Letting Go

By Joann Humby
joannhere@gmail.com


Date: 2 Jul 1996 17:39:23 GMT

Legally:
The X-Files characters in this story belong to Chris Carter,
1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the X-Files writers.
Harry Callaghan belongs to Clint Eastwood and the film company
he owns.
I've borrowed them for fun not profit and will be trying to
return them undamaged.

This story:
I'm happy for the story to be circulated uncommercially, intact
and with my name still attached.

Unlikely as it might sound this a X-Files / Dirty Harry
crossover. My excuse for this was I wanted Mulder to have to work with a
nice/honest/talented/straightforward cop. Then I watched a Dirty Harry film
straight after an X-Files episode and the rest
happened by accident.

SPOILER ALERT:
There is a third season spoiler in here. The show in question
has been on UK satellite but if you're not sure if I'm going to
spoil something you've not yet seen then email me and I'll say which
episode. If I name it here, it'll spoil this story!

R RATING:
Violence level about comparable with the show.
Some (surprisingly little in my opinion) bad language and some
profanity - hence the R rating.

Thanks to Vickie and Matt for acting as guinea pigs / Ukism
translators for this story.

Joann - joannhere@gmail.com

============

LETTING GO

Part 1/7


Callaghan's voice boomed through the thin walls of the office.
"Ask for help? Help from them?"

His boss looked back at him equally frustrated, but obliged to
sound like he supported the plan. "Them?"

"The case will be cracked by someone being in the right place at
the right time, asking the right questions. And the someone
won't be a fortune teller from Washington."

"Look, Caroline Clarke is dead. She must have been on to
something with her profile else the killer wouldn't have gone
after her. And the PD don't have anyone who comes even close to
her on the psychology stuff. I hate it as much as you, we want
to look after our own. But we're not giving the Bureau the case.
The Department's just asked them for one thing, an analyst who
can pick up where Caroline left off."

"With me as a babysitter."

"With you, getting him up to speed, showing him the evidence and
making sure that he stays useful."

"Why me?"

"Because we need to keep this one alive."

------------

Fox Mulder walked through the exit of San Francisco Airport
looking at no one and checking every face in the crowd. They
were sending someone to meet him. A minder, he half smiled. A
bodyguard and chauffeur.

Mulder had read the records for the man he was meeting, he
didn't like surprises. Harry Callaghan, 'Dirty Harry'. Harry
could of course be winding down for retirement, though it didn't
seem likely. Either that, or Mulder was about to meet a police
officer who was not going to be at all happy with his latest
assignment. And that was fair enough because Mulder wasn't happy
about his latest assignment either.

Mulder walked over to the tall greying man, "Detective
Callaghan?"

"Agent Mulder?"

Mulder nodded and they walked to the car. Mulder was relieved by
the lack of smalltalk, he moved straight to business. "What's
the timetable? When do I get to see the scenes of crime?"

Callaghan started the car. He'd spotted Mulder quickly amongst
the passengers in their jeans and chinos. The business suits
stood out. The haircut was distinctive. Still, he couldn't help
but feel slightly impressed by how easily Mulder had spotted
him. Callaghan was pretty sure that he hadn't thrown out too
many signals of recognition. Not bad. And the first question was
'when do we go to the crime scene', not 'which hotel'. Callaghan
considered his orders and thought that for once he might do as
he was told and let the Fed do whatever he liked with the rest
of the day. They weren't due to show up at the station until
tomorrow. "We can do the tour whenever you want."

"May as well go straight out while we've got plenty of
daylight."

"Sure."

Five deaths in five weeks. Saturday night killings. Victims
kidnapped during the previous week and then killed on Saturday
night. The latest victim had been the Police Department's own
Analyst. Most of the locals viewed the Police Chief's phone call
to the FBI as an act of desperation, almost a betrayal. A
politically motivated betrayal with elections on the way.
Callaghan wasn't really so fussy about where they got help. But
being given the job of tour guide and security on the piece of
Washington window dressing was an insult.

Callaghan talked Mulder around the place where their last
profiler had been found. Executed with a single bullet to the
head.

Mulder surveyed the crime scene. Ideally he'd treat it as just
another investigation. Study the scenes, find some missing link,
suggest a strategy for the chase. But this wasn't one of those
cases, it wasn't a small town police force who didn't regularly
deal with murder. It wasn't an X-File where the evidence didn't
conform to the normal rules and therefore got ignored. It was a
serial killer leaving behind crime scenes already analyzed by an
experienced police team.

Mulder knew he had to do the job he'd been sent to do, get
inside the killer's head and identify the way to trap him. He
hovered between not wanting to try and wanting to get the job
over with as quickly as possible. He sat on the wall looking at
the scene, got the photos from the file and tried to superimpose
the images on the landscape. Tried to think how it looked on the
night the woman died, tried to visualize her being put in
position, tried to visualize the gun being brought to her head.
As he willed the dead body to appear in his mind, he felt the
shadows close around him. As he tried to take the image back in
time to the moment of the killing, he felt the wave of nausea
come rushing through.

Callaghan studied the Agent. Mulder certainly put on a good
show. Harry was reminded of a medium he'd once seen in a circus
side show, pretending to go into a trance and then throwing out
strings of unrelated words. Eventually someone in the audience
recognized three of the twenty words said and shouted out that
this was about her life, conveniently ignoring the seventeen
things that were inaccurate. Profilers.

It was nearly ten by the time they arrived at the hotel.
Callaghan ate his meal with his silent companion. Mulder played
with the food, ate the bread rolls and drank the milk.

Mulder was setting the agenda, when he went to his room
Callaghan went to his adjoining one. Mulder flicked on the TV
for background noise, got out the files and started dreaming.

Callaghan wondered about the intense, serious looking Fed in the
next room. He'd read up on the man he was watching over. He
didn't even work for the Behavioral team anymore, left it years
ago. The PD had asked for help and the Bureau had sent out one
of its rejects. He wondered, after what he's seen, if he was
maybe being a little harsh on his neighbor. The man was working
in some division of Violent Crimes as an investigator. Almost
every case he touched seemed to be classified as confidential.
And an impressive clear up rate. But still, they had asked the
FBI for someone to assist with a profile and they'd sent someone
who didn't write profiles.

-----------------------
TUESDAY MORNING

Mulder quietly surveyed his fingernails as the head of the
police team ran through the case for his benefit. Mulder tried
to stop the impatience from showing, but it was hard. He needed
to work. He didn't need this repetition of the headlines from
the case files. Did the chief of the detective team think that
he couldn't read or something?

Callaghan watched as his captain attempted to brief Mulder.
Mulder, Callaghan had already discovered, knew the words on the
case better then his boss. He wondered how long it would take
before Mulder's apparently automatic good manners lost out to,
what Callaghan sensed was, his equally automatic impatience.

Callaghan didn't have long to wait. Mulder started asking
questions based on the reports. Autopsy details, scene of crime
interpretation, queries about the reasoning behind the police
analyst's original profile. The nominal head of the team dropped
out after the second question. By the fifth question the
discussion had turned into a dialogue between Harry Callaghan
and Fox Mulder. Mulder didn't mind, he just wanted to make sure
that he wasn't missing anything or anyone that might be useful.

Callaghan wondered about the Fed. The sharp suit had put him off
the scent at the start, the man he was looking at wasn't about
careers and politics. The interrogation he'd put the
investigating team through, was about checking out the people
working on the case not just about proving some kind of  inter
agency supremacy. The little trance he'd gone into at the
crimescenes, maybe even that wasn't an act. Callaghan almost
smiled.

-------------

Mulder sat with Callaghan in the hotel room. He'd walked away
from the Police HQ claiming the need to do some research.

Mulder gulped back the coffee. "Sorry you got baby sitting duty
Callaghan."

"Nothing personal Mulder. But, I'd sooner be out there doing
something useful."

"Yeah. Me too." Mulder looked wistfully out of the window. "You
might as well get a break, it'll be hours before I get
anywhere." Mulder slumped back on the bed and switched on the
portable computer.

Callaghan watched for a minute, then returned to his own room
and puzzled over what Mulder had to write about.

---------

Callaghan returned to the room four hours later. Mulder scarcely
acknowledged his presence and took only slightly more interest
in the coffee and burgers that accompanied him. Mulder looked up
at the older man and asked a one word question. "Bored?"

Callaghan just grunted in reply. Mulder's head returned to the
files and Callaghan walked away to muse over what was keeping
Mulder so occupied.

Mulder looked at the files on his knee. His head was swimming.
That contradiction between not letting go and wanting to get the
job finished tearing into him the way it always did. His
thoughts drifted to Dana Scully, safely at home in Washington
with a broken ankle she'd picked up on vacation. Funny her
getting hurt on vacation. If she'd been here, he'd be less
scared about letting go, knowing that she'd be there to drag him
back if he went too far. If she had been here it would be
easier. But it would be harder too because he didn't
like exposing her to it. If she was here it would be different.

He tried to dive back into the files. He tried to let his head
swim through the mush of information. Somewhere, in the back of
his mind the images of the killings started to form. They
replayed over and over again, sometimes slowly, sometimes on
fast forward, sometimes blurry, sometimes sharply focused.

