how to awaken her when suddenly a large crash came from outside the room.

"Police! Is anyone in here?" The strong voice flowed through the small apartment, and the woman lying in bed jumped in shock.

Mumbling in confusion she twisted to her side, catching sight of the man at her bedside. Letting loose with an ear shattering scream, she scrambled out of bed, frantically escaping the man's grasp.

"Stay away from me you son of a bitch!" Her cries echoed through the apartment, the terror in her voice clinging to the walls.

Dashing into the living room she collided with the confused police officer.

"HELP! Oh my God, it's him..." Sobbing, Corena pointed toward the bedroom.

Emerging from his lair the man stopped in his tracks. Dammit. The whole plan had just gone to hell.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

Uncertainty flashed in the predator's eyes as he watched his prey from afar. Glancing at his competitor in disgust, he moved his eyes so that they would linger once more on the porcelain structure of her neck. Snarling, his knees briefly crouched before springing into the air. Seconds felt like minutes as the predator's body flew at the preys'. The sharp click of a safety sounded in the air, followed by a loud bang as the man's body fell to the floor. A groan came from the wounded animal with blood pouring from his side, as eyes frantically rolling, he helplessly watched his body fail him. The knife was still tightly gripped in his hand, a last act of defiance. A slow trickle of blood traveled slowly down the sleeve of his shirt before reaching the sharp blade of the knife. Heavy breathing sounded in the background, as the officer called for an ambulance.

Then, all was silent until a knife with a scarlet streak down its blade clattered to the floor.

**

"I still don't know how the Sergeant knew about us speaking with Mrs. Hayes."

Busily chewing on his pen, Mulder shook his head in response. "The important thing is she identified him.

"So, they have him in custody?"

"Yup, they brought him in yesterday. A police officer saw him standing outside a house with a weapon and went to investigate. Inside he almost tried to kill the woman who lived there."

Scully stretched her tired muscles, relieving the tension. "And the woman is..."

"Fine," Mulder finished.

Relief flew through Scully, which was then quickly replaced by puzzlement.

"I can't figure it out either, Scully. It's almost as if the mere presence of evil was enough to paint a portrait of horror on the victims' faces-"

Mulder stopped after seeing Scully's reaction - she was frozen in place after hearing Mulder's words voice her thoughts. Slowly turning her head toward him, her eyes showed all.

Standing up in the police station, he mumbled to Scully, "I don't know about you, but I hope I never have to see this station again."

Smiling slightly, Scully moved toward the door. "Where are you going?"

Touching her arm, he gave a gentle tug bringing her to face him. "Where am I going? You mean where are we going."

This time Mulder was rewarded with the full Scully smile - a stunning, dazzling sight.

Feeling weak-kneed, Mulder sent a silent thanks to the forces above - grateful that Scully was oblivious to power she held over him with one simple facial expression.

End of Story

"The conquest of fear lies in the moment of its acceptance. And understanding what scares us most is that which is most familiar, most common place." -Fox Mulder, 'Irresistible'

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Isis Bastet... Isis_Bastet@excite.com
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"At some point we all don't see the fish part in the mixed fish stew."
-Gillian Anderson
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"Mulder, if you had to do without a cell phone for two minutes you'd lapse into catatonic schizophrenia." -Scully