SPECIAL THANKS TO: Editor!Ron for spelling and punctuation, Laura
Savadow for being a wonderful first audience and cheering
section,
and Rachel Vagts for notes and encouragement.

And to my friend, KEstabrook.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

DEDICATION:  I have had the privilege of having Michelle Keifer
as my Beta Reader.  Her patience and encouragement kept
me on track, kept me going, but mostly, kept me honest.  I
could not have done this without her.

Thank you, Michelle.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

SUMMARY: In a flash, life changes.

********************************************************

Thank you, for loving me
For being my eyes when I couldn't see
For parting my lips when I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me

--Bon Jovi
 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   Prologue  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The rugged landscape was beautiful but bare as the hot sun
glinted off the top of the rocks. At the bottom of the ridge,
two figures ran hard and fast away from the cliffs. The
rocky terrain bit their ankles, and sweat soaked their clothes as
they tried to negotiate the ruts and stones. There was
no cover and no shelter in this canyon, and the man knew they
were not going to get the distance they needed in time.

They were not going to be able to outrun it.

The woman behind called to him, her voice tinged with panic,
"Mulder!"

"Keep moving, Scully!" he shouted. "Go, go GO!"

He could see the countdown timer in his head and knew they were
only seconds away from the blast. Scully was breathing hard as
she ran past him, obviously determined that the rocks would not
slow her down. She got several yards ahead when her cuff snagged
on an outcropping. Losing her balance, but gaining momentum,
Mulder watched as she slammed face down into the large stones.

"Scully!" It was too late, Mulder looked up and saw an incredibly
bright flash of light and felt a rush of heat barrel into him.
The force
of the blast threw him to the ground, and the heat and debris
flying
overhead pinned him down. He blinked twice to clear his eyes
which
were suddenly clouded white. In that slow motion moment, he heard
 Scully's gurgled breathing ahead of him, and unable to see,
Mulder
groped an arm out to reach for her. Trying to stand, he blinked
again
only to be met with another, more intense flash...then nothing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  Part One xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
 

Mulder awoke disoriented and soaked with sweat. Scully's cool
hand was firmly pressing his chest as she shook him gently. It
took a few moments for him to realize that she was speaking to
him.

" Mulder, calm down, it's okay. We're here, right here, shhh."

"Scully! Get DOWN! ... Scully?"

" Breathe Mulder, just breathe -it'll be all over in a few
minutes, I promise." Scully's voice was still sleepy but very
close to his left ear. Mulder assumed that she had fallen asleep
next to his hospital bed.

He was trembling, but his breathing quieted and his heart rate
slowed. He asked, "What time is it?"

In the dark, he heard Scully's voice, "It's 2:40 AM."

He groaned and wiped the back of his hand across his lips and
cheek.

"It was a bad one tonight, wasn't it?"

Scully's warm voice drifted over him, and his trembling slowed.

Mulder felt the mattress shift and heard the unmistakable click
of a light switch. But why was it so dark? Where were the
achingly familiar hospital sounds? There was no pain; in fact no
discomfort at all except for the feel of his sweat soaked tee
shirt sticking to his skin.

"Scully?"

"Yeah, Mulder?"

"What are you doing in bed with me?"

He heard a short chuff of laughter, then a small hand cupped his
cheek, turning his head toward the sound of her voice.

"I must not be doing it right, if you have to ask."

Something was very wrong here. Her response made no sense to him,
and he shook to clear his head.

"Scully, what the hell is happening?" He started to tear the
sheets down, when Scully grabbed his wrists, "What the fuck is
going on?"

"Mulder, listen to me.."

"Answer me, Scully! Am I in a hospital?"

"Oh Mulder," Scully said gently, "You had another flashback. Try
to stay calm."

He was becoming agitated in earnest now, and his voice zeroed in
on her. "We were running. There was an explosion, and I know we
were too close to be safe from it. You, you were thrown to the
ground."

"Easy, Mulder. Just slow down a little." She let go of his
wrists, and he twisted away from her, spilling pillows onto the
floor.

He sat up forcefully, and, staring straight at her, said, "You
couldn't breathe. Christ, Scully, you were choking on your own
blood and then there was a huge flash." Mulder began to panic.
Beads of sweat began to reappear on his forehead. His recall of
the event was now vivid and clear.

"Oh God, Scully! I couldn't see. I tried to get to you, but I
couldn't see you." He stopped abruptly, gasping for breath,
turning his head wildly.

"Scully, I can't fucking see anything!"

"I know, Mulder. I know." She sat up and began stroking his
damp neck and back, all the while repeating, "I know, I know.
It's been like this for quite a while."  Her soft voice was very
close to his ear. "It's OK. The confusion will pass. Try not
to be afraid. You'll remember it all very soon, I promise."

"I remember it all now, Goddammit! Please, Scully. Tell me the
lights are off, or that it's just very dark in here. Please tell
me I'm in a hospital. Oh fuck." Mulder sobbed the last words as
his voice trailed off.

Scully was silent for a few moments. He could hear her swallow a
few times and knew she must be preparing to tell him something
awful. Something he knew he didn't want to hear.

"You're not in a hospital, Mulder. You're home, in your own bed.
You've just had either a vivid dream or an actual flashback of
the explosion."

Mulder turned away with a sob of disbelief as
his hands rubbed at his face.

Scully took his hands away from his eyes and said gently, "Listen
to me Mulder. I know what's happening, and I think I even know
why. Please trust me, let me talk, and I'll explain. Can you do
that? Please?"

The softness in her voice, the gentle touch of her fingers on his
eyelids, and the proximity of being in the same bed with her,
gave him a brief sense of calm. Mulder always trusted her. He'd
have to trust her now.

"OK, Scully," he said in a shaky voice. He took in two deep
breaths, then said, "But this better be good."

He felt Scully's chest rise as she took a deep breath herself.
She cupped both his hands in hers, then said, "This - confusion -
you're experiencing has happened before, Mulder, and I've found
it works best if I start from here and work backwards."

"What 'works best'?"

"Sorry, it's what I call 'the drill.' It's the sequence of
events that lead up to your life as it is now. As I said, these
flashbacks and the...uh...disorientation you're experiencing,
have
occurred before, but not for some time now. I've found that if I
tell you how far you've come and how well you're doing, then you
won't have to wait to see how it ends."

"I doubt that I'll 'see' how it ends." Mulder said in a
trance-like voice.

"Try me, Mulder. Please."

He nodded in the dark, except then he realized that it wasn't
dark to her.

"We're in the midst of profiling a very difficult case. So far
this year, three young gay men have been found dead under
mysterious circumstances. We've been called in to do the
profiling. Because of the strange condition of the bodies, the
Violent Crimes Section felt that, because of our unique
experiences, the X-Files Division was best qualified to deal with
this."

Mulder shifted his weight and said, "So I'm still in
the
Bureau."

"Yes, you and I are both still in the Bureau, and we occasionally
work an X File or two. And we're still partners with an enviable
solve rate.  Technically, we consult for the FBI, but the
paperwork's
pretty similar.

"This current case has been taking your mind all over the place.
You've been delving deep into those dark places, Mulder. I was
pleased to see you actually get some sleep tonight. I don't
think you've slept for the past three nights. Of course, there
was a price to pay for tonight's sleep. Your mind decided to
relive the blast."

Mulder shuddered. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the re-cap of
the event that changed his life. Without thinking, he faced away
from Scully and said, "Do I know how to have a good time or
what?"

She gave a short hum of agreement before continuing, "The blast
occurred while we were still working on Domestic Terrorism. You
know how we both hated investigating farmers and questioning them
about their supply of fertilizer, but these inquiries led us to
find the other nitrogen-based bomb Krycek kept hidden. And if
we'd known we were even looking for it, it would have been a
perfect position of operation."

"I remember that, Scully. I remember that we found out where
Krycek stashed the other device, even though it had been years
since we returned from Terma."

"Yeah, but it was a set up. We tipped our hand too soon on that
one, and Krycek got wind that we were on his tail. Actually, it
was by pure accident that we found it. If we had known that this
high explosive device had Krycek's name on it, we would have
treaded far more lightly. As it turned out, he did put our names
on
it. We tripped it, and it blew. Weeks later, you said that you
could see the countdown timer in your head. Ticking our lives
away."

"I could, Scully. If I try, I can still see it." Mulder said
with a sigh.

"Then don't try." She ruffled his dark hair gently. He got the
feeling that the hardest part of the drill was about to come up,
and she took a deep breath to continue.

"The flash from the explosion was so intense that when you looked
up...Mulder, I'm so sorry, but when you looked up, both optic
nerves were destroyed." She paused and placed her head on his
chest. His heart began to pound, and a gasp of disbelief escaped
his lips. She paused again, then placed a kiss over his heart
and another one on each tear that scrolled down his cheeks. He
felt her wet cheeks against his own, and after brushing them dry,
she was ready to continue.

"Skinner has always admired and respected your insightful mind
and 'unique' thought processes. It was his idea to keep us in
the basement. He worked out a deal with the Violent Crimes
Section that if you and I could keep the X-Files open, your
talent would be on loan to them when needed. You see, Mulder, we
found that those incredible leaps in intuition, logic, and poor
judgement were actually enhanced by your lack of visual
distraction. You are a very successful profiler. Besides,
Skinner thought you never looked where you were going anyway."

"Intuition, logic and poor judgement, Scully? How could the VCS
resist me?"

"You're very, very good at what you do. Correction, *we* are very
good at what we do," Scully added.

Mulder turned his face to her and asked, "How do you fit into all
this, Scully?"

"I'm your eyes, Mulder," She said simply. "We investigate the
crime scenes, reports, and photos together, and I read and
describe them. Because we've been partners so long, I know what
details you need and how to convey the facts to you. You're able
to see through my eyes, Mulder, and by God it works. We don't
always agree as to what I'm seeing, but we still get a paycheck
twice a month."

"Why can't I remember any of this?" Mulder lifted his legs over
the side of the bed and sat up on the edge. He then realized
he'd only been wearing boxers with the tee shirt. His hands came
up to dry wash his face for a minute before speaking into his
palms, "You're so calm about this, and I'm ready to run out in
street, screaming. Shit, Scully, don't you get it? I can't see,
I can't remember any of it, and I don't know what you're doing in
my bed!"

In a carefully controlled voice, Scully said, "We don't know why
this happens. We don't know what happens in that complex mind of
yours that would make you suddenly forget. We had you tested by
psychologists the last time this happened, and the only thing
they could come up with was it was a unique form of Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder." She paused, and with a smile in her
voice said, "Unique only to you, Mulder. But as disconcerting as
these episodes are, they usually coincide with a breakthrough on
the case you're working on."

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Mulder said incredulously.
"You've got to be kidding!"  He felt Scully slip out of her side
of the bed and heard her padding over to stand in front of him.

She took his hands in
hers and said intently, "I don't know why it happens, but I do
know that it means that you're close. Close to finding the
murderer, and soon the killings will stop. Mulder, your mind is
so focussed on taking this killer down, and saving the lives of
innocent young men that your own life takes second place. You'll
see, Mulder. Soon you'll remember; it will all make sense, and a
killer will be brought to justice."

She dropped his hands and, even though he couldn't see her, he
knew her eyes were shining.

He waited a few seconds, and with his head bowed, said softly;
"Well you've answered two of my three questions. Why I can't
see, and why I can't remember. Do you have an answer for the
third?" He raised his head to face her. "Why you're in my bed?"

There was a long silence, and for a moment he thought she
wouldn't
answer him. To lighten the mood, he tried, "Unless blind guys
are your thing now? Scully, I wish I'd known before..."

"Shh, Mulder." She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.
"Just give me a second."

A hint of fear crept into Mulder's mind. 'Oh my God,' he
thought. 'She feels sorry for me. She pities her blind partner
and doesn't know how to say it.'

He felt the mattress dip beside him and knew she was sitting to
his left. When she finally spoke, he could tell that she was
facing away from him.

"Scully, I..."

"Mulder, it's fine. It's just... it's just that you've never had
to ask about this before. About 'us' before."

