Stop and Start

Subject: Repost: Stop and Start 1/3
Date: 14 Jan 1996 11:20:05 GMT

All the interesting characters in this story belong to CC and 1013 and were brought to life by the skills of DD and GA and the writers at the XFiles.

This is my first fanfic, so comments welcome but please try to be kind!

Joann

Stop and Start 1/3

The drive to work was quiet, it was bound to be at that time of the day. Keeping out of the way of other people had become quite a preoccupation this last few weeks.

He thought he'd been doing quite well at first. But keeping out of things, staying unemotional was affecting his work. Unemotional? Uninterested and uninspired was the way it was turning out. The ideas had kept coming, he hadn't lost the intellectual skills, but he couldn't face the arguing to get them accepted. He certainly couldn't face fighting Scully over them.

So he'd thrown himself back in at the deep end and he'd ended up crying over the victim's body. What next? Passing out during an autopsy? Throwing up over a crime scene?

Sitting in the Basement office with only the glow from the computer screen to lighten the room seemed about right, seemed like the best place for him.

Dana was annoyed when she woke up again. It was bad enough waking up in strange places at odd hours but now she was doing the same thing at home. Another couple of hours and she could go into work. At least when she was there she felt useful.

Her family weekend hadn't really worked out. She and her mother got comfort from one another but that was only a temporary thing, it wore off as soon as the hug was over. Dana needed to start her life moving forward again.

She had always been in control. She'd known how to handle her actions and her feelings. Now, she knew she was just going through the motions. She ate when the clock told her to. Went to bed, got up. Went to work, did her job.

Time to start shaking things up. With more resolve and confidence than she'd felt in weeks she started to prepare herself.

The office was quiet again this morning. Sometimes hours could pass without them saying more than 'Hello', 'Coffee', 'Bye' when they were both drifting through files looking for the hints and links that would reveal more. But this was different, this wasn't the product of a happy easiness that meant they could pick and choose when and how to communicate. This was quiet and tense with things left unsaid.

On those rare occasions when he dared to lift his head away from the papers Mulder could feel the intensity of Scully's eyes. He could see the tension in her body as she read. She'd spent the weekend at her mother's and she wanted to talk. Well, it wasn't going to be to him, he'd fend her off.

He tried to think of something interesting in the files, something else they could talk about that would distract her. He had seen it coming, there had been hints over the last few weeks. She was remembering things or at least she thought she was. Things from the abduction. Things from when they had been on the run and that building with all those files. She'd been trying to build a story out of those fragments of events and those half remembered things. Now she wanted to tell him what she thought she remembered. He had to get out of the room.

How long can you take to get two cups of coffee? Well 45 minutes might not be a record but short of going home, he didn't see how he could stay away any longer.

Maybe the coffee had been a bad idea. She'd taken the opportunity of him leaving the room to move her chair next to his desk and was pretending to read a file on his computer.

She sounded excited, almost exultant as she started to speak. She'd been preparing herself for this and now she was on a roll.

'You know what about, you know my memory's been coming back, just patches, snippets, but it is coming back. I know you've not been pushing me talk about it so I wouldn't feel under pressure when I didn't remember things. But, now I'm making the move. I want to talk to you.'

'I don't want to talk to you.' He couldn't believe he said that, but he knew he meant it and so did she.

'I'm trying to make sense out of what happened to me and you don't want me to talk about it?' She stood up and then wondered if she'd misunderstood. 'Or do you mean, not now, not here?'

Her eyes were looking into his soul, she was desperately hoping she'd misunderstood what he'd said.

He was leaning back against the desk. He couldn't face seeing her this upset but he couldn't face talking either. He put his arms round her, tightly enough that she couldn't look up at him. He closed his eyes.

'You could recommend someone? After all the things we've been through together. If I was a total stranger, you'd listen to me. No, actually, you'd demand I talked to you, you'd want to know what happened.'

'If you were a total stranger I could listen, but you're not and I don't want to know what happened.'

'After the things I've done for you. I've put myself on the line for you. I've lost my sister. I almost died and you don't want to know.'

'You almost died, Melissa did die. I'd understand why if you wanted to stop working with me. It's my obsession with this stuff, these cases, that nearly killed you. I'd understand if you didn't want to work on the XFiles anymore.'

'You talk like they're your cases. What do you mean. For over two years they've been our cases. I've paid my dues. They've cost me a lot.'

She was trying to speak, but she felt herself choking. She tried to get out one last set of words, the words that would explain why she had to talk to him.

'But you'd understand it, you could help me make sense of it, you've talked to so many people, you could help me fill in the gaps. You've heard all those stories from other people. I just need to tell you my version. Why won't you let me?'

Her tears were falling faster now, he could feel the shudders running through her body. They stood frozen for a long time. He looked desperately for an escape route but couldn't see one. He knew what he had to do but it was a long time before either of them spoke again. Finally he started to talk.

'I can't believe I said that. You have to talk. I have to listen. Everything we've been through. Everything I've put you through. I want to help. I want to listen. I'm sorry.'

