Shred of Doubt (8/9)
Jo-Ann Lassiter and
Vickie Moseley  

Bill was at the door, carrying his seabag. "Well, Dana, I must say you know how to visit," he said with a frown. 

"Good sailin', Bill," Scully replied.  

Bill's frown morphed into a near smile. "You, too, Sis." As he was climbing into his SUV he called back to her. " Maybe next time you can come for a visit -- by yourself." 

"Don't hold your breath," Dana muttered as she headed into the house.  

Tara was in the kitchen, watching Matty shovel macaroni and cheese into his mouth with moderate success. She looked up and smiled at Scully. "Hey, Dana! Would you like mac and cheese or something a little more 'adult fare' for lunch." 

"Whatever you're having sounds fine to me, Tara. Is Mulder in the den?" 

"He was asleep a little earlier, but I thought I heard the toilet flush as I was fixing Matty's lunch. He's probably starved. I'm fixing the grown up people chicken salad on croissants, if that's OK?" 

"If you can make Mulder's on white bread, he'd appreciate it."  

She made her way into the den to find Mulder struggling with a pair of jeans. He had one leg pulled out the wrong way and it was making the task near impossible. 

"Mulder, hi," she said. "Here, can I help?" 

"Sure, why not," he said, flopping back on the mattress of the sofa bed. "I mean, I can't see anyone so I guess it shouldn't embarrass me that everyone, including your sister-in-law now knows if I have my boxers on backwards." 

Scully licked her lips. He was in a mood; that was obvious. "Your voice is sounding a little better," she commented as she pulled the jeans off the one leg, fixed the leg that was inside out and got both legs in the right holes. "There, you can take it from there, I think," she told him with a squeeze of his shoulder. "And for the record, you have on your grey boxers with the navy blue elastic with the fly in the front." 

"Hardy har har," he said flatly. "So, home for lunch, or just to mock me?" 

"Home for lunch and to pick your brain," she said, sitting next him as he pulled on a tee shirt. "But first, let's change those bandages." 

"Oh, yes, let's," he said with a tired sigh.  

She got the 'implements of torture' as he referred to them and set about cutting off the old gauze. "No peeking, remember," she told him. He dutifully kept his eyes closed and she took a moment to inspect his eyelids. "The swelling has gone down and they definitely aren't as red. I think they're coming along nicely, Mulder." She picked up the bottle of topical antibiotic and opened it, then touched his chin. "Tilt for me." His head went back and she put two drops in the corner of each eye. "Stay tilted till those go in," she advised. 

"I can't understand why I have to keep my eyes closed," he groused.  

"Infection, Mulder. And strain. You already have prescription eyewear, if you strain the optic nerve, you could cause more damage. Just do what your doctor tells you." 

He caught her hand and pulled her down on his lap. "You're my doctor," he said, nuzzling her neck. It felt so good to have him hold her, her own hands found themselves tangled in his hair. "My sense of smell is compensating for the lack of sight, Scully. You smell -- " 

"Lunch is ready," Tara called from the doorway and Scully shot off Mulder's lap as if lit from behind.  

"We'll be right there," Scully replied, tugging on his hand. 

"Um, Scully. The bandages?" he asked as he refused to budge from his seat. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Give me a minute here." Deftly she placed the gauze pads on his eyelids and wrapped more gauze around his head, securing the pads in place. "There. Did I catch your hair?" 

"No. Feels fine," he replied with a sigh. "Let's go have lunch." 

Tara and Maggie chatted merrily during lunch. Scully smiled and watched Mulder. He ate, he drank, but he seemed more withdrawn than she'd seen him in a long time. Her mother had been right -- he looked like a castaway, waiting for a ship to pass by and save him. 'I'm supposed to be that ship', she admonished herself. 

But it just wouldn't make sense to get into a discussion of their intimate lives with so many people around -- especially people watching their every move. As Mulder finished his sandwich and iced tea, she pulled on his hand. 

"It's stopped raining, and the sun's out. Let's go out back and get some fresh air," she suggested. 

He gave her a half shrug and allowed her to lead him out the back door onto the screen-enclosed patio. There was a chaise lounge and several lawn chairs set back against the wall, well out of the rain, and so were dry. Scully helped him into the chaise and adjusted it so he wasn't lying back so far. Then she sat on the end of it by his feet and took his hands. 

"So, you wanted to pick my brain?" he asked. 