He heard her take a shuddering breath before she continued.

"You know, when other women see us together, they can't
understand why you're with me." Her voice became stronger as she
 faced him again. "You look very handsome in your sunglasses."

He couldn't understand why she suddenly decided to change the
subject, but he brought his head up and patiently faced in the
direction of her voice.

She continued, "And the way we walk, I can steer your direction
with short verbal cues and holding your hand instead of guiding
you by the elbow. It looks like we're out strolling, hand in
hand. They truly don't understand what that mysteriously
handsome man in shades is doing with a woman who looks like me."

She stopped and shook her head silently, but Mulder heard her
hair
rustle about her face.

"You say you remember, at the time of the accident, that I was
choking on my own blood?" She paused, apparently waiting for
Mulder to answer.

"Yes." He said slowly, dreading the end of the story, but not
knowing why.

"The choking you heard came from blood running down my throat.
My face was pretty well lacerated by the fall I took into the
rocks and the flying debris from the blast."

Scully took both of Mulder's hands in hers and placed his
fingertips on her face. She lightly ran his hands over the
surface of her forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips. He felt a
spider web of scars and raised adhesions. Her nose felt
misshapen.

"The plastic surgeons did the best they could, and considering
what they had to work with, they did a fairly good job. But I
look much different now than when you last saw me." She forced a
smile to his fingertips as Mulder sadly closed his eyes.

"Oh Jesus, Scully, I'm sorry." He let his hands fall to his lap.
"I'm so sorry."

Scully's weight shifted as she faced him and said softly, "Don't
you get it, Mulder? I feel like I'm using you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mulder, to you I'll always be 34 and pretty. You have no idea
of what I look like now, but I know exactly what I look like. I
look at my face every day in the mirror and see what the blast
has done. I had no idea how important it was to me, to be an
attractive woman, until it was taken away. Through your eyes,
Mulder, I'll always look as I did before. I kind of think it's
sick, using a blind partner that way."

There was a long, humid pause. Mulder sat silently with his hand
across his forehead. His partner's hitched breathing was the
only sound in the room.

"Scully," he said finally, " you've given me a lot to think
about. But the first thing I need to ask...what I need you to
tell
me...Do you really think I'm handsome?"

She chuckled suddenly and released a long breath."If you recall,
I believe I said you were, 'a mysteriously handsome man.' And,
yes, I've always thought so."

"No kidding? Huh?" He smiled to himself, as a picture of his
young, beautiful partner entered his mind.  Partner?  Wife?
 He wasn't sure.  "So Scully, do you use my name now?"

He heard a simple but smiling, "No."

"Well anyway," he continued, "I think you have a few things mixed
up. I don't think it's fair that you'll watch me grow old, gray
and, God forbid, possibly bald while you get to stay young and
beautiful forever."

He quirked an unseen smile at her, and she replied, "Sounds like
you're in it for the long haul. What with this 'old and gray' and
'do you
use my name now' talk."

He reached over to her and found her hand. Nuzzling it to his
lips, he dropped small kisses along the length of her palm.

"The long haul, is right," he said then dropped his voice to a
serious note, "Not only that, but if a miracle occurred and I
suddenly got my sight back, it wouldn't matter. I can only tell
you, that in my heart I know, Scully, that it wouldn't matter.
You will be beautiful to me. Because you always have been.
Because you are. I could never see you any other way. They say,
'Love is blind' and my love is."

Scully's watery voice came very close to his ear, "And so is
mine."

His lips found hers, salty with tears. Suddenly, there in the
darkness, the answer to his third question became crystal clear.

"Double entendre becomes you, Agent Scully." He said, smiling as
he kissed her once again for good measure.

And for good measure, she kissed him back. Then he felt as she
reached over him to pick something up from the bedside table.

"Here." She handed it to him. "See if you can get some sleep.
Maybe things will be clearer to you in the morning, although
that's not the way it usually works."

She kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth, and the sheets
moved as she scooted over to her side of the bed. Again he heard
the light switch as she clicked it off.

She sighed sleepily as she turned onto her side. After a few
minutes she whispered," 'S'okay Mulder, use it. It won't bother
me, I turned the brightness all the way down."

<click>

<"This is CNN.">

<click>

<"And now, for the latest weather travel conditions.">

<click>

<"I know, Cher, this beauty product turned my life around.>

<click>
 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxxxxx  Part 2  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 Morning came, and Scully was right. Things were not clearer.
 The panic Mulder felt as he awoke made him sick. He was in utter
 darkness. His eyes were wide open, but there was nothing for him
 to see. His breaths came in short gasps, and a mantra of "wake
 up, wake up, wake the fuck up" came out in measured sobs.

 Scully must have been out of the room when he began
 dry heaving. He barely heard her enter the bedroom as he sat
 doubled over on the edge of the bed. Speaking softly yet firmly
 she said, "Mulder it's me. It's morning and it's okay. Remember
 what we discussed last night? Trust me, you're okay, we're both
 okay...Mulder."

 Feeling her move in close, she placed her hands to either side
of his face,
 steadying him as his eyes traveled wildly around the room.

 "Mulder, look up at me!" she yelled.

 "I can't fucking see, Scully! There's nothing!"

 "Yes you can Mulder. Look at me; you will see me."

 "Scully. It's black...oh shit...oh shit"

 "I'm right here. I'm right here."

 She soothed him with her hands and her firm voice; Mulder closed
 his eyes and shook her hands off. She began
speaking very steadily, "Mulder, open your eyes."

 He opened his wet, sightless eyes and faced the direction of her
 voice.

 "Listen to me, and you'll find out how you have to do it now.
 How you'll be able to see. It's just not the same as you did
 before."

 Scully waited a few seconds then he felt her move away.
"I'm standing right in front of you. You know that, don't
 you?"

 He nodded slowly.

 She continued, "My red hair is all mussed up from sleeping. It's
 in my eyes right now. I'm wearing your gray Knicks shirt,
 because you know how much I like wearing that to bed." She
 paused a moment before continuing, "We're in our apartment,
which
 used to be mine. The sheets you're sleeping on are white, and
the
 comforter wrapped around your legs is light blue, almost the
 color of my eyes. You know what my eyes look like, don't you?"

 Red messy hair, gray Knicks shirt, ScullyBlue eyes? Yes, yes,
 he could see them. He closed his eyes and listened to her voice.

 "There are candles on most of the shelves in here. They're
 scented; smell them, Mulder. I lit them last night before going
 to bed, then we both blew them out before going to sleep."

 He inhaled deeply through his nose and found there was a faint
 aroma of lavender still in the air.

 "We had Chinese take out last night. I gave you all the nuts
 from my Kung Pao chicken, remember? We thought we'd be up all
 night working, but we both had way too much Tsingtao-that
Chinese beer you like. We were tense from working and needed a
break.  Lick your lips, Mulder, taste the beer and spices from
last
night's dinner."

Almost involuntarily, he licked his lips and swallowed. The
 flavor of last night's dinner was faint but definitely on his
tongue.  The beer and the chicken, hot with spices. He swallowed
again.

 And discovered another flavor.

Her low voice drifted to him in the dark, "It's morning and I've
 opened the curtains. The sun is streaming through the window;
 can you feel it?"

 Mulder noticed that the right side of his face was warmer than
 the left. The window was to his right, and the sun was coming in
 from there. He nodded to her, and she continued, "Give me your
 hands, Mulder."

 He reached his arms out in front of him. She took his hands and
 placed them on her chest.

 "Can you feel this? Can you feel my hands covering yours?

He said, quietly, "Yes, I can feel them. Your hands are wet
probably from filling the coffeepot. Your heart is beating....
beating with mine.  I feel my heart and yours; their rhythm
is the same." He sighed, and warmth filled his voice,
"You're soft and strong, all at the same time."

 He briefly touched her face with his left hand and
 whispered, "And so beautiful, Scully. You are so beautiful,
 especially when you smile. I love to touch your smile." And
 with two fingers of his right hand, he did.

 The smile was still in her voice as she said, "Listen, Mulder.
 Listen. What do you hear right now?"

 "I hear the shower dripping and the coffee perking." He paused
 and turned his head toward the warmth of the sunlight.

 "I hear the soft street noises of the cars passing, the birds
 singing, and people talking. But what I hear most, what I've
 always loved is the sound of your voice. The way you raise it
 when you're angry, and the way you lower it when you're sad. The
 way you pause as you search for just the right word. The
 confidence, sarcasm, humor, and the strength of it. And your
 laugh...your laughter is life to me, Scully."

 "So, you can still smell the candles, Mulder?"

 "The lavender scent of the candles, the clear scent of your
 perfume, the clean smell of soap and sheets, and the scent of
 sweat and musk. Yes, Scully, I can smell it all."

 Scully's voice got quieter still as she brought her face to
 Mulder's, their foreheads almost touching. "Can you taste last
 night? Can you remember the taste of our dinner, the taste of
 the beer, the taste of each other?"

 "Yes, Scully. Yes, I still have the taste of you on my tongue."

 "The sunlight, Mulder?"

 "I feel it warm on my face. I feel the currents of air as you
 pass in front of me. And I can feel when you're close to me."

 "You can see me now, can't you?"

 "Scully." He reached again.

"Tell me what you see, Mulder." Her voice faded slightly as she
stepped back.

"Yes Scully, I see you standing a few steps in front of me with a
gray
Knicks shirt on and nothing else. But you're so small that my
shirt
comes all the way to your knees. Your hair is a mess, but it's
cute the way you keep blowing it out of your eyes. I like to
smooth your hair away from your face as you sleep."

 He turned his head towards the bed. "I love the sound of your
 breathing while you sleep."

 He continued, "I see our bed; the sheets and comforter have been
 pretty much destroyed by our lovemaking and my ... nightmare.
The candles line the shelves in here, and there were so many
to blow out afterward. We were afraid they'd cause a fire -but
then
again, we were rather drunk at the time. There's coffee brewing
 in the kitchen, and there are two large mugs waiting on the
table.  A cereal bowl is waiting on my side of the table for me
 to pour Frosted Flakes into, and a container of vanilla yogurt
is
waiting on your side."

 "Wrong."

 "Wrong?"

 "Blueberry."

 Mulder smiled and shrugged, "Ok, blueberry. But you're right,
 Scully, I *can* see now. You're beautiful and sexy, and you love
 me."

 "Damn right," she said with a smile in her voice.

 "And I'm beautiful and sexy, and I love you." He reached for her
 again.

 "Well in *your* case, two out of three. That ain't bad, and I'm
not complaining." The air currents shifted as she stepped into
his
outstretched arms. She hugged his neck and kissed the tendons
 at his throat. Finally her voice sighed, "We'd better get this
show on the road, we've got a lot of work to do today.
We have a killer to catch."

 "Okay," he breathed as he leaned over to nuzzle her neck lightly
then said, "Scully?"

 "Mmm?"

 "Steer me to the bathroom, then point me towards the kitchen."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxxxxx Part 3  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 Mulder thought that it should seem strange, going to work in the
 basement that morning, but it wasn't. Scully drove them in and,
 as she said, took his hand and led him to his office. Scully
 informed him that he occasionally used a mobility cane, but
 usually only outside. His extraordinary memory for detail
supplied most of the information he needed when maneuvering
 in a building he'd been in before. Plus, he had the use of
Scully's hand or soft cues if he needed them.

 The maneuvering between the two of them was easy and practiced.
 Wearing his sunglasses inside the building was something he'd
not remembered doing before, but even that didn't feel strange.
 He wasn't sure why, but he became more and more convinced
that his memories would soon return. Everything was beginning
to feel normal.

 They encountered a few other agents along the way to the
 elevator. Scully quietly let go of his hand as Mulder tried not
 to make it obvious that he had no idea what was going on. The
small talk
 soon ended, and Mulder noticed that there had been no trace of
 pity or rancor in their voices. These agents seemed to enjoy
 talking to him. Scully had said that they were a successful and
 enviable team.

 Could he be successful and respected?