Seeing the killings. Feeling the shudder of the explosion of the
gun. Seeing the blood. Too easy. Too easy, like it was always
too easy.

Just to let go a little more. Just a little more.

Seeing the killings was one thing. What he needed to see was the
killer. See the moment he chose his victims. See the kidnaps.
See the torture. Then look in the mirror and see the killer.

Just to let go a little more. He fell back into the pillows.

---------------

Callaghan wasn't completely idle. He nagged the HQ staff for
updates. He talked to the colleagues of the dead. But there were
conversations you don't have, questions you can't ask, nuances
you can't get if you are just talking down a phone. Frustrating.
Well that was one word for it. Callaghan's own description was a
little stronger. He just hoped this Mulder character was worth
it.

Callaghan had given him another couple of hours since he'd taken
in the coffee and burgers < since when had he been a waiter
anyway? >. He decided it was about time he heard a progress
report.

Callaghan entered his neighbor's room. Mulder was sitting up
against the head board of the bed, knees pulled tight against
his chest, eyes closed, hands on head.

"Mulder?" Callaghan's voice betrayed onto a tiny percentage of
the confusion he felt.

Mulder's reaction confused him even more. Mulder didn't move,
didn't even open his eyes, his voice was flat and neutral as he
replied. "Hi Callaghan. Brought some more supplies?"

"Are you getting anywhere?"

"Depends where that  is."

Callaghan was hating the enforced idleness. Just for a moment he
got this idea that Mulder was hating it almost as much. He felt
a little sorry for the man sitting up on the bed. "We should get
out working, this stuff...."

"This stuff is what I've been sent to do."

"Whatever you come up with it'll still be the police work that
solves the case."

"You reckon I should type up standard serial killer profile
number two." Mulder changed the intonation in his voice to that
of a polished presenter. "Killer is white. Male. Single. No
serious relationships with women. Above average intelligence.
Probably emotionally neglected as a child and difficulty
handling emotion as an adult. Few friends. Described by
colleagues as capable but a pain in the ass. Obsessive. Poor
loser, fear of failure. Unable to take pleasure in success." He
paused. "Know him?"

Callaghan scowled.

Mulder opened one eye and a ripple of humor drifted into his
voice. "Reckon I should carry on working and get us both off the
suspects list?"

Callaghan tipped his head back and let out a brief grunt of
disgust.

--------------

Late that evening they did a quick visit back to the police
station. Mulder looked through the evidence bags. Callaghan
quizzed his colleagues on what had come in during the day.

Over dinner they talked.

Callaghan was doing the questioning. "You don't work for
Behavioral, ISU, whatever they like to call themselves."

"Left them."

"Why?"

"Didn't like the work."

"So why are you here?"

"You need me. And I need to make myself useful occasionally so I
can spend most of my time on the work I do like."

"Which is?"

"Come on Callaghan. Surely, you aren't going to pretend you
haven't read my file."

"Most of it's classified."

Mulder just nodded.

Callaghan tried to drag out some more answers. "Why are you on
this case? This particular one, now?"

"I work with a partner. But she's hurt." Mulder noticed
Callaghan's frown. "Skiing accident. She'll be back soon."

Callaghan detected a glimmer of emotion in his colleague's
features and let a little humour into his. "I thought you said,
'no serious relationships with women'."

"No. It doesn't count, she gets paid to talk to me." Callaghan
frowned his disbelief. Mulder smiled guiltily before continuing.
"So do I come off the suspects list then?"

Callaghan told Mulder he'd lined up someone else to work with
him tomorrow but asked Mulder to call him if he was getting
anywhere.

Mulder looked him over. "You mean if I decide to get out of
bed?"

Callaghan offered an apologetic half smile in reply.

Mulder stood up abruptly. "I need to do some work."

"It's 10 O Clock at night."

"Are you suggesting we synchronize watches or do you operate a
10:30 curfew?"

Callaghan shook his head and they wandered back to their hotel
rooms.


==============

Part 2



Mulder slumped back onto the bed and tried to get back into the
mood.

The victims were.... He listed the characteristics. Arrows,
squiggles, rings, highlights running across the words in the
notebook. Long unprioritised lists on the computer.

But what he was writing wasn't what he was thinking. In his head
he was watching the pictures, trying to roll back from the
killings which he could see with horrible clarity to the build
up to the killings.

The killing of the police profiler was the most distinctive act.
An extraordinary piece of bravado. For one brief instant Mulder
had hoped it implied inside knowledge about the investigation
but quickly realized that all it meant was that the analyst had
been interviewed on local TV.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift again. The images
rolled. He watched the police profiler get out of her car to
walk into her apartment and her desperate struggle to get away
from the men who grabbed her. The men, why plural? He could only
see one personality at work in the pattern of victim selection,
in the kidnap method, in the deaths. But whenever he tried to
think about the physical tasks at hand he saw two people.

He scanned the pictures again. Bruising to both arms where hands
had gripped too tightly. Two different incidents? Possibly. But
the  finger patterns were different. He looked through the
photos. Two attackers but one so dominant that the other one's
character is submerged by the first.

He could see the victim. He could hear her scream.

-----------------

Callaghan puzzled over the Agent in the next room. There was a
cool confidence in the way he worked. He looked young. For a
specialist in violent crimes he looked remarkably unscathed. But
there were dark shadows in his eyes and a defensive cynicism in
his voice, except when he talked about his partner.

Callaghan called an old colleague who'd left to join the FBI in
Washington.

The voice at the other end of the line whistled then started to
speak. "You've got Spooky on the case?

"Spooky?"

"Yeah. You sure you've got something weird enough for him? Is
Dana Scully out there?"

"No. Got hurt skiing apparently."

"You're unlucky then. Together they make a hell of a team.
Mulder's got a reputation for getting into trouble when she's
not around."

"Trouble? He's an analyst. How does he get into trouble sitting
in a hotel writing profiles."

"You've got him as a profiler? They use his stuff for training
at Quantico. But I thought he didn't do it any more. You're
honored."

"Right." < Honored > Callaghan considered it. He'd keep it in
mind.

------------------

WEDNESDAY MORNING


Mulder watched Callaghan with barely suppressed amusement. "You
seem on edge Callaghan. What's the problem?"

Callaghan frowned.

"Callaghan? Ask. I'll either answer or I won't."

"Why do they call you Spooky?"

Mulder's eyes didn't waiver. "Why do they call you Dirty Harry?"

"I take it that's the no answer."

"You're a detective, go ahead, detect. Why do they call you
Dirty Harry?"

"They don't. Not to my face."

"But?"

"They give me the dirty jobs."

"And?"

"I don't always stick to the book, they reckon some of my
tactics are dirty."

Mulder just shrugged.

Callaghan looked again at Mulder. Mulder looked back intently.
Callaghan wondered if the Fed was as good as he thought he was.

Callaghan changed the subject. "What's the score? You getting
anywhere with the profile?"

"Profiles."

"Plural."

Mulder's voice rippled with a gentle humor that was starting to
amuse as well as baffle Callaghan. "Sure. Thought I'd rustle up
half a dozen, then when we catch the guy I'll point out the best
one and impress my management with not having lost my touch. You
know, same technique as horoscopes, make it vague enough, you
can get a match."

Callaghan nodded appreciatively.

Mulder spoke again. "Two profiles. One for the man who's driving
the killings the other for his sidekick. Neither of them's
useful enough yet."

Callaghan spoke with soft sarcasm. "So you're spending the day
in bed then?"

"Not entirely, I need to go back to the murder scenes again. My
new babysitter here yet?"

-----------

Detective Foster had been trailing Mulder for three hours and
the nearest he'd got to a conversation was when Mulder asked him
how far away from the nearest phone booth one of the murder
scene's was. Mulder was wandering around with a compass in his
hand, scribbling down the occasional note but basically just
looking around.

Foster had asked him a couple of times what he was looking at
and the Fed had just shrugged.

They'd arrived back at the hotel and Mulder had started typing
at the portable. Foster had sat in the room, unperturbed by the
glare he'd got from Mulder. Mulder considered how to phrase it
tactfully, "go away and do something useful Foster" was the
closest he got.

Foster had reappeared an hour later with coffee and sandwiches
and used it as his chance to ask some more questions. What had
Mulder been looking at with the crime scenes? How good was the
original profile from Caroline Clarke?

Mulder switched on the TV and pretended to be fascinated by the
talkshow. Foster left him.

A couple of hours later they were at the Police HQ. Mulder was
explaining the profiles of the killers.

The principle profile was an extension of Caroline Clarke's
notes. The man was choosing people who looked happy, ordinary,
secure and successful. He was keeping them for long enough to
turn them into victims who had walked to their executions
without a struggle. The profile Mulder had produced was
shockingly detailed, from probable educational background
through to likely physical appearance.

The second profile was sketchier. The man was physically strong
but so much under the thumb of the first killer that all Mulder
knew was that the accomplice was easily led.