It took a few moments for the shudders to stop. He stopped holding her quite so tight. She looked up through wet eyes. He leant down towards her and started to kiss the tears.

There was a knock at the door and an instant later, a man and woman walked in and announced themselves as Carter and Clarke from Human Resources.

If someone had rolled a grenade into the room, they couldn't have felt more helpless. There was no point trying to pretend some kind of normality still existed. They separated without a word and tried to blank their minds and their expressions.

Scully walked to the women's room and locked herself away until some semblance of equilibrium returned. Then meekly followed Clarke to a meeting room.

The other interview room was already occupied. The questioning and stone walling had gone on for quite a time.

'Cards on the table.' Carter explained about the mail delivery guy noticing them 'embracing' running off to gossip to his friends, being overheard, HR being notified and dispatching him and Clarke to find out exactly what was going on. 'Just how long do you think all that took?'

'Facetious remarks won't help. If she's emotionally unstable she should be coming to us to arrange psychiatric counselling. If she's too distressed to do that, it's your duty to inform us.'

'It's not like her to get upset, it was the first time. I was going to get her to come to you.'

'As I see it, there are three options - One - you and her were making up to one another on working time and you should both be suspended for gross misconduct. Two - she's unstable and not fit for duty and should be suspended. Or Three'–

Here Carter paused for dramatic effect. ' &ndash it was your fault she was crying. We all know the pressures. Sometimes even the best partnerships between male and female agents fail because one of them lets their emotions run away from them. She's an attractive woman.'

It wasn't difficult to see what Carter meant about option three and what he was being asked to admit to. But Mulder could see the truth beyond Carter's rather crude insinuation. Yes, it was his fault she was crying and if a lie was going to make sure she wasn't going to be put through anything by these people, then a lie would do.

Dana was puzzled when Clarke returned and told her to go home, that there were no further questions, that she was to report in tomorrow and that no further action was being taken.

Skinner read the report Mulder had written and surveyed the agent on the other side of the table. He'd read Mulder's reports plenty of times before - original, outrageous, implausible, insulting, sometimes brilliant, sometimes even funny. But this was different.

'Maybe someone who talks so much about looking for the truth, is bound to be a bad liar.'

'Where did you get this stuff, out of a bad paperback romance somewhere. - < she didn't want to get involved in a relationship with me, but I kept pushing her.... > - It's crap and you know it.'

'Don't come the self pity with me. I'll have a new report written that I expect you to sign. You've got work to do. So has she. But not together.'

'I wondered if the stress was going to get to you and her. You know too much about one another to be unemotional, it's not a good basis to work from. You both need to work with normal people.... I mean people who've been going through normal things.'

'I've decided. Go home. Come in tomorrow. File the new report with the Personnel people, they'll probably want to send you on some kind of reeducation course, but you'll have to put up with that. Then go back to work. I'll assign someone else to work with you on the XFiles.'

Mulder reread the report Skinner had made him sign. About, how he was so obsessed with finding out what had happened during her abduction, he'd nagged her until finally she'd broken down. Skinner probably thought it was true, funny how badly people could misunderstand.

No one had tried to reeducate him for nearly getting her killed. No one had given him three options before she got abducted. It was strange how sometimes, this time, the Bureau could move at lightning speed. And, the irony was that what he'd said when he was interviewed was true, nothing had happened.

He thought he'd better call her. To check she was ok. To talk about Skinner's plans for them and how to get things straightened out.

And if she wanted to talk about something else? Well he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Her phone rang and he heard her voice, but by then he knew he had nothing to say. Dana even guessed ('Mulder is that you, talk to me') but in the end they both just had to put their phones down.

But it wasn't all bad. At least this way Scully would be out of the firing line, out of danger for a while. She'd get time to sort out her feelings about herself. Maybe they would be able to talk. She'd be alright. And he would call her after the dust settled a bit more.

They sat silent on the plane. Mulder stared out of the window, closed his eyes (no - bad idea he thought, too easy to fall asleep and forget he was alone, no shoulder to lean against) so he read over the case papers. Anything rather than look at the neighbouring seat and the so called partner who sat in it. Who is he? - he thought. Who cares.

Daniels tried to concentrate, put in his place when he attempted to quiz Mulder on their job. 'Read the brief'. As if he needed this, six years field experience, a good clean up rate, a reputation as a safe pair of hands. But of course he did need it, Mulder might be good for a few jokes (especially now the hot red head had come to her senses), but he did have this knack of cracking tough cases. It would look good on his career resume, it should be good for a laugh with the other guys and if he could make Mulder do things by the book just once, it would sound great in his next job interview.

Daniels nearly fell over, Mulder had almost said a complete sentence to him. He tried to think of a suitable reply. 'Where are you going?'. It was a reasonable question, but the reply reminded him that reasonable means different things to different people

'Not your problem - we'll meet at 7, I want an early start'. It was 11pm now, Mulder was going to be 'back late' and wanted an early start. Fine.

The following morning, they ate a silent breakfast and headed out to the Coroner's office.