 What a kick that would be. No longer a joke to his
 peers, an embarrassment to his superiors-no longer a pariah.
 It would almost make the loss of sight worth it. Not to mention
 the fact that Scully loved him, was proud to be seen with him,
 and apparently enjoyed having sex with him regularly. He
couldn't believe that she was disfigured as she'd said, but
it didn't matter.

 Let the sighted world worry about it. Here in his world, she was
 perfectly beautiful.

Scully said that their current case contained apparent serial
murders, now labeled as an X-File. Because of the
memory setback, he needed her to fill him in on all the
facts. He wondered, for instance, how long they had been
working on this case.

 Entering their basement office, she again let go of his hand,
and he easily found his way to his desk. In fact, he knew he
could navigate this most familiar environment with his eyes
closed. Or open now, as was the case.

Did his office always smell like stale pizza?

On his desk were what felt like tapes
 and recording devices. He recognized the remote control to
his office VCR as well as the telephone. The keypad had
raised bumps on the numbers to confirm that his fingers were
 pushing the right buttons. There was a device to the center
right of his desk that was unfamiliar to him.

Scully must have been gathering files together as he heard
her rifling through a stack of them.

 "Go ahead, Mulder. Put your hand in there."

 Mulder figured that she was indicating the strange machine on
his desk. His slipped his hand in a slot found in the front of
it.  His fingertips encountered what felt like the heads of
 straight pins. He gently rubbed the surface and realized that
 the raised pins formed a letter of the alphabet. He moved the
 device, then more letters, and then a word appeared on the tips
 of his fingers. This machine enabled him to scan a document, and
 in essence read it.

 "That is very cool," he said.

 "Yeah, that's one of your favorite toys," Scully's smiling voice
 told him.

 She nudged his hand to remove the document he was reading
and replace it with a new file. The letters changed, and a new
set
of information was literally at his fingertips. She'd given him a
 newspaper account of the latest murder, while she continued
to hunt noisily for the information she needed.

 It sounded as though she'd pulled several more files and was
 setting them in some sort of order.

 "I'm going to save us both some time, Mulder, and read the
 current folders to you. It helps me when I hear them read aloud,
 so I hope that's okay with you. You can go over them later if
you want to review them."

 "OK, but you are not to leave anything out, Scully. No matter
how trivial or unimportant it may see to you." He was
serious. He wanted to impress upon her that his ability to do the
job relied on her honest, objective, and full
assessment.

That was a mistake, and he instantly regretted it. Her anger,
like darts, homed in on him.
"*Agent* Mulder. I am fully aware of my responsibilities in this
partnership."

"Scully...Scully...sorry," he interrupted her before she could
continue. Holding both hands up, surrendering, he said,
"C'mon, cut me some slack here."

The temperature, which had risen suddenly in the room, seemed to
cool a bit. His hotheaded partner simmered to a
slow boil before saying, "I'll let it go this
 time. But you need to know that whatever information we get, we
 share 100%. We are a team. We do this together. No holding
 back any facts, any thoughts, any feelings, any theories, no
 matter how insignificant they seem. You don't get to keep me in
 the dark, just to get even, and no ditching. Ever. Got it?"

 Mulder heard the controlled temper in her voice. "Sorry, I'm
 still getting used to this."

 "I know." She sighed, obviously exasperated, "I know you are, so
you're forgiven. But the team rules still stand."

 "Understood." He sat up straight as his eyes stared blankly
behind the tinted lenses. After a few moments he began
drawing circles with his index finger on the desktop, then said,
"But accusing me of keeping you in he dark 'just to
get even' seems kinda harsh, don't you think?"

 A light chuckle came from in front of him, "I guess you don't
remember using a variation of that line on me then,
huh?"

 He made a mental note to ask her about that later.

 Folder after folder opened, and Scully began to read the
contents.
 Her low voice was familiar and soothing as she related the
facts:

 "Three young, gay men have been found dead within the past year
 and a half in the Fells Point area of Baltimore. All of the
 bodies present with disfiguring manifestations, especially on
the face.

 "No definite cause of death has been determined, but all of the
 organs, including the skin appear aged. The deaths are spaced
 approximately six months apart, and this is now the established
 pattern. Or at least until the pattern changes. The condition
 of the bodies is consistent: the skin, especially on the face,
is disfigured by what appears to be age, and the internal
organs also appear far more worn than the victim's actual
age would indicate. These men ranged in age from 22 to
31 years old.

 "Tox screens and chemical analysis of the bodies have been
 inconclusive. There is a massive electrolyte imbalance and
 breakdown of connective tissue and bone mass in each of the
 bodies. The murder weapon is thought to be some combination of
 poisonous chemicals these men ingested. But so far, none of the
 supposed poisons have been identified.

 "The VCS is looking for someone on the prowl to kill gay men.
 And they would have liked to make this a 'simple' gay bashing
 crime, but the cause of death and the condition of the bodies
are baffling them."

 Scully stopped a moment, and Mulder heard what sounded like her
pencil scratching paper. He tapped his pencil on the edge of
the desk and asked, "Are we looking into another angle other
 than the 'gay bashing' one? Somehow, Scully, I don't think
the fact that these victims were gay is as important as the
VCS thinks it is."

 "I know, Mulder; you said exactly that. Here's one of my notes
 where I quoted you as saying, 'I don't think the homosexual
 element is the most relevant fact, but I think it might be the
 most convenient motive for the VCS to follow up on.' This is one
 of the preliminary notations I made to help you work the
 profile."

 Mulder concentrated on the texture of the pencil's eraser for a
 moment, then said, "Scully, when were we called in on this
case?"

 "You're going to love this, Mulder. We were asked to join the
 investigation right before the third body was discovered. It
 seems that the VCS was working on several profiles, all of which
 crashed and burned. As the UNSUB's deadline of 6 months came
 around, we were called in. Of course, there had only been 2
 bodies in one year, so there really wasn't much of a set
pattern. Still,one of their profiles suggested that the next
murder if committed by the same perpetrator might be done
 around the 6-month mark. So, they chanced it, and you got
called in right before the last murder."

 "So not all of their profiles fizzled," Mulder said resigned.
 "They knew another murder was going to take place."

 "No, they didn't know it, but they felt their time was running
 out. Six months was the time interval between the first two
 bodies. I know they called you in, because you're the expert in
 profiling bizarre cases. By being involved early on, you could
 get an up close and personal look at the case. It was pretty
 smart, actually."

 "How do you mean?"

 "Well, it got you on the case at the time when, if a murder was
 going down, you would be there to look at the pieces of the
crime right from the start, and you could start your profile with
fresh facts.

"You weren't expected to stop it from happening, you were
 supposed to observe it if it happened. You are their best hope
 if we are to keep it from happening again. It was a compliment,
 really. They've been very grateful for your input."

 'A compliment?' Mulder thought. The Violent Crimes Section
 treating him like the expert and requesting his assistance just
 as their profiles were drying up? Since when had Spooky Mulder
 been treated as an expert by any division of the FBI? He would
 have to ask Scully about this later. But for now, he needed to
 hear the rest of the background. But---

 "Before you continue, Scully, I have to correct you on
 something."

 "Mulder, are you beginning to remember? Are the facts of the
 case coming back to you?" she asked with a hopeful lilt to her
 voice.

 "No, not yet. But I do remember something you said just a few
 minutes ago. About us being a team. You keep saying the VCS
 called 'me' in to investigate and to draw up 'my' profile, that
 they're grateful for 'my' input. I'd appreciate it if you'd
 include my partner in this recitation. She and I are a team, you
 know, and she happens to be invaluable to me." He removed his
 sunglasses and tried to manage what he hoped was a stern look on
 his face.

 Of course he couldn't see her, but he could almost feel her
 blush. To earn the respect of the VCS or to fluster Scully. He
 didn't know which pleased him more.

 With mock seriousness, he said, "Now continue."

 More page flipping then, "Well, I did the
 autopsy on the latest victim. His name was David Graham aged 22.
 He's the youngest so far. Kevin Owens was the first victim, aged
 31, found almost a year before Graham. Christopher Nicholas,
 found 6 months after Owens, was 27 years old at the time of
 death.

 "Witnesses state that David Graham was seen frequenting the bars
 in Fells Point, on Friday the 28th of last month. There's always
 a lot of night life in that area of Baltimore, especially on the
 warm summer nights we've been having."

 Mulder rememberd bar hopping in Fells Point when he was much
 younger and lived on the Maryland side of DC.  He'd start over
on
South Broadway to eat some of Bertha's mussels then wandering
over to the Cats Eye Pub on Thames Street,
 and usually making it over to South Ann Street to the Wharf Rat
 Bar. He smiled as he remembered how tough it was walking around
on those brick and cobbled streets when drunk.   'Those were the
 days,' he thought and sighed a nostalgic sigh.

 Scully continued her reporting, "By all accounts, David was a
 party loving guy, with many friends but no steady romantic
 involvement. He'd come up to Baltimore from Annapolis to meet
 some friends and do the bar scene. His friends lost track of him
 around one in the morning, but didn't think much of it. They
were all loosing track of themselves by that time.

 "Around 2:30 AM, David Graham's body was found in an ally over
in Canton,
 that's the neighborhood adjacent to Fells Point.  He was
unrecognizable except for the clothes he was wearing.
Positively identified through his fingerprints. He wasn't even
gone long enough for anyone to have noticed he was missing.
 We got the call and were one of the firsts on the scene. His
body
was still warm. I was able to perform the autopsy almost
immediately."

 Mulder grimaced. He knew that Scully was used to slicing and
 dicing murder victims in all stages of decomposition, but it
 always bothered her to cut open a body that was still warm. He
 heard more pages ruffling, then asked, "What did you find?"

 "Well, the external examination revealed what appeared to be a
 very old man. The skin was wrinkled, dry, and paper-thin. The
 nose was bulbous, the eyebrows were bushy, the body hair was
gray, and the hairline was receding. All findings compatible with
 advanced age.

"The teeth were yellowed, and the gum line was also
 receding. The spine showed an extreme kyphosis, and the joints
of
 the hands and knees were enlarged-consistent with arthritic
 changes.

"His eyes were clouded with cataracts, and overall muscle
 tone was loose and flabby, although he was a young man in good
 shape. There was bruising around the lips, but other than that,
 there didn't appear to be any sign of assault. There were no
 wounds or puncture marks.

 "The internal examination revealed all the normal organs with
 their normal weight and placement. But, like the external exam,
 the internal exam found evidence of extreme age. Without
 toxicological evidence to indicate poisoning, my findings were:
 death due to advanced age."

 When she quit speaking, Mulder was leaning back in his chair,
 head tilted back, facing the ceiling. He sat up and leaned on
 his desk toward the direction of the voice in front of him.

 "What do you make of it, Scully?"

 "I don't know." Her voice shifted away from him.  "I've never
seen anything like this before."

 He moved a few inches toward her and said firmly, "Yes you have,
 Scully. You've seen things like this before. We've seen this
 before. Hell, *we've* aged rapidly before! Don't tell me you
don't
 remember that."

 "I've seen a lot of things Mulder, and so have you. But nothing
 that would explain the apparent rapid aging of this man's body.
 This was a young, vital, very handsome young man who encountered

 someone who took all that away from him. His youth, his vigor,
 and his beauty...I mean his good looks. We haven't ever seen
 anything that could steal someone's youth and beauty."

 "But obviously, Scully, someone or something has. Don't forget,
 we've seen a mutant human rip the livers of other humans and eat
 them for survival. We've seen a human creature that needed
 adipose tissue, which he sucked out of lonely women. We've even
 seen a man who could regenerate his own goddam head if he had a
 good supply of cancer on tap! Shit, Scully these things exist,
 and we've fucking seen them!" His voice was harsh and his breath
 was hot in her face.

 Scully hissed through her teeth, "Why do you always have to
start
 there, Mulder? Why do you go straight to mutant creatures before
 we even get the tox screens back?" She raised her voice.  "There
 *is* an X-File here, but it may be that someone has developed a
new toxin, or a new strain of fungus, or...or a mixed up batch of
bad street drugs, or, hell, it could be a disease that has up to
now
 been unknown that may have infected poor David Graham!" Her
chair scraped back, and her voice loomed down on
him.  "What next, Mulder? A time warp?"