She licked her lips. It was a safer topic and one she really wanted to pursue. "Yeah, I did." 

"Did the latest victim show any signs of escalation?" he asked. 

"No, it was identical to the last victims. Same bad flowers." 

"Did you check for magnesium?" he asked, rubbing his forehead just above the bandages. 

She stared at him a moment. "You think -- " 

"I think we might find trace amounts on the clothes. I doubt it will be in the wounds. He tossed a handful in my face, Scully. I think it's part of the 'act' he's putting on. I think he's . . . just practicing," he said with a sour look. 

She swallowed hard. "If I do find magnesium, it won't tie him directly to your attack, but it would give us circumstantial evidence to move the investigation in Kocin's direction," she mused aloud. 

Mulder snorted. "Scully, Kocin showing up at the San Diego station house with a signed and notarized confession wouldn't change the course of this investigation. Kresge is convinced Dodds is the guy. He won't allow anything else to change that, no matter how wrong he is." Mulder closed his mouth suddenly and Scully noticed. 

"Mulder," she said, taking his hand. "You know I'm not at all attracted to total assholes who treat me like a china doll, don't you?" 

He blanched and drew back his hand, but she grabbed it and held tight. "OK, that probably wasn't the best way to say that," she chuckled. "What I'm trying to say is -- I . . . love -- " 

"Dana, there's a phone call for you," Tara said brightly as she stood in the doorway. 

This time, Mulder successfully pulled his hand away and scratched behind his ear. "Better get that. It's probably Detective Know-It-All, having solved the case while we were wasting away the afternoon," he said with his usual sarcasm. 

"I'll deal with Kresge. You just think about where Kocin might have gone into hiding," Scully said as she rose to answer the phone. 

"I don't want you going after this guy alone," Mulder said loudly. 

"I won't," she tossed over her shoulder. "I've made friends in the Sheriff's Department," she muttered. 

** 

Mulder waited a full ten seconds after Scully's departure to assure himself that he was alone. Only then did he allow himself to replay their conversation. If he reacted badly -- and he knew there was a good chance he might -- he wanted no witnesses to his falling apart. 

Since Scully was talking to him again, it appeared that the ice age had passed. Mulder wasn't certain, though, that he didn't prefer it to the conflicting emotions her words had raised in him. He knew he could be an asshole, and Scully had had no qualms telling him on those occasions. And though he forced himself not to treat her like fine china, he didn't always succeed. 

Yet he got the distinct impression that he wasn't the one to whom she was referring. Which meant nothing until he knew for sure. Did she find the detective attractive? Maybe physically, but Mulder liked to think that he knew Scully better than that. While she might find Kresge's looks agreeable, she should see right through to the boorish nature of the man. But did she? It sure didn't look like it (back when he could see, he thought bitterly) to Mulder. 

And what about that near confession of love? Who does she love? He believed it was him, hoped it was him, but he didn't want to presume such a sentiment in case it turned out he was wrong. 

God, this was so hard! Scully never was very good at expressing her feelings through words. But words were all he could get from her now, and the ones she was using were scaring him to death. If he could have looked into her eyes, it wouldn't have mattered that she hadn't been able to complete her thought. If it was him she loved, he would have been able to see it. 

He couldn't see it, though, and the uncertainty was killing him. The possibility that Kresge was the man of her dreams, that it had been the detective for whom she had been about to profess her love, made his insides churn. 

He didn't want to think about it, but all he could do was think about it. If she didn't love him, if she left him, Mulder honestly didn't know what he would do, if he could survive. He only knew he wouldn't want to. 

He congratulated himself for his ability to toss out the wisecracks while what he really wanted to do was beg her to tell him that she loved him. Being a wiseass was very necessary. If it turned out that she *was* talking about Kresge (God forbid), his casual acceptance of that horrible fact might keep her at his side, at least as his F.B.I. partner. 

If she transferred to San Diego to be nearer to the detective, Mulder could transfer as well. After all, they'd been partners for seven years, and no one could back her up like he could because he knew her so well. Even Kresge shouldn't have any objections to that. If he did, he wasn't worthy of Scully's love. 

Oh, fuck it, who was he kidding? If Scully transferred to San Diego, he wouldn't follow. He wouldn't be able to bear watching her be happy with another man. 

"Well, you were right." Scully's voice breaking into his maudlin thoughts caused him to start. "That was Detective Kresge." 