Mulder had turned apologetically to the police team after he'd
given them the information and summarized. "I know it's not
enough to let you find the killer but as you come across
suspects it should be enough to tell you how to prioritize them.
I'll have some more for you in a day or so."

The two killers thing made sense. Even the rest of it sounded
plausible. Callaghan wondered where the information had come
from.

Foster had questioned Mulder like a terrier snapping at his
heels. How could he judge the age? What information provides the
physical appearance? Snap, snap, snap.

Mulder answered a couple of questions, but the fact was, there
were some things he just didn't want to talk about.

---------------

WEDNESDAY EVENING

Harry Callaghan had seen a cold look in Mulder's eyes as he
talked to Foster that worried him. In fact it worried him so
much that he decided to join them at the hotel for dinner.

Foster kept on nagging. "Why did you stop writing profiles?"

Mulder didn't look up. "I moved to a different job."

"Did you lose your touch?"

Mulder scanned the food on the table and replied quietly. "It
got too easy."

"Too easy. If I could do that stuff you do. I mean how can you
waste that sort of talent."

Mulder shifted uncomfortably, Foster wasn't the first person to
have asked that question. "I work on cases other Agents don't
solve."

"But not on the same scale, I mean just physically you can't get
around so many jobs as if you stuck to analyst work."

Mulder could still see the images of the police profiler as they
hurt her body and hurt her mind. She had known she was going to
die on Saturday night at 10:23. He knew that someone else would
die unless he improved the profile the detective opposite was
congratulating him on.

Callaghan looked at Mulder and saw the pale features as they
became steadily paler and less expressive and noted the slight
sheen of sweat that crossed his forehead. Callaghan looked at
Detective Foster and shut him up with a glare.

Mulder said nothing more that evening.

----------------------

Mulder lay on the bed, no glimmer of sleep in view, finally he
picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

Dana Scully rolled onto her side and rubbed the sleep from her
eyes. She didn't have to guess who was on the line. Then she
heard his voice. She asked him about the case. He just said fine
and asked her about her ankle. She tried again to get him
talking. He blocked the attempt and asked her what she was doing
at home, had she got into the daytime soaps, joined the
apartment block coffee morning group? She smiled at the teasing
and recognised the reason for the call. He just wanted to hear
her voice sounding quiet and normal, reminding him of a reality
he was going to have to walk away from.

He put the phone down, reassured that there was something in the
real world worth coming back to.

---------------------

THURSDAY MORNING

Callaghan had taken over the babysitting role again. Mulder had
told him last night that he was going out interviewing today so at
least it wasn't going to mean watching daytime TV in a hotel bedroom.
After what Callaghan had seen the night before with Foster he didn't
think he trusted anyone else to look after Mulder.

Callaghan checked his watch, 9:45. He hadn't wanted to wake up
Mulder but this was getting ridiculously late. He knocked on the door
and when he didn't get a reply on the second knock he went in.

Mulder was sitting up, huddled against the headboard of the bed.
His eyes opened and  locked for an instant on Callaghan. He got up
and walked slowly to the bathroom and closed the door.

Callaghan heard the sound of running water and then the
coughing, gagging noises. He switched on the TV, turning up the sound
to drown out the noise, respecting his colleague's privacy.

When Mulder returned to the bedroom, it was as the calm, smartly
dressed figure who Callaghan had picked up at the Airport.
Callaghan watched Mulder intently.

Mulder felt the scrutiny and sat down, he looked carefully back
at Callaghan. "So Callaghan, how many people have you killed?"

Callaghan wondered at the lack of emotion in the voice but
responded to the question. "Too many."

Mulder nodded. "And how many innocent people?"

"None, I hope."

Mulder looked straight through Callaghan. "Well I've killed your
previous profiler twice this morning."

Callaghan shuffled uncomfortably.

Mulder carried on talking. "It's ok. No problem. I'm reacting
appropriately. It's if I don't keep cringing and running to the
bathroom there's a problem." A glimmer of a smile crept onto
Mulder's lips, but not into his eyes. "And if that happens, I suggest
you get your gun out and call 911."

Callaghan puzzled for a moment. If this was still an act it was
a pretty impressive one. He hoped it was an act.

Mulder gave his hair a final run through with a comb and turned
back to face Callaghan. "Why are you back on babysitting duty?"

"I must have pissed someone off really badly." He paused. "And I
doubt you'd let Foster get the drop on you if he had to pull a
gun."

Mulder smiled.

==============
Part 3/7


The wife of the first victim hadn't wanted to talk to them. Her
life had been shredded and these people had come back to scratch
at her scars. How dare they. She had told the police when she
didn't hear from him when he first went on his business trip,
they had told her they couldn't make husbands phone home.

Then after he was killed they'd asked her questions. Then she'd
heard nothing from them for weeks. She'd even had to phone the
police herself to find out if there had been any progress. And
they'd almost dismissed her question as if it had nothing to do
with her. But now one of their own was dead and suddenly
everything was moving. They'd even brought the FBI in. They
hadn't bothered to do that for her husband.

Callaghan was all quiet, strong reassurance. That things were
happening, that they hadn't and wouldn't stop trying. The voice
was convincing and she started to let it take over. Trusting
someone would be good. But she didn't have anything to tell
them, she didn't know anything more than she'd already told
them, she didn't know why her husband had died. She'd been asked
so many times about enemies. Enemies. Why would her husband have
enemies? She couldn't even see any way that he could have met
someone capable of killing. And as for imagining someone who
could want to kill him. It was impossible. Just some mindless
attack by a mindless stranger.

Mulder had shocked her. The Agent had asked her if he could see
some photos of her husband. Then he had come and sat next to her
on the couch and she'd shown him the family album. It made her
cry. But there was something so soothing in his voice that she
didn't mind crying. It was refreshing. She smiled at the holiday
snaps and started to tell him about their lives.

When they finally left the house, Callaghan turned to Mulder to
ask the question he'd been waiting to ask for over an hour.
"What was that about?"

"Sometimes you can't get to know the killer, unless you get to
know the victims."

"No wonder you don't like the work."

"That's not the bit I have trouble with."

Callaghan drove them to the next victim's house. They spoke of
the dead woman. She had been taken from her home four days
before her murder. They spoke of the day she went missing.
Mulder studied the house and the route that the kidnappers must
have taken to get her into their car.

When they left to go back to the hotel, Callaghan noticed that
his quiet partner had become a silent one. "Did you get
anything?"

Mulder replied in an uncomfortable monotone. "The next victim
has already been taken. In fact they have had him since last
week.
Carole, your profiler, gave him a stay of execution. He should
have died last Saturday but she took his place. He'll die this
Saturday. We've got 48 hours to find the killers or to find the
murder site."

"And our chances?"

"To get to the killers? Slim. Unless we're lucky. We may be able
to identify the next victim amongst last week's missing person
reports and find something that way. But, the best hope is that
we might get somewhere on the site. Well you might, I don't know
the city well enough."

"Go ahead, what do I do?"

Mulder started to run through the characteristics of the
previous murder scenes. Callaghan  recognized the descriptions
but hadn't quite seen the similarities between them until he
heard the description of distance to parking lot, lighting
level, cover, building size and type. Maybe the man from
Washington was good at this stuff.

They went to their rooms as soon as they got to the hotel.
Callaghan sitting with a guide book and a street map to remind
him of the city. Mulder sat alone with his thoughts to try and
refine his description of the site and of the killers.

Mulder lifted his eyes from the computer and checked his watch.
48 hours till the next victim dies. No luck on the horizon. No
choice about how to proceed.

Mulder phoned Dana Scully a little earlier this time, feeling
guilty that he'd woken her the night before.

Scully wouldn't let him get away with deflecting her again. She
coaxed him to tell her more about the case.

He started to talk about his two killers and what kind of
relationship would allow them to kill together. He already knew
what kind of link it took to be willing to die for someone. But
to kill for someone? He wondered how close he had come to that
one.

Their best chance of stopping the death would be to find the
site for the next killing.

He replayed the killings in his head and tried to rewind the
story to see more of the murder scene. The victims had struggled
when they were first taken, they had the bruises to prove it.
But they didn't scream and didn't struggle on the night of their
deaths. The victims walked to their executions.

Just to let go. To see the world the killer saw. To see a place
and to know that it was a good place to kill.

--------
FRIDAY MORNING


Mulder looked up as Callaghan arrived in the room. "Hello
Callaghan, you look as bad as I feel."

"Another crack and you'll be looking the way I feel."

Mulder nodded sympathetically. "Been busy?"

"Couldn't sleep," responded Callaghan casually, "but I've got
too many locations for it to be useful."

"Try this," Mulder handed him another printout of crime scene
characteristics. "Use it as a filter."

Callaghan scanned the words and stared at Mulder. "The position
of the moon?"

"Yeah, it moves week on week that's why I didn't get the
significance of the orientation of the sites first time around."

"Shit."

"The people reviewing the possible sites will need a good map
and a compass."

"And you'll be doing what?"

"Writing the next version of the profile."

"And getting some sleep?"