 "Don't rule it out," Mulder spat up at her.

 "Don't *you* ever rule anything out? Is relying on time warps
and
 cancer eaters going to save the next young man's life?"

 He slammed his hands down on his desk violently.
 "Goddammit, Scully, why do I have to remind you of the things
you know to be true? Jesus Christ! Why do I have to pry your mind
 open every time we start a case?" He huffed and pushed back into
 his chair. They were both silent and breathing hard.

 After a few moments, Mulder took in a deep breath. He caught
 Scully's scent in the air. Even an angry Scully smelled good.
 She shifted back down into her creaking chair, and he heard as
she combed exasperated fingers through her hair.

 He sniffed again, cleared his throat, and said, "For the record,
I don't think it's a time warp."

 He felt a few gentle breaths aimed in his direction.  "Mulder,
why does the 'Brain Sucking Zombie' theory always have
to surface first?"

 Mulder replied, "Probably for the same reason you go to the
 'Advanced Age, Rapid Onset form of Progeria' theory first."

 The office was quiet for a few minutes. Finally Mulder broke the
 silence by saying, "Scully? Are you smiling or glaring at me?"

 She gave a short laugh and said, "Neither.  I'm pensive."

 "Pensive?"

 Mulder knew that very soon, Scully would begin thinking and
talking at the same time.

 "Mulder, Progeria Syndrome is an extremely rare genetic disease
that
 accelerates the normal aging process in children, about seven
 times the normal rate. That means that a ten year old child
 suffering from Progeria would have similar respiratory,
 cardiovascular, and arthritic conditions as a seventy year old."

'Do I know this woman or what?' he thought to himself. But to her
he said, "I know, Scully. Remember we
investigated ..."

 She cut him off. "This is a genetic disease
 that has no cure." She repeated, "A genetic disease."
She muttered to herself, "something genetic... something
no cure...hmmm.."

 "Scully, I know you can see me over here. How about letting me
in on this?" He knew Scully was
 onto something, and he wanted to share her excitement.

 "I don't know, Mulder. It may be nothing, but I'm going to have
 some DNA testing done on David Graham's body. And on the bodies
 of the other victims. Who knows, maybe something similar will
 turn up?"

 Mulder sat back in his chair, never noticing before now how
badly it creaked. "Speaking of similarities, Scully, were all the
 victims good looking? You've mentioned at least twice how nice
 looking David Graham was. Were the other victims as attractive?"

 "Ohh? I...I didn't realize that I'd mentioned it more than once.
 I guess it's to be expected that I'd notice physical beauty more
 now than I did before." She was trying to be clinical but she
 sounded embarrassed.

 Mulder softened.  "Don't analyze yourself, Scully. I just need
 your opinion here. Tell me if these young men were handsome."

 "Well, of course 'handsome' is a subjective term, but in my
 subjective opinion, I'd say yes. These three men were all tall,
a little over six feet, I find 'tall' a handsome feature, and
they
 all had dark hair and eyes. Other than their inherent good
 looks, the similarity stops there. They didn't resemble one
 another, if that's what you're thinking."

 "It's not exactly what I'm thinking, but it's kind of what I'm
 thinking," Mulder said while his hand patted around his desk,
 searching for his sunglasses. "How long will it take you to run
 the DNA analysis?"

 "It won't be completed for a few days, but I'll get it
 started immediately. I won't be needed for the whole process,
 though."

 Finding the stem to his shades, he put the glasses on and stood.
 "Good, you go get that started. While you're doing that,
I'll get up to speed with the investigation so far." He
went over to the file cabinet. "Are all the current files in the
 front folders?"

 "Yes, they are. Most of the files have audio tapes of
 interviews, and my notes are always recorded as well as written
 out. " With that, she handed the folders she had to Mulder. "In
your
desk are the audio tapes you made with your preliminary profiles.
Correction.  Tapes 'we' made of 'your' profiles. My specialty is
 still pathology, but I can run a mean tape recorder."

 He smiled as he started flipping through the files in the
 folders, removing the micro cassettes and placing other files on
 his desk. After all the files were divided, he said, "We need to
 go to Fells Point tonight. I want to retrace David Graham's last
 steps, and I want to do it around the same time of night...hey
 Scully? Do I wear my sunglasses at night?"

 She smiled a smile he couldn't see, but her voice was light as
 she said, "Yes, Mulder, sunglasses at night. Sorry. And not
 only will you wear your sunglasses, but also because of the
brick streets, you'll have to take the stick. I know you don't
like
 it, but it does help a bit over rough terrain."

 "The stick?"

 "Mulder, you have a white mobility cane. You don't like the fold
 up kind, and in fact, you don't like any kind of cane, but you
 know you need to use one in unfamiliar settings. I had no idea
 how many models of white canes were on the market, but you had
to try every one. You settled on a single point white cane with a
 rather pointed red tip. You tried to make me call it 'Mr.
 Pointy.' You told me that there was a vampire slayer on 'Buffy'
 who named her vampire slaying stake 'Mr. Pointy.' The concept of
 the mobility cane as a stake to kill vampires appealed to you.
 But I could never get used to referring to a walking stick by a
 proper name, and besides, you keep it in the closet most of the
 time."

 'A white cane,' he thought.  A blind man's cane.  'I guess this
 blind thing isn't going to go away.'  He tried to
 paste a smile on his face. He raised his voice a little too much
 and said, "I guess we'll have to go home to pick it up before we
 leave then. "

 Scully must have sensed the change in his mood; "I'll get it on
my way back." Her heels clicked lightly on the floor as she came
over to him. She touched his arm and spoke softly in
 his ear, "By the way, have I told you how wonderfully 'tall' you
 are today?"

 He grinned and shook his head, feeling suddenly lighter. "Ahh,
 Agent Scully. I love it when you speak in non-subjective terms."

 She tip-toed up, and in a very unprofessional way, briefly
 touched his lips with hers. "I'll be back," she said simply, and
 the door snicked closed behind her.

 'How does she do it, I wonder? She knows me. Argues with me.
 Sees for me. Needs me. Heals me. Loves me.' He turned his face
 toward the door he couldn't see, and thanked a God he never
 knew...until now.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxx Part 4  xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
 

He was close to something.  His heart beat faster, and his palms
 were slick.  After listening to his profiling, he knew why he
 must have been up all hours of the night.  The tone of his voice
 on the tapes, the underlying excitement as he relayed the
details
 of the hunt.  He was close, and he could feel it.

 He just couldn't remember what he was thinking when he recorded
 it.

 Scully said that this memory "confusion" had only happened when
 he was close to solving a case.  Why did he have to be so
 goddamned tight-lipped when it came to some things?

 Aliens?  Sure, seen 'em.

 Government conspiracies?  Absolutely, knew the guys involved.

 Mutants?  Yep, we got 'em: fluke men, Mexican goat suckers, you
 name it.

 Serial killers?  Serial killers?  Uh...workin' on it.  Working
on
 it and not telling a fucking soul.

 Mulder knew that his method of profiling consisted of
cloistering
 information and impressions in his mind until the picture became
 clear.  He would immerse himself deep in a case until he could
 surface with a solution.

 Scully was right: he was deep into this one and hadn't surfaced
 yet.  So deep, in fact, that his memory had failed.  His mind
had turned
 to mush just when he needed it to be its sharpest.  Now he had
 to pick up the pieces of his profile and place them with the
 facts of the investigation.

 Unfortunately, he had only hints and clues to work with.
 Listening to his profile in progress, Mulder heard the agitation
 in his own voice as he relayed his thoughts.  He figured that
 these tapes were for his ears alone, since Scully's voice wasn't
 on any of them.   He had to put his thoughts in some kind of
 order.

 Mulder's hands skimmed his desk until he rediscovered the
 microcassette tape recorder he'd been listening to.  He needed a
 method of looking at and examining his thoughts.  His old method
 had consisted of jotting reems of barely legible notes on
countless
 yellow legal pads.  His present circumstances forced him to
alter
 that procedure. He placed a fresh cassette in the machine,
 brought the microphone close to his mouth, and depressed the
 "Record" buttons.  His voice echoed slightly off the basement
 walls as he taped his thoughts:

 "Young men in the prime of life. Looking for love and in love
 with life.  All of them gay, all of them attractive, all.."  He
 stopped for a minute and thought, 'There's that descriptive word
 again: Attractive.'

  He continued, "Bar hopping., and beer
 drinking in Fells Point. Age---Cause of death was extreme age.
Died of advanced age.  Age.  Six month intervals.  Last victim
 was youngest.  Victims getting younger, gay, attractive, beer
 drinking, poison.  Poison?  No, not poisoned.  Bruised lips.
Did
 all victims have bruising around the lips?"

 Mulder's voice took on a low sing songy quality.  His sentences
 became shorter, more disorganized. His eyes were closed as his
 fingers squeezed the "Record" buttons on the tape machine.  He
 continued with his head bowed close to the microphone.  "Gay.
Gay's not important.  Red herring, only throws us off.
Romantically involved?  Were the other victims romantically
involved?  Friends?  Drinking friends?  Only drinking?  Drug use?
 Body found in Canton; who lives in Canton?  All had friends
to bar hop with..nobody noticed him missing..died missing...
away from others..killer was with him...killer knew him...killer
wanted something from him.."

 His voice trailed off as an annoying sound interrupted his
 thoughts.  He pulled his glasses off and fiercly rubbed at his
 eyes.  That sound again; what was it?  He shook his head and
 realized that the phone on his desk was ringing.  Yanking the
 receiver up to his ear he blurted, "Mulder!"

 "Mulder, it's me,"  Scully's excited voice answered.  "Look, I
 have some..."

 He cut her off.  "Romantically involved?  Scully, were any of
the
 other victims romantically involved?"

 She began again.  "Mulder, listen.  I have some preliminary
 results on the DNA testing and..."

 Mulder didn't let her finish, "Were any of the other victims in
A committed relationship!?"  His voice was dangerously low.

 "Mulder, I have..."

 "ANSWER ME!"

 "No, Mulder.  No.  None of the other men had committed partners.
 Now listen..."

 He slammed the phone down in its cradle and unplugged it from
the back.

 Continuing into the microphone he said evenly, "None
committed...
 no romantic relationships.  Three young
men...handsome.murdered...
 single attractive men... no significant other.  Goes to
bars...out
 of loneliness.hoping for, for....please, no loneliness...looking
for
 love?...hoping to find...no, lost....all dead....all lost....
old...alone...
 please, no...extreme age.  They die of old age...Go to bars...
They
 die... all of them murdered...No! Too soon, too young ...They
all die
 old...Alone... no Other....oh please no, no....Died wrinkled and
old...
 Paper thin skin.  Faces distorted with age... Bruised faces....
 Dead and gray and ....alone with the killer."

 Another sound, this time from his hip.  No time.  No time.
Time.
 Age.  Another sound.  Cell phone.

 "NOT NOW!!"  Mulder tore the cell phone from his hip and stabbed
 the "Off" button.

 He took a deep breath.  The stale pizza smell competed with
 Scully's perfume and his body's sweat for attention.

 He rewound the last few seconds of the tape and heard, "Bruised
 faces... Dead and gray and alone with the killer. (cell phone
 chirping)  NOT NOW!!..."

 He pressed the "Record" button and continued, "Body changes. DNA
 testing...  DNA... test for.... Life is change.
   Changes....old....ages...dies...life...life and death.death
for life....age
 for beauty....beauty dies.beauty lives....young men.bruised by
 kisses...old men, kissed by death... murdered for
youth....murdered
 for beauty....all dead...all bruised, all kissed...."

 The windows were small in the basement and set high above the
 floor.  Very little light came in the windows, even during the
 bright mid day hours.  The sun had long since set, and the
 basement office was very dark.

Of course, Mulder could no longer judge time by the height of the
sun
in the sky.  The basement was eternally dark to him, but
he knew that the night must now have robbed any light that would
have come into those small windows.