"What…" Mulder had to clear the roughness from his throat. "What did he want?" 

"He thinks he's located Dodds in an apartment building just outside of town." He heard her sigh. "He's on his way to get me." 

Was she happy about this development? She didn't sound it. "Something wrong?" 

Scully drew in a breath, but didn't say anything for a few seconds. "No. Not really. John's just…" 

Mulder couldn't stop the sour taste hearing the detective's first name from Scully's lips brought to his mouth. "Just what?" he forced himself to ask softly. 

She barked out a laugh, something Mulder couldn't recall ever having heard come from her. "He just kind of…makes me crazy sometimes!" she said in what sounded to him like a flustered voice. What he couldn't figure out, what he needed to see her to figure out, was if it was a good flustered or a bad flustered.  

"Oh," was the safest thing he could think of to say. 

"Well, if we're going out to the scene, I need to change. If the setting's anything like the last time…" She stopped, and it was frustrating not to be able to see what she was thinking.  

"What… what happened the last time?" He couldn't help it; he needed to know if she was looking forward to this, with Kresge. 

"What?" She seemed surprised by the question. "Oh, nothing. My attire wasn't entirely appropriate for the setting." Her sigh was definitely on the perturbed side. "I need to dress the part this time." 

What the hell did that mean? Was she going to a crime scene or a ball? "Scully…" He waited, but she didn't respond. "Scully?" He let out a breath, exasperated. She'd left him. Just left him without so much as a "see you later."

God damn it, he needed to see her. Before she left he needed to know whom it was that she loved, and if Scully wouldn't tell him, he'd just have to see for himself. He reached for the bandages and then stopped himself.

Granted, he was about to do something stupid by removing the bandages, but he wasn't idiotic enough to push his luck by taking them off in bright sunlight.

Pushing to his feet, Mulder stood up - and felt totally adrift. He had no idea what Tara's patio looked like. Desperation, however, forced him into action. Using his hands and feet, he carefully made his way toward where he believed the door to be.

"Mulder, stop!"

The alarm in Scully's voice froze him to the spot. When he felt her take his arm, he felt a little of his tension ease.

"You were headed to the stairs." She moved him a quarter turn to the left. "The door's over here." She guided him into the house, the cool air chilling his sweat-soaked skin. "I shouldn't have left you like that -- sorry."

"It's okay," he said, as she seated him on his sofa bed.

"Look, I've got to go. If you need anything, call Mom." She pressed something into his hand. "Here's the bell."

"Scully, wait!" He tried to grab her hand but she was out of his reach.

"Can't, Mulder. Kresge's only a block away. I'll call you."

"Scully. . ." Hating how pathetic he sounded, Mulder reached up and unraveled the bandages Scully had laboriously wrapped around his head. He pulled off the gauze pads and opened his eyes, gasping when the light hit them. Quickly shading his eyes, he was elated that he could see the shapes and shadows of the room.

But he had no time to allow for his eyes to adjust to the light. Scully was leaving now, and he had to see for himself whether she was pleased or not to see Detective John Kresge.

He jumped to his feet, surprised to find that his balance was off. Yet he didn't let that or his fuzzy vision stop him as he fumbled his way toward the front door. Just before he reached the door, movement out the window caught his eye. Kresge was already there -- at least he assumed it was Kresge (who else would it be?); mostly, what he saw was a man-shaped blur -- and was coming around the car. He watched Scully run down the path and practically -- hell, there was no 'practically' about it! -- throw herself into the detective's arms.

Mulder was stunned. It appeared that she *was* pleased to see the detective. No matter how much he told himself that he'd prepared for this eventuality, he still couldn't believe it. And he couldn't watch any longer, as the two smaller blurs became one larger one.

He stood there, his back to the window, until he heard the car drive away. Slowly, he made his way back to the den, too shell-shocked to think of doing anything else. As he neared the room, his vision started graying, and the room began to waver even more out of focus than it already was. He found the bed by walking into it and falling face down onto it. He noted, without caring too much, that he was losing his vision, that removing his bandages too soon had strained, possibly damaged, his eyes.

His last thought before consciousness fled was that it didn't matter. He wouldn't really need his eyes if he didn't have Scully to look at any more.

** 

"Are you certain you're all right?" Kresge asked for the third time as he helped her over to the passenger side door. 