Mulder debated the autopsy results with the pathologist. He wasn't sure he was looking at an XFile here, but Skinner had needed someone out here in a hurry and he'd wanted Mulder out of town so it wasn't surprising that he'd been assigned to the case.

'Yes, I saw them the three bodies last night - there seemed to be no signs of violence just that puncture mark in the back of the neck?'

'Nothing that I could find. Of course the puncture could me masking an injection site but there was nothing in found in the toxicological test.'

'But no bruises to show they struggled. I'd have struggled if someone wanted to put a large blunt hypodermic in my neck. Do you think they were injected with something?'

'They don't seem to be injection points, way too big, more like the kind of thing you feed a drip into but I think this was a drain - you know the kind of thing to draw excess fluid away from a wound.' Unfortunately Mulder had seen enough of hospitals to remember what a drain looked like.

'No they were alive with that drain in place for a long time, many hours, maybe days, from the ragged way the puncture looked.'

Mulder thanked the pathologist for his report. Three deaths from 'natural causes', two heart attacks and a burst aneurysm. But the puncture wound, a drain that had been in place for hours or days, well there was nothing natural about that. Good autopsies. An overload of adrenaline, the stress had made their bodies give up.

Daniels gossiped with the local cops, swapping tales of cases and people. Mulder walked over to the cheery group and overheard a giggled 'spooky' as he arrived. His expression stayed blank as he looked at Daniels. Daniels said his goodbyes.

'From the police, you were discussing the case I presume, else you would have been with me and the pathologist.'

The victims had all been found in hotel rooms. Unoccupied hotel rooms. Different hotels. No one saw them arrive, no one at the Hotel recognised them. The hotel rooms shared at least one thing in common, a laundry firm on the other side of town. Good detective work that. The locals had started to check things out before the people had been identified as Davies. Rogers and Horsely, all of them had worked in government laboratories in the last five years.

Then it became a federal matter and Mulder and Daniels were coming to finish the job. The disappearance of another member of staff from the Lab made it urgent.

Daniels resisted jokes about needles in laundry stacks, he suspected that the blank neutral look would be the best to hope for from this partner. Still, he reminded himself, he could always get out after this case, no one would blame him.

The laundry was a disappointment. Not the quiet, dark family basement where devilish work could be going ahead unnoticed but a laundry factory where maybe fifty people worked. Not the kind of place to keep someone alive for, 'maybe days', while you drained their brain. Mulder didn't bother going inside. Daniels followed him in silence to the coffee bar opposite.

'Doesn't look like a good place to keep a secret stash of bodies', there was a pleading in Daniels voice as he said it that asked for an acknowledgment. Mulder took the remark as rhetorical and as it added nothing to his present thoughts, just kept on staring at the building that housed the laundry. A brief smile flickered as he saw the washing hanging out of an upstairs window. Silly that they did their own washing with a laundry for a downstairs neighbour.

'The upstairs apartments must have a lift that takes them through the laundry floor, lets go see who lives there.'

Daniels jumped, that really was a complete sentence this time and he kind of understood why Mulder had said it. Maybe this was going to be good experience.

Two interviews, two blanks, nice people, but both talked about the loner who lived on the top floor who liked to move laundry baskets in the lift at odd hours.

Part 2/3

Two blanks, nice people, but both talked about the loner who lived on the top floor who liked to move laundry baskets in the lift at odd hours.

They knocked at the top floor apartment and thought they could hear some noise inside, but got no reply.

'I don't think he locked up properly.' Mulder slipped the lock and pushed the door open.

Daniels cringed, not so good for the career resume, still he could lie about the door being unlocked.

As they walked in the door swung shut on its heavy return spring. That was when Mulder noticed that there were no handles this side of the door, just a lock that needed a key to open it again. They'd walked into a trap and as he heard the hiss of gas he knew it had been sprung.

Fear started to spread through his body, not just normal scared that made the adrenaline flow and his brain race, this was the kind of fear that made you want to curl up and shiver. If you could find the strength to move that is. He surveyed the apartment, the door offered no route out. He looked at the windows and the dread of falling five floors made him stop thinking about escape.

Daniels stood absolutely still. Mulder kept walking and opened the door to the next room. Both of them got a good look at the next room. There was a man in there. And as light entered the darkened room there were mumbles and groans. The tube coming out of his neck was sending droplets of fluid into a collecting jar. Daniels found enough energy to edge to the wall and sat with his knees to his chest.

Mulder leaned his head against the wall and knew he couldn't move. What was happening? What was going to happen? It had to be the threat of an unknown gas and the shock of the body tubed up in there that made him feel like he'd rather be dead than standing here.

He shivered and let his head shake against the wall. He should have asked for backup, he had walked into the lair of someone, a kidnapper, who had already killed at least three times without even telling the office where they were. Stupid. Scully would have hit the roof with him.

Backup for what? To do a doorstep interview on a hunch, because he was going to accuse the owner of moving laundry baskets at night. Well, he'd got help for feebler stories in the past, maybe he'd just lost his ability to stay out of trouble. He'd come to rely on Scully for that kind of thing.

