Jess Archibald
larchiba@unixg.ubc.ca
 

Date: 3 Nov 1995 18:38:06 GMT
 

Copyright stuff:  Story contains characters copyrighted 1993 by CC and
10-13 Productions.  No copyright infringement intended.  Story itself and
the characters of Doug Shelton and Robert Wainwright copyrighted 1995 by
the author.  All rights reserved...

Big, *big* thanks to Jean (Thank-you!) for all her help developing a
working plotline and for being my sounding board.
And so it begins...

~~~
Commitment
by Jessica Archibald
 

Pentagon
Washington, D.C.

 The phone rang.
 Stubbing out a cigarette in an overflowing ashtray, the man
reached over to answer it.
 "Mulder's become a problem," said a voice in his ear as soon as
he picked up.  "One I want dealt with before he can interfere with our
Kentucky operation."
 The man reached into a pack of Morley's and removed another
cigarette.  "Don't worry.  Arrangements have been made..."
 "Permanent arrangements?"
 "Eventually."

***********

Day 1
J. Edgar Hoover Building
7:47 a.m.

 Special Agent Dana Scully strode into the tiny office she shared
with Fox Mulder, tossed her briefcase onto her desk, planted her hands on
her hips and glared at her partner.
 He was seated at his computer, working on some report, surfing
the 'net for aliens, or something like that.  Dana didn't really care.
 "Good morning, Dana," he said, looked up at her and promptly
noticed her sour expression.  It was hard to miss.  "Something wrong?'
 <Dana, is it?> she thought.  <Well, at least he *knows* he's
in trouble.>
 "yes," she said shortly, fighting the impulse to find a blunt
object to hit him over the head with.  She'd only have to patch him up
afterwards, which would undoubtedly spoil the moment.  "And don't think
calling me Dana is going to get you off the hook.  My car is in the
shop, remember?  You promised to pick me up today because we have to go
traipsing around the city anuyway, remember?"
 "Uh-oh," he said, suddenly embarrassed.  "I forgot."
 "By the time it was quarter after seven, Mulder, I had sort of
figured that out.  If you couldn't make it that's one thing, but next
time could you *please* call?  I thought something had happened to you;
why the hell didn't you answer your cellular?"
 "I left it at home," he said sheepishly, withering under the
onslaught.
 She stopped ranting and looked at him.  He looked rumpled and
tired, like he hadn't slept well for a little while.
 "Mulder, is everything all right?" she asked in a gentler tone.
 "Yeah, fine."
 "Mulder?"
 "Just a little tired is all.  I haven't been sleeping wel..."
 "Mulder, ever since I've known you, you haven't been sleeping
well," she commented dryly, giving up the urge to strangle him.  "When
are we leaving...I spent the night preparing for this..."
 "For what?" he asked, looking blank.
 "The Lone Gunmen, remember?" she prompted, looking at him with
surprise.  "I warned you about Frohike.  I am *not* in the mood to be
fawned over."
 He grinned."  I'll remind him of that."  A shadow passed over his
eyes.  "Scully, would you mind driving?"
 "You drag me over to see those three and then you ask *me* to
*drive*...?"  She stopped and threw up her hands.  "Fine.  Let's go."  He
knew how much she disliked seeing that trio of government watchdogs and
was usuially on his best behaviour when he insisted that they go.  If he
was carrying on like this something must be wrong.  When he was ready,
he'd tell her what it was.

**********

Offices of the Lone Gunmen
8:12 a.m.

 "Mulder!"  Langly said as the agents walked in.  "What happened
last night?  Did you phone give out on you?"  He gave Scully a wry
smile.  "He got cut off and never phoned back.  Doesn't the academy teach
you feds better manners?"
 She smiled back slightly.  If Mulder was going to drag her over
here, she wasn't above having some fun at his expense.  "Mulder's never
been known for his polished telephone manners."
 "Ah, yes, Byers, my phone did ide on me.  Sorry about not phoning
back."  MUlder stopped as everyone in the room stared at him.
 "I'm Byers, remember?" said Byers from over at his desk.  He
looked from Mulder to Scully.  "Everything all right?"
 "Sorry," Mulder spologized agin.  "It's been a long few days."
 Scully opened her mouth to object and then shut it again.
 "Dana!" cooed Frohike in delight, changing the subject.  "How
nice to see you again."
 "Godd morning everyone," she said neutrally, seeing the grins
exchanged by Langly and Byers.
 "We finished looking at those pictures you sent us," Byers
announced, waving them over.  "They look legitimate.  No obvious
airbrushing, no shadows where there shouldn't be.  When do you two leave
for Idaho?"
 "I'm not sure," Mulder said mildly, suddenly clsed mouthed.  He
shoved his hands in his pockets and looked from opne confused face to
another.
 "Mulder, I thought you had us booked out on the six-fifteen
flight," Scully said, brow furrowing in bafflement.
 "I know," he sighed, "we are.  But I can't help thinking that our
time might be better spent on something else."
 The Gunmen were exchanging startled glances while Scully was
looking at her partner with an expression one step removed from a glare,
her mouth tight with annoyance.
 "Sorry if we put you out, fellas," Mulder said apologetically.
"I'll let you know if we end up heading to Idaho."
 "No problem, Mulder," Byers said breezily, seeing the look on
Scully's face.
 "We'd better get going, Scully."  With a wave, Mulder strode out
the door.
 Scully looked at the three men before her and shrugged.   "Thanks
again...."
 "Hey, Scully," said Langly before she left.  "Is everything all right?"
 She smiled tightly.  "Everything's just fine."

**********

 "All right, Mulder, spill it."  Dana put his car into gear and
started back to the Bureau building.  "What's so important that you're
willing to give up crop circles for it and how much is Skinner pushing
you into taking the assignment?"
 "No pushing, Scully, no assignment.  I thought that you would be
glad to get out of circle hunting in the spud capital of America."  He
looked over at her with sardonic amusement.  "I'm just getting tired of
heading out on wild goose chases, aren't you?"
 <What the hell?> she thought, beginning to get seriously
confused.  "Mulder, what's going on with you?  Yesterday, all you could
talk about was this case and now you don't want to go?  What else do you
have in mind?"  She risked a glance over at him and nearly got cut off by
a late model Ford in the process.  Hitting the horn, she returned her
full attention to the road.
 He shrugged, oblibious to the byplay.  "I don't know, but if we
spend all our time on investigations that probably won't net us anything,
they may shut us down again."
 "Did Skinner say that?"
 "No, but it's hardly an unlikely occurrence," he said dryly.
 "So are we heading out to Idaho or not?"
 "It's your call, Scully," he grinned.  "I know how much you look
forward to this kind of thing..."
 "Ha!"  She smiled over at him.  "Well, I wouldn't want to
disappoint you, Mulder.  Besides, I'm just dying to hear what your theory
is on the crop circles.  Weather patterns?  UFOs with faulty landing
gear?  Flying peanut butter cups?"
 He looked out the passenger side window.  "You'll have to wait
and see, Scully."

**********

Day 5
Boise, Idaho
8:34 a.m.

 The airport was noisy and crowded, a marked contrast from the
town the agents had spent the last three days in.  Mulder had muttered
something about civilization at last when the outskirts of Boise had come
into view;  Scully was a little melancholy  about leaving the peace and
quiet of the farmlands behind, but was more than glad to be leaving their
field investigation behind.
 The crop cirlces were there, that was the only thing they could
actually substantiate, and they could have done that in Washington.
Mulder had none of his usual theories, but a growing understanding of
maps was debeloping; he had actually gotten them there without getting
them lost or relinquishing control of the map to Scully, much to her
delight.  She was getting a little tired of his inability to read a
roadmap.  Aside from that though, the whole trip had been a waste of time.
 When she had suggested that they look for any sign of the
Kindred, since there had been a crop circle at their farm, Mulder had
responded unenthusiastically, citing the fact that there couldn't
possibly be Kindred settlements at all the sights of crop circles around
the world.  She had to admit that he had a point, feeling a little
irritated that she was the one who was making the far out suggestions
this time.  She supposed that he was giving her a taste of her own
medicine by shooting down every idea that she came up with, leaving her
admiring the fact that he had put up with it all this time.  It was
annoying as hell.
 Now, they were heading back to Washingotn with nothing more to
show for their troubles but another stack of photos and a hotel bill they
would have to justify to accounting which was being increasingly fussy
about that sort of thing lately.
 "You ready, Scully?" Mulder asked as their flight began boarding.
 With a noncommital grunt, she scooped up her carry-on and
followed him towards the gate.  She was still trying to figure out what
was making him so unusually sober the last few days withou much success.
Whatever it was, it was keeping a lid on his usual manic energy, and to
her chagrin, she was finding that she missed that spark that kept him
going.  In the three days that they had been there, he hadn't once woken
her up in the middle of the night to discuss some aspect of the case that
had suddenly caught his attention.  Her body was beginning to rebel at
the foreign notion of actually sleeping through the whole night.
 What a concept.

*****

COMMITMENT part 2 by Jessica Archibald

Day 6
Hoover Building
7:29 a.m.

 "Skinner saw our reports on Idaho," Dana said, walking into their
office.  "Apparently he was less than impressed...Mulder?"
 His desk was buried in a sheaf of papers that threatened to
capsize and smother him at any second.  There were photos mixed in with
what looked like police reports and case notes from several different
agents.
 "What's all this?" she tried again when he didn't respond, his
right hand furiously scribbling notes while his left fiddled with a
paperclip.  There was no sign of his traditional hand occupiers,
sunflower seeds, so it meant that whatever it was, it was serious.
 "I know about Skinner," he said finally, barely even bothering to
glance up at her.  "He called me in at six-thirty this morning."
 "To yell at you?"  She winced.  Early morning meetings with the
Assisant Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation were not high on
anybody's list of things they most wanted to experience in life, and she
and Mulder had had more than their fair share of them.
 "Not quite."  He glance up, gave a faint ghost of a smile before
waving her over.  "New case."
 She eyed the sheer volume of reports, arching an eyebrow.  "This
doesn't *look* like an X-File unless you've been expanding the department."
 "It's not.  Serial killer in Baltimore;  Skinner want me to do
the profile."
 "The guy killing little kids?"  She'd heard about his one and had
been loosely following the investigation which involved a taskforce of
over twenty different agents from the Violent Crime and Behavioural
sections.  "thought they had some serious leads."
 "They did, but Skinner asked me to pull something together to
present to the taskforce at a meeting tomorrow."  He shrugged.  "It's not
crop circles in Idaho, but it'll give us some experience in another area
besides the paranormal."
 She gave him a sideways look.  If he wanted to get involved in a
case like this one, she wasn't going to argue about it.  "Keep this up,
Mulder and they might not be calling you 'Spooky' anymore."

**********

Day 7
FBI Headquarters
Baltimore, Maryland
9:29 a.m.

 Mulder sat at the far end of the table, profile spread out in
front of him.  Scully was on his right, looking through her own copy of
his work while various other agents from the taskforce filled up the
remaining seats at the table.
 "The killer is most likely a white male since all the victims to
date have been white, and is in his early twenties.  His crimes are
unmediated; he sees a child that he doesn't like for some reason and it
sets him off.  None of the murders seem to involve any advance planning
outside of following the kids until they are alone and then striking,
indicating that the killer is probably of either average or below average
intelligence.  There's been no sexual assault on nay of the victims, so
that's not our motive.  The knife he uses is probably a weapon of
convience.  The fact that he preys on children indicates that he most
likely feels inadequate around adults; children are the only ones he can
relate to and it frustrates him."
 He reached for a glass of water in front of him and took a sip.
Scully looked over at him, then surveyed the other agents.  Mulder's
reputation may have proceeded him, no doubt due to Tom Colton, but he
wasn't on the taskforce and Mulder's profile was making them nod their
heads in agreement.  For once, Mulder had managed a serious delivery,
keeping in character with his solemnity the past few days.  His flippant
remarks had insulted more than one agent in the past and she sensed that
for some reason he needed to have the full respect of the taskforce on
this one.  His tastes in ties had also been subdued somewhat and she
found she could study her partner's neck apparel without fear of being
struck blind.
 "Now, the young age of most of the victims, between five and
eight, would eliminate several places that could be the stalking
grounds.  Our killer is likely choosing his victims from parks or
playgrounds.  That is where our search should concentrate. --"
 "Agent Mulder," said the ASAC, a man named Phillips.  "Do you
have any idea how many parks there are in Baltimore?"