"Yes, I'm fine," Scully assured him through gritted teeth. "I'll have to speak to my sister-in-law about that crack in the sidewalk. If anyone else were to trip and fall, they could be asking for a lawsuit," she huffed. Her ankle throbbed a bit, but she knew she could walk it off. If the Detective let her out of the car during the raid, of course. 

"You know, John, there is a perfectly good rental car sitting in the driveway here. You could have just called me and I would have met you at the scene," she said with a plastered-on smile. 

"Oh, that's silly," Kresge dismissed her. "It's not that far out of my way and this way you don't have to worry about finding the place." 

Scully drew in a deep breath and tried not to explode. She wasn't happy about Kresge calling from his cell phone when he was just a block away from Bill's house, thus ensuring that she would accompany him instead of driving herself. She further wasn't happy that the Detective was being very cryptic about where they were going, telling her only it was a definite lead on Dodds whereabouts. And most of all, she wasn't happy that in her haste to get out to the damned car, she'd tripped on a chunk of sidewalk outside Bill's house and almost broken her neck, not to mention the heel of her shoe. Even halfway to his ship, her older brother had managed to put a damper on her day. It took the good detective to turn that damper into a full-blown thunderstorm. 

"You keep saying we're following up a lead," she said, trying to find a subject that didn't make her want to scream. "How did you come about this lead?" 

"Anonymous tip," Kresge said. "But we had a squad car drive past the place and a car registered to Dodds' last girlfriend was parked in the parking lot next to the building. She reported it stolen about five days ago." 

Scully chewed on that for a while. She was more and more convinced that Dodds was not the killer. Mulder's premise about the magnesium made her want to go back to the station and check the evidence locker for the victims' clothing, in the hopes of finding some of the substance embedded in the fabric and thus giving more credence to the theory that Kocin was the killer. But instead she was out chasing red herrings. 

"Did you have a nice lunch?" Kresge was asking. He'd probably been talking for the last several minutes but she'd found that it was fairly easy to ignore him. She really needed to start paying attention. 

"Um, yes. And I got a chance to change Mulder's bandages. His eyes are doing better," she said, looking out the passenger side window. 

"So, um, he'll be able to travel back home soon, then, huh?" Kresge asked casually. 

Scully shrugged. "As soon as the case is over, we'll both be going home," she replied. 

"What I mean is, well, he probably wants to get home as soon as possible. I mean, surely he has family back east who can take care of him while he's on medical leave. His parents, a sister or a brother -- a companion . . . " 

"His parents are both deceased as is his only sibling, a sister. There isn't a companion, whatever that means. So no, there really isn't anyone back there. He's fine where he is and my mother has helped us out before. When I'm ready to go, we'll go back." She turned to look at Kresge. He was licking his lips and appeared to be mulling over her comments. "Detective, you know that we are only out here for this case and this case alone," she said firmly. 

"Oh, sure, yeah," he quickly replied. "I mean, as soon as we bring Dodds in and the DA draws up the charges, well, then there is the paperwork, but that shouldn't take long. You'll be back for the trial, of course." He shot her a look. "I'm assuming you want to be out for the trial." 

She shook her head. "_If_ we find Dodds and _if_ we do, in fact, have enough evidence tying him to the murders that the DA can charge him -- yes, we will probably come back out for the trial." 

"We?" Kresge asked. "I mean, you're the only person who really needs to be here to testify. You performed all the autopsies. Agent Mulder really didn't add anything to the investigation." 

She started to object when Kresge turned the corner and pulled up to the curb. Scully noticed there were squad cars and she assumed more unmarked cars up and down the street. It had all the atmosphere of a law enforcement convention. But what caught her eye immediately was the Medical Examiner's wagon pulled into the parking lot. "You didn't say there'd been another murder," she accused. 

"There wasn't," he insisted and hurried around to open the door for her but she was already standing on the curb.  

As they walked toward the building, a uniformed officer hurried up to them. "Detective Kresge -- you're not gonna believe this! The killer struck again!" 

"Another woman? He must have been killing them here and moving the bodies -- " 

"No. Not a woman. This was a guy. Funny thing is, the stiff matches the description you gave us of the killer." 

"What?" Kresge blurted out and headed for the door of the building at a dead run.  

Scully rolled her eyes and calmly followed behind him. At least in Kresge's haste he'd forgotten to leave her in the car. 