Mulder kept it brisk. "I suggest that you do the same, once
we've briefed the team at your head quarters. They'll need to
keep the site checks discreet else we'll scare them into moving
further afield."

They went to the Head Quarters building together. Mulder
explaining the scene of crimes information and telling people
what to look for, Callaghan providing a very long shortlist of
possible sites.

Mulder then moved onto the profiles.

Two killers. One becoming increasingly well defined. The other
remaining a complete mystery. Only the lack of input from the
second personality offering any clues. Under the influence of
the stronger character. Maybe lovers, but no evidence to suggest
it. Maybe relatives, but no proof. Maybe an extremely weak and
easily influenced individual, but that was hardly a character
trait that was going to help them find him.

Mulder knew what he had to do next. Go back to the hotel and
improve the profile. He left the team to survey the sites.
Discreetly, he'd told them.

The Police Captain pulled Callaghan to one side after he'd
listened to the words from Mulder. "Is the Fed ok? I didn't like
his attitude, showing up here the other morning then just
walking out. He's scarcely said two words to me since. And
Foster says he was acting weird when he was with him. And he's
got this reputation."

"Really, anything like mine?"

"Keep an eye on him."

Callaghan looked at the Agent. Mulder was leaning back against a
desk looking at the evidence boards. Callaghan walked over to
him and asked what they were going to do next.

"They do their jobs and I do mine. And by the way, I'm not
planning on going out today. I don't need a babysitter. "

"You've still got one." Callaghan led the way back to the car.

---------------

Mulder ran through the victims again. Dragging out information
on homes, jobs, education, hobbies and trying to see a pattern.

Callaghan spent the rest of the day listening to the shortlist
of sites being whittled down to a more manageable number. In the
breaks, he amused himself by trying to get more information on
Mulder and 'his reputation'.

That night he sat opposite Mulder in the diner and tried to quiz
him on his work history.

Mulder had answered the first two lead in questions but a slight
sarcastic smile was threatening to break through. On the third
question, the smile arrived and he looked up at Callaghan. "What
is this Callaghan, a job interview? Or are you building up the
case for the psychiatric unit to come out and visit?"

Callaghan was taken aback by the abruptness. "What's the problem
with talking about your cases. I keep hearing about this
reputation you've got. I want to know if it's deserved. If we
get into a tight spot I like to know who I'm dealing with."

"We investigate cases that have difficulties. Evidence that
can't be explained through current scientific knowledge. Things
that other people choose to ignore."

"You've got more dead suspects in your wake in three years than
most police would see in a working life."

"Are you accusing me of murder?"

Callaghan looked startled,  Mulder looked disturbingly calm.
Callaghan got his balance back. "No. Nothing like that. Just
that for someone who got out of Behavioral work you chose a
pretty violent career to get into."

"Do you want me to recite your career history to you Callaghan?
I've got a surprisingly good memory."

Callaghan frowned. Normally he'd have jumped down the throat of
any arrogant little bastard who tried that kind of thing on with
him. But there was something that stopped him.


==============
Part 4/7


SATURDAY MORNING


Mulder looked at the dark grey morning and slumped back against
the wall grateful that the sun wasn't shining. Sunshine. Why
insult the dead with sunshine. And tonight someone else would be
dead. Of course lots of people would be dead by tonight. That
was the strange thing about this job. You got so wrapped up with
the fate of a few people that you forgot about all the people
killed by disease, hunger, accidents. The world narrowed into
two people, the killer and the victim. And Mulder knew them
both.

Mulder leant his head back and focused on the light fitting.
Like a moon. A three quarter moon. Just like the moon would look
tonight.

Just to let go a little more.

He was startled by the shrill ring of the phone. He didn't want
to answer it. There was no one he wanted to talk to. There was
no one he wanted to hear. He picked up the handset to silence
the noise and immediately replaced it back on the receiver.

Not now. Just a little more.

The phone rang again. He closed his eyes for an instant then
picked up the handset and spoke. "Mulder". The word came out
flat and dead.

"Mulder. Is that you?"

< Who else? My phone. My name. Who else would it be. > He
ignored the question and waited for the caller to say something
else.

"Mulder. It's me, Scully. I wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because you didn't call me yesterday and I missed you."

"Oh."

"Mulder. Please talk to me. What's going on, tell me what's
happening."

"Nothing. I'm waiting for someone to get killed."

"Please talk to me."

"What about?"

"Don't do this. Don't lock me out. I'll come out there and talk
to you if I have to."

"You can't."

Mulder heard a knock at the door. "Come in." He turned back to
the phone. "Sorry, I've got to go back to work." He put the
phone down.

Dana Scully hung up her phone on the dead line and felt a shiver
run down her spine. Bad enough when she was with him, but he was
on  the other side of the country. He'd been out there less than
a week. Scully tried to think. Maybe Skinner could help, maybe
she could get him pulled off the case. Mulder would never
forgive her if she did that. Even if it was for his own good.

Scully hobbled back to her kitchen and tried not to think too
much.

Harry Callaghan walked into the bedroom and froze. Mulder was
sat on the table in front of the window, leaning back against
the wall. In his hand he had a phone. His hair was matted with
sweat. He was staring down at the road outside. If it wasn't for
the fact that he was talking to someone on the phone Callaghan
would have labeled the expression as catatonic. But it was the
gun that lay on the table that was scaring Callaghan.

Mulder put the phone down and looked at Callaghan. Callaghan had
drawn his gun. Mulder tensed up in automatic response and looked
down at his own gun. Then just as suddenly he let his muscles
relax. He looked coolly back at Callaghan and said in a soft
sarcastic drawl. "Great. So my first profile was right. You are
the killer." He paused slightly. "Put the gun down Callaghan."

"What's going on Mulder."

"Put the fucking gun down. You are starting to annoy me."

Callaghan pointed his gun at the floor.

"Ok." Mulder spoke smoothly and unemotionally. "So I know what
you're thinking and you're wrong. The gun's not even loaded.
Want to see? I removed the clip when I took it off last night.
I'll show you. Ok?"

Callaghan nodded his approval. Mulder picked up the empty gun by
the barrel and handed it to him. Callaghan breathed a sigh of
relief, put his own gun back in its holster and sat down in a
chair by the bed.

Mulder got slowly to his feet but then spoke sharply. "Not the
smartest move Callaghan."

"What?" Callaghan stiffened against the seat.

"You couldn't see my other hand." Mulder showed him the gun he
was holding in his right hand. "But you're lucky, because I
really am ok and I'm going to get showered." Mulder handed him
the second gun and walked away.

Callaghan cringed in his chair. He'd had no time to respond.
He'd accuse the Fed of losing it, but Christ, if someone had
pulled a gun on him in his hotel bedroom. He wondered what he
would have done.

The phone rang. Callaghan picked it up. Dana Scully asked him
where Mulder was and was told that he was in the shower.

"You're Callaghan aren't you? He says you're working with him on
this. Is he ok?"

"He says so."

"This is a hard profile for him isn't it? He didn't just rattle
it off in a few hours. He's having to let himself get into it,
try and understand the killers, get inside their heads."

"Yes."

"Is he eating?"

"Sort of."

"Sleeping?"

"Some."

"Come on Callaghan, I work with him. I know how screwed up he
can get on this kind of work. How is he?"

"I think he's finding it hard. Is there something I should do?"

"Just be around. He won't let you do anything. He won't talk
about what's going on. But I think he doesn't really mind there
being someone around. And try and get him to eat and sleep."

"Ok."

Callaghan heard the bathroom door open and called across the
room to Mulder. "It's your partner, do you want to talk to her?"

Mulder nodded and took the phone. "Hi Scully."

"What's happening Mulder? Callaghan sounds like he's not
enjoying the babysitting."

"I think he's finding the baby a bit unruly."

"You sound better than you did half an hour ago. I was all set
to fly out there."

"Sure. I'd like to see your expense claim for that. 'And why did
you fly to San Francisco when you were unable to work due to
medical leave?' No. I'm all right. I wasn't pleased about waking
up when we spoke. I'm having trouble sleeping. But I'm ok."

"Really?"

"Really." He said gently. "I really do have some work to do
though. They've been checking out likely scenes for the next
murder and I need to run through the results with Callaghan. See
you soon."

"Ok. Bye."

"Bye."

Scully held the phone for a few seconds longer then finally put
it back on the hook. < Damn him > She lay back on the couch.

Mulder turned to face Callaghan. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry
you."

"Worry me? I could have shot you."

"You told me you don't kill innocent people."

Callaghan tried to sound understanding. "You look like you need
some help. Maybe you need to get off this case."

Mulder scowled in irritation and spoke with a measured clarity.
"Well isn't that rich. You walk into my bedroom, you pull a gun
on me, knowing that I'm armed and that I'm trained to react to
threats. You give no request, no warning. But I don't react, I
talk you down from your hysterics. And I need help?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Not like that? Try replaying it a few times." Mulder watched as
Callaghan took in the remark. "Now, let it drop. We've got work
to do and I don't want to spend the day watching your gun hand
to see if it's twitching."