 "Yes, sir, I do," Mulder replied.  "But that would still be the
best course of action."
 The agents shook their collective heads in collective dismay and
Scully hid a smile as Mulder looked at her in exasperation.  Shortly
thereafter the meeting broke up and the taskforce made its plans, leaving
the Washington agents at the table.
 "Well, Scully, should we offer our assistance on the stakeouts?"
 "They're going to need all the agents they can get," she
answered, standing up.  "They'll probably canvass most of the parks and
then choose the most likely sights...this could be a long investigation..."
 "I'm in for the duration," he said, looking at her.  "Are you?"
 "Of course.  I don't like the idea of this guy killing children
anymore than you do."

**********

Day 11
Baltimore
2:26 p.m.

 Dana looked up from the magazine she was pretending to read and
scanned the playground again.  There were about fifteen children of
varying ages frolicking, laughing, and playing, taking advantage of the
mild spring weather, while she watched from her position on a park
bench.  This particualr park had been frequented by four of the dead
children and had been designated a likely place to watch for thier perp.
There were no signs of any suspicious characters but she had long since
given up on expecting the worst aspects of society to look the part.
 Three men in business suits were strolling back towards their
offices while several mother and fathers watched their youngsters
playing.  Across the street was a cafe and two other agents sat outside,
covertly watching the park as well.  There were a couple of people off by
themselves like she was, three men, two women and Mulder, who were sitting
on a bench nearly opposite from her, dressed causally and banging away on
her borrowed laptop, looking like a man who had had enough of his office
for one day.  He looked up, saw her and smiled briefly before doing a
quick survey of his own.
 As he looked away, she fought an impulse to frown.  She didn't
know waht was going on with him, but he'd been avoiding her for days now,
since before they had left for Idaho.  There was only so much one could
do to avoid another person while traveling together, but he was doing a
pretty good job of it.  Her car was still on the mechanic's fix list
despite repeated calls to the garage, so they still shared the drive in
to Baltimore every morning and the ride home every night, but he was
unusually guiet.  AT first she thought it was because the young age of
the victims was reminding him of his sister and that the matter had been
on his mind before they left for Idaho, but now she wasn't so sure.  She
made a silent vow to corner him and get some answers out of him soon.
Astonishing as it seemed, as the case wore on, she found she missed the
old Mulder who had a knack for saying outrageous things and pissing off
other agents.  She thought the change in attitude was self imposed
stress, but it was still unusual and troublesome.
 Movement caught her eye, and she saw one of the men walking past
the children,  She tensed.  The man was white, in his twenties, and
eyeing one little blonde girl in particualr.  A quick look at Mulder
showed that he hadn't yet seen the man but she was reluctant to try and
get his attention.
 The man paused, then walked back to the benches and Dana bit her
lower lip as he sat down next to her.  She glanced over casually,
offering a polite but vacant smile before turning her attention back to
the magazine in front of her.  It was one of Mulder's that she had found
in his car, a copy of the Lone Gunman and if she had the time, she
probably would have gotten a good laugh out of some of the articles.
Now, it just seemed like a huge waste of time.
 The blonde girl was on her own, which was why the man had
probably fixated on her in the first place.  It had been over a week
since the last murder, meaning the killer was overdue.  Dana didn't
believe for a second that their suspect would have the patience to stalk
a child whose parents were nearby, willing to wait for hours or days
until the youngster was on his or her own.  This little girl was the
perfect target and every instinct Dana possessed was telling her that the
killer was right beside her.
 She felt someone studying her.  Looking up and away, she was
Mulder watching her and the man next to her.  When he saw her eyes, he
inclined his head ever so slightly and she gave a barely perceptible nod.
 The stayed like that for half an hour until the girl bid her playmates
goodbye and started for home.  The man waited a minute than
began wandering in the same direction.  As soon as he was clear of the
park, Dana got to her feet and headed for Mulder.
 "Why don't you follow on foot and I'll get Liu, Graham and the
car?" he suggested, nodding in the direction of the cafe.
 "He's already seen me, Mulder," she said quickly.  "You'd
better follow--"
 He shook his head.  "No time.  You've been sitting next to him
for a while and will be able to keep him in sight better.  Get going
and good luck."  With a gentle nudge, he pushed her in the same
direction the girl and the man had taken, leaving her no choice but to
start moving or loose them both.
 The girl set a good pace for the unlikely procession and the man
didn't once look back.  For five blocks nothing happened, but when the
girl started to cut through an alley, the man sped up to intercept her.
Dana had to sprint the last few feet to the mouth of the alley and was
just in time to see the man grab the girl, a knife in his hand as she
started to scream in fear.
 "FEDERAL AGENT!" Dana shouted, drawing her gun and stepping into
the alley, inwardly cursing.  "Let her go and put down the knife!"
 Both of them looked at her, the man furious, the girl terrified.
 The knife was at the girl's throat.
 "Drop your gun, lady," he said gesturing threateningly at the child.
 "There's no way out of this," Dana warned, gripping the weapon
tighter.  Where the hell was everyone ?  Mulder and the others should
have been there by now, circling up behind the man.
 The man laughed, a bitter sound.  "I know what you're after me
for, lady, and Maryland has the death penalty so what the hell do I have
to loose by slitting this kid's throat?"
 <Absolutely nothin,> Dana thought in revulsion.  <Unless you get
one hell of a good lawyer...>
 Well, at least she had the start of a confession...
 "Let her go and drop the knife," she repeated coldly, inching
bloser.  First fifteen feet separted them, then ten, then five.  The
knife hand was starting to tremble, the girl making small frighted noises.
 "Listen to me," Dana said in a low, calm voice, ignoring her
pounding heart.  "If you let her go , no one will get hurt..."
 "Except me," he snarled and with one swift movement, he threw the
girl at the agent, knocking them both down.
 Dana pushed the girl off of her and lunged for the man's leg as
he tried to brush past and run, snagging his ankle, making him go down.
her gun was somewhere over by a trash can, out of her each, but the guy
still had the knife and she felt a fiery sting where it slashed her arm,
cutting through her shirt, drawing blood.
 She thought she heard footsteps, but couldn't afford the time it
would take to look up.  The man was trying to disloge her grip, his free
foot lashing out to connect with her jaw, making her see stars for a
second, the knife still slashing at her arms, her hands.  The pair
rolled, with the perp coming down on top of her, the knife inches from her
throat.  She grabbed his hand and pushed up hard, but bit by bit, the
blade was descending.
 Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing at the
mouth of the alley.  The little girl ran frantically for the man there
and began screaming hysterically for help.
 Dana heard shouts of "There they are!" and "Agent Scully!" as
the figure at the head of the alley cursed and started forward.
 she drove her knee up into the man's stomach, making him grunt,
the knife faltering long enough for her to land a solid punch to his
face.  Mulder suddenly was there, pulling at the guy's collar, gun in
hand.  She realized that he had been the one at the mouth of the alley.
 Just standing there...
 The killer yelled, struck Dana with the fist holding the knife,
lashed out and sliced Mulder's hand.
 Mulder's gun came to a stop at the base of the guy's neck.
 "Get off of her now, or I'll pull the trigger," Mulder said in a
dangerous voice as Agents Liu and Graham ran into the alley, Liu dropping
to his knees to comfort the girl, while Graham came forward to help the
other two agents.
 The killer dropped the knife, pushed himself off Dana, putting
his hand up.
 "Scully?" asked Graham.  "Are you all right?"
 She could see the blood running down both her arms from the knife
slashes, felt the ache in her jaw where the guy's foot had connected.
Looking at Mulder, she saw the blood dripping from the knife slice.  He
looked down, knelt beside her as Graham cuffed the man.
 "Scully?"
 "Yeah, I'm...fine."
 Just for a second she saw something in Mulder's eyes that she
didn't recognized until much later.
 

**********

Commitment part three by Jessica Archibald

Day 12
Hoover Building
7:02 a.m.

 "Mulder, I want to talk to you."
 Scully stormed into the office they shared and stood in front of
Mulder, planning to wait until he decided to pay attention to her, but
after twenty seconds her temper reached its breaking point and she
snatched the pen from his hand, slamming it onto the desk with a decisive
clack.
 "Scully, you don't look so good," he commented blandly, face
unreadable as he looked up.
 "Yes, thank-you, I know."  her jaw was swollen and there was a
purple bruise flowering on her left cheek.  Only two of the cuts on her
arms and required stitches, but they all hurt like hell as did her
bandaged hands.  She could see that his hand was bandaged as well, a red
stain discolouring the white gauze.
 "What is it?" he asked after a moment.
 "Mulder, what happened yesterday?"  Her tone was quieter than
before, her eyes watching his.
 He blinked.
 "Excuse me?"
 "Did you freeze up?"
 "Scully, what are you -- "
 "Dammit, Mulder!" she exploded.  "You were standing not thirty
feet away while that son of a bitch tried to cut my throat and you didn't
*do a damned thing*!"
 He gave her a hurt look.  "Scully, I pulled him off you,
remember?"  He waved his hand at her.
 "Yeah, *after* Liu and Graham arrived."
 "Scully, I swear to you that I was *not* standing around.  I'm
your partner, *hell*, I your *friend*.  Why would I do that?"
 She leaned forward.  "That's what I would like to know."
 "Scully, myabe you just thought you saw me there.  I mean, you did
get kicked in the head...as soon as I got there I tried to get him off
you, really I did."
 "Mulder..."
 "Scully," he said with disbelief, eyes wide.
 She sighed, looked away.  Wht the hell was she thinking?  This
was Mulder, for God's sake, the person she trusted most in the world.
She knew deep down that he would never *ever* just stand there when
someone was trying to kill her anymore than she would if their positions
were reversed.  It had to be stress talking.  "Maybe you're right.  I'm
sorry.  It's been a stressful few days."
 "Of course I'm right," he agreed with a caustious grin, which she
returned.
 The rest of the morning was devoted to that favourite all
American passtime -- paperwork and after returning from lunch, Scully
tossed a paper bag at Mulder, who caught it with a look of surprise.
 "What's this?'
 "Something to keep you happy for the rest of the day."
 He looked inside and withdrew a bag of -- "Sunflower seeds?'
 "Yes, sunflower seeds.  It's too cold out for iced tea, Mulder,
the weather's changed.  When I saw that there were no shells on the floor
I figured you were out.  Just keep the remains over by your desk this time."
 The puzzled look on his face changed to a slow grin.
 "I'll try my best."

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

Day 13
Dana Scully's Residence
6:37 a.m.

 "Mulder, I swear, if that mechanic doesn't fix my car by
Wednesday, I'm going to go over there with my gun and shoot him," Dana
seethed into her phone, sticking two pieces of bread in her toaster,
careful not to get crumbs behind the tape on her hands.
 "Then I'd have to arrest you, Scully, and that would really wreck
my weekend if I ahd to explain to Skinner why you're in jail."
 "That's right, there's a football game Sunday, isn't there?"
 "What?"
 "Football.  You know, two teams, one ball, big field?  Earth to
Mulder, is anyone home?"
 He laughed.  "Do you want me to pick you up again?'
 "No, I can manage.  I just wanted someone to rant at."  She
removed the toast and hissed as she burnt her fingers.
 "Scully?'
 "Toast, Mulder, I burnt myself with the toast."
 "Can you chew toast?"
 "With difficulty, yes.  What's our next assignment, anyway?"
 "Wiretap."
 "*Wiretap*?"
 "Yeah, Shelton's out for today and I told Skinner we'd man his
tap.  Half the office is splitting the duty with him and I thought we
should take a crack at it."
 "Mulder, you hate wiretaps.  I thought we'd be moving on to
another X-File now that we caught the killer."  For the months they had
been closed down all she had heard from his was how awful it was wasting
time on wiretaps....
 "Scully, I think we need to branch out to other areas of the
Bureau.  It's not helping you career or mine to stay down in that office
all the time."
 "Still pulling for me to be head of the Bureau by 2023, huh?" she
asked, referring to a comment he had once made to her early on in their
partnership.
 Confused silence.
 A chill crawled through her.  He was really acting bizarre, more
so than usual.  For someone with an eidetic memory, he was certainly
forgettin a lot of things lately.  If it hadn't been for that cut he'd
gotten, which had bled red blood, she would have been more than half
convince that it was another alien bounty hunter taking his place, but
that obviously wasn't the case...she couldn't explain it, but as the days
progressed, she didn't feel as comfortable with Fox Mulder as she should
have.  Little things seemed wrong somehow, and they were adding up...