He looked around the room. Daniels was backed into a corner. Mulder was almost relieved, at least he didn't have to talk to him. The waves of panic and fear were getting stronger. He punched into the wall to push himself back up straight and give himself something else to think about. He tried to think how to get out, he tried to think back to when he was watching the place from the cafe, had he seen a fire escape, anything?

His hands were shaking. He already knew no one would hear him if he screamed. He felt as incapable of making a noise as the other occupants of the room. But he couldn't help but bet someone had screamed a lot in this room before they died. He wanted to scream.

He tried to clear his mind. Was this really the most frightening thing that had ever happened to him. It was bad, but there had been a lot of bad things. He'd been gassed before (come to that he'd been 'dead' before) and he'd certainly seen worse things. Whatever this is, it doesn't kill. 'Days' with the drain in the neck, that's what the pathologist had said.

The feeling of dread had arrived so quickly he'd had no time to consider what it was he was so scared of.

From a purely practical point of view, he was in no immediate danger. The killer wasn't in the room. To be honest there had been times when he'd been in more danger in Skinner's office than he was right now. The warped sense of humour was starting to do its job.

So if this wasn't a reasonable response to a real terror, what was it? It could only be a chemical reaction, that gas had put fear into his head, just like it had with that man next door. That was why someone could come at you with a blunt hypodermic without you struggling, you were already paralysed by fear.

Somehow knowing it was just a chemical reaction was a relief, but it wasn't helping him to get out of here.

It had got worse when he thought about using the windows as an escape route, it had got easier when he'd understood what was happening. So his thoughts could change it. He tried to think positive. He cringed, maybe he should have listened to those seminars on 'better performance through positive attitude' after all.

He started to run through his mind looking for positive pictures. Scully - nice try but he could still see her in Duane Barry's car boot. Childhood - no way, far too dangerous. Scully - but last time he saw her she was crying. His work - well maybe, sometimes. His life - what life.

He let the slide show keep running through his brain until he'd picked up the least threatening images he had stored. So now he tried to imagine watching the Superbowl on TV with Scully's hand resting on his. It would have to do.

He sat back on a chair resting his head against the wall and took a deep breath.

At least it was giving him room to think. He got out the cellular phone and hoped he'd remembered to put the local branch office into the memory. It sounded like the right place. He rattled off his name and ID, the address, the need for backup and the need for backup to be wearing breathing suits. The lack of emotion in the voice worried the switchboard operator but when Mulder insisted she talk to Assistant Director Skinner if she didn't think he was serious, she reluctantly took the call as genuine and started work. Now all he had to remember was not to panic and draw his gun when backup arrived, getting shot by his rescuers would be too much.

'Daniels.... It's going to be alright, backup's coming.' Daniels couldn't hear, he was too far down. At least Scully isn't here, Mulder thought and the reassuring hand that had been resting on his own, vanished.

The elevator stopped, he could hear the whoosh of the doors. It was odd, an attack team would come up the stairs, maybe they had sent someone in first to check the place out. The door opened, the man wasn't wearing a breathing mask, he flicked a switch on the wall and he didn't look scared. What was that Mulder had thought about not drawing his gun, Mulder couldn't remember how to get to his gun right now but he thought it might be a good idea if he did.

'How interesting, I've got visitors - a polite one crouched in the corner in a traditional greeting posture and you, sitting up looking as though your still in control. But I bet you aren't immune, not like me, I've had all that practice and I've got the antidote. It takes a lot of tubes in a lot of brains to get enough to offer protection and I don't think you've been collecting. Welcome to my humble abode, the name's Williams, who are you?'

The voice had an odd effect, it was so calm, it reminded Mulder of holding a gun to Cancer Man's head and Cancer Man just sitting there. Ah, now that was interesting, that brought in angry thoughts, useful right now. An injection of adrenaline straight to the brain. The best thing about facing someone as confident as Wiliams looked was that they don't expect you to do anything, ah yes and they don't bother to hold a gun on you.

So when Mulder got to his feet, drew his gun and said 'Federal agent, back up to the wall or I fire' the surprise was enough to stop immediate retaliation.

Williams peered at him, bemused by the sharpness of the reaction. He walked silently to the cupboard by the door and drew out a large hypodermic.

'I'm impressed. Most people are paralysed by it, you must be very resilient. I guess you've had to make your own antidote before.'

Mulder struggled to speak. 'What antidote. What's going on? Why are you doing this'

'They used me, they tested that stuff on me. They treated me like their Lab rat. Now I use them to build my stocks of the antidote, it's only fair, no mystery. You're quite a mystery though. I'm surprised you found me so quickly. No to tell the truth, I'm surprised you can stand up. Aren't you scared?'

The pulse of adrenaline that had got him to his on his feet was wearing off. Mulder knew he couldn't keep this act up for very long and the hand that held the gun started to tremble. Just enough to give Williams the confidence to run towards him, but not enough to make the aim fail. One shot was enough.

Mulder sat back, tried to stay upright, adopt an optimistic posture he mused. Then just sit and wait. He closed his eyes and the nightmares came. One of the nightmares had figures with big heads and black eyes but it was no use protesting about being led away.