Callaghan stood stunned. The transformation in Mulder's
appearance and manner had been complete, Callaghan stared back
at the Fed. The Agent was watching him with a cold sardonic
smile. Callaghan was starting to understand a little more about
Mulder's nickname.

Mulder suggested they go to work.

Mulder scanned the suggested crime scenes and spoke to
Callaghan. "Ok. Final test on the location. Remember, these are
places where yuppies feel comfortable. Maybe they are deserted
on a Saturday night but they are places where accountants go to
eat their sandwiches, lawyers go to make sarcastic remarks about
the police. When the killer kills, he's killing the place as
well as the victim."

Callaghan considered the words. And dropped a few more sites
from the list.

Mulder counted up the sites. "It's still a lot of places. We can
either guess from here and focus on those or your people are
going to be spread pretty thin."

"We're used to being spread thin. It's you Feds who like to move
around in groups of twenty."

Mulder shrugged in recognition of his Agency's usual procedures.

Callaghan studied the list and suggested they move out. "Ok.
We'll take the list into Head Quarters and get the details set
up for tonight." A note of embarrassment came into his voice.
"But your partner says I've got to make sure you're eating."

Mulder just laughed. "Great. You know if I told her she needed
to eat, I'd get a lecture on minding my own business and a
leaflet on the health value of the low calorie but balanced diet
she was adopting. But she guessed right, I'm hungry."

-----------

They set the wheels in motion, creating the schedule, so that
each of the shortlisted sites would have a pair of police
watching.

That night, Mulder and Callaghan sat in the car and waited to be
drawn in as backup if anything suspicious got called in by a
surveillance team.

The clock drifted to 10pm and no one had seen or heard anything.
Waiting. Waiting was terrible. Not that they weren't both used
to it, but being used to it and learning not to hate it were not
the same thing.

10:15, three sites reporting new cars arriving in their parking
lots but nothing suspicious yet. No one being dragged kicking
and screaming, or even dazed and confused, to an execution. The
surveillance teams watched the new arrivals.

Mulder pretended to read the map. Callaghan tapped the steering
wheel.

10:30. Damn it. If the killers had stayed true to their MO the
murder was over. They started to call through the units. One
unit failed to reply. Callaghan turned the ignition and they
arrived at the monument in the park just at the head of a queue
of squad cars.

They started to search. A search that took less than two minutes
to complete. One dead man who no one recognized, but who had
been killed by a single bullet to the head, like the other
executions. One seriously injured police officer. One dead
detective. No sign of the attackers. And a stray dog with its
leash still around its neck wandering the site.

Mulder leant against the car watching the frenzy of activity in
front of him, willing himself to focus on what was going on at
the scene instead of what was going on in his head.

He walked past the bodies of the police officers and on to the
unknown man. The sirens were tearing through his ears. <
Concentrate. Concentrate on the crime, not the outcome. It's
what they pay you to do. It's the only thing that will help. >

Almost everyone was focused on the officers, one dead from a
gunshot wound, the other maybe dying. Both the police had fired
their guns. One shot each. The medical team were moving in to
take the injured man.

Mulder looked around for Callaghan, finally catching his
attention and motioning him to join him by the body of the
executed civilian.

"What?" Callaghan growled impatiently.

Mulder sniffed at the body again. "Smell him, the hair's the
easiest."

Callaghan looked back at him in disgust. "Smell his hair? He's
dead. We've got one officer dead, one dying and you want me to
sniff the guy's hair."

"One dead, one dying. Who do you think you are? You think your
presence around their bodies is going to make any difference?
You didn't tell me you did miracles as a sideline."

Callaghan took the reprimand without comment and looked down at
the dead man. He leant forward. "Coffee?"

Mulder nodded.

Callaghan returned to the downed police officer. Mulder went to
stand up on a wall to get a better vantage point on the crime
scene.

The head of the police team dragged Callaghan to one side and
then spoke in a voice way too loud to be considered a serious
attempt to talk just to Callaghan. "Where's the boy wonder then?
I hope he's got a good explanation for this."

Callaghan choked at the words. "A good explanation? What do you
mean a good explanation. He gave us the crime scene and we
weren't able to close the case, what's to explain?"

The Captain barked in disgust. "Right. I'll tell them that at
the press conference tomorrow then shall I. Yes, the Saturday
night killer, killed again last night, but we guessed where he
might be and we nearly caught him. Though actually we ended up
with one of our own people dead and another in intensive care.
Another triumph of inter agency cooperation."

Callaghan listened to his boss try to deliver up Mulder as
scapegoat but couldn't think of anything to say, finally just
glaring back and spitting out a reply. "You make me sick. How do
you sleep nights?"

"How does he?" The Captain pointed over at Mulder who was now
sitting, watching them from the wall. The captain turned on his
heel and walked back to his other men.

From the moment Callaghan had been pulled away by his boss,
there had been silence as people shuffled straining to hear what
was being said. They now stood, their gazes moving between the
bodies of their colleagues, their red faced captain, Callaghan's fury
and the brooding figure of the Fed sitting perched on the wall.
Mulder looked coolly back at the indignant faces. If the captain
was practicing drumming up support for a lynch mob he'd made
a good job of it.

Callaghan had already made his choice. Whatever he thought of
Mulder, he knew for sure the man didn't deserve this. Didn't
deserve these angry stares. He walked deliberately over to the
wall and spoke to Mulder. "What he said, that was crap and you
know it."

"Sure. Unfortunately the profile and the scene of crime
interpretation were also crap. And worse than that, they were
dangerous crap. Not enough to get the killer, but enough to hand
him some more victims."

Callaghan looked uncomfortably at the ground.

Mulder spoke again, a more businesslike tone in his voice this
time. "I need the autopsy reports. I need to know what our
people shot. And if he regains consciousness, I need to talk to
that officer. And I need to know if the owner of that stray dog
gets home tonight or if he's been kidnapped."


==============
Part 5/7



SUNDAY MORNING

Mulder sat in the hotel room reading the copy of the autopsy
reports that had been sent straight to the hotel. The captain
was apparently going to call DC and get him pulled off the case.
Well that was just great, if only they'd done that five days
ago.

Callaghan looked at the Agent. It was obvious that the captain
had got his wish, the Fed hadn't slept last night. He wondered
if he should tell him. Only when he realized that Mulder was
staring at him did he decide to give him the news. "The officers
shot one another."

Mulder nodded in reply.

Callaghan puzzled over his reaction. "Mulder. Did you hear what
I said. Were you expecting that?"

"I wondered about it."

"What do you think, that they got jumpy and misread it."

"Both of them? That's pretty jumpy. It's possible, you only have
to go back a day in this room to know that. But I'm not sure
it's as simple as that."

"Then what?"

"It reminds me of a couple of old cases I've worked on, but I
need more time to think it through. Meanwhile, why did that man
smell of coffee?"

"He drank a lot of it?"

"While he was held captive? Generous for kidnappers."

"The place they were holding him?"

"I think so. A warehouse, coffee shop. Any ideas? Probably
pretty central, somewhere close to all the crime scenes."

Callaghan started to think about the map and the view of the
city he had stored in his head.

But it was Mulder who broke the silence a few minutes later.
"Crime scene characteristic number three, coffee bar or kiosk
within 25 yards. Who are their wholesalers?"

Callaghan started making phone calls. After half an hour he had
three addresses. They chose the one that was most central to the
murder scenes.

Callaghan tested the water. "Do you think we should get backup?"

"I'm sure we should. Do you think we should get a warrant?"

Callaghan responded in the same style. "I'm sure we should."

"But I'm not at all sure I've got the credibility level to cover
it. I've certainly not got the evidence."

There was a slight edge of amusement in Callaghan's voice as he
recognized Mulder's meaning. "You want to go and get some
evidence?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Callaghan paused for a couple of seconds suddenly concerned over
what they were doing. "Are you ok, I mean you got no sleep,
you've had nothing to eat."

"We'll stop at a coffee shop, I'll get a strong dose of caffeine
and have plenty of extra sugar on the donut."

--------

Mulder scanned the buildings. It couldn't be happening. A
coincidence? A figment of his imagination. A setup. He thought
back to how he was given the case. Skinner had looked
embarrassed about it. At the time he'd just assumed that was
because it was another assignment away from the X-Files. Another
assignment to do the profiling work that he was too good at. But
maybe it was another of those cases that simply used Skinner to
act as a go between. Another case where he hadn't been given all
the relevant information. But that didn't seem right, surely
Callaghan would have said something.

He had this nagging doubt that kept saying he was looking at a
X-File and interpreting it as a conventional case just because
it was what people expected him to do. Scully wasn't the only
person to have accused him of doing the opposite, taking a
conventional case and reinterpreting it as paranormal. If he
wasn't looking at a 'normal' killer  and those people died last
night because of it, it was unforgivable. He knew better than to
do that, better than to ignore evidence because it didn't fit,
better than to ignore possibilities however extreme.

Mulder stared out of the window. Callaghan kept looking at him
out of the corner of his eye. At last he got fed up of waiting
for Mulder to say anything. "Mulder. Are you ok? Have you got
some idea about what we're walking into?"