 Maybe they were both overworked.
 But he wasn't himself these days, and she didn't know what to do
about it.

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

Day 14
Offices of the Lone Gunmen
1:23 p.m.

 The topic was Fox Mulder and the conversation was disturbing to
say the least.
 "He's acting really weird," Langly kept insisting.  "I mean, last
time he was here it was like he didn't know who was who."
 "Maybe he's overworked," Frohike suggested.
 Byers stroked his chin thoughtfully.  "Mulder's been under
extreme stress before, but I've never seen him this way before..."
 "Neither have I and 'extreme stress' doesn't begin to cover the
situations I've seen him in."
 Dana Scully walked in, to the surprise of Langly and Byers, and
to the delight of Frohike, until they got a closer look at her.
 "Dana, what happened to you?"  Frohike looked alarmed.
 Her jaw and cheek were still purple and swollen, the knife wounds
still sore.  "Nothing serious.  I had a run in with a serial killer in
Baltimore."
 "Who won?" Langly asked mildly.
 "The good guys, Langly, who else?"
 "Agent Scully," Byers began carefully, "while it's nice to see
you, you don't usually come down here without Mulder..."
 "I know."  She fiddled with the belt of her trench coat, eyes downcast.
 "It's Mulder, isn't it?'
 "Yes, Langly, it is."  She met the eyes of each one of them
before continuing.  "I don't know what's wrong with him.  Our annual
physicals were not even a month ago and the results were normal."
 "But?" prompted Byers, an intrigued look on his face.  For Scully
to come down here to talk to them it must be something very important...
 "His commitment to the X-Files is wavering," she said finally,
uneasily.
 Thay all looked at her like she had said something blasphemous.
 "In the past week, we've worked with a serial killer taskforce.
That's not so unusual, but when we were done, Mulder chose a wireap
assignment over returning to the X-Files.  This morning, I found this in
the Inbox and when I showed it to him, he didn't exhibit any interest at
all."
 She tossed a file onto the desk in front of Langly, who pounced
on it while she shrugged off her coat.
 "It's a UFO sighting along with two report of missing people,
both military, in Kentucky...."
 "There aren't many sightings there," Byers said.
 "I know."  She saw their odd looks.  "Give me *some* credit.
Working with Mulder gives you a very good idea of where to find so-called
UFOs and Kentucky isn't anywhere on the top ten list."
 "And you're saying that he didn't care about this case?" Frohike
asked seriously, a dour look on his face.
 "Yes."  She sighed in frustration.   "Yesterday, he was talking
about teaching at the academy for a couple of months, to get a feel for
it.  Skinner called me in to talk about his change in attitude this
morning and I couldn't explain it."
 Byers frowned.  There was more in her tone of voice than what she
was telling them.  He could tell by the way she kept rubbing her arms; he
could see the faint outline of bandages through her lightweigth suit now
that she had taken off her coat, as well as the cuts on her hands.
 "Where was Mulder when you got hurt?" he asked.
 She looked up, startled.
 Frohike and Langly stopped browsing through the file to watch her.
 "that's the problem," she said slowly, a hurt look in her eyes.
"I thought I was wrong, but now I'm not so sure.  I could have sworn that
I saw Mulder standing there, doing absolutely nothing while I was trying
to fend off a guy with a knife who had killed twelve kids...."
 "What do you think is wrong with him?" Frohike asked gently.
 "I have no idea, but I'm -- afraid -- for him."
 "And of him?" Byers asked softly.
 She met his eyes and what he saw there unnerved him.
 "Yes."

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

Commitment part 4 by Jessica Archibald

Raven Crest Psychiatric Institution
Baltimore, Maryland

 He didn't know how long he'd been there.
 When he'd first arrived, he had thought that there had been some
horrible mistake, that someone was playing a rather sick joke on him.
But as the days wore on, reality was beginning to sink in.
 The nurse kept him sedated almost all of the time, supposedly
because he might become violent and hurt someone, but the straight jacket
would prevent that.  The real reason was because someone might listen to
him and find out that he didn't belong there.
 *They* couldn't allow that to happen.
 He wasn't sure what they were planning, if they intended to keep
him here indefinitely or kill him as soon as they found it advisable.
Most of the time he was beyond caring, but when he could, he tried to
think it all through.  Tried to remember waht happened...

 <<AS usual, Fox Mulder couldn't sleep; it was too early to even
try so he was having a telephone conference with the Lone Gunmen.  It was
more entertaining than reruns of sitcoms and more realistic than
*Sightings*.  Mulder was a believer; he wasn't an idiot.
 The topic of this evening's conversation was Area 51 and its
implications, well versed grounds for all participants in the discussion.
 "Why don't you and Scully go out and investigate it?" asked Byers
innocently.
 Mulder laughed into his beer.  "Yeah, you try and convince her to
go.  She's enthusiastic enough about our crop circle investigation.  She
may die of excitement if we head to Area 51..."  He grinned, picturing
his partner's pained expression when he had told her that yes, they were
investigating crop circles in Idaho, and yes, the Lone Gunmen were going
to be helping them with analyzing some of the photographic evidence.
Enthusiastic was the wrong word to describe the look she had given
him...depression might be closer to the truth.
 Frohike was only too eager to discuss his favourite federal agent
and had to be restrained -- physically from the sounds of a scuffle
Mulder could hear over his phone and Langly's loud objections.
 "Gentlemen," he heard Byers say with sarcastic patience.  "Please--"
 The line went dead.
 He jiggled the disconnect button a few times but got no response,
not even a dial tone.
 The door suddenly exploded inwards, propelled by a foot connected
to a man well over six feet tall and built like an oak tree, silenced gun
in his hand.
 <He breaks down my door and carries a *silencer*,> Mulder thought
in wonder, lunging for his own weapon which was on the coffee table in
front of him.
 Too late.
 The other man pulled the trigger, twice, three times and Mulder
felt the impact in the side of his neck and his right arm, one shot
missing completely, hitting the table, bouncing off to land on the floor
and roll away.
 It wasn't a silencer, it was a dart gun.
 The room began to spin even as he fell against the table,
knocking his gun onto the floor.
 The last thing he saw was the man leaning in over him, squeezing
the trigger yet again...>>

 One thought kept him going, one thin hope, but it was better than nothing.
 <Scully will be looking for me,> he told himself over and over.
<She'll find me.>
 Fox Mulder had nothing left to count on.

**********

Day 17
Hoover Building
4:11 p.m.

 "Scully, where've you been," Mulder greeted as she came in the
front doors of the building, shoving her wallet back into her pocket.
Cab fares were getting exorbitant in the city.  The mechanic had promised
to have the car fixed by tomorrow, but she wasn't holding her breath.
And she thought nothing moved slower than the Bureau's paper pushing
section...live and learn.
 "I had an errand."  It was the first time she had ever lied to
him like this, but she wanted to keep her consultations with the LGM
secret for right now.  They were just as concerned as she was and had
agreed to help her figure out what was going on with Mulder.  She didn't
think that she would ever be grateful for having them around, but she was
now.  For the part three days, she'd been over to their offices at least
half a dozen times, sneaking away at odd times, spending time there after
work or even early in the mornings.  Langly had told her that Frohike was
in seventh heaven; she supposed she was glad that *someone* was enjoying
themselves.
 "We've got to get going," Mulder said, taking her arm to usher
her back out.
 "Where?"
 "We're slated to give lectures at Quantico tonight to some FBI
and DEA students..."
 "Mulder, you hate lecturing."
 "I want to give it a try, Scully," he said.  "After all, you did
it for several months.  I want to see if it's as horrible as you claim."
 "Ha," she retorted.  "It's worse!"
 God, it was almost like normal, joking with him, carrying on like
they were, but it wasn't right somehow.  Dana couldn't explain it,
couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something *not* right...
 Mulder's car was parked out in front.  He had obviously been
waiting for her inside, eager to get going.  As they approached it, he
tossed his keys to her.
 "What?" she asked, looking at him with suspicion.
 He gave her an innocnet look, the corners of his mouth twitching
but the look didn't quite reach his eyes.  "You know the way better than
I do..."
 Now that was something Mulder would say...but what was she
thinking, this *was* Mulder...
 She was just stepping out between his car and the one parked in
front of it when Agent Douglas Shelton walked by.
 "What spooks are you two off to chase?" he asked with a light
grin.  Shelton wasn't as convinced as most other agents that they were
wasting their time in the X-Files.  His question wasn't the open mockery
that some would make it.  Dana wasn't sure if he believed in the
paranormal or not and the one time she had asked Mulder about it, he had
grinned and said it wasn't a close encounter of the *third* kind Shelton
was hoping for; the man was a flirt, especially with a certain redheaded
agent.
 "Just wayward FBI trainees, Doug," Dana replied as  Mulder smiled
politely.  She stuck the key in the lock and turned it, Shelton standing
between the two cars, eyeing the both of them.
 "Quantico?  Dana, *Dana*, I thought you'd escaped that hell
already."  He joined her at the door, lougning back against the side of
the hood, smirking at Mulder.
 "It's Mulder's turn to give it a go," she responded, looking over
at her partner with a wry grin.  He stared back at her with an odd look
on his face that made her breath catch in her throat.
 A car rounded the corner in front of the building; she could hear
its tires shrieking, its driver weaving all over the road.  Jerking her
head around, she was just in time to see its path straighten, heading
directly for her and Shelton, rapidly approaching from forty feet and
closing.
 "God," Shelton whispered, already moving, grabbing hold of her as
she began to back up, pulling both of them up onto the hood as the car
barreled by, not even two inches away from them.
 They ended up sliding off the hood to land on top of one another
between Mulder's car and its neightbour, agents arriving from the street
and the building.
 "Dana, you okay?" Shelton asked as they disentangled themselves.
 "I'm fine, Doug, thanks to you."  She gave him a wan smile,
standing and helping him up as Mulder joined them, practically falling
over himself trying to see if they were all right.
 "Scully, Shelton?'
 "We're fine, Mulder," Shelton said, turning to look after the
car.  It was long gone, tearing up the street and turning another
corner.  "I don't suppose that out of all the FBI agents here, that
anyone got the goddamned license plate number of that car?"
 Dana pushed hair out of her face, feeling the ache in her arms
again; some of those cuts had been deep.  As everyone else watched her
and Shelton, she looked over at Mulder.
 This time there was no mistaking the expression that flashed
briefly in his eyes.
 It was disappointment.

**********

 Langly watched from his position in the van the LGM used as the
car nearly hit Scully and the other federal agent.  But what he could see
that they couldn't was that the car had been idling around the corner
long before Scully and Mulder had come out of the Hoover Building.
 It hadn't been an accident.
 When Scully had left the LGM offices earlier that day, they had
told her to take her time getting back to Bureau headquarters because
they were going to set up watch outside and keep a covert eye and Mulder
the logical place to start beind the Hoover Building.  They may not have
been trained by the CIA or Special Forces, but they were very good at
what they did.
 There was enough what she had been saying to, in their opinion,
warrant following Mulder around for a few days, to see if there was
something going on in his life that would cause such disruptions in his
behaviour.  Langly had laughingly suggested a drug addiction which had
lit the fuse on Scully's short temper.  Frohike had of course sided with
her and Byers had to shout them all down when the argument broke out.
Langly had apologized immediately; he hadn't been serious, of course, but
had severly underestimated the amount of stress this whole affair was
putting on her as well as the fact that Dana Scully possessed such a
temper in the first place.  He never would have thought she had it in
her.  She had apologized as well, before she heft and he sensed that she
had really meant it so all was forgiven.
 Right now, Langly frowned to himself as he watched the circus
going on across the street.  It looked like several of the agents were
arguing about the near miss while the two almost victims assured a
growing crowd that they were fine.
 When it finally broke up, Mulder got into his car and left,
Scully staying behind, watching him go with a strange expression on her
face.  Langly took off after Mulder, sliding into traffic well behind him
and staying a discreet distance away.

****
 
 

COMMITMENT part 5 by Jessica Archibald

 After Mulder left, Dana started walking down the street, not
heading anywhere in particular.  She had begged out of the trip to
Quantico, pleading a bad case of the jitters; with all the other agents
out there oozing sympathy, Mulder didn't dare push the matter.
 Something was beginning to take shape in the back of her mind and
she didn't like the picture it was forming.
 After she had gone a block, she pulled out her cell phone and
punched in the Lone Gunmen's number, waiting with baited breath until
Frohike picked up.
 "Is someone following Mulder?" she asked, not waiting for his greeting.