The tubes by his head were a shock. But these were just monitor wires running down to check his pulse and blood pressure and this was a hospital not a darkened room in a darkened apartment.

'Well physically they could wake up as 'fine' as you, but whether they want to wake up is in question. They're having very bad nightmares, we've had to sedate them'

Three days on and Daniels had woken up but it certainly wasn't obvious he wanted to. They were going to hang onto him until he was fit to travel. Then, well, it wasn't easy to tell.

The interviews with the people at the Lab were difficult. The people there had no interest in telling him anything. Williams was already dead so they were in no danger. Why should they give explanations to some nosy Fed.

Even so, just knowing the names of the people Williams had worked with told Mulder a lot. He checked their qualifications, the subjects of their Doctorate theses, their published work. A few bits and pieces from Williams Personnel file filled in more of the picture. It wasn't suitable for a court case, but then Williams was already dead so Mulder knew there would be no court case. He wasn't going to get anything solid enough to point any accusations back at the Lab.

The apartment had been emptied by the time Mulder could get back to it. The evidence bags collected by the backup team had been lost during archiving. He wasn't surprised.

The flight back had a forgotten novelty for Mulder, he was going to have to write his own report without any heckling (advice) from Scully.

The gas that hit him, his report would claim, was manufactured by a Government Laboratory as a chemical weapon, its intention would be to paralyse through fear. The lab rat, Williams, had been exposed to the chemical (maybe accidentally at first) but then repeatedly as the lab team realised that the brain could trigger its own natural defence mechanism. Not enough to kill the fear but enough to keep you alive and functioning through it. They started to collect the antidote the brain manufactured. Presumably so they could try and synthesize an anti fear drug for their own forces. When their, apparently, well adjusted lab rat left them, they didn't worry about him too much until he started to worry about them.

Well that should keep Skinner amused. Another conspiracy and cover up, funny how often that was how his reports panned out. Shame that Scully wasn't there, she could put some big scientific words in it to build up its credibility.

Good that Scully wasn't there, she would be safe at work, probably at Quantico, teaching. Good. No new nightmare for her collection. He'd ring her when he got in. Check how she was. Tell her how he got the strength to fight by her holding his hand. Maybe talking would be easier now they didn't work together?

The call got the answerphone. Oh well, one in the morning, either asleep or out (where? with who? for how long?). No point leaving her a message. They hadn't spoken since the 'incident' and probably best if they spoke face to face anyway, he'd go and see her tomorrow.

Part 3/3

As she stood in Skinner's office she became oddly grateful for all that practice she's got stood next to Mulder's side on the wrong side of the Bureau's good books. And as for being on her own this time, well at least, this time, she wasn't going to have to pull a gun on Skinner. She almost smiled at the thought of that.

She read the report Mulder had written and then the alternative that had been written for him.

'Duress, the misconduct people said it was both of you in trouble or just him. And you always knew he was into martyrdom.'

'So what happens next, Personnel said there would be no disciplinary action against me, what about him?'

'No action. But it reminded me the risk we'd taken keeping you two together. You're too involved... '. He caught her glare. 'I don't mean physically. Anyway he'll carry on with a new partner and you can return to your teaching role.'

The line had been crossed. She'd entered the office mad at the Bureau, mad at HR. Now she was mad at Mulder ('martyrdom' eh, it could be arranged). And mad at Skinner. How dare he withdraw her from the field. With her record. The arrogance of it.

Fortunately for Skinner, in an instant, he learned how to mind read. Maybe the tense muscles and the fixed but neutral glare reminded him of another agent.

As she left the room she wondered for an instant what she'd done. So mad with everyone, but especially with Mulder. How dare he choose to carry the can for her without even discussing it first. How dare he kiss the tears in her eyes and then not even call.

She wondered if she really wanted a new partner and field work. With her emotions in the scramble they were in right now, maybe she would be better off at school. Still, no time to think about that, the deed was done.

The partner arrived, file in hand. 'Dave Harland, call me Dave.' A novelty, calling a man by his first name. She wondered what other novelties there were going to be.

They passed a few pleasantries and he volunteered to get the coffee. While he was away, she checked him over on the department computer. Formidable. Commendations. Arrest rate. Promotion. And look at those scores from the firing range - impressive!

And she didn't need a computer to check the rest of him out. Tall, not quite as tall as Mulder, but well built, somehow not so frail looking. Beautiful blue eyes, not eyes that looked tormented, eyes that looked happy to be alive. Impressive. Skinner had decided to put her into safe hands, she reddened at that thought and wondered what was making her blush.

Harland hesitated before launching into the history of the serial killer they were trailing. Always supermarket carparks, always women alone, always lying in wait in the back of their car and grabbing them on their return and forcing them to drive to some lonely place where he raped them before killing them. And the trail was now across three states. He knew he shouldn't be hesitant, that she was a pathologist by training and had been involved in some pretty extreme cases with Fox Mulder, but even so, she looked so small and she had such sad eyes.