 He changed the tape and continued recording. "Young, and
 handsome.  Old and wrinkled, why?  Life...Life for death.  How?
 Bruised lips.  Slapped?  Kissed?"

 A sound.  Then another sound.  Then vanilla and rain.  Scully
was here.

 "Mulder?"

  "I'm here, Scully."

He didn't hear her flip on the light switch. Her clothing
rustled,
 and the air shifted as she approached.  A very small smile made
 its way to his lips as he realized how well she must know their
 office to walk so confidently in the dark.

 "I have some information about the testing."  Her voice was soft
 and careful as she spoke.  A scraping sound indicated that she'd
 pulled a chair up to the opposite side of his desk.

 He released the "Record" buttons on his recorder.

 "They were killed for their youth, Scully.  For their beauty and
 their youth."

 She took a breath in the darkness and asked, "Can I tell you
what
 I've found?"

 "Kisses, Scully.  Kisses killed them."  His voice sounded far
 away even to himself.

 "David Graham's DNA was altered, Mulder.  Whatever killed him
did
 it on a molecular level.  I collected a DNA sample from his home
 in Annapolis.  I compared it to his current DNA, and they don't
 match.  They're close, but they don't match."

 "Kisses murdered him, Scully.  Changed him...aged him.  Changed
all
 of them.  Check the others; they were all changed."

 "Yes, Mulder.  David Graham was changed, he aged and he lost a
 piece of who he was.  I don't know how, but it happened."

 "Stolen.  A piece of him was stolen and replaced with...with
what?"

 "His youth was stolen, and his beauty was stolen.  His cellular
 structure was altered, and that was how he was murdered."
Scully's
 voice took on Mulder's cadence, and her voice dipped towards him
 in the dark.

 "The murderer wanted to be young and handsome, so he changed his
 own DNA.  Stole it from David Graham. Changed it with a kiss,
 killed him with a kiss...how?  How, Scully?"

 "Bruising around the mouth, Mulder.  Point of entry.  Mouth,
 lips, teeth, tongue."

 "His heart, Scully.  The point of entry was the part of him that
 sought love.  He had no lover, no romantic involvement.  He was
 looking for love and found death wrapped around a kiss."  Mulder
 leaned on his elbows, his hair brushing hers as they spoke,
their
 foreheads nearly touching as they shared each breath.  Their
 spoken thoughts became one voice.

 A female voice first.  "What would be accomplished by changing
the
 DNA structure?"

 Then the male voice.  "The murderer was looking for youth and
 beauty, and he stole them.  Extracted them right out of David
 Graham's cells."

 "Why these victims?  Why David Graham? Kevin Owens? Christopher
 Nicholas?" her voice asked.

 "They were handsome and lonely and looking for someone.  They
all
 were.  They were somewhere where the killer could see them,
 admire them, want them."

 Her soft voice continued in perfect sync with his, "They must
 have been in a location where the killer could lure them away
 without anyone noticing."

 "Yes, he lures them away, then kisses them, kills them."

 "The murderer does kill them, Mulder, but he takes something
from
 them first.  Something from their cells."

 Almost before she finished her sentence he said, "He needs
 something.  He takes what he needs, what he wants."

 "What, Mulder?  What does the killer want?"

 "Their youth.  Their beauty.  Their lives.  The killer didn't
 want to live his own life anymore, so he stole *their* lives."

 "Why?  Why did he murder these men?"

 Mulder's voice was hushed, "The murderer was old and no longer
 beautiful.  But not now.  Now he is attractive and has David
 Graham's youth."

  "How?"

 "How?"

 With an unspoken cue, they both sat back.  Mulder tipped his
head
 backward and let out a lungful of air.  Scully's head shook, and
tiny
 droplets of water flicked Mulder's hand.

 "It's raining, Scully?" Mulder's voice asked.

 "It was, but I think it stopped...it was stopping by the time I
got
 here."  He could hear her as she finger combed her hair, and
felt
 few more drops fall on his hand.

 "We have to catch him, Scully.  We have to make him stop."

 "Who is he, Mulder?  How can we find him?  Where is he?"

 "The answer's on Baltimore's streets.  The murderer is there;
I'm sure of it.  We have to go out there.  Tonight."

 Their office was black and breathless for a minute, then
Scully's
 hesitant voice said, "Mulder.."

 "I know, Scully.  I know I can't watch your back.  But we're
only
 going so I can get the feel of things.  I don't remember being
 out at the crime scenes, and I have to go back.  I promise, at
 the first sign of trouble we're out of there."

 His hopeful, excited voice found her in the dark.

 "The first sign of trouble?" she repeated.

 "And we're out of there," he confirmed.

 Scully sighed loudly, "All right, all right.  But you're picking
 up the bar tab."  Her chair scraped as she moved it back.

 Mulder stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and
 started towards the door, saying, "Just as long as you don't
order
 any of those girly drinks.  It's embarassing to pay for those."

 His voice trailed off as he raced Scully to the elevator. But
not
 before he heard her mutter, "Great, *that* he remembers."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxxx  Part 5 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Fells Point is a neighborhood located to the east of Baltimore's
famous Inner Harbor.  It's known for its antique shops,
restaurants, and nightlife. And because it was the location for
the filming of "Homicide: Life on the Street."

Fell's Point, punctuated correctly with an apostrophe or without,
is a popular part of the city.  Like all big cities, Baltimore
has its dark, seedy side, but this spot by the water ignores all
that and shouts, "Welcome to Baltimore, hon!"  "Baltimore" being
pronounced, "Ball-i-mer."

Baltimore is also where three young men met their strange and
untimely deaths.

The rain had ended earlier in the evening, leaving the streets
slick, and
with high water waiting to be splashed. The atmosphere
 was festive, and the nightlife sounded as if it were in full
swing
apparently undaunted by the puddles.

Mulder wanted to retrace David Graham's last steps, and he
insisted that it be the same time of night-or as close as they
could estimate.  So out on South Broadway's wet bricks, he and
Scully walked, making their way to The Crabmaster's Saloon.  The
Crabmaster's is a predominantly gay bar with live music and no
cover charge.

Mulder was unhappily decked out in his Ray Bans and white cane.
He hoped he still cut a dashing figure in his charcoal gray
Armani suit pants that hung just a little low on his hips and
that sported
pleats at the waist.  He wore what Scully told him was a
Pierre Cardin, light blue cotton dress shirt, with a navy blue
striped silk tie.  It was far too hot to wear the suit jacket.

He had to hold tightly to Scully's hand and arm to keep from
tripping on the brick's raised edges and from slipping on the wet
pavement.  The helplessness he felt was unbearable.

'How can I fucking work like this?' he thought as his toe caught
on another ridge.

He could no longer read his partner's expressions, or see her
gestures.  Much of their communication from before was unspoken,
consisting only of a nod of the head or the flicker of an eye.

God, how he missed looking into her eyes.

He shook his head, not understanding how he could have adapted to
this black and featureless place.  His only link to the world
around him came from the sensations he used to dismiss.

He was a visual man.  His formidable memory supplied him with
visual images in detail and on command.  But how was he supposed
to recognize a murderer if he couldn't fucking see him?  By
smelling him, touching him, hearing him talk?  He damn well
wasn't going to taste him.

He was silent as Scully expertly guided him towards the bar.

Her soft voice came from his left, "Curb cut right, two o'clock,"
and she nudged him in that direction.

"The Crabmasters is in the middle of this block," she said.
"We'll go through the double doors, take two steps forward, then
one curb step down and into the pub.  The bar itself will be
along the left wall.  The bartender's name is Brad Lang, and I
know he's working tonight.  We questioned him right after the
killing two weeks ago.   He remembers serving David Graham on the
night of the murder.  I don't think that any of the other staff
that waited on the victim are here."

The air was thick and humid from the evaporating rain.  The
streets of Fells Point smelled of crabs seasoned in Old Bay,
ladies' perfume as they emerged from the small theatres, alcohol,
rain, vomit, and piss.  All the scents a good city should have.

Mulder tapped Mr. Pointy to his right and found the curb cut.
While holding Scully's hand, he approached the doorway and moved
to stand a little in front of her.  Then he crooked his elbow and
placed Scully's hand around his upper arm.  Entering a gay bar
with a woman on his arm was the statement he wanted to make.  If
Scully noticed any of this silent posturing she made no comment.

The timeframe they were working in was from 11: 00 PM to 2:00 AM.
They gave themselves some leeway since it was around 1:00 that
Saturday morning that David Graham went missing, and 2:30 AM when
his body was discovered in a neighborhood several blocks away.
Scully's report traced the victim's 11:00 stop to be here at The
Crabmasters.

Earlier, she'd told Mulder that they both had been here
investigating almost two weeks before, right after the murder.
They'd met with all the bartenders and servers at that time.
According to Scully, one pretty, young female waitress had been
so intrigued by this blind FBI agent that she very nearly pushed
Scully down in order to "seat" him.

 Mulder dismissed the event, but suddenly, as he stood in the
foyer of the bar, something clicked.  A small memory of their
investigation appeared in the fog of his mind.  This meaningless
altercation between Scully and the waitress surfaced as clearly
as though it'd just happened.

Mulder remembered hearing some icy words between the waitress and
Scully.  He knew that something had been going on behind him,
judging by all the scuffling he'd heard.  He'd genuinely thought
it was funny until the waitress said under her breath,  "He
prob'ly has no idea what a dog she is."

As his mind replayed the scene, he winced inwardly, but hope
dawned as he realized that his memory *would* eventually emerge.
Still, he grasped Scully's hand and brought it to his lips.  He
pressed two quick kisses to her knuckles.

As Scully and Mulder sidled up to the bar, Mulder felt her hand
reach into her pocket, probably to show their identifications.
The bartender said, "No need, Agent Scully.  I remember you and
Agent Mulder from last time.  Howya been?  Any news on the
killer?"

Scully raised her voice to be heard through the din of music,
laughter, and clinking glasses, "Getting there, we hope.  Agent
Mulder and I just wanted to go through the same motions as David
Graham did the night he died."

"Okey dokey.  Can I get youse a drink or somethin' while you're
at it?"

"No thanks, Mr. Lang," Mulder said, leaning onto the bar.  "I
just
want to go over some things with you if you've got a few minutes.
We may have gone over all this before, but I need it fresh in my
mind for tonight."  He sniffed the air and decided that he
couldn't
tell where the onion rings started and the cigarette smoke ended.

"Okey dokey," the bartender repeated, "Shoot."

Mulder asked him to describe his last contact with the victim.

Brad Lang explained that David had come into The Crabmasters at
around 10:30 PM two weeks ago Friday and stayed till a little
after 11:30.  He remembered that Graham had seemed a little "down
in
the mouth" and appeared to crave Brad's company.  The latter had
been busytending bar on a busy night, and frankly
didn't want to spend too much time with a "whining fag."

"But," Brad added as he paused and sipped a drink; "He was one
beautiful boy."

Lang lost track of him after 11:30, thought nothing of it, and
had
no other information.   No, he didn't think that Graham left with
anybody. No, he wasn't overwhelmingly drunk.  Yes, he was a
little depressed when he arrived but seemed to be feeling better
as the night wore on.  But Brad attributed it to "Bartender's
Math": The improvement in one's mood is directly proportional to
the amount of alcohol in one's system.

Mulder rubbed the smooth surface of the bar with his left hand
and tapped the underside of the bar with the cane in his right.
He tried to get a sense of the place, and sat down on a now
vacant bar stool. The pub was hot and noisy.  He could hear the
patrons' laughing, cigarette lighters flicking, and bottle tops
popping open.

Imported beer, no doubt.

Mulder's mind wandered away from where he heard Scully finishing
up the questioning.  He absently slipped his tie off and put it
in his pants pocket after unbuttoning the top two buttons of his
dress shirt.  He rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and flipped
up his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head.  With a
cocktail napkin that he discovered on the bar, he wiped the sweat
from his face.  The soft scent of Ralph Lauren's "Polo" wafted up
to him as he leaned back from the bar.