 "Yeah, Langly is.  Is something wrong?"
 "I almost got hit by a car and I don't think it was an accident."
 "What!?"
 "You should have seen the look on Mulder's face; he looked
*disappointed* that I didn't get hit!"
 "Agent Scully, are you sure?" chipped in Byers on a speaker phone.
 "Positive.  Listen to me, both of you.  Whoever the hell that is,
it *isn't* Mulder."  She was sure now.  She didn't know who it was, she
didn't know what had happened to the real Mulder, but she did know that
the man she had worked with for the better part of three years would
never, *ever* react like that.  It fit with the look he had had on his
face the other day after the brawl with the serial killer.  He had been
hoping that she would have been seriously hurt or even killed; he *had*
been standing around at the mouth of that alley, damn him.
 "Dana, do you know what you're saying?" Frohike asked in an awed voice.
 Byers gave a disgusted sigh.  "Agnet Scully -- "
 "Just Scully is fine," she interrupted, impatient with the delay.
 "Fine, Scully then.  Are you saying that this is an alien?"
 <So Mulder told them about that,> she thought without much surprise.
 "No," she replied instantly.  "I -- I had that thought a couple
of days ago, but it couldn't be.  During the fight with that killer in
Baltimore, he got cut...the blood was red and no one got sick..."
 "So who is it then?" Byers asked practically.
 "I don't know yet.  Listen, can you give me warning when he heads
back to Mulder's apartment?  I want to take a look around; find something
I can give to the lab techs -- like fingerprints."
 "Don't give it to your lab," Frohike said suddenly.  "That might
tip him off.  Bring it to us and we can run some tests on it here."
 "Don't worry, we'll tell Langly to let you know if he heads back
to Mulder's," Byers added, then his voice lowered.  "we'll find him, Scully."
 She have them her cellular number, wincing when she realized that
*Frohike* now had it, and hung up.
 <Who ever it is wants me dead, because...I'd be most likely to
realize it isn't Mulder...my God, how long has it been?>  She was
horrified that she hadn't clued into this faster; that someone had been
impersonating her closest friend for weeks now and she hadn't realized
it.  God, she couldn't believe she had been so blind; her wild musing
about shapeshifting aliens hadn't been so far off base.
 <Hang on, Mulder, where ever you are,> she thought, sensing now
some of the fear and worry that he must have felt for those three long
months when their positions had been reversed.  <Just hold on...>

***********

Raven Crest

 The chief of staff wanted to see him which meant that they had
eased up on the drugs so that he was lucid enough to hold a conversation.
 "Come on, Mister Cooper," said the orderly as he was bundled into
a straight jacket and dragged out of his room.  "Dr. Taylor wants to see
you."
 "My name," he said carefully, concentrating on every sound,
knowing that it would be useless, but feeling that he had to *try*
anyway, "is Fox Mulder, not Cooper.  I am a federal agent with the FBI
and am being held here against my will."
 The orderly snorted.  "Mr. Cooper, not too many people are here
because they want to be and most of them claim to be someone they're
not.  The only thing different about you is that you don't think you're
somebody famous..."
 Mulder gave a bleak laugh.  What was the point?  By his reckoning
he'd been here at least two weeks.  He had been in his apartment in
Washington and now he was in some psychiatric hospital.  He didn't even
know what city or what *country* he was in and as the days passed, he
began to fear that something had happened to Scully.  Was she here, in
some nut house as well, or was she dead?
 Comforting thoughts.
 Dr. Taylor was waiting for them in a plain room with white walls,
little furniture and a cold atmosphere.  The orderly practically
slamdunked Mulder into a chair and warned him in no uncertain terms to
stay put before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind him.
 Mulder glared after him and then turned his attention to the man
in front of him.  It was no one he knew.
 "Enjoying your stay here, Agent Mulder?" the man said.
 "So you know who I am?"
 "Of course."  Taylor looked surprised that he would think
otherwise.  "I trust that you're enjoying yourself."
 "Room service is lousy and the doors are locked, but if free drug
trips are your thing then I think you have a corner on the market."
 A humourless laugh.  "I've been told about your wit, Mulder, and
I am pleased to see that you don't disappoint."
 "Look," Mulder said, losing his patience.  "What are you hoping
to gain from this?  The FBI knows by now that something's happened to
me..."  <Not that many of them would care,> he added silently.  The only
people he could think off that would possibly miss him or be concerned
about him were Scully, the Lone Gunmen, *maybe* Skinner, and Scully's old
Quantico roomate Zoe Bateman, who was in L.A. for crying out loud.
 "Not really.  As far as they, and yes, even Agent Scully, are
concerned you are right where you belong..."
 "What?  They set up an office pool to have me commited?"  He
could almost see that happening.
 Almost.
 "Not quite.  You see, Mulder, as far as they know, you are right
there pitching in with the rest of them to help control the chaos that
threatens to engulf our fair country."
 "What the hell are you talking about?"
 "Well, we couldn't get your co-operation in our little plan, so
we brought in a Mulder who could."
 "Another shapeshifter?"  His blood ran cold at the thought of an
alien taking his place for such an extented period of time, living his
life, working with Scully so closely...
 "Scully," he whispered almost inaudibly.  There was no way a
substitute would be able to fool her for long...they had to know that
which meant she was in serious trouble and she might not even know it
until it was too late...
 "Don't worry about your partner.  Plans are being made to deal
with her as we speak.  And it's something a little more exotic than a
shapeshifter taking your place."
 "What about Scully?"
 "Well, we can't wait for her to figure it out now can we?  That
just wouldn't do..."
 "And just what is your plan, huh?"  The more he knew the better
he'd be able to find a way out of this mess.  "and what are you planning
to do to Scully?"  he had a pretty good idea and wasn't sure he wanted to
hear it said out loud.
 "I wouldn't want to give it away quite yet," Taylor said with a
sneer.  "It might spoil the ending."
 Mulder surged out of his seat, or at least as close to suring as
he could some.  There were still traces of the sedatives in his system;
without the aid of the orderly, he found that he couldn't stand on his
own, crashing to the floor with an angry curse.
 The door slammed open and a different orderly strode in, massive
and threatening.  The image of the door being thrown open like theat
brought him back to his apartment and he realized that this was the same
man who had captured him in the first place.  Mulder's already enormous
dislike for the man grew markedly.
 "Get Mr. *Cooper* out of here," said Taylor with a disgusted look.
 As Mulder was dragged out of the room, he lost it completely,
swearing and fighting as best he could, shouting at Taylor that if they
didn't let him go or if anything happened to Scully, he would kill them both.
 Taylor just smiled and made a comment about paranoid
schizophrenics with delusions.
 No one on the staff doubted him for a minute and Mulder found
himself back in his padded room, while the orderly held him still for a
dour faced nurse to happily inject him with something that made the world
spin and fade away...

**********

COMMITMENT part 6 by Jessica Archibald

Fox Mulder's Residence
5:04 p.m.

 When Dana approached the door to Mulder's apartment, digging out
her key, she stopped dead in her tracks and examined the door more
closely.  She hadn't been to Mulder's for over two weeks, unusual enough
all on its own, which was how long she suspected that the impostor had
been running around, and what she saw now didn't really surprise her,
although it did tighten the cold knot of dread in the pit of her stomach.
 The lock on the door was new, its metal plating unusually brassy
in the dim hall lighting.  The door frame itself also looked new, the
wood unchipped, smooth, and polished.
 <They broke into his apartment...Langly said something about his
phone getting cut off before we went to Idaho.  That has to be when it
happened.  My God, Mulder, what's happened to you?>
 Her key wasn't going to get her in, but she wasn't going to let
that stop her.  She could try picking the lock, but she had left her
lock gun at home, so that would take forever and draw unwanted
attention.  She'd have to find the manager and talk him into letting her
in.  The only problem with that was that the Mulder imposter would
undoubtedly find out...
 She'd have to risk it and pray that she could come up with a
good excuse.
 The manager's apartment was on the first floor and she kept
banging on the door when she heard a television on inside.  After three
minutes of pounding, her hand was sore but an irritated super finally
dragged himself to the door and flung it open with an angry glare.
 "Yeah?"  he narrowed his eyes at her.  "Miss Scully, isn't it?
what do you want?'
 "I need to get into Fox Mulder's apartment," she said.  "I need
to get something that's inside..."
 "I can't let you in," he said without apology.
 She bit her lip in vexation.  What did Mulder say this guy's name
was...Kochanski, that was it.
 "Look, Mr. Kochanski, I'm his partner and he has a file that I
need to see right now pertaining to a murder investiagtion...if I don't
get a look at it immediately we might miss our chance to catch the
killer."  <Right, Dana, lay it on thick...>  "Please."
 At the mention of a murder investigation, the man's eyes took on
a more lively aspect.  "Really?"
 "Yes, sir."
 Suspicion suddenly returned.  "I thought Mulder gave you a key.
He told me he was getting another one cut--"
 "His lock's been changed--"
 "I know, I had to call the locksmith.  Somebody broke into his
apartment...that's funny considering what he does for a living, ain't it?"
 "Hilarious," she said, wanting to scream in frustration.
 The man turned away for a second, fishing for something by the
door.  When he faced her again there was a set of keys in his hand which
he passed to her.
 "You being a federal agent and all, I think I can trust you to
bring them back when you're done?"
 "yes, sir."  She could have kissed him.  Instead, she took the
keys and ran back up the stairs.
 The apartment was a mess.  Whoever had taken Mulder's place at
least had that charming personality quirk downpat.  It looked like no one
had tidied the place up since Bush was president.
 Dana didn't know what she was looking for but figured the living
room was the best place to start.  She had just begun to poke through the
junk that had accumulated when someone cleared their throat behind her.
 With a wordless cry, she spun, drawing her weapon and aiming it
in one motion.
 "Dana!" squealed Frohike from just inside the door.  "I didn't
expect to find you here...where's Mulder?"
 She stared at him in confusion, reluctantly holstering the gun
and breathing deeply.  There was a crumpled piece of paper in his and and
he waved it until she stepped froward to read what it said.

 The place might be bugged.

 That made sense, so she forced a normal note into her voice
before answering.   "Mulder's up at Quantico.  I need to see one of his
files...what brings you here, Frohike?"  She was embarrased that she
hadn't realized that all on her own, horrified at the blundershe had
almost made.  With a mental sigh of disgust, she went back into the
living room and started searching again, this time with quiet haste.
 "Oh, I wanted to show him something."  Frohike pulled something
out of his pocket and showed it to her before hiding it in the phone
receiver.  It was a tiny listening device.
 A frown started to form on her face, but she shook it off,
recognizing the wisdom of the LGM's approach.  Dropping to her knees, she
peered under the coffee table on a hunch and spotted something.
 "Aha," she said.  "There it is.  I swear it would take a whole
brigade of our secretarial pool to organize Mulder's files.  It's amazing
he can ever find anything."  Pulling a glove out of the pocket of her
coat, she put it on before retriving the object that had caught her eye,
putting it carefully in her pocket.
 As she stood back up, she decided to take a pen that was sitting
on top of an open file with yesterday's date on the off chance of getting
some fingerprints.  Now, what file should she take to make this whole
thing believeable...ah, there was the file on the Baltimore case.
Santching it up, she looked at Frohike, who was back by the door,
watching her carefully.
 "Mulder won't be back for a while," she said pointedly.  "I'm
leaving now; do you want to wait for him?"
 "Ah no, I'll walk you out."

**********

offices of the Lone Gunmen
8:49 p.m.

 It was funny how the strange and the unusual could become welcome
and familiar.
 That thought ran through Dana's mind as she watched Byers toil at
his computer, running an analysis of the prints from the pen through an
FBI program she didn't want to know how he gained access to.  Frohike had
just left a little while ago to relieve Langly after the latter had
called to demand a break since he had spent the better part of six Hours
following the fake Mulder to and from Quantico.
 Never in her wildest dreams had Dana Scully imagined that she
would be depending on a bunch of conspiract freaks to help her out, but
she was very glad they were there.  If they hadn't been, she wasn't sure
what she would do...
 Across the room, there was a radio setup that was monitoring
Mulder's apartment, not just the phone.  So far not much had happened on
that end.  Their quarry had returned but so far had said nothing, called
no one.
 Byers turned away from his computer and motioned for her to join
him.  "I think you'd better take a look at this, Scully."
 She went over and peered over his choulder as he swung back to
face the monitor, tapping a pen lightly against the screen.