** 

Detective Kresge chewed on his lip as he walked through the front door of the rundown apartment building. He wondered why Dodds had changed his M.O. and gone after a man this time. And the guy fit Dodds' description, too. Is that why Dodds had killed him? Because he reminded Dodds of himself? Kresge knew that serial killers sometimes harbored a self-loathing because of the atrocities they committed. Could Dodds be far enough gone that he'd killed someone that he thought was himself? 

Wow, what a freaky -- yet, brilliant -- hypothesis. For all Dana's talk of her partner's talent for catching serial killers, John'd bet Mulder had never come up with anything as inspired. He couldn't stop himself from giving her a self-satisfied glance.  

Not quite ready to let Dana in on the secret, he merely shook his head at the question in her eyes. Oh, he'd let her in on it eventually. Just not yet. He needed to savor the victory alone for a few minutes. 

As they approached the third floor landing, Dana asked, "Do you think it's Dodds?" 

He sighed to himself. So much for savoring. "Well, I'll tell you, Dana…" He lifted the crime scene tape for her, then slipped under himself. "I think -- " 

"Sure looks like Dodds," she said. There was an officer blocking his view, but not hers. John quickly stepped around the man to take a look at the victim. 

No! It couldn't be! He'd had it all worked out, how astounded she would be, how he'd throw Mulder's ideas back in her face, how Dana would leave the F.B.I. and join John as his partner -- both professionally and personally. 

And it was worse than he'd thought. For it wasn't just that Dodds was dead: Dodds was dead by the hand of their serial killer. The killer had gone to extra lengths with Dodds, as if he was throwing it back in Kresge's face for thinking that Dodds was the killer instead of who it really was. 

For a fleeting moment, Kresge's jealousy flared, and he wondered if Mulder had done this just to prove Kresge wrong. The detective quickly shook off that thought; for all of the man's many faults, John knew he wasn't a killer. Besides, Mulder was in no condition to take on someone of Dodds's height and weight. 

"Looks like Dodds really pissed off someone." Dana's observation brought his thoughts back to where they should be: on the case. 

John nodded absently, letting his gaze take in the full effect of the killer's fury. Dodds wasn't simply sliced and stuffed -- he was sliced, stuffed and fricasseed.  

"Magnesium," Dana announced, as though that should mean something to him.  

"What -- " he started to ask, then he remembered. "That stuff that was thrown into your partner's eyes?" 

She nodded. "After he… arranged the body, he spread it all over Dodds, then ignited it." 

John looked around the decidedly unburnt room. "Why didn't the whole place go up?" 

"Magnesium burns very hot, very bright, for a very short period of time. It's actually more of a flash than a fire." 

"So that's why he's not more burned than he is?" Upon closer inspection, John decided that Dodds was more singed than fricasseed, with most of the damage to the outside of his clothing and almost none to the skin beneath. 

"Exactly. Apparently Kocin wanted us to know this was Dodds and not some anonymous male he'd picked at random. He wants us to know he's the killer, and Dodds isn't." She glanced at the body. "Wasn't." 

"Who says that this Kocin is the killer?" John would be damned if he'd give an inch on her partner's choice of killer. "We have no evidence connecting him to the murders." 

His triumph was short-lived, as Dana scowled at him. "One," she ticked off on her finger, "he worked at the club. Two, he's a magician, and magicians use those cheesy-looking roses…" She beckoned to Dodds's body. "…which have been artfully 'planted' in various areas of Dodds's anatomy. Three, magicians use magnesium in their act, and four, we know for a fact that Kocin is in possession of magnesium." 

Was she for real? "What kind of evidence is that?" 

"Enough to get a warrant to pick him up for questioning." 

John shook his head, angry at what she was doing. "Oh, no. You're just out to get this guy because he got back at your partner for harassing him." 

At her look of astonishment, John decided to forgive her. She obviously wasn't even aware that that's what she had done. What a great partner she'd make! If she was that loyal to a loser like Mulder, imagine how fiercely she'd protect someone of John's caliber! 

Just as he was about to absolve her for her lapse in judgment, she whirled on her heel and strode over to the group of uniforms standing in the doorway. "Can one of you give me a ride to my car? It's only about ten minutes from here." 

What the hell was wrong now? John walked up behind her and grabbed her elbow. "That won't be necessary, boys," he told the men who he could see had had no intention of ferrying around his woman. "She's with me." 