Mulder was startled by the voice, so startled he actually
answered it. "I worked on a case once where this man seemed to
have such control over people's thoughts that he could get them
to hallucinate. The hallucinations were so realistic they killed
people. Bullet wound damage without any entry and exit wounds.
He convinced two officers to kill one another. I imagined he'd
shot me."

Callaghan puzzled over the remarks but tried to drag sense of
the statement. "You think our people were hallucinating when
they shot one another?

"Or they could have been under control. There was this man, the
Pusher, he could make people do things. He nearly made me do
something terrible."

Callaghan felt his blood pressure rise. But kept back the
reaction. Mulder was slipping back into that gloom Callaghan had
seen him in a couple of times before. Callaghan felt obliged to
snap him out of it. Callaghan started to clear his throat.

Mulder's voice took on a sharper tone. "I'm not insane
Callaghan, it's not 911 time."

Callaghan fell back into silence.

Mulder did the same. He frowned at the traffic sign. < What was
I thinking of? Why did I say that? > But then the frustration
took over. < Why shouldn't I tell him? Why does it always have
to be dressed up and rationalized? Why can't I just tell the
truth, without being stared at? >

Callaghan wondered if he should call for backup.

They arrived at the coffee wholesalers. Callaghan called in
their location. They left the car and knocked on the front door.

Callaghan looked Mulder over. He was all designer suit, fresh
faced G-Man. Not a glimmer of self doubt in his eyes. Not a
muscle out of place in his stance as he prepared to talk his way
into the building. Callaghan puzzled over the way he could
switch from spacing out to Joe Cool in so few minutes.

Mulder caught Callaghan watching him. He turned and smiled
politely. "I don't think anyone's answering. Let's tour."

They started to walk around the block. As they arrived at the
back of the building they heard a single scream. Mulder looked
at Callaghan. Callaghan nodded. "Grounds for suspicion,"
muttered Mulder. "Due cause" muttered Callaghan.

They found the weakest looking door and barged their way
through. Mulder pointed at himself then at the stairway.
Callaghan nodded and started to move along the ground floor.

-----------

Mulder pushed open the doors from the stairwell into the
upstairs office. It hit him straight away. It hit him so hard he
almost fell over at the force of it. He pushed the exit door
back open and tried to get back to the stairs but it was no
good. He was drawn back into the room.

Not again. Why was this happening again? He looked around the
room. He still hadn't seen anyone but that didn't mean that he
didn't know they were there. He leant back against the wall and
let his body slide to the floor and tried to concentrate on
anything, anything except what was happening to him. He closed
his eyes and thought about what was going on. He tried to think
rationally. Maybe this time it had really happened. This time
he'd cracked and gone over the edge. The border of insanity that
he'd pushed himself up against too many times, maybe this time
he'd misjudged the boundary and let himself in. But that didn't
seem right. This case might be hard, but it wasn't that hard.
The state he was in might be bad, but it wasn't that bad. If it
had got to him then it was just because the steady drip of all
the years had eaten away his resilience.

Mulder sat, knees pulled back against his chest calmly debating
his sanity. Was this all in his mind? Of course it was all in
his mind. What he didn't believe was that he'd put it there. It
was happening again. Why was it happening again? Why was it
happening to him?

< Don't think about what he wants you to think about. >

At that moment he heard the door to the stairs open. Callaghan
edged in and looked down at Mulder then scanned the room.

They heard a man's voice. "Ah. Detective Callaghan isn't it? So
good of you to drop by. I'd love to chat with you about the
case, I'm afraid your colleague isn't very good company."

Mulder felt relieved. < That voice.>  As if the voice in his
head wasn't familiar enough. The voice in his ears was
confirming it. He wasn't imagining anything, it was real.

Mulder pushed himself to his feet, willing himself to
concentrate. Not this time. Not again. He lifted his gun and
turned to face Callaghan. "Get out Callaghan. Get out now."

Callaghan hesitated, two choices. Shoot Mulder and then go after
the other man. Or leave like Mulder asked.

Of course he wouldn't kill Mulder. The work was killing Mulder,
Callaghan wouldn't be the one to pull the trigger on him.

Callaghan started to back towards the wooden door of the
stairwell.

"Not the stairs. Get in the elevator, close the doors. Leave."

Callaghan watched Mulder's arm struggling to hold the gun
steady. He could rush Mulder, overwhelm him, wouldn't be too
difficult. But it would give the killer long enough to shoot
them both.

Callaghan did as he was told. As he got out of the elevator on
the ground floor he  felt a sharp thump to  the back of the
head. When he opened his eyes the building was empty.

------------

Mulder sat watching the sky roll by. Hands fastened with a
plastic tie behind his back. Feet bound. Bundled in the back
seat of a car.

"Sorry Mulder I had to tie you up, just in case. Just in case.
You seem to be have more resistance now than you did when we
first met. It was smart of you to send Callaghan into the
elevator. You guessed about the metalwork blocking the process
didn't you? You're more of a scientist than your partner gives
you credit for. Shame you weren't smart enough to rescue
yourself."

"What did you do to Callaghan?" Mulder said coolly.

"Nothing. Well a little tap on the head. I'm sure he's had
worse. He looked the thick skulled type."

"Why have you got a partner now?"

"I don't really think you're in a position to interrogate me. Do
you? But I'm sure you never expected to have to talk to me again
so I'll go along with it, for now. My partner, as you describe
him, helps me. Just like yours helped you. Where is she by the
way?"

Mulder replied quickly. "She's not here."

"Oh, good. Glad to hear you're still sensitive about that.
Anyway my partner provides the muscles. Man cannot live by mind
control alone, you taught me that. I guess Callaghan was doing
the same for you, providing the muscle."

"The other man is under your control isn't he? Yet you've still
got enough energy spare to push other people."

"Absolutely. It's not just your resistance that's improved in
the last few months Mulder. That shot to the head was just what
my system needed. Funny how things turn out. You cured me. Don't
you think that's funny?"

"Hilarious. We heard screams at the building that's why we came
in. Where's the man you took last night, the one who was walking
the dog?"

"In the trunk. He's less fun to talk to than you. He just tenses
up too much and he's way too easy to push. No challenge. I told
him that he should be very afraid and he is."

--------------

Callaghan was still explaining things at the police station. His
captain threatening him with dire consequences for walking into
an unsecured building with a mentally unstable Federal Agent and
no search warrant.

Callaghan kept trying to bring him back to the point. "He's got
Mulder and he's got that passer by he picked up last night.
We've got to go and get them back."

The captain snarled. "And what do you suggest. We're already
trying everything we can. We're even working from that brilliant
profile Mulder left. Perhaps we can stake out some more murder
scenes for next Saturday. Or maybe we can ask Washington if
they've got another analyst we can borrow, preferably one who
won't crack up or get captured. Who knows maybe it'll be third
time lucky for our profilers."

-------------

Dana Scully had been frantic with worry. She hadn't been able to
reach Mulder at the hotel or on his cellular. She took a deep
breath and phoned the Police Department and asked for Harry
Callaghan.

Callaghan's tone told her that something dreadful had happened
even before he said the words.

She called the airport and booked herself on the earliest flight
to San Francisco.


==============
Part 6/7

-----------

MONDAY MORNING

Dana Scully called the Assistant Director's office, the
administrator put her through, he picked up straight away.
"Skinner."

"Sir. It's Agent Scully. Mulder's been kidnapped."

"I've already been notified. I was going to contact you."

"I'm flying out. Is there anything I should know about the case
he's working on before I go?"

"You're on medical leave Agent Scully. Leave it to the police.
We'll be sending our own people in. But they only need people
who are 100% fit."

"And Mulder needs me."

There was a simplicity in Dana Scully's words that Skinner
respected. She shouldn't go out, but he doubted that even the
threat of disciplinary action would stop her. There was
something she should be told, something that maybe he should
have told Mulder. It had nothing to do with the case, but he
still felt a little guilty at keeping the information from
Mulder.

"Agent Scully. The local PD know the case better than I do, you
should ask them." Skinner paused for a couple of seconds. "There
is something I should tell you. It's not about the case. The man
you called the Pusher, Modell, he regained consciousness two
months ago and escaped from his hospital ward a week later. He's
still on the run."

"But how?"

"They don't know. It's as if the tumor just died back, a
miracle. I only heard last week. I didn't tell Mulder, I thought
he'd only go chasing after him on his own. It's one of the
reasons I assigned him the case in San Francisco."

Dana Scully fought against the twin sensations of nausea at what
she was hearing and anger at Skinner. Losing her cool wasn't
going to help anyone. She remembered Mulder's face as he pointed
the gun at her,  remembered his voice as he tried to warn her
that Modell was winning.

"Agent Scully. Are you still there?"

"Yes Sir. I'm going to get my flight now."

-----------

This time, Callaghan didn't bother to hide from the Federal
Agent he was meeting at the airport. He spotted the small figure
with the red hair, a plaster cast on her leg, a determined
expression on her face. He walked over to her. "Agent Scully?"

"Detective Callaghan."