 "These are the prints that you got off the pen from Mulder's
apartment."  he pointed out a set of prints on the right side of the
screen.  "These ones are from Mulder's personnel file."  This time he
indicated the ones on the left.
 "Oh my God," she said in a horrified tone.  "They look identical."
 <Could I have been wrong and it really *is* Mulder?  But what
could have happened to change him like this...?>
 Byers waved a hand, halting her wild musings.
 "They may look identical, but watch this."  Tapping a few keys on
his terminal, he got the images to overlap.  "Now, your Bureau computers
would say that these prints have a 95 percent match and they would be
right.  Take a look at the five percent differences."  The appropriate areas were
lit up by red hues.
 "Some of the whorls are distorted," she said, leaning in closer
to get a better look, glad that it wasn't Frohike manning the computer.
"Severe burns might do that, but the files are updated when that
happens.  The prints from the file were taken just after the L'ively
case;  Mulder had received superficial burns then...those prints from the
apartment *don't* belong to him!"
 She wasn't sure which was worse; it being Mulder or it not being
him.   Either way, it meant that he was int serious trouble -- as usual--
and needed her help.
 "So whose prints are these?'
 "I don't know, Byers, I just don't know."  She sighed.  "I'd take
it to Skinner as proof that that isn't Mulder but--"
 "But whoever had Mulder might kill him if the truth were to come out."
 "Exactly."  She didn't dare say what they were both thinking.
 Mulder might already be dead...
 Langly chose that moment to walk in, bearing a pizza and a six
pack of pop.
 "Frohike will sit on the apartment until three and then it's your
turn, Byers," he said, nodding at each of them in turn.  "What have we got?"
 "Who knew it isn't Mulder," Byers said.  "The fingerprints don't
match, not quite.  It would be enough to fool a cursory check, but we
were looking for inconsistencies."  He reached for a slice of pizza after
Langly was done grabbing one, then shoved the box in Dana's direction.
She waved it off until she noticed they were both frowning at her.
 "What?"
 They launched into a solemn routine about how she could't help
Mulder or anyone else for that matter if she didn't take care of
herslef.  It almost put her lecutres to Mulder to shame and sheepishly
she had something to eat.
 "Scully, that car accident was no accident," Lanlgy said after a
while.  "I saw the car waiting around the corner for you."
 "I figured as much.  He asked me to drive and that put me out in
the street to open the door."  There was no need to ask who he was.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she leaned back in her seat.  "I don't
know what to do around him.  I don't want to tip him off that I know he
isn't Mulder, but I don't want to put myself in a position where I have
to count on him for support..."  Her jaw went slack for minute as
something dawned on her.
 "Ohhh, my God," she said slowly.  "I think I know what's going on..."
 Both of them stared at her until Langly prompted her into speech.
 "Listen, whoever this is is easing Mulder out of the X-Files and
into the mainstream of the Bureau, right?"
 They nodded.
 "Mulder's said before that he has too high a profile for the
government to risk killing him, but what if he suddenly didn't persue the
paranormal with such intensity?  Suppose he were to transfer back to the
Behavioural Unit, become an analyst again...?"
 "There would be nothing to stop the government from killing him
then," Byers said just as slowly.  "Not if they time it right."
 "It might take a while, months even, but if they could do
it...Mulder's still got to be alive then!  Unless they're planning to
kill off his look alike in his place..."
 "Which wouldn't work if there was an autopsy or in-depth
fingerprint analysis."  Langly was getting excited.  "You're right."
 Up until now, she had been filed with a dread certainty that
Mulder was dead, but now there was a new surge of energy accompanied by
a rush of hope.
 "Scully, you've got to watch out though," Byers warned.  "They
know that they can't deceive you for long.  If this impostor's been there
as long as we think, then they won't be counting on fooling you much
longer.  They've already tried to have you killed today..."
 "I know, but if I don't play ignorant, they might kill Mulder
right away."  <They were able to fool me long enough though...>  She
silently asked herself what she would do if it came down to her life or
Mulder's and found that she already knew the answer to that one.  She
wouldn't do anyting to alert the imposter she was on to him.  It was
something she couldn't risk.
 "I'll try to act normal, not behave like anything is wrong.
Until we get an idea of where they're holding Mulder that's all I can do."
 "We'll let you know when we identify the compound that was on the
dart you found," Byers promised as she headed out.  The object she had
rescued from under the couch was a small dart of some kind, tipped with a
chemical.  The LGM had their other computers hard at work trying to
analyse and ID it.
 <Just as long as it's not toxic,> she prayed silently.  <Let him
still be alive...>

**********

Day 18
Hoover Building
7:39 a.m.

 "Morning, Mulder.  How was your lecture?"  She made herself look
up from her desk to smile a greeting at the man who walked in, trying not
to be sick to her stomach.
 "Not bad.  You feeling better today?"
 "Yeah.  Got some new bruises though."
 "I spoke to my manager last night; he said he let you into my
apartment?"
 "I know.  I hope you didn't mind, but I needed the Baltimore
file.  Skinner wanted it this morning and since you were out at Quantico..."
 He looked like Mulder, even the body language was the same.  There
was another thing, as well, that had been bothering her.  If it wasn't a
shapeshifter, how could this man *sound* like Mulder?  Physical
appearances could be modifide, but it *sounded* Like Mudler.  It was so
hard not to look at this man and see her friend.
 "It's not a problem," he said with a grin.  "I don't suppose you
fed my fish did you?"
 "They looked all right.  They didn't go belly up did they?"
 "Not yet."
 "How come you didn't tell me that your place got broken into?"
 He shrugged, taking off his overcoat to hang it up.  "It was just
before we left for Idaho, we were awfully busy at the time..."
 <Of course we were, whoever you are,> she thought, nodding
absently.  "What's the plan for today?  There's still that UFO sighting
in Kentucky."
 "I've got to go over some profiles for the Behavioural Scince
Unit," he said with what was supposed to be an apologetic smile.  It was
amazing how easy it would be to just think that this whole thing was just
one huge nightmare that Mulder would get a good laugh out of...
 But it wasn't.
 That was the true nightmare.

**********

Commitment part 8 by Jess Archibald

Raven Crest

 Mulder came awake again and idly staring up at the ceiling for a
long time.  He still didn't know what this was about.  No one had
interrogated him about anything, but he was here for a reason and he
wanted to know what it was.  He wanted to know if Scully was all right
and he wanted to know if they were going to kill him or just keep him
here for the rest of his life, which might just be worse than death.
 So far the only members of the staff that he had seen were
Taylor, the two orderlies, and the nurse with the needle fetish.  During
his dazed stupors, he thought he had heard other 'guests' calling out but
he couldn't be sure.
 There were no windows, the lights never went off, so day and
night were subjective.  The room he was in was small and cramped, a cot
against one wall, where he spent most of his time.  He hadn't had
anything to eat since arriving, they had probably been taking care of his
nutritional needs through IVs while he was unconscious, which he was
willing to bet was more than twenty out of twenty four hours.  It was one
hell of a way to go on a diet.
 When he had the time and inclination, he wondered if the other
people here were being treated the same way he was; if they were people
the government wanted out of the way; if doubles of them were living
their lives for them
 He also wondered if Taylor had lied about the double, about it
all.  Maybe this was all some sort of twisted dream and he *had* flipped
out; consigned to a nut house of the rest of eternity.
 Willing that thought far, far away, he tried to figure out what
their game was.  So far he was totally baffled.
 He had never really given much thought to psychiatric
institutions before and was now thoroughtly horrified by the conditions
in them, hoping that this one was the deviant from the norm, that maybe
he was being treated worse than the other patients here.
 Except he now found he was thinking of himself as a patient and
that *wasn't* true.
 One thing was certain.  If he stayed here much longer, he just
might lose his mind.  He tried to fill what waking hours he had with
memories from his youth with Sam before she disappeared and with more
recent memories with Scully, but the latter only served to make him worry
about her.
 There was no way that a double could fool her for very long, a
few days; maybe a week or two on the outside, depending on what she and
the double were working on currently,  how much time they spent together,
and after that...their only recourse would be to kill her unless...
 Unless the same thing that happened to him had happened to her.
 He was beginning to doubt his sanity; all the memories he had of
alien encounters, mutant creatures, ghoulish cases, what if they were all
just a product of his mind...
 He refused to believe that; he *couldn't* believe that...
 Once again, he drifted off into drug induced slumber.

**********

Offices of the Lone Gunmen
7:34 p.m.

 The analysis was complete and Langly was frowning at the results.
 Frohike was sitting by the listening device equipment, idly
fiddling with the dials, Byers was sitting out near the Hoover Building,
as the impostor hadn't left for the day yet, and Scully just walked in ,
her whole posture changing almost as soon as she stepped throught the door.
 "That was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," she
said in a low voice, sitting down on the edge of one of the desks, her
coat folded carefully next to her.  She couldn't take this much longer.
What she had really wanted to do all day was draw her gun and threaten to
blow off the imposter's head  if he didn't tell her where Mulder was, but
that wouldn't work.  Instead she was reduced to going about a familiar
daily routine with the man, making nice, while watching her back every
step of the way.  It was making her scared; she had surpassed nervousness
a day ago when the pieces stated to fall into place.  If this kept up
much longer she was going to slip up somehow.  It took all of her
self-control to even stay in the same room with the man; she half
expected him to whip out his gun and shoot her at any minute.  "I kept
wanting to confront him."
 Confront was the polite word for it.
 "That wouldn't have been a very good idea," Langly said, hading
her the printout.  "Take a look at that.  The compound was a narcotic
that causes immediate loss of consciousness.  No way something like that
would be in Mulder's apartment unless he had a new hobby.  This baby
looks custom made, designer anesthetic for nosy federal agents."
 Some of the weariness left her face.  "So Mulder is probably
still alive."
 "No one goes through this sort of trouble just to kill someone."
 "It's the government," she said softly.  "It has to be."
 "Wouldn't surprise me," Frohike put in, getting up to join them.
"Mulder's been stepping on toes for years; it was only a matter of time
before they decided to take care of him --- "
 "They've tried to have him killed in the past, but *nothing* like
this."  She stabbed a finger at the paper.  "This is -- it's insidious ..."
 "It's the government," Langly said simply, taking the paper
back.  "Nothing is too insane for them to pull, not even this."
 "So now what do we do?" Frohike asked, looking at the paper with
interest.  "And how did they pull this off?  If it isn't one of those
shapshifters then how did they find someong to look and sound like
Mulder?  It's incredible.  With the finerprints being so close a match,
it would have to be something more than just the doppleganger that
everyone is supposed to have..."
 "Right now, I don't care *how* they did it or even *why*," she
said in a sharp tone.  "What I care about is finding Mulder before they
kill him."
 "Or you," Langly added.
 "Thanks for the reminder.  Has this guy been meeting with anyone,
calling anyone?"
 "Not so far.  Byers is sitting on him now.  It's like he's a
ghost.  No visitors, no phone calls, nothing."  Langly tilted his head as
a thought struck him.   "He must have his instructions and has been told
not to deviate from them.   There's no need for him to contact anyone..."
 "What about the car that almsot hit Agent Shelton and I?  That
would have to have been set up in advance...maybe from his cellular or
even the office phone.."   She wanted to scream in frustartion of
something.  This couldn't be happening.  Only with Mulder would such a
thing be even remotely plausible.
 "Those are harder to monitor.  You could bug your office phone,
but the cellular's out."  Frohike handed her a tiny device.  "You stick
that in the phone receiver at work and we'll be able to keep tabs on your
office and any calls that you get there."
 Her hand closed over it.  She didn't like the idea but was
willing to go along with it for now.
 "I think it's safe to say that we aren't the only ones listening
in," Lanlgy said after a moment.  "I'd bet that your place is bugged and
so is Mulder's apartment, even your office...don't call us from any of
those places..."
 "I haven't been anyway."
 "Keep it that way."
 "Has he been to see you at all?"
 "Not since you two left for Idaho."
 "Damn, this plan of their's could really work, couldn't it?" Her
tone was soft.
 "Not if we don't let it," Frohike said earnstly.
 She smiled slightly.   "In case I haven't said it
before...thanks.  I couldn't pull this off on my own."
 Both men grinned at her.
 "Like we would have sat this out," Langly said.  We expose
government conspiracies for a living, remember?  This is just a little
more exciting and personal than most."
 "A lot more personal..."
 

****

Commitment part 9 by Jess Archibald

Day 20
12:23 p.m.