But, this time the killer had been unlucky, he and his car could be on the video footage of the car park. And because the supermarket had that fire alarm and had to evacuate. It meant that the killer might well own one of those twenty cars still in the car park after the store had closed. They thought he must arrive by car because the victims car would be found returned to within an easy walk of the supermarket carpark. Must want to get caught, thought Scully.

Provided the hunch was right and it was one of those twenty cars all they had to do was identify which one.

It was simple, classic, detective work. Which of the twenty car owners had been in the right place at the right time to commit the other offences. Anyone with a brain, a computer and the right police access codes could crack that.

Even the wrap up was simple, classic. As they knocked on the door of their prime suspect's home, they saw someone leave through the back door and blocked him as he tried to get to the car in the drive. Easy.

Scully found herself smiling at how easy it had all been. She'd got used to the complication, argument, confusion and trouble that dogged every enquiry. Maybe she could get used to the simple life with Agent Harland.

And in the report. Nothing equivocal. No differences of opinion between the verdicts of the investigating team to be drawn out. No embarrassed silence in Skinner's office. Just a job well done.

Back at the Bureau eating breakfast with her partner, idly gossiping over the coffee and Danish pastries she felt normal. She'd forgotten what normal was like but this was definitely a reminder. Maybe the Personnel people had arrived at just the right time to rescue her. Maybe she was going to enjoy this. Maybe in a while she'd get on with her life.

David was in full flow and Dana was happen to go along with it. Though she hesitated when he offered to read her palm to tell her future, she couldn't stop herself playing along. It was just fun.

When Mulder had got back from the gassing at the laundry he'd tried to call her expecting her to be tucked up safe in some office. He was stunned when he realised she was out on in the field. But now, he'd read the file on her new partner and as he looked at them smiling, him holding her hand in some kind of game. He knew the right thing had happened. Harland looked like he knew how to look after himself and would know how to look after her. Good. Now he didn't have to talk to her, he already knew she was ok. He'd go back to work.

Scully noticed Mulder out of the corner of her eye. That look of sadness and horror in his eyes. How dare he look at her like that? As he walked away, she glared after him.

He hadn't spoken to her since those people from Human Resources came in. After all they'd been through together. He didn't even phone. He didn't even acknowledge the calls she left on his answerphone. He decides to play the martyr without even mentioning it, because he didn't have the guts to talk to her. And now, when she tries to get herself straightened out, he tries to make her feel guilty. Well it wasn't going to work. How dare he take away her XFiles and then try to make her feel guilty.

Harland was shocked by the venom in her eyes. Maybe that rumour about why they split was right.

Dana had been working with Agent Harland, Dave, for three months now and she couldn't remember why she'd thought her previous life had been normal. She felt a sense of achievement in the work she did.

And she only had nightmares at night. Not even every night. She'd even started to rebuild some kind of life outside work so sometimes she wasn't even on her own when she had them. One day, she might want to talk to someone and then she'd have to find the right person to talk to.

As they checked in at the Hotel desk, the desk clerk noticed the Bureau heading on the reservations fax. Unusually they'd booked ahead of leaving Washington because of the convention that was going on in the town. 'Your colleague arrived this morning, I think he's in the Bar.' They shrugged and decided to go and take a look, say hello to whoever it was.

They walked through to the Bar, wondering what else might be attracting Federal attention to this small town. Scully felt herself shrink as she recognised the Agent reading the newspaper in the deserted end of the Bar, but quickly recovered herself and kept on walking.

'Thanks. Surprising to see you in the Bar, I'd imagined you were more a stay in the room type.' Harland hadn't meant his first words to Mulder to sound quite so much like a jibe.

Mulder wandered away, Scully was surprised by the smile that had greeted her. He looked distinctly, well if not happy exactly, then at least content. She'd heard that the replacement partner count had got to three before Skinner had given up and decided to let him work alone (one medical retirement on mental health grounds, one three month leave for recuperation and one who got out before something happened to him as well). He returned with the drinks order.

'Not saying. You'd only laugh. And anyway, I think I might have hit a dead end, I might be off home tomorrow. What about you two?'

The three chatted about trivia. Scully was surprised, maybe it was because they'd been working in a pressure cooker that they had managed to get so mixed up. Anyway, she might have hated him, and they might not have talked for three months, but they both seemed a whole lot better for the break.

He studiously avoided being left on his own with her, following Harland to the Bar and later to the men's room. But, when Harland said he had to go and make some phone calls, it wasn't so easy to come up with an excuse to leave her.

' Skinner couldn't afford to lose Agents at that rate. Its safer like this and anyway I like it.'

She ignored the remark. 'You look happy, I've never seen you smile so much, I thought there must be someone new.'

'You know me, positive attitude, positive body posture, sit up straight and smile.'

'No, I can read the Reader's Digest Book of Quack Psychology as well as the next person. And it must have worked, even the Bureau's psycho unit have decided to lay off.'