The pleasantries over, Callaghan grabbed her luggage and led her
to his car.

Scully started the questioning. Callaghan started to explain how
Mulder had been behaving erratically and then had frozen when he
met the killer. Scully started explaining why that couldn't have
happened.

Callaghan tried to keep it steady. "I know you don't want to
hear that your partner lost it. I mean I can see you two are
important to one another. But it happens to the best of us. And
I'll believe he's one of the best, but he's been under a lot of
pressure on the case. And Saturday night. Well, just let's say
my boss was looking around for a scapegoat and being an
outsider, Mulder looked like an easy target."

"You don't know him Callaghan. This isn't a pressure case as far
as Mulder's concerned. He would be hating it but it wouldn't
hurt him, not bad enough to freeze."

"Look. You warned me yourself that he can get screwed up on this
kind of work. Yesterday your partner held a gun on me for the
second time in two days. I could have killed him myself."

Scully demanded an explanation. He described the scene in the
hotel bedroom.

Scully studied him coolly. "You were lucky Callaghan. You've got
no idea how lucky. You've got no idea how often we've nearly
ended up dead because someone we were supposed to trust, turned
out not to be trustworthy. He must like you."

Callaghan prepared to fight back. Then he recalled the scene in
the hotel room and again he considered how Mulder could have
viewed the incident. "Ok. I'll just stick to what happened at
the coffee warehouse. He was huddled up against a wall and then
he stood up and instead of turning on the killer he held the gun
on me."

Scully listened again to the description of the incident,
forcing Callaghan to give her every detail. The exact words
used. The expression on her partner's face, his tone of voice,
how he was holding the gun. She sat back in the seat and tried
to visualize the scene, at last she spoke again. "Did he mention
any of our cases?"

"He didn't like talking about them. He mentioned a couple. I
don't know. They sounded like drugs busts, sounded like he got
caught up in them."

< Drug busts? > Scully frowned and tried to understand. She
nagged him again for the exact words.

"He was talking about something that caused hallucinations, made
two officers shoot one another, made him think he'd been shot.
And a pusher. He said he made him do something terrible."

Two different cases. Same problem. Controlling someone's
thoughts and through them controlling their bodies. If he'd
known Modell was out and on the loose, Mulder would have linked
this to the Pusher straight away. But of course Mulder didn't
know Modell  was out. He just thought he was on a standard man
hunt. There weren't any witnesses to the kidnappings or the
killings, so there weren't any clues in the case files. Scully
struggled to keep the emotion out of her voice as she spoke to
Callaghan. "I think I know who's got him."

"What? How can you?"

"I need to have a look at his computer but I think I already
know."

They arrived at the hotel. Scully tried to ignore the fact that
her partner's bed hadn't been slept in last night. She booted up
the portable PC. If he was working to his normal routine then
the profile he'd given the local police would be on there. The
next version of it would be in the form of hidden text
annotations. Of course the version after that would be in his
notebook, but she didn't have that. And the version after that
would be in his head.

She flipped the word processor to show the annotations. The
words were there. < Victims don't struggle. Officers shot each
other. Like Pusher but stronger. Controls more people at once.
Mechanism - able to manipulate the brain's own electrical
activity, induce hallucinations, induce actions??  >

Scully shut the machine down. She regularly accused him of
leaping without evidence. Without evidence maybe, but maybe not
without thought.

She turned to Callaghan. "I think Modell's got him."

--------

The lack of sleep and lack of food was starting to get to
Mulder. As the adrenaline of the encounter with Modell at the
warehouse started to fade he was becoming increasingly tired and
queasy. Being bounced around in the back seat of the car wasn't
helping. With feet and hands tied he was finding it hard to stay
upright. He knew the man being held in the trunk had to be
having a worse time of it but that was just adding to his
feelings of helplessness and nausea.

Modell studied the Agent in the back seat. Not so big now. He'd
brought him down to size in that last confrontation with him. So
close to getting him to kill his partner. What a delightful
coincidence to have him come to him like this. Modell had
planned on looking up Mulder at some time in the future but he'd
thought that it would have to wait until the heat had died down
and he could safely operate in Washington again. Coincidences
could be wonderful.

Mulder scanned the road outside. He'd always liked watching the
ocean. He preferred the east coast, but California was ok. Santa
Cruz in sleepy mid winter colors. As they turned away from the
coast he watched the pine trees. Maybe he'd feel better once he
slept.

They pulled up in front of a painted house. Mulder hadn't seen
any houses for the last half mile. A good location. Modell
wasn't a stupid man.

Modell's muscle man dragged Mulder from the car. Modell laughed.
"Don't damage him. I'd like him in one piece. You'd better come
quietly Mulder, I'd hate him to hurt you just because you feel
obliged to make a show of struggling."

Mulder sat with the other hostage in the dark living room. He
tried to get the man who'd been left in the trunk to talk to him
but he wasn't communicating. In fact Modell was so confident of
his hold on the other man that he hadn't even bothered to tie
his hands. Mulder lay back and tried to get some sleep.

He just hoped that someone would read his notes and understand
what had happened. But who would understand? Only Dana Scully
would. And even if they got the information to her and she
explained it to them. Would they be able to track them down?

-------------

Dana Scully had learned the importance of assertiveness in the
last few years. She certainly needed it now.

Assertiveness and name dropping. Only invoking the name of
Assistant Director Walter Skinner had stopped the Bureau people
from treating her like the 'little woman' out in hot pursuit of
her boyfriend. She just hoped Skinner would back her up if they
called her bluff about being back on duty.

The Police Department had almost dropped out of the frame. They
were only of use if the perpetrator was still in San Francisco.
If the perpetrator was still in San Francisco he had to be
stupid and she didn't think he was stupid. What she needed from
them were their best endeavors to identify the people at the
coffee sellers and find out everything they could about them.
And, though she wasn't sure why, what she also needed from them
was Callaghan's help.

She didn't know why she thought Callaghan was important. Perhaps
because he was the last person to have seen Mulder, spoken to
him, worked with him. Maybe because she suspected Callaghan
liked Mulder and that might be important.

Callaghan watched Dana Scully in action. Mulder was lucky to
have a partner like her. So much faith, so much trust, so much
energy. He had the odd feeling that if Scully's leg wasn't in
plaster she might not even be bothering to look for help, she'd
be doing the chasing herself. And that would have been a shame
because if she was right about Modell then he'd done Mulder a
disservice and he'd like to make up for it. And for all the ups
and downs of the last few days of working with Mulder, he
couldn't deny he'd got to like him. And that didn't often
happen.

Dana Scully watched as Harry Callaghan ran interference for her.
Playing the abrasive edge to her smooth persuasion. She almost
smiled. Mulder and her switched roles so often on their cases
that they just slid in around one another, two sides of a coin.
But unpredictable. What was going on with Callaghan was
different, but it was good to feel someone was on her side, on
Mulder's side. She cursed the plaster cast on her leg and wished
she wasn't so dependent on other people.

The main player was Modell. He was personality number one in
Mulder's profiles. Using 20:20 hindsight, it was a comically
good match. Right down to the 'recently moved into the area,
probably after a relatively short period of incarceration in a
hospital, psychiatric unit or prison.'

The second personality, Mulder had only outlined. He could only
say what the man wasn't. But it was a man. Physically strong but
otherwise totally under the control of the stronger character.
Mulder's own rating on the profile was contained in the notes,
the description was 'accurate but from an investigative
perspective, pretty much useless.'

Dana Scully threw in the 'useless' profile with the other
information and started work. The coffee wholesaler was a good
place to start.

Back to real police work, Callaghan almost smiled as he
discussed the issue with Scully. The coffee warehouse. People
who should have shown up for work and hadn't. Casual staff,
drivers, security, all the people who might have keys.

-------

Modell had learned to control more than one person at a time.
He'd learned other tricks too, like how to put false impressions
in people's minds. Hallucinations. That was why the police had
fired on one another.

Mulder could feel Modell on the periphery of his mind. But at
this level of pressure it was no different to when he was
willingly walking into the killers' minds to find them.

Except Modell was choosing how far he was going to get pulled
in.

There was a big difference between this time and the first time
he'd encountered Modell. Now Modell was trying to pull him
towards him to make him feel like a killer, trying to make him
think and act like him. He was trying to make Mulder feel the
fear and weakness he felt but above all to feel the need for
violent revenge to fight it.

Modell had stopped trying to push to get people to act out of
character. He was using their weaknesses to make them think and
act like he would. To make them feel the same emotions. He
wasn't the Pusher anymore, he had become a Puller.

Well Mulder had ridden that fairground ride plenty of times
before. He'd let himself get pulled into a killer's head. He'd
seen what killers saw. He'd felt their highs as they pulled the
trigger. He'd enjoyed their buzz of exhilaration as they'd taken
control.  He'd felt the rush of adrenaline as they tried to
evade capture. And it made him sick. It made him hate them. It
made him hate himself as well. But that had always been a small
price to pay if it caught them and stopped them.

He'd ride it out.