 Frohike sat in the front seat of the van, camera in hand and
pointed at the two men sitting at an outdoor table at a cafe.  The fake
Mulder had met someone for lunch and Frohike was snapping pictures
whenever it seemed prudent, wondering what they were discussing.
 The second man was in his fifties, gray haired, well tanned,
wearing an expensive suit.  There was an air of self confidence around
him that Frohike could sense sitting some thirty plus feet away, making
him sure that this man was somehow involved.
 He also wondered if Mulder was really still alive or if they were
all just fooling themselves.  He hoped that Mulder was all right and that
they would find him before it was too late.
 Part of him was glad to be seeing so much of Scully, but on the
whole, he devoutly wished the circumstances were different.  For the past
six days, she had been at their offices at all hours and in the past
three, since they had discovered what was going on, the toll it was
taking on her was all too obvious.  After all, she had the hardest job;
she ahd to spend most of the day with the impostor, pretending that
everything was fine, that it was really Mulder she was working with, all
the while worrying about her friend.
 Frohike was also glad that it wasn't him in that position.  He
would have given himself away immediately.
 The two men were still deep in conversation and that was one
discussion Frohike would have traded half his info on congress to hear.

**********

Hoover Building
1:00 p.m.

 Dana looked up as he walked back into the office, choking back
the urge, as she had for the past three days, to take aim and open fire
at thim.  "Hey."
 He smiled a greeting, nodded at the stack of paperwork she was
going through.  "What's all this?"
 "Autopsy reports.  Since we're not currently assigned to a live
case as such, I thought I should go over some of these and see if there's
anything of interest.  It's the pathologist's version of a conference,
sharing these reports."
 "Sounds interesting."
 "Try boring...how was your lunch?"
 "Boring."  He grinned.  "Your car fixed yet?"
 "Tomorrow," she sighed.  "Maybe...I guess when we went to idaho
the mechanic decided that I didn't care how long it took to fix it and
now I can't convince him other wise."
 He laughed and she decided that he was in altogether too good a
mood.  It made her nervous.
 "When are you going home?" he asked.  "I can give you a ride..."
 "I'm not sure.  I might be here pretty late."  No way was she
going to go anywhere with him if she didn't have to.  She wasn't going to
tip him off, but she wasn't going to be stupid either.
 "Whatever."  He went over to his desk and started going through
some more profiles.
 The rest of the afternoon passed uncomfortably.
 
**********

6:49 p.m.

 Langly opened the passenger side door and climbed in the van,
nodding at Frohike who had been waiting for him for nearly an hour.
 "They both still inside?" Langly asked.
 "Yeah.  Here's the film of that guy from lunch."  Frohike had
already called the LGM offices and brought Byers and langly up to speed.
"Anything new?"
 "He and Scully are boring Byers to tears doing paperwork," he
replied with an evil grin.  Scully had placed the bug in the phone that
morning and now the LGM could monitor every word that was said in the
X-Files office; it didn't mean that it would be interesting.

**********

6:57 p.m.

 "That does it for me," Dana said, stifling a yawn, pushing the
last file away from her.  "I'm calling it a day."
 He looked up and gave a tired smile.  "I think I've had enough
too.  Want to get some dinner?"
 "Not tonight, Mulder," she replied.  "I think I'm just going to
go home and go to bed.  Reading these things is more tiring that chasing
UFOs all around the country.  Now I know the real reason you opened the
X-Files."
 No real reaction; she had expected as much.
 He got up and grabbed their coats, tossing hers to her, shrugging
into his own.  "The least I can do is give you a ride."  They headed out
to the elevator.
 <I need a good reason not to go or that'll clue him in...c'mon,
Dana, think...>
 "I need to clear my head, Mulder," she said, forcing a smile.
"All those reports are getting to me.  I think I'll walk."
 The elevator came and they got in, punching for the main floor.
 "You sure?"
 He looked mildly disappointed, but she was willing to bet that
the resentment ran a lot deeper than that.
 "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."
 The doors opened and she headed for the front enterance, leaving
him to go to the parking garage.
 The evening was clear, twilight already starting to descend as
Washington began the headlong rush into night.  Car headlights were on,
street lights chasing away the gloom to form little cones of light that
reflected off the pavement and blinded pedestrains before they passed
into the darkness that hid between the lights.
 Dana took a deep breath before starting to walk.  She really was
quite tired and heading home seemed to be a good idea.
 
**********

 When he got into the car, the first thing he did was make a phone
call before pulling out if the garage and following her from about a
block behind.

**********

 "This isn't good," Frohike said, setting out behind Mulder's car,
Langly still in the passenger dear.  "He's follwoing Dana."
 "Thanks for filling me in; I never would have noticed."  Langly
began searching his pockets for the number she had given them.  "I know I
have it here somewhere..."

**********

 The walk to her building was about thirty minutes at a nice pace,
but Dana took it faster than she normally would have.  Langly had phoned
to say that the impostor was following her, with him and Frohike right
behind, and she didn't want to stay out in the open for longer than she
had to.
 When she reached her street, she could see that there was a van
parked directly in front of her building.  Instinct sent her right hand
to her gun, while the need for reassurance sent her left up to toy with
the chain at her throat.  Keeping as far away from the van as possible,
she tried to slip by to her front walk.
 The side door on the van slid open and two men practically
erupted out of it at her.
 Her gun was out and aimed before her mind had really registered
the attack, held steady as she jumped back.
 "Federal agent," she said clearly, authoritative register in her
voice.  "Back away."
 Neither one of them complied and without hesitation, she opened
fire when she saw the knives in their hands.  Her first shot caught one
of them in the throat while the second hit his left  shoulder, sending
him crashing to the pavement, dead before he even hit the ground.
Swinging her gun over to cover the second man, she saw that he was coming
in on her left and that she wouldn't be able to bring her weapon into
position in time to do her any good, so she improvised.
 As the man swung the knife in a lazy arc at her head, she grabbed
his arm with her left hand, slammed her knee up into his groin, stepping
back as he collapsed with a cry of pain, his free hand hitting her in the
mouth as he went down, a ring on his finger catching her lip, making her
taste blood as her head snapped to one side.  Raising her right arm, she
brought the barrel of the gun down on the back of his head, knocking
him out cold.
 Facing the van again, she covered it with her gun, looking in at
the man in the driver's seat, peering in at the side door, but not seeing
anyone else.
 "Step out of the vehicle," she said slowly, gesturing with her
weapon.  "Slowly, keeping your hands where I can see them."
 "Scully?"
 Mulder's car had turned onto her street and the man pretending to
be her partner was walking toward her, something that looked like concern
on his face.  His gun was also out, pointed at the ground as he approached.
 "I thougth you might change your mind about dinner," he said by
way of explanation.  "You okay?"
 "I'm fine," she replied automatically, but her thoughts were
racing.  If she divided her attention between the man in the van and the
one coming up to stand to her left, she'd be in a lot of trouble...
 "Too bad."
 She saw his expression change a split second before he acted and
she stated to turn the gun in his direction as his came at her head.
 Just before she could pull the trigger, something made her
hesitate and his gun connected with the side of her head, an explosion of
sparks going off followed by blackness.

**********

 He watched with disdain as the driver got out of the van and came
around to the side.
 "You could help," the driver grunted, hauling the unconscious
Scully onto her feet and shoving her into the van.
 "not my repsonsibility," he replied with a wicked smirk.  "you're
the ones that screwed up.  You'd better  get out of here."
 The driver nodded, leaning over the woman for a moment to grab
hold of something and yank it loose.  "What about...?"
 "Take her gun and shoot me with it," he said.  "Quickly before
someone else comes along."
 "Shoot you, huh?" The driver looked happy at the prospect,
scooping up her gun from the pavement and holding it loosely in his hand.
 "Not too seriously," he warned.  "Flesh wound."
 "Maybe next time."  The driver pulled the trigger, scrambling
back into the van, behind the wheel and driving away.
 He clamped a hand over the wound in his arm, hissing a little at
the pain, regarding the two men on the sidewalk.  Truthfully, he never
would have expected her to get a large enough advantage to take one of
them out, much less two.  He had severely underestimated her and was glad
that he didn't have to worry about her anymore.

**********

Potomac River
7:43 p.m.

 The rocking motion of the van brought her to nausea filled
consciousness, the side of her face pressed uncomfortably against the
rough carpet that floored the back of the vehicle.
 The van came to a stop before she could even sit up and the
driver's door opened, the side door following a minute later as she was
still arguing with herself abou the merits of allowing herself to pass
out agin.  Self preservation won out, but the man who opened the side
door had a gun in his hand that was aimed more of less at her chest when
she finally dragged herself into a sitting position.
 "Get out of the van," he said, voice reasonably calm for someong
who was probably going to kill her in the next minute or so, "or I'll
shoot you right now."
 Slowly, shakily, she managed to climb out, one hand braced
against the van, the other reaching for the lump that was forming on the
side of her head.
 The cold night air helped diminish the dizziness, but not by
much.  They were on the docks of the Potomac, down along an old pier that
looked like it had no businnes supporting the wieght of the van.
 There was no one around that she could see.
 <I think I'm in trouble...>
 "Where's Mulder?" she asked, finding her voice.
 He grinned.
 "The real Mulder," she amended, glaring at him.
 His grin faded, grudging admiration taking its place.  "How long
have you known?"
 "Long enough."
 The finger on the trigger guard tightened and she assumed that a
more precise answer was wanted.
 "A couple of days.  He's good,  whoever you have pretending he's
Mulder, but he's not good enough."
 "Evidently.  Who have you told."
 "No one."  She shrugged even though it hurt to do so.  "Who would
believe me?"
 "No one."  He gestured with the gun; she noticed that it was
hers.  "Over by the edge of the pier."
 She obyed, trying to think of a way out of this mess.  he was
good, she had to give him that much, keeping well away from her, covering
her with the gun, not giving her an opening that she oculd use.  He was
between her and the van, witholding whatever cover it may have provided,
the rest of the city beyond that.  It might as well have been the other
side of the planet for all the good it was going to do her.
 "Where is he?" she asked again, hoping he would answer.
 "I'm not stupid, Agent Scully," he said, smiling with
satisfaction at the look that crossed her face.  "Just hold still and it
will all be over."  He raised the gun a little, finger tightening on the
trigger.
 The edge of the pier was just behind her; if she could dive off
the end before he pulled the trigger, she would have a chance...
 She threw herself over backwards as the sound of the gunshot
filled the night, something hitting her hard, wrenching her around, open
air under her, followed by a cold splash of water, fiery pain blazing
through her body, chasing away the chill of cold water, leaving a black
numbness in its wake....

***********

COMMITMENT part 10 by Jess Archibald

 Langly and Frohike had wisely decided to abandon surveillance on
the false Mulder and had taken off in pursuit of the van, following as
closely as they dared as it approached the river.  They had notified
Byers of what was going on and he was standing by at their offices,
waiting to hear from them.
 The pair heard the gunshot from their position at the mouth of
the neighbouring pier, saw Scully lummet into the water, watched the man
climb back into the van and drive away as fast as he could.
 They were out of their own van and running for the pier before
the taillights were truly out of sight.
 Frohike slid to a stop just shy of the end of the pier, his arms
windmilling briefly as his sudden halt threatened to toss him forward.
Langly managed a more controlled stop by dropping flat onto his stomach
to look over the edge.
 "Scully!" he called in a stage whisper as Frohike knelt beside
him.  "Scully!?"
 Night had cast dark shadows over the water, making it hard for
them to make out anything underneath them.  Frohike had grabbed a
flashlight on his way out of the van and he clicked it on, shining it
onto the water directly below them.
 "There!" Langly said in triumph as he spotted a figure surrounded
by a rapidly spreading stain of black, which was blood dyed dark by the
late hour.  As he pointed, the figure began to slip under the surface of
the water.
 Frohike was already taking off his jacket, thrusting the
flashlight as the startled Langly, shoving his glasses in the coat pocket
as he tossed it to one side.
 "Frohike, what are you doing?"
 "What does it look like," snapped the smaller man before he
jumped off the edge of the pier to land in the watwer, sending an icy
spray up to smack Langly in the face.
 "Over there," he said helpfully, shining the light in the water
as a beacon for Frohike, who swam out to meet it, taking a deep breath
and disappearing under the surface.
 Langly waited tensely up above, the flashlight held tightly in
sweaty hands.  Watching conspiracies from afar like he usually did was
much different from being thrust into one.  Now he could completely
understand why Mulder usually look so frazzled.  Langly was surprised by
Frohike's assertiveness, and tried to find a matching well of strength in
himself.
