From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 29 Mar 2006 13:01:50 -0000
Subject: NEW: The Mindhunter by Vickie Moseley
Source: direct
Reply To: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
Title: The Mindhunter
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Medium/The X-Files crossover. The
Phoenix area District Attorney's resident psychic,
Alison Dubois, is about to make the acquaintance of
the FBI's top profiler and his enigmatic partner.
None of them will ever be the same.
Category: crossover, X
Rating: good for all
Disclaimer: (Crossovers make these things so
complicated). Thanks to Kelsey Grammar, also
known as Dr. Frasier Crane for Alison Dubois and
her family and co-workers. Thanks to Chris Carter
for Mulder and Scully and seven wonderful years
plus some episodes later. Thanks to me for putting
them all together, stirring gently for five minutes
and 'voila'! No copyright infringement intended in
any case.
Written for the Virtual Season 13 Crossover
Special.
Archive: Two weeks exclusive on VS 13 and then
everywhere
Dedication kisses to: Martin, who bugged the
bejeebees out of me until I finally in desperation got
this baby written -- back at ya, big guy! Lisa, who
did such wonderful artwork and made me go back
and fix the ending. DonnaJ, Randi, Sally, T (and
baby Erin) and all the VS producers and writers and
artists and betas old and new who have kept the
dream alive.
Comments: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
The Mindhunter
Dubois Household
February 27, 2006
1 am
The television screen is dark, then suddenly springs
to life.
"Tonight . . on the Mindhunter," a deep throated
voiceover booms through the speakers. "The FBI's
top Profiler comes face to face with the one man
who could break his near perfect case-solved ratio .
. . maybe forever -- "
A series of pictures flash across the screen.
A man in very nice charcoal suit, his dark hair
shining in the sun.
A petite woman with red hair looking up at him and
smiling.
A close up of a satellite dish and a television set.
A body bag lying in an alley, partially unzipped.
Flashings zooming in to reveal different faces --
Devalos, Scanlon, Alison.
Now in motion, the screen shows a hand zipping
closed the body bag, camera honing in on the face
of the body --
Joe Dubois.
She bolted up so fast, she shook the bed.
Breathless, she gasped for air. Slowly coming back
to her surroundings, Alison Dubois looked over at
the other pillow and found it empty.
Most people had dreams at night. They dreamed of
the cars they wanted to buy or of stairways that led
to nowhere. They dreamed of flying through the
clouds without benefit of any devices. Sometimes
they dreamed of loved ones long ago absent from
this earthly plain. Psychologist told them that their
dreams were working out their daily stress and
strife. But Alison wasn't most people
Alison's dreams had an unnerving propensity to
come true.
Wide-eyed and frantic, she crawled across the bed
and off the other side. Pulling open the first door
she came to, she flicked on the light and found the
bathroom devoid of life. She absently turned off the
light and hurried down the hall.
In the living room, the television droned on. She
found him asleep on the sofa, remote clutched
possessively in his hand.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Alison crept around the
sofa to kneel in front of it. Carefully she extracted
the remote and clicked off the television, plunging
the room into near darkness. She reached a hand up
and brushed the longish hair off her husband's
forehead. In that moment, she was able to banish
the terror of seeing him dead in the body bag in her
dream. He was alive and warm . . and completely
asleep.
"Joe? Joe, honey, come to bed," she cajoled softly.
He awoke slowly, smiling when he saw her face.
"Whatimizit?" he slurred, rubbing the back of his
hand across his sleep moistened lips.
"Ah," she looked over at the VCR clock. "Quarter
after one," she whispered low, so they didn't wake
the girls asleep in their rooms.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I got so interested
in that show, I must have dozed off."
"This late?" she asked as he got to his feet,
scratching parts he made a point never to scratch
when their three daughters were in attendance.
"Yeah, the game ran late, so they moved the airtime
back."
"Was the show any good?" she asked, glad to get
her mind off her dream and onto more mundane
tasks, like helping her half-asleep husband to bed.
"Yeah, yeah it was. Some new crime drama. This
was the pilot. I think it's gonna be a good one.
Comes from a different angle."
"Crime drama," she said dryly. "Gee, I'll have to
pencil that one into my viewing schedule."
"Hey, maybe it will give me some insight into your
job," Joe said, stopping long enough next to the bed
to pull off his tee shirt.
She crawled back across the covers to her side of
the bed and lay down. "So, what is this next Emmy
award winning series called, anyway?" she asked
with a yawn.