This was a nice room layout. She could watch Mulder over breakfast, in that mirror and he wouldn't see her. His waitress flirted outrageously and was rewarded by one of his best bright, shy smiles. Dana couldn't help thinking that it would be a shame if he did decide to go back to Washington today.

The interviews with the bank employees were going smoothly and they had been able to trace the money back through six transfers. They were headed the right place, just a few more pieces of the jigsaw and they'd be there, though they did seem to keep hitting brick walls. And her mind kept drifting to whatever Mulder was up to.

There was something that kept jarring with her as they chased through the money trails, too many dead ends, as if the money just appeared and disappeared. They were making steady progress yet getting nowhere. She was sure they had to be missing something.

If Mulder had been around, maybe he could have supplied that twist of lateral thinking that might just put a new spin on the data. But, then of course, Dave would hate that, he believed in conscientious work and solid procedures.

Mulder's computer screen blinked up more blank data. Karen Turner was dead, but then she'd never existed. No tax, no insurance, no rental agreements, no credit cards, no nothing. But she had existed, he'd seen the body (well what was left of it) and in the lining of her coat they'd found the payment receipt for her phone bill. Except, according to the computer, she'd never had a phone.

There was nothing paranormal or inexplicable about it. Even so, the Lone Gunman guys claimed the hacker who did this must have super human powers. It involved too many different systems. Too detailed an access. Very professional job and done with lots of inside help.

It disturbed him. Why would someone want to eradicate her? It wasn't just that the woman's family and friends should be told of her death, or even that the killer should be caught. It was the fact that whoever killed her also thought it was worth killing her history. Why would they do it? Who would do it? Who else had it happened to?

So he trawled through the other unidentified bodies found round here to see if any of them had carried anything that seemed to identify them that led to a dead end. And here it was, Michael Goddard identified by the serial number on his glasses. But when the optician checked back through his records. it seemed that Goddard had paid by his credit card, except that the card had never been issued. But it must have existed sometime, else the optician would never have been paid....

So that's how he ended up sat in the bank rummaging through the mounds of paper records. Scully spotted him as she walked to the coffee shop with Harland. 'What are you doing here?'

'Trying to see if I can find any hard copy record of an account for which there's no computer entry.'

'Chasing our tails. The money arrives from nowhere and goes nowhere. It just shuffles round accounts then vanishes.'

His reply surprised them. The three of them walked out to lunch together and started to swap notes. Scully and Mulder bickered over the evidence and what it might mean. Mulder deliberately suggesting outrageous explanations because they made her laugh, but she knew they also made her think.

Harland couldn't get a word in edgeways, not that he wanted to. It was ridiculous, these two were squabbling like an old married couple debating holiday options, but this was a serious matter. They were supposed to be dealing with murder and the theft of millions of dollars. He suggested it was time they got back to work and he stood up as if he expected the others to follow.

Mulder scowled, Harland's straightforward professionalism was becoming irritating.

'This is work. We have one case where people die and their bank accounts disappear. We have another case where money moves to a bank account, which also disappears. Don't you think that's a big coincidence for a small town?'

Harland returned to his seat, he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere alone and he was good enough at his job to know he wasn't really in a position just to ignore alternatives.

Eventually, the money had to actually get drawn out, else what was the point. But this money just seemed to disappear. A transfer out with no corresponding transfer in. Scully and Mulder returned to their debate.

'No,' said Mulder carefully, ' a transfer out with a transfer into an account from which the money gets withdrawn. And as soon as the money gets withdrawn, the account doesn't just get closed it gets wiped out, along with its owner.'

'But if they are so clever with computers why not just create fake users and fake accounts, why the extra risk?'

'Because they aren't so clever. They are using software that's tuned to delete people not to add new ones. And if you simply add a brand new account to a bank and then immediately start moving millions of dollars through it, the computer systems can automatically trigger the banking irregularities warnings.'

Just like the warning that had brought them here on this investigation. Except this warning had been triggered by a human cashier who didn't believe that someone with millions of dollars would live at that address.

'The only people with the money to pay the development bill and the ability to give away all those access codes would be the government.'

'You think there's a government conspiracy laundering money and killing innocent account holders!' Scully laughed.

'No, I only said I thought the government owned the software. I'm not even going to guess why they had the software written, but I bet it wasn't just to give an edge to the witness protection scheme.'

He suspected that they were looking for a group that had gone astray and who were using the techniques they'd learned on their official work to do a bit of unofficial money raising for their pension funds. If he was right from what he'd seen of the covert side of government, they could pay a high penalty for moonlighting. But telling Harland that theory right now, would be no fun.

'It probably stems back to those budget cuts Congress made, they're trying to rustle up the missing 10% of their annual operating expenses.'

If Harland was already starting to look annoyed, then Mulder's suggestion that they now focus their enquiries on the cemetery didn't help improve his mood.

Scully played along and demanded more explanation from Mulder. If you kill people, even if you delete their computer history, some people keep looking and worrying. Workmates for a while, but then tens of thousands of people disappear every year so friends and workmates know they have to accept it. But husbands, wives, parents aren't always so tolerant, some of them start making a noise. So the easiest target would be someone who's just lost their next of kin and had no other close relatives.