"It's a hot one tonight, isn't it?" a male voice probed Mulder's
darkness.

"It was a hot one last night, too," Mulder replied politely.

A low chuckle, then, "You look ... very hot.  Care to dance?"

He faced the direction of the flattering voice, squinted
convincingly, and said, "Sorry, can't dance.  I've got two left
feet."

Mulder's left hand which was on top of the bar felt a large, warm
hand cover his.  A hot voice traveled to his ear and said,
"C'mon, I'll teach you."

Before Mulder could protest, he was gently but quickly pulled to
stand.  At that moment, his sunglasses flopped down awkwardly
over his eyes, and his white cane clattered to the floor.

Busted.

Dammit!

Mulder sat down abruptly and heard an apologetic male voice say,
"Hey, I'm sorry.  I thought you were being coy with the 'I can't
dance' line."  The voice chuckled.  "I guess I would've been
insulted if you'd used the 'I can't see' line on me.  I really
hate that one."

Mulder's lips spread into a grin as he faced toward his "date."
He said, "Yeah, I usually wait to see how the first date goes,
and
then see if I have to spring that on 'em."

Scully's pretty voice came from his other side, "He waited until
our third date and *then* tried that line."  Mulder felt her
hands cup the tops of his shoulders as she stood behind him.
"But by that time, I had his car keys, and he needed a ride
home."

Mulder closed his eyes, tilted his head down and smiled, "Yeah,
my
driving sucks."

"It certainly does."

A young, amused voice said, as its owner stood, "Well, you don't
dance, you
can't drive worth shit, and you like redheads.  I just don't see
how this could work out between us.  But if you ever change your
mind about the redhead thing...."

A long finger briefly touched Mulder's lips, then moved away.

Mulder felt Scully lean into him as she whispered in his ear, "I
can't
take you anywhere.  But he is the best looking guy in the
place....not wearing shades."  She handed him his cane.

"Yeah," Mulder said as he stood and took Scully's hand, "But I'm
spoken for.  And besides," he dropped her hand briefly to adjust
his glasses, "You still have the car keys."
 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
 

They walked out of the pub and headed over toward South Ann
Street.  Mulder allowed himself to experience the sensations
surrounding him.  The warm summer night was still humid from the
early rain.  Puddles were splashing under his shoes, and Scully's
soft hand was firm in his, guiding his way.  This moment felt
natural; it felt right.  Through all their years together, he
thought, Scully had been guiding his way all along.

Scully stumbled and muttered, "Dammit," under her breath.

Mulder caught her arm and steadied her."You okay?" he asked
as he held her up.

"Yes, I'm okay," she said haughtily.  "Jesus, Mulder, and I wore
the two inch heels tonight instead of the three inch ones because
I knew we'd be walking on the brick streets."

"Scully, we're not on the brick streets now."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"Besides, the difference between being 5'5" and 5'4" is hardly
worth the trouble."

When Scully said nothing, Mulder thought, 'I didn't realize you
could
actually *hear* someone glare at you.'

He clamped his teeth on his lower lip and bit back a grin.  After
a few more blocks, they arrived at Peg Leg Jim's Saloon.  There
were two short steps up into the bar, which he maneuvered without
Scully's help.

 This bar seemed bigger than The Crabmaster's and sounded very
crowded.

Scully said, "It's a little past 12:30, and by our estimation,
David was here right around this time before he was killed."

"Tell me what you see," he asked.  "This may very well have been
the place David Graham was last seen alive."

Without hesitation, Scully described the scene.

"To the left is a long horseshoe shaped bar with about twenty
people sitting on bar stools.  A couple of dozen more are
standing by, either drinking or ordering drinks.  One of the
bartenders is the same one we questioned almost two weeks ago.
His name is Connor Lambert, and he claims to have served David
Graham drinks up until the time Graham left the bar at around
1:00.

"There are two other female bartenders working tonight.  I
believe one of the female bartenders, I can't remember her name,
also remembered seeing David here on the night in question.

"There are four or five small, two seater tables close to the bar
and a few more larger tables at ten and eleven o'clock, set
further back.  Along the walls to the right are booths, and it
seems that they're all full right now."

Mulder interrupted her, "Why can't you remember her name,
Scully?"

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"The female bartender.  Why can't you remember her name?"

"I....uh...I have it written down somewhere.  Why?  Is it
important?"

"I don't know.  You don't seem to think so,"  he said simply as
he moved forward.  'Seltzer water being poured makes a crackling
sound' Mulder thought as he maneuvered towards it.

"Ahh, the Fibbies are back," the bartender's voice smirked.
"Here
on business, agents...or for pleasure?"

"We're still on the clock, Mr. Lambert," Mulder replied genially.

"Agent Scully, doesn't he ever let you have any time off?"
Connor's voice drifted softly past Mulder to connect with Scully
who stood behind him.  "You're going to have to ditch him one of
these nights and come out and play."

She remained silent as Lambert resumed, "I'm sorry,
Agent....sorry, what's your name again?"

"Mulder."

"That's right; sorry Agent Mulder.  Is there anything new in the
investigation? Catch the killer, yet?"

"We're closing in on something.  It won't be long now."

"Won't be long, huh?  That's great.  Then Agent Scully will have
some time for pleasure after all."  Again Lambert aimed his voice
behind Mulder.

"Mr. Lambert," Scully's tone was business-like, "You stated that
David Graham was here from about 12:30 to 1:00 AM on the night in
question.  That's not very long.  Wasn't he having a good time?"

"Well, Agent Scully, many of my gay customers tell me that they
can get in a whole lot of bar time if they hop them real fast.
Some of 'em really like to go the distance."  His voice oozed
over her.  "Sometimes when you're lookin' for love, it doesn't
take very long to know that you're in the wrong place."

Mulder positioned himself where he hoped was directly in front of
the bartender, "Yes, but he left while the night was still young.
Did he seem depressed or upset to you?  Did he talk to you about
where he might go or what he might do next?"

"Agent, you know better than any of us what it feels like to be
dancing in the dark.  This guy was alone and lonely in a crowd."
His voice came from slightly above him.  Mulder guessed that
Lambert must be on the tall side.  'Just my luck,' he thought.
Scully liked tall.

The tall voice continued, "But, yeah, he came in alone and wasn't
having much luck with the 'clientele' here.  I'm sure he must
have been feeling unloved and unwanted.  But, hey, we all feel
like that sometimes, don't we?"

"Do you, Mr. Lambert?" Mulder asked.  "Ever feel unwanted?"

Mulder heard a throaty chuckle, "Well, it's a little different
for me."

"Why, because you're a little different from the rest of us?"
Mulder continued.

Lambert ignored the question and said, "This guy who got himself
killed must'a figured he'd only feel like a new man if he got
away from this place.  He needed new blood, so he left. That's
how I see it.  But it sure looks like it turned out to be the
kiss of death for him."

" 'Kiss of death.'  That's a peculiar turn of a phrase, Mr.
Lambert."

"You think so, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder stood aside and smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Lambert.  We've
got everything we need from you.  You've been very helpful."

"I hope so, Agent Mulder.  I aim to please.  Speaking of aiming
to please... Agent Scully, whenever *you* feel lonely or unloved,
you know where to find me."
 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxxx  Part 6  xxxxxxxxxxxX
 

Mulder tripped but caught himself as he rushed down the two short
steps to the street.  Scully was holding his hand, and he felt
her
stumble as he almost brought her down.  Mulder's cane was waving
wildly on the sidewalk as he rushed up the street, dragging
Scully
behind.

"Slow down, Mulder!  Jesus Christ!  What was that all about in
there?"

"Canton.  Which way's Canton from here?  Show me the ally where
they found the body." Mulder moved his head right and left,
trying to ascertain his location.

"What *is* it with you tonight?  What *were* you and Lambert
talking about in there?"

"It's him, Scully.  I know it is."

Scully said nothing, but he heard an exasperated snort.

"Scully, you were in there.  You heard what he said!   He just
about admitted it... "

 Mulder stopped his aimless walking and suddenly turned towards
her, "Wait a minute.  You *did* hear what he said in there?"

"Yes, Mulder, I heard everything he said in there.  Except that I
had the advantage of being able to observe his body language as
well."

"And what was his body saying?"

She hissed a breath through her teeth and said, "He was putting
one over on us, Mulder.  Everything he said and did in there was
done to throw us off."

"Why would he do that, Scully?  And why would you ignore all the
innuendoes?  I expected you to take his head off and hand it to
him."

"Because, Mulder, all his innuendoes were lies."

"Why do you say that, Scully?  Because he was coming on to you?
You think everything he intimated was a lie because he was
flirting with you?"  Mulder was truly baffled.

 "I'd say more like amusing himself at my expense."

"Aww Scully, don't say that."

"Mulder, I'm used to the looks I get sometimes.  The best I hope
for is to be looked at with a neutral eye. But he went all out
the first time, nearly 2 weeks ago, to look me in the eye, joke
with me, talk to me.  He's young and he's handsome, so he really
didn't need to try to impress me.  And he tried it again
tonight."

He took her hand and brought it to his chest as he spoke. "Is it
so hard for you to believe that a man couldn't see
past...couldn't see past and see how beautiful you really are?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "It doesn't
work that way, Mulder."

Mulder felt an odd sensation in his chest.  He was mildly alarmed
until he realized that it was his heart breaking.

Dear god, this woman he cherished, this woman who completed him,
didn't feel that she was whole.  'Let the sighted world worry
about that,' he'd casually thought.  Apparently for her, the
sighted world was a cruel place.  His blind eyes didn't care.
But her eyes could see, and every day she saw in the mirror what
everyone in the world saw. Sweet Christ, could it really make her
that happy to have someone just look her neutrally in the eye?

It was all he could do to keep from crying out and cursing a God
who had done this to her.

Instead, he licked his lips and tried to speak without
stuttering. "I'm sorry, Scully."

"Sorry?" she said with genuine surprise.  "Why are you sorry?"

He paused for a heartbeat then said, "You...uh...you may be
right.  I'm so bent on catching a killer that I'm losing all
objectivity here.  I'm getting impressions and shaping them to
fit
the puzzle."

"Your impressions are usually valid, Mulder, and I shouldn't have
dismissed them so easily."  She continued leading him towards the
dark Canton neighborhood.  "Besides, I don't know how valid my
impressions are any more."

He gently squeezed her hand before saying, "What do you mean?"

"Well," she paused and cleared her throat, "I actually thought
Connor Lambert was much better looking the last time I saw him."

"Ohh?"

What was that?  A stab of jealousy racing through his
chest?

"Yeah, when we questioned him right after the murder, he seemed
to be...I don't know... he was just gorgeous.  That sounds out of
character for me to say, I know."

Mulder's spine felt a familiar tingle, and the base of his scalp
began to crawl.  Keeping his voice under control he said simply,
"Go on."

"Well, when we first walked into the bar two weeks ago, all the
women were swarming around him.  It was hard to get a good look
at him until he came over to us.  Mulder, I swear he looked like
a Greek work of art.  It was as if all his features were chiseled
in marble. Hard and smooth and ...   He was beautiful, Mulder."

"What about tonight, Scully?  How did he look to you tonight?"

"He's still a very handsome man, there's no doubt.  But he just
wasn't as striking tonight.  Not as sharply beautiful as I first
thought. Little things.  Things I can't really put my finger on.
Slight shadows under the eyes maybe, softer, less defined
features?  I'm not sure.  Oh well, I guess maybe it's just that
the thrill is gone." Then Scully's voice dropped to an
embarrassed whisper. "Maybe I just imagined him differently in
the first place.  The mind can play tricks on you, you know."

"But I don't think yours did, Scully.  In fact it all makes
sense."

They were far away from Fells Point now and close to the small
ally where the body had been discovered.

"Something makes sense to you, Mulder?  I'm musing about a young,
good-looking bartender.   That doesn't even make sense to me,"
she said self-depreciatingly.

"What's the real crime here, Scully?  Was murder the real motive?
Did the perpetrator decide that he was going to go out and find
young, gay men just to kill them?"