"Mind . . . something or other. I can't remember.
It's on again tomorrow night." He got under the
covers and punched his pillow a few times before
sinking into its surface. "Mind . . . hunters! That's
what it was, Mindhunters." He leaned over and
kissed her lips. "'Night, sweetheart."
He didn't see the look of worry on her face as he
drifted off to sleep.
Phoenix Arizona District Attorney's Office
February 27, 2006
9:00 am
Alison smiled at the administrative assistant as she
paced outside her boss's office. District Attorney
Manuel Devalos was a busy man and that morning,
he appeared swamped.
"Maybe I'll just go to my desk -- " Alison started to
say to the woman when Devalos looked up and saw
her through the glass wall. With a sharp jerk of his
hand, he motioned for her to come in.
"Alison, I was just about to call you. Have a seat,"
he offered, pulling files from stacks and arranging
them at the front of his blotter. "We're just waiting
for Lee, he should be here in a minute."
Alison nodded. She was used to working with
Detective Lee Scanlon, the only other person DA
Devalos seemed to rely on almost daily. As if on
cue, and carrying a styrofoam cup and half a
chocolate iced cake donut, Scanlon awkwardly
opened the door and joined them.
"Sorry. Missed breakfast. And dinner last night,
for that matter," Scanlon said apologetically. "Hey,
Alison."
Alison smiled in the Detective's direction and tried
to ignore the donut, which seemed to be calling her
name. Or was that the District Attorney?
"Alison," he said, obviously not for the first time.
"There, finally," he muttered as she turned to face
him. "There was a murder last night. Lee was
called out to the scene." Devalos handed a file
folder over to her and she started to leaf through it.
At a few of the pictures, she had to turn her head.
"I know, I'm sorry to pull you in on this so early in
the morning," Devalos sympathized. "A few hours
ago, we got a call from Washington DC. The FBI
put out a bulletin requesting information on any
crime that matched certain criteria. This one was a
dead ringer, if you'll pardon the expression."
"The vic was strangled, but not before being
sexually assaulted, object rape from what the ME
could determine at the scene," Scanlon reported
from his notes. "Death occurred between 10:00 and
midnight. ME further suggested the murder took
place elsewhere and the body was dumped in the
alley."
The pictures shook in her hand as she flipped
through them again. "Did you say the body was
found in an alley?" she asked.
"Yeah," Scanlon said, hesitantly. "You gettin' vibes
on this one already?"
Alison shook her head. "I don't . . . no. It was . . .
Joe was watching this show last night, I think I
heard it and incorporated part of it into my dream.
It's nothing," she said unsurely.
Devalos was not as easily persuaded. "What,
exactly, did you see in your dream, Alison? You
know you can trust us not to belittle your abilities."
She looked up and smiled. "No, no, it's nothing like
that. I just -- it seemed like a television promo for a
show, a series. The name of the series was The
Mindhunter. I got some flashes; saw a body in an
alley. Then I woke up and Joe wasn't in bed yet. I
went out to find him and he had fallen asleep
watching this pilot for a new series called
Mindhunters. See, it's all coincidence."
"Your husband watches those cheesy crime
dramas?" Scanlon scoffed. "Get the poor guy a
sports package, for cripes sakes!"
Devalos smirked, but covered it quickly. "The FBI
is sending some agents to go over the report,
examine the crime scene. I know you have a station
wagon and since I really didn't have anything else
lined up for you this morning -- "
"You want me to pick them up from the airport?"
Alison suggested.
"See, I'm convinced you're psychic," Devalos joked.
She tilted her head and gave him a stern expression,
which just made him chuckle. "Yes, if you don't
mind, I would like you to pick them up. They're
flying into Sky Harbor, American Airlines Flight
42, arriving at 11:21 am."
"How will I know them?" Alison asked.
Scanlon snorted beside her. "They're FBI. You'll
spot 'em a mile away!"
"Just hold up a sign saying 'District Attorney'.
They'll find you," Devalos said, ignoring Scanlon's
snide comment. "Besides, Alison, you're psychic --
remember?"
American Airlines Flight 42
25 air miles out of Phoenix
Fox Mulder lightly touched his partner's cheek,
where it rested on his shoulder. Immediately, Dana
Scully jerked her head up and looked around.
"Easy, Scully. They just put on the seatbelt sign,"
Mulder cooed.
"Sorry," she said, wiping at the corner of her mouth.
She looked down at his shoulder, noticing the
telltale spot of wetness. Apologetic eyes searched
his.