Dana yanked her arm out of his grip. "*She* is not with you, Detective. *She* can find her own damned way back to her car," she said with a glance at the unhelpful men. As she stalked away, John gave the officers an 'I'm so whipped' grin and trotted after her. 

"Dana! Hey, come on, Dana. I'll give you a ride." 

She spun around to face him, eyes blazing and hair wild, and he couldn't believe how turned on that made him. "You know," she said, "I'd never quite grasped the concept of why police officers were called 'pigs.' After the last two minutes, I understand perfectly."  

Shocked speechless, he watched as her anger dissolved into resignation, and she sighed. "He was right. I didn't believe him, but Mulder was right about you. He said no amount of evidence would get you to change your mind about Kocin." John was confused when her gaze turned to pity -- for him. "Mulder may be blind, but he sees a hell of a lot better than you." 

When she walked away, John didn't follow. 

** 

Maggie heard the sniffle as she walked past the den. Oh no. Not on her watch. Fox Mulder had just recovered from a life threatening illness. Maggie understood full well what a cold or respiratory infection would do to him at this point. She barged in, expecting to rush him off to the nearest hospital . . . 

Only to stop when she saw the hunched shoulders shaking with grief and loss. Fox had his back to her and was crying.  

One thing Maggie had learned after all the years her daughter had been partnered with this man was his strong sense of dignity. She knew she hadn't been detected, so silently she withdrew and made more noise on her next entrance. She watched as the young man hastily wiped at his face. 

"Fox! Where are your bandages?" she demanded, her earlier reluctance to intrude now completely vanished in the face of his folly. 

"I took them off," he admitted, but his eyes were closed, his face defiant. "I . . . they itched." 

"I'm sure that's just the skin on your face healing. You had a nasty burn around your eyes. Here, let me look." 

Mulder sat down on the edge of the sofa bed and turned his face upward. Maggie's heart ached when she saw the dampness on his cheeks, but she went about her inspection, tilting his face toward the light coming from the window behind the sofa. "Well, they do look much better. Did you try to see anything?" 

"More than I should have," he said sadly. She looked at him again and this time he opened his eyes. The whites were still red and irritated, but those eyes were filled with a pain not entirely physical. 

"Fox, what are you talking about?" Maggie asked softly. "Is something wrong?" 

"It's . . . I . . . I saw . . . something," he said and blinked his eyes closed again. "I . . . it's her business and if he makes her happy, then I'm happy for her. I just didn't expect it to be . . . so soon." From beneath the closed lids another stray tear trickled down his cheek and he wiped at it angrily. 

"Fox, no, you'll hurt yourself," Maggie admonished. She pulled out a tissue from a nearby box and dabbed at his cheeks gently. "Not so rough," she whispered. When she was done, she sat down beside him on the bed. "Now, tell me what you're talking about. Who makes who happy?" 

He was already shaking his head, denying everything. "It's not important. Dana's happiness is all that matters." 

"Dana's happiness -- " Maggie started to ask, but stopped when she realized Fox had seen something she hadn't. "Fox, I want you to tell me exactly what happened. What did you see?" 

He sighed and shook his head as Maggie put her hand over his. "I saw her . . . she kissed him," he said in a voice just above a whisper. 

"Who? Dana? She kissed -- " 

"Kresge," Fox supplied and sighed again. "I saw her kiss him. Right out there on the sidewalk." 

Maggie frowned and shook her head in denial. "Fox, believe me, I don't know what you saw but you didn't see my daughter kissing Detective Kresge! That would never happen, not in a million years!" The very idea made her fight the urge to giggle. Dana, kissing that . . . chauvinist pig, to use a term from Maggie's younger days. "Are you certain that's what you saw?" 

Fox nodded his head emphatically. "She was in a hurry and he came around the car and then next thing I knew, she was in his arms -- kissing him. Right out on the sidewalk." 

"Impossible," Maggie intoned. "Simply impossible. It had to be something else." 

Fox snorted and stood up. He paced in front of Maggie for a moment. "Mrs. Scully, I don't know if Dana has mentioned anything about . . . us. Her and I. But, well, our relationship seemed to be . . . changing." 

"'Bout damned time," Maggie murmured quietly. Fox obviously didn't hear her comment, for he was still pacing and talking. 