 Frohike broke the surface with a gasp.  Langly immediately
flashed the light at him and saw that he had Scully with him.  Relief
washed through him for a second before he remembered the blood they had seen.
 "I need some help," Frohike called up. swimming for the pier, but
hindered by Scully.  "She's out cold; I don't know if she's still
breathing or not."
 "Hang on."  Langly found a ladder that would normally lead to any
small boats moored below, and used it to climb down until he was just
above the water, one arm bracing him, the other reaching for the pair in
the river.  Frohike got one arm wrapped around the base of the ladder and
pulled Scully up to it until Langly got a grip on the back of her coat.
 "This isn't going to work," he said after a minute, trying to
pull her up.  Instead, he dropped into the water to join them,
maneuvering until she was slung over his shoulder.  with much effort, he
managed to climb back up the ladder, Frohike right behind him.
 When they reached the pier, it was tempting to just lay there for
a minute to catch their breath, but they didn't have the luxury.
Instead, Frohike checked Scully's pulse while langly opened her coat to
get a look at the bullet wound that was just under her right ribcage.
 "She's still breathing," Frohike reported with relief, shivering
from the icy water.
 "The bullet went right through her side," Langly countered.
"We've got to get her to a hospital..."
 "Bring the van over here.  We shouldn't move her more than we
have to."  he reached for his jacket, scrunching it into a bundle and
pressed it against the wound.
 Langly nodded once then climbed to his feet and started running
back to their van, leaving Frohike to try and stop the bleeding, Scully's
head cradled in his lap.
 Frohike retrieved his glasses and shoved them onto his nose so he
could see better.  He couldn't believe that he had just dived in to the
Potomac to save someone's life.  He was impressed if he had to say so
himself.
 Scully let out a small cry as she began to come to, coughing a
bit at the water in her lungs.
 "Dana?" he asked in a soft voice.  He could see that Langly had
just reached the van and was starting it up.
 "Fro -- Frohike?"  She blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
 "It's okay.  You'll be fine.  We're going to take you to a hospital."
 "No," she whispered frantically.  "No hospitals."
 "Dana," he protested, "you've been shot, we *have* to -- "
 "No," she said again, fighting  pain to get the words out.  "They
think...think I'm dead...this may be our...our best chance of...of
finding Mulder."
 "If we don't take you to see a doctor, you may die."
 The van was approaching, easing its way onto the pier.
 "They know...that I know...about...about Mulder...if they find
out that I'm...I'm still alive...they'll kill him..."
 The worst part was that she was right.
 "What then?" he asked as Langly pulled up and got out to help.
 "Baltimore...Doctor Wainwright...residency advisor..."  Her eyes
flickered shut again and she passed out, leaving the two men to decide
the next move.

**********

Washington General
Emergency Room
8:09 p.m.

 Agent Douglas Shelton had been about to head hom for the night
when the call came in from the local authorities.  Upon hearing the names
of the agents involved with the incident, he had headed straight for the
hospital arriving just after Assistant Director Walter Skinner, who was
already holding court.
 Mulder came out of one of the examining rooms, an intern
nervously accompanying him, trying to direct him back into the room.
Doug headed for him
 "Mulder, what happened?  I've heard three different stories since
I walked in here.  What happened to Dana?"
 The older agent gave a helpless shrug, wincing as the move pulled
on his injured arm.  Skinner joined them and also pressed for an explanation.
 "Agent Mulder, what the hell happened?  There's a man in the
morgue shot to death by a 9mm and another man in the E.R. under guard,
with a severe concussion.  I have one agent who's been shot and another
one missing."
 "Sir, I -- "  He broke off.  "There's still no sign of Scully?"
 "None.  Right now, Mulder we don't have a clue.  Neighbours say
that there were several shots fired."
 "I was on my way to her place when I saw that she was being
attacked by some street punks...I went to try and help but one of them
got her gun away from her and opened fire on me, I had to take cover,
couldn't shoot or I would have hit Scully...last thing I saw was her
being shoved into a van...I heard another gunshot...they shot her..."
He raised a tired hand to his head, covering his eyes in pain.  "I tried,
sir..."
 Doug cursed under his breath as Skinner's expression mellowed slightly.
 "We've got the local police out looking now as well as what
agents we could spare.  Did you get the license plate of the van?"
Skinner asked.
 Muldre shook his head, eyes downcast, avoiding  the other men's
gazes.  "I didn't get a chance to see it clearly...what about the other
one, the one that's got the concussion?"
 "He still hasn't regained consciousness.  He was hit hard with a
blunt instrument."
 Yeah, I saw Scully hit him with her gun..."  His face clouded
over for a brief instant.  "After all this, to lose her to street
violence, it just doesn't make any sense..."
 "We don't know that she'd dead yet," Skinner said gruffly.
"Shelton, I want you to take him home and make sure he stays there.  I'll
have someone call if we find anything.  We'll find her, Mulder."
 "Maybe, but it'll be too late."
 There was no sorrow in that voice, only a bitter promise.
 
***********

Fox Mulder's Residence
8:34 p.m.

 Letting Shelton take him back to the apartment, he promptly
disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.  Almost immediately he
had to sit down as the silent laughter boiled up in him.
 God, what a performance.  The strain of putting on such an act
over that bitch had almost made him burst out laughing in Skinner's
face.  Oh, she was dead all right; Taylor's men had seen to that even if
she had taken some of them with her.  He supposed it was worth it; it
would certainly make the next few months that much easier without her
hovering over him; it had only been a matter of time before she figured
out at least part of it.
 He only wished he could see the look on Mulder's face when he was
told about it.

**********

Raven Crest

 The orderly was back again, hauling him to his feet and
propelling him down the hall.  Mudler believed he was losing his mind; he
thought he could smell Scully's perfume on the man.
 No straight jacket this time.  Mulder didn't have the strength
left to try anything.
 Taylor was waiting for him in the room again.
 Dumping him in the chair, the orderly stepped back against the
wall, trying to fade into the shadows, watching the federal agent with
dark glitters serving as eyes.
 "Good evening, Mulder," Taylor said.  "I'm afraid I've got some
bad news for you."
 "Let me guess," Mulder said, his voice harsh from lack of use.
"This has all been a misunderstanding and I'm free to go, right?"
 The orderly smirked with delight.
 "What's with him?"
 "He's always happy when his job gets done."'
 "And that would be?" Mulder was tired of playing twenty
questions, tired of all this.  He almost wished they would just kill him
and get it over with.
 "Agent Scully is dead."
 "I don't believe you."  It couldn't be true, it couldn't be...but
he had smelled her perfume on the orderly...it *couldn't* be true...
 Taylor held up a thin chain of gold, a tiny cross gleaming in
the light.
 And the bottom dropped out from under Mulder's world and his sanity.
 "You son of a bitch," he shouted, trying to stand and failing.
His anger was directed at both of them, but his angry glare sought out
and found the orderly.  "What did you do to her?"
 "She took a late night swim in the Potomac," the orderly said
with a nasty smile.
 <Swim?  Oh, God, Scully's a navy brat; that wouldn't kill her.>
He knew that there was more to it than that, and he promised himself that
if it was the last thing he ever managed to do, he would kill both the
men standing in front of him.
 Except he couldn't even get out of the chair he was in.
 Taylor smiled, dropping the cross onto the table, shoving it over
to Mulder, whose hand closed over it in despair.
 "Why are you doing this?" he asked dejectedly, feeling tears
starting to form in his eyes.
 "You've crossed the wrong people, Agent Mulder," Taylor said,
leaning in, but careful to keep his distance.  "they want you out of the
way, permanently, but we can't do that quite yet."
 "Why the hell not?"
 "No one likes a martyr, Agent Mulder, so you need a change of
focus."
 It was beginning to make sense.  His double would be pushing him
out of the X-Files, effectively changing his focus and when the time was
right they would have him killed.  He could see that now. Scully had been
in their way; they had killed her.
 The metal of the cross bit into his hand where he clutched it but
he didn't care.  He felt like all the fight he had left in him had
drained away and that he would never get it back again.
 If they ever even gave him a chance to recover it.

**********
 

COMMITMENT part 11 by Jess Archibald

Day 21
Hoover Building
7:02 a.m.

 Assistant Director Walter Skinner had a headache.
 It had started last night when he got the phone call telling him
that Mulder and Scully had gotten involved in yet another fiasco.  With
the two of the, he wasn't very surprised, trouble seemed to follow them
everywhere, but they got their job done and did it well.  Or at least
they usually did.  lately, he sensed that something was coming between
them, their usually close, productive partnership somehow subverted.
Skinner was ready to bet that Mulder's willingness to set aside the
X-Files had something to do with it and was inclined to let thing take
their course with those two, purposely throwing mounds of paperwork at
them until things settled down.  he *wasn't* going to put them out in the
field, especially after that incident in Baltimore.  Unbeknownst to
Scully, he had had Mulder in his office the next day to chew him out for
not providing adequate back up for his partner.  Frankly, Mulder's
behaviour on that occasion had come as something as a shock as had his
request to be transferred to Quantico for a couple of months, and
Skinner's meeting with Scully had led him to believe that she was as
bewildered as he.
 *Had* been as bewildered.
 Various reports had come in from at least two different
precincts, ten field agents, and the lab, all indicating that Scully had
been forced into a van, which no one could find, but could be place near
the Potomac.  A canvass of the immediate area conducted shortly after
midnight had yielded blood stains on one of the more remote piers and the
lab analysis had indentified them as being of the same blood type as the
missing agent.
 Skinner's headache had gotten progressively worse after that.
 The hard part now was to notify Mulder.  Skinner had already
tired phoning his apartment, but had got his machine which meant that
Mulder and Shelton were on their way back to the office.  Skinner left
word out in the bullpen that he wanted to see Mulder as soon as he arrived.
 Pushing aside the newest batch of reprts on at least a baker's
dozen of investigations,  Skinner pulled off his glasses and placed them
on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to ward
off the headache that had descedned on him.
 He remembered having to deal with Mulder the last time something
had happened to his partner, how upset the man had been, when she
nearly died in a local hospital, Mulder had nearly thrown his career away
along with her life.  Skinner sincerely hoped that it wouldn't be the
case this time.  Fox Mulder was a damned good agent, even if he seemed to
forget that fact more often than not.  The Bureau needed him and his
talents; hell, Skinner sometimes thought they even needed those damned
X-Files as well.
 But Mulder needed Scully, that much was obvious to anyone who had
ever seen them work together.  Skinner wondered how well Mulder could
function on his own, when practically the whole Bureau had ostracized him.
 It looked like it was time to find out.

**********

 It had been so hard to sit in front of Skinner and nod his head,
say the right words at the right time, pretend like he was worried sick
about Scully, who was most likley at the bottom of the river if
everything had worked out right.
 Instead, he had concentrated on his arm, which really did hurt.
He supposed that a bit of pain was worth it in the long run, but it
didn't ease his discomfort any.  Plus, he hadn't slept well with that
idiot Shelton in the apartment all night long, ostensibly to make sure
"Mulder" was all right.  It had meant that he couldn't call Taylor to see
how things went, but he had successfully tucked away all his doubts and
was now ready to get down to the task at hand, namely getting Fox Mulder
the hell out of the X-Files so that he could finally be taken care of
once and for all.
 Personally, he didn't understand what all the fuss was about, why
Mulder hadn't been taken out of the equation months, if not years ago.
He didn't understand why one man had gotten so many people in an uproar
by investigating UFO sightings and the like.
 But he wasn't paid to understand, he was paid to deal with matters.
 And now he had free reign to do so.
 
*********

Day 22
Washington
11:56 a.m.

 Doug Shelton paced around the tiny room where he was supposed to
be listening to a wiretap on a local drug kingpin.  Everyone in the
Bureau, it seemed, had already taken a whirl at it to supplement the
investigation, although the assignment was officially Doug's, but he
couldn't bring himself to listen in on what movie the drug kingpin and
his cronies would be taking in that evening.  There were enough
redundancies in the setup that every word would be recorded and later
transcribed, so Doug wasn't too worried about not doing his job.  He had,
after all, sat up all night with Mulder again, of his own accord, trying
to reassure the other man.  The truly weird thing was that Doug got the
impression the *he* was more worried about the missing Scully than Mulder
was and that just *couldn't* be.
 Doug tried to analyse his reaction to Mulder's behaviour and
finally dicided to shrug it off as the man dealing with stress and worry
in his own manner.