"It's due at the dry cleaners when we get back home,
anyway," he assured her. "Besides, you haven't
drooled on me in at least 6 hours," he teased.
"If you didn't hog both pillows," she shot back,
straightening her jacket. "Did you get a chance to
read through the fax we got from the Phoenix PD?"
"Yeah. I'm sure this is our guy, Scully. Ligature
marks are consistent with shipping twine, blunt
object rape, blind alley dump -- "
"So we're dealing with a serial. But Mulder, do you
really think this guy is one of the Adams from the
Litchfield Experiment?"
"You saw the PCR on the scraping from the victim's
fingernails in Denver, Scully. You told me it
showed 56 chromosomes."
"Eve 6 told us the Adams were all dead -- that she,
Sally Kendrick and Eve 8 were the only ones left."
"Gee, Scully, I was pretty sure you knew the male
from the female of the species -- PCR wise at least.
And might I remind you, the woman you're talking
about was wearing the latest in straight jacket
apparel when we interviewed her," Mulder
countered.
She shot him a glare. "If we are dealing with one of
the Adams, I just can't figure out why he's surfaced
all of a sudden. Cindy Reardon and Teena
Simmons killed their fathers almost 12 years ago.
The original Litchfield children are in their late
forties by now."
"Maybe he was in an institution, like where we
found Eve 6. Maybe he recently got out," Mulder
suggested. "All I know is that we're not more than
12 hours behind him and that's as close as we've
been in weeks. I want to nail this bastard, Scully. I
want to solve this case so we can go home and sleep
in our little bedroom and not have to face seeing
more pictures of strangled bodies in alleyways for a
while." He rubbed the back of his neck. She
twisted so she could massage his shoulder.
"You came back too soon," she chided. "You
should still be on medical leave."
"I have a very forgiving personal care physician,"
he said with a ghost of a smile.
Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport
11:25 am
Touchdown was smooth and deplaning was
accomplished with a modicum of shuffling. Mulder
led the way through the concourse toward the
baggage claim area.
"I'll grab the bags, you hit the Lariat counter,"
Scully advised as they approached their carousel.
"No need, the District Attorney said he was going to
send someone to pick us up."
"Wow, hospitality," Scully murmured. "There's
your two-suiter," she pointed and he reached for his
bag. He spotted her bag and snagged it from the
track.
"Now, who looks like an employee of the District
Attorney's office?" he asked, searching the crowd of
recent flyers and waiting family members.
Scully spotted the sign and pointed. "I think that's a
likely candidate," she said.
"And they said you couldn't cut it in the field," he
teased.
"Who said?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"They. You know 'they'?" he replied with a grin.
He shifted the luggage and nodded toward the area
where the woman was holding a white piece of
paper with the words DISTRICT ATTORNEY in
bold red marker.
"I sure hope you're our ride," Mulder said,
extending his hand to the woman.
"I sure hope you're with the FBI," she replied with a
nervous smile. "Alison Dubois. I work with DA
Devalos." She reached for each agent's hand in
turn.
"Fox Mulder. And this is my partner, Dana Scully.
It's really nice of you to give us a ride to the office."
All the while Mulder was shaking her hand, Alison
had a strange look on her face. She glanced over at
Scully and then back at Mulder. Alison just kept
staring at them. Flashes of her dream came back in
full force along with a jumble of other images that
left her almost dizzy. She shook her head to clear
her thoughts.
Scully looked from Alison to Mulder. "Ms.
Dubois? We'd really like to get started, right,
Mulder?"
"Absolutely," he agreed. "Lead on, Ms. Dubois."
"OK," Alison said reluctantly. "My car is just over
in short term." They arrived at the car and Alison
opened the back to allow Mulder to stow the
luggage. "Excuse the car seat," she apologized.
"No problem," Scully said with a smile. "My niece
is still in one. I have to borrow it when I take her
anywhere."
Alison glanced over at Mulder sitting next to her in
the front passenger seat. She had a very clear
picture of Mulder crouched on the floor making a
funny face to a tiny blond girl and holding the same
child, now very sick, on his shoulder. "Do you have
children, Agent Mulder?"
Mulder choked and looked back at Scully. "Uhh,
no, no I don't. I'm not married," he said, a faint
blush coloring his cheeks.
Alison frowned, shook her head again and put the
car into gear, backing out expertly. "Oh, I thought -
- " she stopped and swallowed. "I'll take you to DA
Devalos's office. Det. Scanlon is there and he can
take you to the police station and by the crime
scene, if you want."