"Well, whatever the true motive was Mulder..."

He cut her off.  "No.  The motive wasn't murder, the motive was
theft.  The killer must have some method of rearranging his
victim's cellular structure, or trading DNA with his victim in
order to alter his own.  He does this to steal the youth and
appearance from his victim.  That's why the bodies are old, ugly,
and shriveled.

"I'm thinking that the murderer has to have a 'fix' around every
six months.  If he doesn't, his own appearance begins to fade,
and
his age starts to show.  So at the six month mark, he has to pick
his next source of  ...*youth*.  But not just any person will do.
Because of his vanity, the killer chooses a handsome, young man.
He figures since their cell structures mingle with his, he might
as well splice on some good handsome genes to go with that youth.

"Now where do you think the ideal place would be to meet the men
that fit his needs?"

He turned toward Scully.

Her voice was soft, but she said with conviction, "In a gay bar."

"Right.  He could pick his next mark anytime he wanted.  He just
had to make sure that there was no other person in the guy's life
at the time.  He preys on his loneliness.  He offers the promise
of something lasting and manipulates the circumstances until he
finally gets the chance to kiss him.

"Then the change happens, and it happens fast.  All of a sudden,
the kiss turns eternal...and the man, looking for love, dies old
and still alone. The thief has gotten away with the treasure of
life and youth."

"I can't buy it, Mulder.  Nothing in medical science could even
come close to explaining how something like that could happen.
It's just a fairy tale made up in your mind to explain...."

Mulder felt Scully's hand torn from his. A hard blow to the back
of his head made stars appear behind his eyelids.  All of a
sudden, the pavement was wet under his face, and something warm
and
wet was dribbling down the back of his head.  He felt a sudden
ache at his hip and chest and realized that he'd landed on his
cane.  He had the vague notion that someone was calling to him.

Yes, it was Scully's voice.

"Mulder!" he heard, then her muffled cry.

Trying to catch a breath, he breathed, "Scully...?"

He heard her cry out again, and he felt a foot make solid contact
with his face, gashing his cheek.

The unmistakable sound of the bartender's voice made its way to
his ears.

Lambert said, "You're a damn fine looking man; Mulder, you know
that?  You're making me think that a little peck on your lips
might be a good idea."

Lambert's voice turned away from Mulder.  "What does he see in
you, I wonder?  Oh, that's right!  Nothing!  His blindness
certainly works to your advantage, doesn't it."

Her steely voice came back, "Let us go, Connor.  It's over."

A harsh laugh erupted and echoed in the empty alley.  "Over?
He's got to be kidding!  I've got you where I want you, and he
can't do anything to stop me. Unless he's outfitted with sonar."

He laughed again and said, "Honey, you don't think something like
he described could happen?  Well, I'm going to show you how it's
done first hand.  I just feel bad that your partner bleeding on
the ground over there won't get a chance to see what happens to
you when I do.  And *you* sure as hell won't be able to tell
him."

Mulder struggled to his knees and leaned heavily on his cane for
support.  With as much strength as he could muster he said,
"Leave her alone, Lambert.  I already know what you can do.
Leave her alone."

"Actually," Lambert did something that made Scully whimper, "I
really *like* women, and the reason I do it with the handsome
fags
is so I can look nice for my ladies.  I have to be careful when I
kiss my ladies, though, because I don't want to kiss 'em too
hard.  I don't like older women."  He chuckled and made kissing
noises ...at Scully?

"Goddamit, I hate those faggots.  Jesus, they're always coming on
to me like I'm interested.  All night long, I have to fight off
every boy who wants a fuck or a suck."

Mulder heard Scully wheeze like she wasn't getting enough air,
and his voice came back a little stronger.  "So you killed them?
You hunted to kill handsome fags?"

"Fuckin' A.  And they didn't even know I was doing it.  Stupid
pussies didn't even realize it until I had my tongue down their
goddam throats.  By that time I'd sucked their fucking lives out.
Just like I'm gonna do to your partner right here.  Damn it'll be
nice to suck a woman dry for a change.  But I don't think this
one will do me a whole lot of good in the looks department."

Mulder made it to his feet, but he was swaying so badly he needed
to lean on his stick.

"Damn, Mr. FBI, I wish you could see this.  I never get tired of
watching it happen..."

Mulder concentrated on the sound of Lambert's voice, as it talked
and
laughed.  He heard him breathing.  He was close, so close.

"Mul...Mulder...."

Mulder took in a breath and found Scully's scent floating faintly
in the humid air.  How her scent clung to her and shifted in the
air around her.  And he could smell her fear.

He licked his lips and tasted his own blood.  Blood and hurt and
evil and death.  He tasted it all as he swallowed it off his
tongue.  He
tasted how close the evil was.

He held his cane in both hands and felt the solid weight of it.

Words from days ago appeared in his mind.  Scully saying, 'You
can see me now, can't you?'

'Yes, Scully, I see you, you're standing about 6 feet in front of
me.  Lambert has one arm across your throat, and he's cutting off
your air.  He's choking you.  You can't move because he's got
your arms pinned behind your back.  He's moving as close to you
as possible because he's getting ready to kiss you.  But you're
so small he has to bend way down to reach your mouth.  He's going
to kill you.'

Hoping that his aim was true, Mulder dashed at Lambert.  Using
his cane like a spear, he struck fast and hard, bearing all his
weight into the hilt of the cane.  He heard a heavy body hit the
ground, then a smaller body splash into a puddle.  His own
momentum carried him several feel farther, and he went down hard
onto the pavement.

"Scully! Jesus, Scully!!"

"...Mulder... here."

He could barely hear her voice, but he heard her wheezing
breaths.  He scrabbled across the pavement, listening hard for
her.  The smells in the alley were potent.  The coppery odor of
blood mingled with the shit smell of dying.

He crawled over the wet pavement to where he heard Scully's
labored breathing.  His own breathing sounded loud in his ears.
The gravel on the street bit into the palms of his hands as he
picked his way over to her.

He was on his knees and, like a blind man, his arms moved in all
directions, searching for her.  When his fingers finally found
the
soft fabric of her blouse, he dragged her wet little body close
to him.  He heard what sounded like a sob within a wheeze as he
pleaded, "Oh god, are you okay?  Jesus, Scully please tell me
that you're all right..."

Then he realized that the little sob had come from his own lips.
He
ran his fingers lightly around her face and hair.  His ears
filtered Scully's hoarse voice through the distant street sounds
and he heard, "I'm okay, Mulder.  I'm okay..."

It wasn't long before he heard a cacophony of footsteps,
shouting,
and sirens.  His trembling arms held her tightly to ease her
shaking breaths and gasping coughs.  He wrapped himself around
her and rocked with her on the wet pavement until help arrived.

*********************************************

Mulder found out later that his cane had, indeed, found its mark.
The mark in this case was the attacker's cervical spine.
Mulder's cane had impaled Lambert's neck, snapping it.  He had
died
instantly.

The investigation concluded that Mulder had acted in self-defense
and
in the defense of his partner, whose wrists and neck, the report
noted, were still bruised.

The autopsy of Lambert's body found nothing extraordinary, and
the method Connor Lambert used to kill his victims is still
unknown.

The X-Files Division had closed the case on a gay-bashing
murderer after all.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Xxxxxxxxxxx  Part 7  xxxxxxxxxxxxX

The back of Mulder's head needed a few stitches, but the cut on
his cheek would heal on its own.  Scully admitted to a sore
throat, but other than a sultry, raspy voice, which would soon
clear up, she was none the worse for wear.

The past two days had been filled with police reports, hospital
visits, and cat naps.  Despite the flurry of activity, lack of
sleep, and mild headache, Mulder felt strangely euphoric.

The VCS was thrilled with his and Scully's conclusion of the
investigation. Even though the perpetrator met an untimely death,
Mulder's solving the crime reinforced *their* good decision to
bring him in on the case.  The fact that Mulder uncovered a gay
bashing murderer, which gibed with the VCS's initial profiles,
was icing on the cake.  Mulder's back was virtually aching from
all the pats and slaps he was receiving.

Inwardly, he too, was immensely proud of himself.  He'd been able
to explore extreme possibilities, profile, hunt for, and
eventually catch the murderer.  A killer who--without Mulder's
insight--would have proven too elusive to apprehend using
conventional police methods. But most importantly, he'd saved his
partner's life.  Even in his pervading darkness, he watched her
back and kept her alive.

For this he wasn't proud; he was grateful.

Also, the dull haze in his mind was lifting.  The memories and
the events of his life were slowly coming into focus.  A snippet
of a conversation - like the one in the Fells Point bar-a song, a
voice, a picture of Scully in his mind, they were all coming back
clearly.  Some of what he remembered was terrifying and sad, but
some was glorious.

Yes, she was.

Without the benefit of having sunshine or moonrise, Mulder didn't
really know what time it was when he and Scully finally trudged
through their front door.  They were both filthy and disheveled.
His sunglasses had been smashed on the pavement, and Mr. Pointy
had met a soldier's death.

"Their" front door.  It had a nice ring to it.  His and Scully's.
She was his partner, his lover, and his best friend.  And she
loved *him*.

"Me first!" pulled him out of his reverie.

"Okay, first what?" he said.

"Shower, Mulder.  I'm dirty and I'm first."

"We could both be first."

A soft chuckle then, "If I wasn't so dirty, I would love us to
both be first.  But for now..." he heard the water start, "I
win," and the shower door clicked.

He sat on the bed, took off his shoes, and peeled off each sock.
He threw his socks where he thought the corner might be, and
heard them thwap against the wall. He wondered if his charcoal
gray Armani slacks would ever be the same.  Those came off too
and joined his socks. The blue shirt and silk tie had been
discarded
at the hospital long ago, and he had to borrow a tee shirt from
someone.  He lifted that gingerly over his face and head,
carefully avoiding the bumps and stitches.  That met with the
rest of his wardrobe by the wall.

He was left sitting in a pair of boxers.

Thwap.

A gust of steam and soap wafted into the room, as Scully must
have pushed the shower door open.

"Your turn.  Be careful washing around the stitches."

"Aren't you coming in to help me?"  He stood up and took a step
away from the bed.  "After all, I'm wounded, and you're not dirty
anymore."

He heard a lip smacking sound before she said, "As much as I
would like to..." Mulder felt a small teasing fingernail trail
down his
chest and come to rest right below his navel.  "I want to do a
little something first.  Get clean and don't use too much cold
water."

Clean, yes, get clean.

She'd left the shower running, so when he stepped in, the
temperature was warm and mild.  Soaping gently, he washed his
hair and carefully attended to all the rest.  He was pleased when
his hand, reaching for the soap, found a toothbrush.  He had
discovered that Scully had a basket of toiletries hanging from
the showerhead.  Mulder had sniffed them all the last time he
showered and remembered that a tube of toothpaste was among the
decidedly feminine scents.

He shut the water off, dried himself lightly, wrapped a towel
around his waist and stepped back into the bedroom.

It wasn't lavender this time.  The scent of the burning candles
was exotic and musky.  He suddenly remembered Scully taking him
into a little New Age shop in Georgetown and making him smell
almost a dozen differently scented candles.  He went along,
sniffing gladly, knowing what she had in mind for their ultimate
use.

 Soft music floated all around him, and the air was cool on his
damp skin.

He heard a gentle rustling, and a sultry voice whispered from
behind, "You used my toothbrush again, didn't you."

He quickly reached around and came back with a silken Scully in
his arms.

"If you keep that attitude up with me, FBI woman," he started
dabbing kisses down her cheek and onto her throat, "I may just
have to introduce you to the intricacies of the penal system
of justice."  He was concentrating on a spot just below her jaw;
"I may have to instruct you in some of the new penal codes."  He
captured her lips with his.

After several breathless moments she asked, "Would that include
serving subpoenas?"

"Just mine, Agent Scully."

Locking his lips to hers, he walked her backwards until he felt
her legs bump against the bed.  His hands slid up her shoulders
and encountered some offending silky material.

"What's this all about?" he said as he fingered the cloth.