 Nothing wrong with that, it was perfectly natural.
 Why then, couldn't he shake the feeling that he was missing something?

**********

Raven Crest

 They had started him on some sort of drug treatment shortly after
his meeting with the chief of staff last night.  It had left him so dazed
he couldn't remember his own name or why he had the strongest  conviction
that he should hate these people here.  They were only trying to help him
get past his own delusions.
 And then the drug wore off and Mulder remembered everything quite
clearly.
 The feeling of utter hopelessness and desolation returned along
with his memories.
 He still had Scully's cross, having kept it when he was bundled
back into his room, and he looked at it now, the clasp broken, speaking
silently of the violence that had befallen its owner.
 It gave him an anchor though, reminded him that he wasn't insane,
that all his memories of aliens, lunatics and mutant creatures had really
happened.  Slowly but surely his will to fight was coming back to him,
despite the fact that he had enough pharamaceuticals in him to supply a
total inventory for a major drug company.  He knooted the ends of the
broken chain and strung it around his neck, the cool touch of metal an
icy thread of reality.
 The problem was that he was still too weak to prevent them from
injecting him again and again, leaving him muddle headed and unconscious
for much of the time.  He was unsure how long he had been there now, time
had ceased to have much meaning.
 What he did know however, was that if he didn't get out of there
soon, he would die.

**********

Day 23
Baltimore, Maryland
3:47 p.m.

 The first thing she realized when she woke up was that she wasn't
dead after all.
 Heaven, she decided after a moment, would *not* (she hoped) have
Frohike there to greet her, and yet here he was.
 When he realized that she was conscious, he all but leapt out of
his chair, heading for the door to the room, throwing it open and calling
to someone outside.
 As he did so, she took stock of her surroundings, the off white
walls, the wooden dresser and night stand, closet, floral paintings, gray
shag carpeting.  In short, she wasn't in a hsopital.
 But there was a medicinal taste in her mouth indicative of
sedatives, so someone here had access to drugs.  So where exactly was she?
 The answer came in the form of Dr. Robert Wainwright, who bustled
in, wide grin on his face, twinkle in his eye as he surveyed her from the
foot of the bed.
 "Well, Dana, I did say you should come visit more, but I never
imagined I'd find you on my doorstep, shot and near drowned," he said mildly.
 She was confused and shot Frohike a puzzled look.
 "Don't you remember, Dana?" he asked hesitantly.  "After Langly
and I fished you out of the Potomac, you told us not to take you to a
hospital, that we should find Dr. Wainwright?"
 Digesting this information, she though, <*Frohike* saved my
*life*?  Mulder, you're going to owe me big for this one...if we ever
find you...>
 "I don't remember," she said honestly.
 Wainwright nodded his head.  "You were probably in shock at the
time.  Not to worry thought, I patched you up just fine.  You'll be out
chasing the bad guys in another few days..."
 "No time," she said, fighting to sit up.
 "Whoa!" Wainwright said, reaching out with one had to stop her.
"You have to rest, Dana, you know that.  I would think that I taught you
*that* much at least!"
 "Robert, my partner's life is in danger.  I can't wait---"  She
lost her breath momentarily from a spasm of pain centering on her right side.
 "That is precisely why you can't go rushing off," Wainwright
chided.  "The bullet passed thorugh your side, not hitting any organs or
doing much damage, but if you aren't carefull you could reopen the wound
and it's possible you could bleed to death..."
 "It feels partly healed already...how long have I been unconscious?"
 "Over sixty hours.  I had to keep you sedated, Dana, I know you
and once your friends told me some of what was going on, I knew you'd
leap right out of that bed and try to sort this whole mess out on your own."
 "Sixty hours?" she echoed.  "Frohike..."
 "We haven't found out anything, Dana.  Byers and Langly are still
running taps on the aprtment and your office...he placed a call to someone
named Taylor this morning, we're still trying to trace the call."
 "What did he say?"
 "He asked if you were really dead...they think you are."
 "What about everyone else?"
 "There's been a short press release...carefully worded of
course...saying that you're missing but tht they can't prove you're dead..."
 She felt sick at the idea of putting her family though all this
again, but she couldn't take the chance of letting them know she was all
right, not when Mulder's life was still at stake.
 "There's this too."  Frohike handed her a batch of black and
white photos which she took carefully.  They were of Mulder, or rather
his double, and another man, taken outside a cafe.  The other man looked
vaguely familiar but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before...
 "those were taken the afternoon before you were attacked...we
haven't been able to ID the other man yet, but Langly's working on it
now."  Frohike looked over at Wainwright.  "I should call and let the
others know she's awake."
 "You know where the phone is, young man."  After he left,
Wainwright looked down at her.
 "Robert," she began.  "I'm sorry that you've gotten involved in
this.  I never should have told them to bring me here..."
 "You did the right thing, Dana.  From what they told me, which
wasn't much, I must say, taking you to a hospital would have either cost
you your life or your partner's.  Besides, I was happy to help.  Nothing
this exciting ever happened when I taught medical school."  He smiled
slightly and patted her hand.  "get some rest, Dana.  If you behve
yourself, I may let you up and about tomorrow."  He held up a hand to
wave off any protest.  "That young man said it.  Eveyrone that poses a
threat to you thinks you're dead.  Nothing's going to happen if you get a
good night's rest."
 She wanted to argue, but she was still so damned tired.
 As she drifted off again, her thoughts went back to Mulder.
 <Hang on, Mulder.  Just keeping hanging on...>

******************
 

Commitment part 12 by Jess Archibald

Offices of the Lone Gunmen
4:02 p.m.

 Byers got off the phone and looked over at Langly.  "That was
Frohike.  Scully's finally woken up."
 "I was beginning to think she'd sleep through the rest of it,"
the other retorted lightly, but gave a silnet sigh of relief.  He hadn't
particularily liked having someone's blood all over him and was glad that
it had been worth it.  Besides which, he didn't want them to find Mulder
only to have to explain to him that his partner had gotten killed while
they sat and watched.  Langly didn't think it would go over too well.
 Byers went back over to his computer, frowning at it.  He was
having a little bit of trouble getting into the phone company's records
so that he could track the call their impostor had made that morning.  It
wasn't a big problem, but any delay cost them time they might not have.
 "Shelton's back," Langly said suddenly.  He was monitoring
Mulder's apartment now that the double had returned there after spending
a day in the X-Files office talking to Skinner abou the 'missing' Scully
and working in other divisions.  His hints on switching sections were
subtle, but to Langly they were as blatant as a faulty government cover up.
 Shelton had been over to the aparment quite a few times in the
last few days and Langly could tell that he was genuinely concerned with
how 'Mulder' was dealing with having his partner vanish on him again.
 "you'd better watch yourself, pal," Langly whispered as Byers
came over to join him.  "Don't mess with this guy."
 More than once, Shelton had broached the fact that he didn't
think Mulder was reacting the way he should be.
 "what were they thinking when they started this plan?"  Byers
asked.  "It's falling apart on them.  First Scully and now Shelton.  I
think that it just might backfire on them..."
 "But they've still got Mulder."

**********

Day 24
Baltimore
6:03 a.m.

 Dana woke up early and was out of bed and dressed before
Wainwright had the chance to protest.  She had found a change of clothes
that fit her, a long full skirt and rather puffy white blouse  more
suited to Missy than her, and upon discovering a mirror, she took a good
look at herself, managing not to wince.
 Her lower lip was still a little swollen from where the one
attacker had hit her, the lump on the side of her head still purple and
swollen, the bruise spreading to along the outside of her right eye.
 She looked and found that the bullet wound had been stitched up
with an expert hand, no sign of infection yet, but she would have to keep
watching.  It was the one thing that would slow her down, the wound still
hurting like hell every time she moved, but it couldn't be helped.
 She had lost her cross somehow, and with a bitter pang of regret,
she realized that it must be on the bottom of the Potomac by now.
 Frohike had left sometime during the night and when Wainwright
got up nearly an hour after her, he found her on the phone, having a
heated discussion with the LGM.  When she saw him, she terminated the call
and hung up.
 "You shouldn't be doing this, Dana."  he was looking at her with
a strictly paternal expression.
 "I have to do this."
 "You should have gone into a surgical program," he sighed,  "You
had the ability."
 "Robert, I'm happy with what I do," she replied, refusing to rise
to the old debate.
 "Your partner, this Mulder, is he worth this much heartache?
Wouldn't it be easier to just bring this out into the open?"
 "That would get him killed, Robert.  I can't let that happen.
He's my partner.  He's my friend.  Nothing with him is ever easy and that
includes getting out of the trouble he always seems to land him."  She
laughed, despair and fear behind the sound.  "They should have partnered
him with a baby-sitter, although he needs a doctor often enough..."  She
looked at him, eyes bright.  "Let's just say things would be a lot duller
without Mulder.  I can't just abandon him to this.  He was the only
person not to give up hope on me, I owe it to him to do the same."
 Robert smiled.  "Sounds like he's quite a character.  Wish I
could meet him."
 "When we find him, I'll make sure you do."  Her breath caught as
a sudden movement pulled on the wound.
 "Dana?"
 "It'll pass.  In case I forgot to say it last night, thanks for
helping me."
 He laughed.  "I'm an old man, I have to get my excitement
somehow."
 She managed to smile back.  "You're not that old."
 "Compared to what?"  he could tell he'd lost her again.  She was
staring at the stack of photos Frohike had left.
 "I know this man from somewhere, but I just can't remember..."
 Robert looked over her shoulder.  "That's Mark Taylor.  He runs
one of the psych institutions in Baltimore, Raven Crest, I think."
 "Are you sure?"  She sounded excited.  Taylor was the same name
the double had mentioned in his phone call.
 "Yes, I've had lunch with him a few times.  Do you really think
he's tied up with all this?"
 "I'm not sure yet.  May I use your phone again?"
 "Help yourself.
 "Langly?  It's Scully.  I know who the man in the photos is."

**********

Raven Crest
 
 Mulder was lucid again.
 He didn't know how long this respite would last, but he wasn't
counting on it being long.
 He was beginning to wonder if all these drugs they were pumping
into him would do any permanent brain damage; he wondered if he would be
alive long enough to care.
 It would, he figured, take the double a fair amount of time to
worm his way clear of the X-Files to avoid suspicion.  But without Scully
it would be an easier job.
 Without Scully...
 <Oh, God, Scully, what happened to you?>
 The urge to give into despair when he realized that she was dead
was almost too great to resist.
 But resist he did, as much as he was able, for as long as he was able.
 Until they came again and he was lost to the blackness that was
his only companion.

**********

Offices of the Lone Gunmen
12:05 p.m.

 "We've got a location, Scully, what more do you want?  An
invitation?"  Langly was glaring at her from his computer.
 She stared back, planting her hands on the table in front of her.
 "We don't know for sure if Mulder's there.  If *any* of us goes
within thrity feet of Raven Crest and Taylor finds out, Mulder is as good
as dead, Langly!"
 The argument had been raging for nearly forty minutes now.
Langly was sticking to his suggestion that they just go busting into the
place and demand to see Dr. Taylor.  Scully was being the realist and it
wasn't going over well.
 "We can't wait much longer, Scully!" he shouted back.
 "Dammit, I *know* that!" she yelled, fighting her temper, staving
off and attack of weak knees and dizziness.  Robert Wainwright had warned
her about pushing herself too hard and as usual she was too stubborn to
listen well.
 "What would you suggest then, Scully?" Byers asked,trying to
inject a neutral tone inot he discussion.  He gestured for her to sit
back down and after a moment she did, trying not to wince.  Langly
immmediately developed a guilty look and turned back to his computer
terminal.
 "We need some help.  I can't go into Raven Crest and neither can
any of you.  The impostor knew who you are so it's likely that Taylor
would as well."
 "Scully, where can we go for help?"  Langly asked in a quieter tone.
 "From what you've told me, I've got a good idea."

**********
 
Washington
9:31 p.m.

 Dana stood out in front of the building and hit the appropriate
buzzer, huddling deep into the coat she had borrowed from Robert's home.
As it turned out, the clothing bleonged to his daughter who hadn't lived
at home for years.
 "Yeah?" came a voice over the intercom and she bit back a sigh of
relief, casting a quick glance over at the van parked just up the street.
 It had taken a fair bit of aruging to get the LGM to agree to her
plan and they had only agreed on the term that they weren't letting her
go on her own.  It seemed that Langly and Frohike felt responsible f