"I would like to go to the morgue," Scully said from
the back seat.
"Det. Scanlon can take you over there. It's not far,"
Alison assured her.
"So, Ms. Dubois, what exactly do you do in the
office?" Mulder asked, settling in his seat.
Alison licked her lips nervously. "Oh, this and that.
I was in law school when I met the District Attorney
and he persuaded me to come work for him part-
time."
Mulder looked over at her. "And Mr. Dubois?
Does he work for law enforcement, too?"
Startled, Alison glanced over at him. "Oh no. Joe's
an engineer. He works for an aerospace firm in
Scottsdale."
"Hear that, Scully. There but for the grace of J.
Edgar -- "
Alison looked at Scully in the rearview mirror. "I
don't understand."
"Scully has a degree in physics," Mulder explained.
"But she took a left turn and became a medical
doctor."
"I thought you were an FBI agent," Alison refuted,
shaking her head.
"I am. I turned right not long after the left turn. I'm
a forensic pathologist," Scully clarified.
"And you're a profiler?" Alison asked, making
another quick glance at Mulder.
"Was a profiler, yes. I left that division several
years ago."
"But if you aren't a profiler now -- ?" Alison was
becoming irritated with the whole conversation.
"Scully and I are in a division unto ourselves. We
specialize in some rather unusual crimes."
"Unusual, how?" Alison prodded.
"Unexplained," Mulder countered. "Cases that
normally would be closed without resolution. We
use -- a different approach, if you will, to get the
answers that solve those cases."
"I'm sorry, I thought this was a serial murder case,"
Alison reasoned.
"It is, on the surface. But there was some evidence
left at one of the crime scenes that leads us to
believe there is something unusual at play here."
"You keep using that word -- unusual. What
exactly do you mean?"
Mulder turned back toward Scully, who sat back in
her seat with a superior expression on her face. No
help there. "Actually, Ms. Dubois, we aren't at
liberty to disclose exactly why we think this case is
unusual. At least, not at this time."
Alison gave him a dubious look and shrugged.
"Well, be sure to let me know when you find the
right time."
Phoenix Police Department Conference Room A
February 28, 2006
6:45 pm
Mulder rubbed the back of his neck again as Scully
tossed another set of test results into the folder on
the desk.
"So, don't keep me in suspense," he begged.
"There are 56 chromosomes in the sample," she said
flatly. "But Mulder, I'm beginning to think this isn't
one of the Adams."
He frowned, but listened.
"I had the Whiting Institute for the Criminally
Insane send me Eve 6's PCR. I compared it to the
sample we have from 'Adam'. Mulder, they are
similar, but it's not a complete match."
"Would you expect it to be?" he asked, sitting
forward.
"Yes, pretty much. But there's more. I asked for
the PCRs for both Teena and Cindy and then I
compared all four results. Mulder, the sample from
this Adam is different from Eve 6, but it's actually
closer to Cindy and Teena."
Mulder sat back in his chair, eyes wide. "You mean
Sally Kendrick didn't just give the world two little
clones -- "
"She gave more," Scully completed his thought.
"We're not looking for a man in his 50's. We're
looking for a young man in his early 20s. We're
looking for a sibling of Teena and Cindy."
Mulder closed his eyes and leaned back. "That
would explain how he overpowers the victims." He
sat forward suddenly. "Scully, that would give us
an idea of what he looks like, too, wouldn't it?
Wouldn't he have the same facial features as the
girls?"
Scully thought about that for a moment. "Most
likely, yes. We never saw a picture of the Adams.
If you remember, the picture Eve 6 had on her
'family album wall' was just the Eves. But I guess
you could assume that he'd have similar facial
features."
"Well, I may end up the ass, but I'm going to get
someone back at the Bureau to have a composite
worked up using Teena and Cindy as the basis --
young male, 22 - 25 years old. Then I think we
could find time to grab a bite to eat, because I'm
starved."
Dubois Household
6:45 pm
"No, no, no, no, a thousand times no!" thirteen year-
old Ariel Dubois reiterated for her younger sister.
"You can not use my markers! Those are for my art
class and if you use them, you'll lose the caps just
like you did last time I let you use them!" To drive
home her point, the willowy blond flipped a pigtail
behind her shoulder and turned her back on her
sister.
Bridget, all of eight years old and built like a small
bulldozer, lowered her eyelids and scowled. "I did
NOT lose the caps! I put them in the bag and YOU
knocked the bag off the table with your stupid hair
stuff and they all fell out!"