"Sensory input, Mulder." Scully's tongue began exploring his
stubbled upper lip. "I thought you'd like the feel of silk
between your fingertips."

"Yes, yes I would...so to hell with this."  He scooped his hands
down and found the hem of the fabric.  The garment was quickly
removed amid the sounds of snagging and tearing.

Scully's laughter lit the room.  He felt her arms as she put them
around his waist and said, "Turnabout is fair play," and the
towel was snatched away.

"No, Scully, in your case, turnabout is *foreplay*."  He held her
tightly and spun her around and down, so now she was lying on top
of him on the bed.  She let out a short yelp of surprise, then
sought out his tongue with hers.  The kiss deepened, and Mulder's
hands loosened their grip around her back.  One large palm
stroked the rise of her ass, and the other hand held the back of
her head.

He felt her snake one arm behind his neck, and with the other she
slowly stroked the curves of his chest, belly, and hips, stopping
so her fingers could graze in the soft hair below.

Softly Mulder groaned, "Oh, God..."

Scully stopped all explorations and asked in a concerned voice,
"Are you all right, Mulder?  Does your head hurt?"

"Oh God, yes.  And you make it hurt so good."  He bucked his hips
and prodded her belly with the head that was hurting so good.

He heard her voice like liquid chocolate say, "Then let me kiss
it and make it feel even better."  He felt Scully's mouth as she
planted kisses on his face and chest, dampening his skin along
the way.  She stopped briefly to circle each of his nipples with
her tongue, then continued the cascade of kisses to his belly and
below until finally arriving at the base of the problem.  She
grasped his shaft, moved the head to the tip of her wet lips,
then took him into her mouth.  He felt her throat relax as she
drew in his entire length.

Mulder was barely able to whisper, "Ohh...tell me, Scully...oh
god...tell me..."

He felt her mouth crawling all over him, working her way up from
base to the summit, then back down again. Her cool hands and
moist lips gently pulling, wetting, sucking, caressing, and
curling around him. The blood was pounding in his ears, but he
heard her whisper back, "Tell you?  What?" She blew a soft
breath,
then he felt as her tongue swirled gently at first, then more
forcefully around the peak.

His left hand was tangled in her hair, and his right was gripping
the edge of the mattress as he said through gritted teeth,
"uunngh...tell me...what...oohh Jesus...so good...tell me what
you...you see...aahhh Scully..."

Scully changed techniques and started rappelling, the flat
surface of her tongue rippling across his slopes and crevices.
She stopped for a moment to lick her lips and reply, "Mulder, I
can't."

He heard her take a deep breath before she continued with her wet
ascent.

"Y...you can't?...ohh, Scully...Scully stop... stop..."

Mulder felt the warm dampness turn cool on his skin as she
shifted away from him.  He took a few deep breaths to even out
his breathing, then said, "Ohh god, Scully...please...please tell
me what you see.  Describe it to me.  I want to see us."

He heard an amused chuff of laughter and felt the mattress shift
again.  "I can't because it's dark in here.  It's almost
midnight, but I've closed all the blinds and drawn all the
curtains to block out any streetlight.  You like to keep me in
the dark--just to get even."  She laughed, and the mattress shook
again.

"How about for tonight, Scully?  Let's make love in the light."

She was silent for a few seconds then said, "Mulder, when we make
love like this, I feel like I'm sharing your world with you.
Even if it's only for a little while, I love sharing the darkness
like this."  She paused before she spoke again.  This time her
voice was close to his ear, "Why don't you tell me?"

Suddenly the blackness opened, and there she was.  Not only did
she choose to share his obsessions, his life, and his love, but
now she chose to share his darkness.  He felt tears form in the
corners of his eyes, and he was glad that Scully couldn't see
him.  He swallowed around a lump forming in his throat and said,
"I can't do it justice.  But I'll try."

A happy sigh came from her direction then, "Let's see, where was
I?" and the mattress bounced again.

"Scully wait...c'mere." His voice was soft.  He felt her scoot up
toward the head of the bed where his lips took hers again.

"Hmm..." she hummed into his mouth.

He took her in his arms and opened his mouth to take her.
Suddenly, like a dying man, he thirsted for her, and he drank her
down.
  He kissed her neck, her hair, her eyes,
and every raised scar on her beloved face.  She swallowed each
kiss and returned each one.

"Your kisses are soft and sweet, like rain and honey."

He brought his hands down to caress her breasts.  His lips ran a
line from her neck to her navel, kissing the small gold cross
lying over her heart, imprinting his lips with it.  Pausing
between her breasts, he made a careful decision.

The left one.

"Scully, your skin feels like silk and down.  And so smooth...so
smooth."

He nuzzled under her breast and breathed her scent.  His hand
crept over to her right side and lovingly cupped her breast.  He
heard a small moan as Scully arched her back slightly.

"You are...so lovely...so precious...."

He kissed her breast and sucked her gently.  "You taste like sky
and wind."

She moaned a sigh.

"You bring me light, Scully.  You are my light.  You need to know
that."  He suckled on her right breast while his thumb circled
the nipple of her left and he mumbled, "...need to know that..."

He felt Scully's hands in his hair, carefully avoiding the
stitches, stroking his face, stroking his neck.  She must have
craned her neck forward because she was dropping kisses on the
top of his head.

"Your touch surrounds me, Scully.  Your soul, your dreams, your
truths-they're yours and mine.  We're bound by them."  His head
dipped to her soft belly, and he kissed her over and over,
inching
lower with each lover's kiss.  Both his hands were folded in
prayer around her breasts.

"...bound...together...forever..."

"Mul...Mul...derrr..." her breath was coming in hitches and
pants.  He felt her knees bend up, then her thighs parted,
inviting him.

He continued peppering her with kisses.

"Scully....to want you, to touch you, to taste you, this is all
I'll ever need, this is all..."

He leaned into her and sipped.

Scully's hands moved in his hair then down off his cheeks.  He
felt as she braced her hands on the bed and lifted her hips,
"Mulder...so good...to love you...love you...so good...Ohh..."

She tasted like dark red wine, dusky and smooth.  His tongue felt
velvet and chrism.  A holy oil, a sacred place.  His nose dipped
into her.  Her fragrance was all around him, and he took it in
with reverence.

Scully cried out once and continued to moan softly.  Her sounds
were like music; her voice was a lullaby. Again, tears collected
in his eyes as he squeezed them shut and continued to pray.

Harder and faster, he suckled and stroked until her muscles
tightened around his tongue.

Her hips came up off the bed, and she cried out his name over
and over. Mulder stayed with her, caressing her, stroking her,
and
embracing her, until she lay still.  Listening as he heard her
breaths coming in short gasps and pants.

Licking his lips and tasting her on his tongue, he kissed her
soft inner thighs, leaving a trail of her scent behind.  Running
his lips lightly around her soft hair, he kissed her belly, her
chest, her neck, and finally, her lips.

"Scully?"  He whispered.

"Yeah?" she breathed.

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He felt her lips part in a smile as her hands reached down to
touch him.  He was ready for her.  She kissed him lovingly and
opened herself to him.

The soft music, the scent of the candles, the touch of her hands,
and the taste of her, all so familiar now, became everything.
All of forever in a heartbeat.  He never wanted it to end.

She took him in her hands, raised her hips, and guided him to
her.

He raised up on his arms and slowly lowered himself down and in.
"Oh Christ!  This is sweet, so sweet.  Oh Scully!"  There was no
space between them any more.  They were joined together, one
completed by the other.

Their bodies began the primeval dance of life.   Rolling like
waves, swaying like tall pines in the wind, they moved as one.

Mulder sifted his fingers through her hair, and Scully ran her
nails against his neck.  Their lips met, crashed, and sparked,
creating fire.  The heat from their bodies burned into one
another as they stoked the flames with their mouths.

Mulder felt droplets of sweat form and fall as he pushed into
her, faster and faster.  Harder and harder ...building
...building...

He felt Scully's hands grasp his shoulders as she came up to meet
him.  Mulder's breath bellowed against her neck as his shouted
his strangled cries.

"Scully...hang on...love you...love you....aaaah.."

"Mulderrrr...now...now...yess..."

He held his breath as he soared above the darkness.  He emptied
into her.  His heat and seed filling her fully, then spilling
over onto the sheets.

He felt Scully's back arch, and her hips bucked in a syncopated
rhythm.  He heard as her breath caught in her throat, almost as
if she refused to breathe.

And he knew, maybe for the first time in his life, what it felt
like to be truly happy, and concluded that he would never take
this happiness for granted.

Then he realized that he made this
vow to himself after every time he and Scully made love.

After several minutes, Mulder didn't know how many, Scully
shifted up next to him.  She lifted his arm and curled it around
her shoulders as he felt her hair move against his neck.

"Well," Mulder said, in a mildly shaky voice, "That was a good
idea, wasn't it?

"A *very* good idea," she agreed, and nuzzled him, planting small
kisses along the way.

"Thank you, Scully."

"Any time."

"No, I mean...thank you...for loving me"

"Oh Mulder.  It's not as hard as I make you think it is."  She
paused a moment.  "Loving you is the most important thing I've
ever done."

"After all that's happened to you--to us?"  Mulder was
incredulous, but very moved.

"I guess what I mean to say is...I feel blessed by you.  You make
me believe."

"Believe what?" he whispered.  He heard the emotion in his own
voice.

"I...I know you have trouble with this, Mulder, but I believe
that
miracles happen.  I also believe that when something is taken
away, something is also given."  She paused then said,  "You are
my miracle, and I am yours."

Mulder's unseeing eyes were wet, and his voice hitched slightly
as he said, "Oh Scully, I changed it from 'I Want To Believe,' to
'I Do Believe.'  Didn't I tell you?"

She chuckled lightly against his chest.

"Scully, I want to ask you about something."

"Okay," she said sleepily.

He swallowed first then asked softly, "Well, I just wonder why
you never got more plastic surgery done?

He heard a soft gasp, and felt her stiffen under his arms.
Mulder immediately regretted the question.  Maybe it wasn't a
good time to bring it up.  This probably didn't make for good
afterglow conversation.  But he continued gently, "Scully, I know
how Lambert's remarks must have affected you...must have hurt
you.   I know it bothers you more than you let on."

He felt her hands come up to her face.  Her palms must have been
in front of her mouth as her voice was muffled when she said, " I
did have some reconstructive surgery done at the time of the
blast.  The doctors said that there were specialists in these
types of injuries in the big DC hospitals and suggested that I
wait until I got back home and make arrangements.  They said my
chances for success were far better here than in the small
hospital where we were admitted."

Mulder gently took her hands in his and kissed her hair.  He
continued, "Did you have more done when you got back?"

A sigh, then a breath, "No."

"Why didn't you?"

"Well...I...ah...never felt the need.  The scars, my face, it all
just seemed so trivial next to ...well it seemed unimportant.
And you were...you needed me."

He understood her meaning.  She felt that, compared to his
blindness, her disfiguring scars were just an inconvenience.

"It's not 'unimportant', Scully.  Not to you and not to me."  His
voice was a whisper as he said, "God knows, I don't care.  But I
care for you.  I want you to be happy.  Maybe, just maybe, you
should reconsider having more done."

"Maybe I will."

He sighed contentedly and snuggeld down against her.  To have
someone care this much for him was inconceivable.

'I think this is called "joy",' he thought. Another Mulder, from
his life before, agreed with him, and he smiled.

"Scully?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

He heard her sigh softly, "...me too...always love you,
Mulder..."

As his eyes closed, he hugged her close and whispered, "I always
will...always..."

And he knew he would.

He kissed her eyes to close them and gently brushed a kiss
to her cheek, leaving it wet where his face touched hers.  His
eyes were closing, and the gentle darkness was quickly wrapping
 itself around the two of them.

The future, along with the past, would unfold tomorrow.
 

END
 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Authors Note:  I admit to taking some liberties--I won't
point them out so you won't look for them <g>.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed
writing it.
Please go here: http://www.pubnetwork.com/fellspt.htm
and  read about the real bars in our Fells Point area.

TCS