==============
Part 7/7


Dana Scully scanned the features of Callaghan's face. She
recognized a couple of things she saw there. The need for
justice to be done, for right to prevail. The need to get the
job done well and the need to get it done now.

They were getting closer. They had the name of their physically
strong man who was being pushed to do Modell's work.

Now it really was just real late twentieth century police work.
They chased credit card transactions and bank checks and pieced
together a man's life.

The hunt was on. A gas station in Santa Cruz the week before
Mulder was taken. Maybe Modell and his companion had been
checking things out in case they needed to hide.

A talk to the local real estate offices and the tourist agencies
and at last an address.

Dana Scully was grateful for Callaghan's companionship. For all
the male chauvinist attitudes she'd been warned about he'd
respected her as a fellow professional. She knew she'd got his
sympathy because of Mulder but she'd got his help because he was
happy to work with her.

Dana Scully talked their findings through with the FBI office.
The Bureau prepared their assault team.

The PD let Callaghan stay on the case as liaison.

Scully and Callaghan worried about the assault that was being
planned. It was by the book. It was Standard Operating
Procedure. It made sense. But they were going in after Modell
and he wasn't in the book and he wasn't standard. Last time,
Mulder had gone in alone and that hadn't worked. And even
with Scully to support him it had nearly ended in disaster. And
last time the assault team had been useless.

Scully thought back to her discussions with the FBI assault team
commander and his words to her. "Metal suits Agent Scully. What
for? We've got the best body armor science can offer. Anything
else is going to take time to get hold of, it'll slow down the
operation and you said it yourself, we may not have much time."

Scully kept arguing. "At least wear metal helmets, it might be
enough."

The Operational Commander just looked at her as if he was
wondering how a broken ankle could have affected her brain.

They surrounded the painted house and prepared for the siege
they expected to follow. It took them an hour to convince
themselves that there was no one inside.

Scully looked at Callaghan and bit back the tears that were
threatening to form. All that work. All that arguing with the
assault team leader. And then such an anticlimax. Callaghan
looked back at her with a nod of understanding and sympathy.

As the armed response team withdrew, Callaghan studied the house
looking for hints. He edged his way around stepping over the
finger printers and the other scene of crime specialists. Time
to be a detective.

Dana Scully felt like she was going to explode. Fear.
Uncertainty. But above all sheer frustration that she couldn't
even help search the house. Her ankle was aching, reminding her
why she was on medical leave. Nothing more she could think of,
nothing more she could do.

She heard Callaghan come back into the room and she set her face
in a study of composure. A calm mask disguising an emotional
response she didn't want anyone to see.

Callaghan looked at her, she was all cool professionalism, he'd
seen that look in Mulder's eyes. "I may have something.
According to the record at the letting agency this place has a
boat. It's stored in a boathouse in the town. I can't find the
keys anywhere in the house."

Dana Scully looked at him with hope in her eyes.

Callaghan let his voice drop still quieter to make sure he
wasn't overheard. "I'll take your call on this. If you want me
to, I'll call your assault team back but I think that we may
just alert Modell if we call up all those vehicles and there may
not be anything to the lead anyway. It may be better if I get a
head start on them and they follow me in later."

Scully thought about it. He might be right, proper procedures
might not help. But to deliberately hold back information so the
Bureau team wouldn't get there first, that was taking an awful
big gamble. With Mulder's life and with Callaghan's. She tried
to think what Mulder would do, then quickly realized that was
irrelevant. Mulder worked on instinct. By the book if it suited
him or if he had no better ideas. But apparently unaware that
there was a book at all if it didn't match his plans.

Scully sat back in the chair and decided to trust her instincts.
Hers and Callaghan's. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but
I'll be with you."

"You can't. You'll be in the way. I'll need to be fast."

"I'll stay in the car. I'll call for backup as soon as you go
in. And I'll be around if there's anything I can do."

He saw the determined glint in her eyes and accepted her ruling.
He might not like it but he accepted it. They headed to the
boathouse.

She watched as Callaghan entered the building. She counted
slowly to twenty and called for backup.

--------

Mulder was concentrating on the ocean, listening to the waves
breaking on the shore. Concentrating so hard he didn't hear
Harry Callaghan walk into the room. He was startled when
Callaghan arrived in front of him holding a finger to his lips,
giving the instruction to stay silent.

Callaghan undid the ropes that were still binding Mulder's
ankles. Mulder started to flex his feet to get some feeling back
into his legs.

Callaghan leant in to talk as quietly as possible. "I think I
know where they are but I don't understand why they left you
alone in here, are you ok?"

Mulder tried to think and not think. It would be better if he
didn't think but Callaghan needed him to say something. "He's
practicing on me." Mulder had more to explain but he couldn't
spare the time. He would have liked to explain that Modell
preferred to work on people he could see. But that Modell was
changing, getting stronger. And that Modell found Mulder a good
subject to rehearse on. Mulder shut down his thoughts again and
listened to the breakers.

Callaghan felt nervous. He cut through the plastic tie on
Mulder's wrists. Mulder moved his arms in front of his body
sighing as the feeling started to come back.

Callaghan looked over at the other man in the room. Huddled in a
corner, but nothing physically to be done for him, no cuffs to
unlock, no straps to untie, no ties to cut. Just a man sitting,
looking in terror at a blank wall.

Callaghan started to move back towards the door and into the
room where he thought Modell and his partner were waiting. But
something stopped him, he turned and walked back to Mulder. He
looked down at the Agent who was watching him blankly and trying
to flex his fingers. He leant in to speak quietly, "I don't know
if you are going to be able to use this. But if you can." He put
his second gun on the floor and walked away. Mulder listened to
the waves.

Modell turned at the noise in the doorway and saw Callaghan
standing staring at him, an old fashioned metal fire helmet on
his head and a fencer's metal mesh mask over his face. Modell
smiled. Callaghan studied the ordinary looking man and felt
faintly ridiculous in his weird head gear.

Modell held out his hands, they held no weapon. Callaghan
wondered what to do. Single handed it was going to be hard to
cuff the man and at the same time keep a look out for his
accomplice. He started to think that maybe coming in here
without backup wasn't such a smart move.

Callaghan stayed back and surveyed the room looking for the man
who they knew was working with Modell.

It looked like he was going to have to maintain some kind of
stand off until the FBI team showed up and he had no way to know
how long that would be.

He heard a sudden noise from what looked like a broom closet. A
gun came clattering out followed by the body of a man. Then
Mulder appeared from behind the door and from the way he was
holding Callaghan's second gun it was obvious it had been
pressed into temporary service as a hammer.

Callaghan looked at Mulder. Mulder fell to the floor and
scrambled out a few words. "Modell. Stop him."

Back in the line of sight again, Mulder was an easier target
than when Modell had been toying with him as an experiment.
Mulder started to move the gun back into position in his hand.

Callaghan watched with horror as Mulder's grip on the gun
started to change. Then Callaghan heard Modell's partner recover
and start to move across the ground grasping the other gun and
lifting himself to his knees. Two targets with guns in their
hands. Two guns that were pointing at him.

Callaghan had run out of time. He picked his targets and the
shots rang out.

Dana Scully heard the sound of gunfire and pushed herself out of
the car, she drew her gun and hobbled clumsily up the steps to
the boathouse.

Dana Scully joined Harry Callaghan at her partner's side. Mulder
was assuring them that he was fine apart from the numbness in
his arms and legs. He demanded they go and find out the
condition of the others in the room.

Modell was dead.

"You're sure he's dead?" Mulder had asked. Callaghan hit him
with such a withering look of disdain that Mulder couldn't
resist following up with, "well unless you're off to a fancy
dress party you should get rid of the funny hat. You'll attract
the wrong kind of attention."

Modell's helper was bewildered. He looked as if he was coming
round from a long sleep or a long nightmare.

Dana Scully had spoken to the other man being held captive and
as his shaking started to abate she promised him that the
ambulance would be there soon. She tried to keep him calm and
quiet.

Scully called the assault commander again and told him it was
all over and they just needed to bring in a medical team and
pick up the pieces.

Callaghan was stunned. He had shot the only unarmed man in the
room in the head and chest and the two Feds were casually
debating the wording of the report.

-------

"Mulder." Callaghan was asking the questions again. "Is that
stuff what you normally do?"

Mulder looked back at him. "That stuff? Well yes, sort of.
Except I don't normally take that long to realize I already know
the killer and I don't normally get captured."

"But then normally you've got Scully as a partner."

"You're not a bad partner yourself, you just didn't know how
much trouble I can get into. Thanks for trusting me at the
boathouse. It meant a lot."

"It meant I didn't shoot you." Said Callaghan severely.

"Hey. I had the drop on you."

Callaghan prepared to argue then looked at the glint in Mulder's
eye and smiled instead. "Do all your partners nearly shoot you?"

"Nearly shoot me? Nah. Some of them actually succeed."

Callaghan wondered about following up the story but let it drop.
Callaghan wished them luck and they said goodnight.



END
(Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading it. Apologies if I
mistreated either my X-Files or my Dirty Harry characters - I
tried to play it straight.   Joann - joannhere@gmail.com )