"Girls, girls, please, could we just once get through
homework without bringing in the Fifth Armored
Division?" Joe Dubois pleaded. "Bridget, don't we
have other markers around here somewhere so you
wouldn't have to borrow your sister's?"
"Where's Mommy?" the little girl whined. "She
bought new markers last Saturday and I can't find
them."
"Mommy said she'd be a little late," Joe said with a
sigh. He finally had the dishwasher filled and
closed the door to it with a satisfying click. The
machine hummed happily.
"She's always 'a little late'," Bridget moaned,
plopping down at the kitchen table, chin in her left
hand, full on pout firmly in place.
"Mommy has an important job," Ariel said
scornfully.
"You didn't say that when she was late picking you
up from play practice the other night," Bridget shot
back angrily.
"I was only five minutes late, you just wanted to get
home to call your friend Elisabeth," Alison said
calmly, coming in from the front hall. She walked
over, kissed Joe briefly and then opened a drawer
under the kitchen countertop. "Here, a new box of
markers, the washable kind. But remember -- "
"Don't let Marie get them, she colors on the wall,"
Bridget recited from rote. "Thanks, Mommy! I'm
glad you're home!" She hugged her mother for a
second and then ran off with her prize.
"You need to start leaving notes where you hide
things," Joe lamented.
"I'm sorry. I really thought I'd get home on time
tonight, but we have these FBI agents working on a
murder case -- "
"I saw it on the news. Said it was a burglary but
there was no forced entry. They think the murder
took place at the guy's house, but the body was
found in an alley. Said the murder victim was a
body builder and too big to be subdued and
strangled. They were saying there's speculation that
it was more than one person who committed the
crime," Joe said thoughtfully.
"Well, they're wrong. It was definitely one guy.
One of the agents did the autopsy. She found
scrapings under the victim's fingernails. And they
found fingerprints in the victim's house."
"So they can catch this guy pretty quick then, huh?"
Joe asked. "I mean, if they have fingerprints and
all."
"You would think," Alison said, digging through
the refrigerator and coming up with a plastic
container of leftovers. "You made stew?"
"Dinty Moore kindly compiled the ingredients. I
heated it up," Joe confessed. "So why wouldn't they
be able to catch this guy?"
"Because the prints might belong to a completely
innocent friend of the murder victim. Because this
isn't the first killing like this and they haven't caught
the guy yet. And because those two FBI agents are
. . . downright spooky," Alison rattled off. "Are we
out of diet cola?"
"I saved you one, bottom shelf."
"I knew there was a reason I married you," she
smiled contentedly.
"Now, don't get all offended, but when you, of all
people, call someone else 'spooky' -- "
She frowned at him and raised an eyebrow. "OK,
maybe not spooky. But they are hiding something,
I just know it."
"Alison, they're FBI agents. Their business is to
hide stuff," Joe remarked, joining her at the table.
"What stuff are they hiding?"
"They're having an affair. I'm positive about that
one."
"You got a vibe?"
"No. I could tell by the way he leaned into her
when he was talking to her. And he puts his hand
right here," she pointed to the small of her back,
"every time they walk together."
"Oh, yeah, well, with hard evidence like that . . . "
"Maybe not just an affair, either. I think they've
been together for a long time. And he said he
doesn't have any kids, but I got a flash of him
buckling a little girl in a child seat."
"Maybe she has kids," Joe suggested.
"No, she has a niece."
"Is one or both of them married?"
"I don't get that impression. But if they're single,
why would they hide an affair?" Alison drained her
cola and sat back, crossing her arms.
"Maybe because they work together. That's a big
no-no in many office settings," Joe theorized.
"Besides, maybe they were simply being
professionals."
"I think there's more to it than that," Alison she said
reluctantly. "I saw them, together, in a dream last
night."
Joe cocked his head. "You didn't tell me about this
one."
She shrugged. "There wasn't much to tell. It was
like a promo or something and then I woke up and
you were watching the show I was dreaming about.
I didn't think anything about it."
"Well, give them the benefit of a doubt, until you
have something concrete to go on," Joe offered.
LaQuinta Inn,
10:45 pm
Mulder was in the shower when the call came.
Scully ran into the adjoining room to answer the
phone and tried hard not to pant into the receiver. It
was the Phoenix PD. "Yes, Det. Scanlon, what can
I do for you?"