"But now, well, I guess what I thought was a change was actually a different kind of change. One that I will have to accept -- " 

"Fox, wait just a minute. And for the record, no, Dana hasn't mentioned anything about the two of you. She doesn't have to. I've watched you both dance around each other for six years and quite frankly, I'm getting a little too old to sit on the sidelines much longer. I've always given my children room to grow, to make their own mistakes, but I'm growing just a little tired of waiting for one or the other of you to make a move! It's just . . . " She looked up and saw the very distinct expression of horror on the face of the man before her and knew she'd stepped over some pretty deep lines in the sand. "Fox, what would it take to make you understand -- " 

"Mrs. Scully, I know she cares for me. I get that. She wouldn't still be my partner if she didn't care for me. But on a personal level -- " 

"Personal level? Fox, are you totally oblivious?" Maggie blurted out and immediately regretted it by the shocked look she received. She sat there a moment, formulating her argument. "OK, here. I have something I want you to see." Leaving Fox to continue his circuit in the carpet, she hurried out to the living room and snatched up Dana's camera. She returned to find him pretty much where she left him. 

"Fox, sit down. Now, we probably shouldn't be taxing your eyes, but there is something I want you to see. Something that I think will serve to convince you that my daughter did not kiss that -- that man on the sidewalk today." She powered up the camera and started playing back the pictures a frame at a time. "Dana left me her camera so I could take a few pictures of Matty," she explained. "I wanted to make sure all the pictures were clear -- sometimes my hands shake when I use these new digital cameras. Anyway, I found this." She handed the camera to Fox. 

He sat down on the edge of the sofa bed and squinted at the small frame. Maggie hovered over his shoulder. "That is you, isn't it? Asleep there?" 

He squinted again and a touch of red colored his cheeks. "Um, ah, I -- my room was a smoking room and I . . . uh . . . " 

"Fox, you are two grown adults -- a little too grown, if you ask me. What you do on your own time is your business. But I ask you, why would my daughter take a picture of a man asleep in his bed if she thought of him as only a co-worker?" 

Fox opened his mouth, but no words came out. He squinted back at the picture. 

"If you ask me, she took that picture for herself. I have a few of Bill around in albums that I don't get out for the kids. Pictures of when he was home on leave, asleep on the couch or asleep on the patio. Pictures I would look at during the months he was at sea," she said, taking the camera back and powering it down. "So you see, I don't think you have anything to be worried about. She loves you, Fox. I know my daughter. She keeps everything so very close to her chest, but I can see it in her eyes every times she looks at you." 

"I haven't . . . the last few days, I've missed seeing her eyes," Fox said softly. 

Maggie reached down and squeezed his hand. "I know you have, dear. And she's missed seeing your eyes, too. But love is there, even when you can't see the proof. It's right there, in front of you all the time. You just have to know where to look." 

Mulder's head jerked up suddenly. "Kocin's dressing room," he shouted. 

"What?" Maggie asked, afraid he didn't understand what she was saying. 

"There were crates in Kocin's dressing room. It was right in front of us," he said, standing. "Where's the phone? I know where Kocin is! I have to call Dana right now!" 

** 

Scully gave her brother's address to the cab driver and settled into her seat, glad to be rid of Kresge. God! She couldn't believe that at one point she'd found him 'charming' and had even compared Mulder to him. 

She was ashamed to admit that until she'd tired of Kresge's 'chivalry' she'd found Mulder sadly lacking in the common courtesies department. Of course, her fascination with the detective lasted about a day and a half, or as long as it took her to discover that he saw her as a woman first and a colleague second -- if that. 

Mulder might be overprotective at times, but she knew he did it because he loved her, not because of her gender. God, she'd be glad to get back and see him, especially after the way she'd literally dumped him onto his bed and rushed away. 

As if to remind her that she hadn't been particularly solicitous of her partner since they'd arrived at Bill's, her ankle started to pulsate in time with her heart. Leaning forward to massage away the pain, her phone suddenly rang; when she saw who it was, the ache miraculously vanished. "Hi, Mulder." 

"Scully! I just remembered something." 

She had to smile. Mulder didn't even bother asking about Dodds. Her partner knew the bartender wasn't their suspect and had probably dismissed any memory of the man from his mind. "What?" 

"After his run-in with me, Kocin would probably think his apartment was under surveillance…" Scully read between the lines of what Mulder was saying: Kocin's residence *should* have been staked out, but wasn't due to Kresge's obstinacy. "…so he'd have to hole up somewhere else." 