As they trailed through the lists of recent deaths. Two of the names of next of kin matched the mysterious accounts they had been investigating.

The first house call just served to mystify and alarm a perfectly healthy householder who couldn't believe that for at least a few hours last week he'd been a millionaire. But this was the house where they picked up the dark blue car that now followed them to the second address.

The driver of the blue car didn't like it, these Feds were too close. Taking action against them would bring in an army, but the Bureau doesn't move all that quick and that would give them plenty of time to get out and cover their tracks. By next week they would be back to their normal work. And, they could start again in the next town when they got the chance.

No, the only problem was the immediate one. They hadn't tidied the victim's house, the first part had been done, grabbing all the bank records, credit cards etc. But the clean up that would make it look like the owner had packed his bags and walked out, that remained. That was dangerous, there could be things they left behind. They weren't always that careful about covering their own tracks because they always knew the cleanup team would finish the job. The driver called for help.

'Its a crime scene and we can go in, the householder's life may be in jeopardy.' - said Scully officiously.

Harland barged through the front door. Mulder couldn't help but hope that Harland would have a bruised shoulder in the morning but he knew that seemed unlikely.

As soon as he went in, Mulder knew this was dangerous. The houses of previous victims couldn't have looked like this. If they had, then people would have known a crime had been committed and followed it up, not just logged it as them having left of their own free will. This place was work in progress. This place was dangerous to be in, they needed reinforcements if they were to remain. He tried to explain the problem to Scully and Harland.

It was difficult for them to accept that there was danger here. The place had been turned over but there was nothing here now. Asking for backup seemed pointless. The whole theory seemed too far fetched. The argument Harland wanted to have with Mulder now found something to focus on.

Mulder winced, he didn't want to argue. He knew how it sounded, but he'd been close enough to the kind of people he thought had done this burglary to know he didn't want to be in their way. Even if they were only moonlighting. He wasn't staying around to meet the clean up team.

'We're in danger. We have to get away from the house, we can watch it, but not reenter it until we have help.'

'This is getting ridiculous. There are three of us here, what are you expecting - an attack by a squad of marines? Thanks for helping with the case, you can fly back home if you like, but we've still got work to do.'

'Please. I'm serious. I'm deadly serious.' He turned towards Dana. 'Please, Scully don't brush this off, you've got to leave with me.

Dana looked at him, looked at Harland and tried to compromise. 'Look we'll contact the office so they know what we're doing and get them to assign guards and send a forensics team over and meanwhile we'll complete the search.'

'I don't know how long we've got before they come back, but I don't see why you think you got enough time. We have to leave now.'

'No.' She said firmly. 'Anyway you can look out for anything suspicious from outside.'

'And, I don't have your ability to jump to conclusions without evidence.' She said the words straight from her brain but her heart was trying to overrule them. Mulder using her first name had frightened her enough that she had to understand why he was so convinced.

Maybe if he actually left she would follow him and persuade Harland. Maybe they did have enough time. He could just be wrong about the whole thing and nobody would show up anyway. He left through the backdoor and walked to the garage block. And she was right, maybe he could see something, do something, if he was outside when they came.

But he only had enough time to see the back door of the white van open and then two men launch something through the downstairs windows. An explosion rattled through the house and the flames started. Trying to stop the van was pointless and anyway Scully was still inside.

He closed his eyes. He could hear his heart beating far too fast and far too loud. He crawled his way back in. Every inch seemed to take an age. But, Dana had decided to follow him out to talk to him some more. She had been in the hall when the fire bombs hit. She was disoriented by the blast and blinded by the smoke, she wasn't able to move. Until Mulder grabbed her arm and she followed him to the back door.

He looked around for Harland. He couldn't go back in again but maybe there was something he could do. He walked round the house looking for something that wasn't spitting flames and smoke, something that might help. Or some sign that Harland was still alive. The sign came as Harland pushed through the french windows. Mulder remembered to roll Harland on the ground to stop the flames that had started to lick into his clothes.

Mulder sat quiet on the grass looking at the trees, he could hear the fire sirens and the ambulances coming. As soon as the paramedics arrived and took over work on Harland, Dana came and sat close to Mulder. He recoiled from her. She spoke softly.

'It's a new record. Less than 24 hours from when we meet to when I nearly get you killed.'

She knew him too well to argue. He'd already decided it was his fault because it had been him who'd pulled them out of their safe paperchase and into danger. They'd have showed up at the house in a couple of days but they would have shown up after the clean up squad had done their work.

'You can't blame yourself for being good at your job and leading us to the house. If we hadn't ignored you, we wouldn't have been in danger.'

'If I hadn't squabbled with Harland. If I'd explained things better. If I was actually good at my job, you would have believed me.'

She shuddered. She saw that look of horror and sadness in his eyes. Three months ago it had angered her, she'd felt then as if he was trying to make her feel guilty. But now she knew she had simply glimpsed the depth of the guilt he carried. She wondered how he had managed to stay this sane. She tried to pull him back close he tried to stay away.