"All right. What's the address?" 

"Well… I don't really know." 

Scully pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it a second before putting it back. "What do you mean 'you don't know?' How am I supposed to find it if you don't know where it is?" 

"I know where it is -- I just don't know the address." 

She sighed. "All right. Where is it?" 

"On our way to Bill's that first time, we passed by some old abandoned greenhouses set back from the highway -- " 

Scully looked out the window. "With a beat-up sign that said 'Rose Capital of the World' pointing to them?" 

There was a pause before Mulder said, "You remember it, too?" 

Scully chuckled. "No. I passed it about ten seconds ago." 

"Then you're right there!" Mulder said in an excited voice. "Scully, you need to go back!" 

She was about five minutes away from Bill's house and seeing Mulder, and she didn't want to go traipsing through some dilapidated buildings. "Mulder, what makes you think he's there? We didn't find any indication -- " 

"I can *feel* it, Scully. I don't know how, but I just know that's where he's hiding out." 

She pressed the mute button while she instructed the cabbie to turn around and go back to the greenhouses. After he'd acknowledged her, Scully took Mulder off mute. "Okay, I'm headed back." 

"Just the two of you? Scully, I really think you should call for backup. This guy's no amateur -- at magic or at killing." 

Scully looked down in guilt. There was no way she was calling Detective Archie Bunker -- he'd made his position on Kocin very clear and had effectively put the kibosh on her receiving any backup for anything having to do with the magician. Which left Sheriff Ramirez. 

"I'll call for backup as soon as I hang up, okay?" 

"Okay." He sounded like a great weight had been lifted off him, and she felt like two cents for the way she was deceiving him. "Call me after. And Scully? Be careful. This guy didn't get away with murder for this long without having a few smarts." 

"I will." Just then, the cab's squawk box sparked to life. "I gotta go now, Mulder," she said hastily, then cut him off in mid-"Scully." God, she didn't know how he'd done it in those early days -- lied through his teeth to her. She only knew that her dishonesty made her feel like the lowest form of life, and she never wanted to feel like that again. 

The cab pulled off the highway and onto an unpaved side road. Scully had the driver stop at a bend in the road, about a hundred yards from the buildings. He gave her a dubious look. "You sure you want to get out here?" 

Scully was sure she didn't. The late afternoon sun barely reflected on the cracked and broken windows of the dirt and grime-encrusted buildings. The surrounding area was overgrown with weeds and bushes, interspersed with saplings from the large oak trees that dotted the countryside. Just a quarter mile from the highway, there was no sound, no hint of the traffic such a short distance away. 

Giving the driver a baleful look, she nodded. "I'm sure." She paid the fare and tip, then opened the door. 

"You want me to wait?" he asked. 

Did she ever. But this was no place for an innocent. "No, thanks," she told him. "Someone will be coming to pick me up." She hoped. 

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." Not half a second after she'd closed the door; he made a u-turn and sped off. 

Scully watched his taillights with regret. What the hell was she doing here alone? She was beginning to believe that she, not Mulder, was the one with the death wish. Shaking off that thought, she found the sheriff's card in her pocket and dialed his number. 

"I'm out at a scene on the other side of town from your location," he told her after she'd explained the situation. "But I'll see if I can get a car dispatched to your location. Can you hold for a minute?" 

"Sure. No problem. I appreciate this, Sheriff Ramirez." 

"It's no trouble, Agent Scully. Hold, please." After about 30 seconds, he was back on with her. "I'm sending Deputy Colter out there. He's the closest car, but he's still a good 20 minutes away." 

She looked at the foreboding buildings. Creepy didn't even begin to describe them. "Okay. Thanks, Sheriff. If you can spare any other cars, I'd appreciate it." 

"Agent Scully, if you don't mind my asking… why are you calling the sheriff's department in on this? Isn't this an FBI investigation?" 

"We're assisting the local P.D. And the investigator on the case is of the opinion that this suspect is not worth his or his department's time and trouble. And with my partner unable to assist me…" 

"Right. I understand. We'll get out there as soon as we can." 

"Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate it." 

Anxious though she was to catch Kocin so she and Mulder could go home, she was not foolish enough to go after him by herself. She'd just perched on a rock to wait for her backup when a woman's scream from the direction of the greenhouses pierced the silence.

**end of part 8**