Mulder walked out of the bathroom to find the
bedroom deserted. He heard Scully talking and
followed into the adjoining room just in time for her
to end the call.
"Yes, we'll be waiting," she said and returned the
receiver back to the base.
"Don't tell me -- " Mulder began.
"Dress fast, Scanlon's on his way. They found
another one. And Mulder, this time he didn't dump
the body in an alley."
14576 Mesa Drive
Scottsdale, AR
11:45 pm
The deceased, Andrew Juarez, was the former
captain of the varsity football team at his college.
Scully stood quietly talking to the ME while Mulder
surveyed the scene.
"You say his wife found him like this?" Mulder
asked Scanlon.
"Yeah. She works nights -- he works days. Her
story checks out."
Mulder looked at the body with ligature marks and
all the signs of strangulation, then over to the tiny
dark haired woman sobbing in the arms of a
neighbor. "Yeah, I believe her," he said. "What's
her name?"
Scanlon checked his notebook. "Anita. Anita
Juarez. They've been married two years, no kids."
Mulder only half listened as he walked over to the
woman. "Mrs. Juarez, I'm very sorry. I'm Special
Agent Mulder with the FBI. Do you think you
could answer a few questions?"
The woman looked up at him, grief evident in her
face. "If it will catch the monster who did this, I'll
answer every question you have," she said tearfully.
Mulder led her off to the sofa and they talked in
quiet tones.
Alison moved nervously around the evidence team
until she spotted Scanlon.
"Sorry about this, but Devalos wanted you out
here," the Detective apologized.
"It's OK. Joe's getting kind of used to it," Alison
muttered. She glanced over at the body on the
floor, noticing it was in a state of undress.
Suddenly, she had a flash of a television screen. On
the screen, she saw a man going to the door,
answering it. He let someone in and started toward
the living room. Suddenly, the visitor pulled
something out of a case -- a length of twine. He
walked up behind the man, who was pointing to a
projection television. The visitor lashed out,
wrapping the twine around the man's neck --
"I think I know who did it," Alison said aloud.
Scanlon hurried over to her, taking her by the arm.
"Did they have a TV repairman here recently?" she
asked, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the
room.
Mrs. Juarez looked over at Alison. "We had
satellite TV installed last week. Andy wanted to get
all the baseball games this season. They had a
special."
Mulder rose and walked over to Alison and
Scanlon. "What makes you think this has
something to do with a TV repairman?" he asked.
Alison glanced over at Scanlon and then back at
Mulder. "I, uh, I just -- "
"Ms. Dubois, could we have a word, privately?"
Mulder asked formally. "Outside?"
Scanlon held his hands up in surrender and Alison
reluctantly followed Mulder out of the house.
"OK, spill," Mulder ordered as he leaned against the
side of Scanlon's car.
"I don't know -- "
"You can cut the 'I'm just a poor law student
running errands for the DA' act. You had a vision
or hallucination in there. I watched you. You
zoned out. Now, what the hell is going on?" he
demanded.
Alison bit her lip. "You won't believe me if I tell
you," she said, shaking her head.
"You have no idea what I would believe," he shot
back. "Try me."
She licked her lips. "I have a gift. More like a
curse some days, but generally, I consider it a gift."
Mulder's face slowly morphed into an excited grin.
"You're psychic?"
"I have dreams. Sometimes I have visions, during
the day. Other times, dead people just walk up and
start talking to me."
"Wow," Mulder said and whistled in appreciation.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "You never
sold life insurance, have you?"
Alison looked at him as if he were crazy. "No, I
have not."
"Good," Mulder replied. "Don't." He licked his lip.
"You sure about this TV thing?"
"It was the satellite installer, I'm sure of it," Alison
affirmed.
"But they had the dish installed last week," Mulder
reminded her.
"Look, the vision didn't go into details," Alison
explained. "Maybe something went wrong with the
signal and he called the company to get someone to
take a look. I just know this guy was here today. I
saw him kill that man!"
"OK, OK, I get it," Mulder soothed. "I need to tell
Scully."
"Wait," Alison said, grabbing his sleeve. "You
believe me? Just like that?"
"Why? Are you lying?" Mulder asked.
"No! Of course not! I'm just not used -- I don't
usually have people believe -- "
"Ms. Dubois, you see, I want to believe," Mulder
said with a faint smile. "Now, I really have to go
back and find out more about the satellite company
they ordered the dish from."
Phoenix PD
Conference room 1
March 1, 2006
3:00 am
"Mulder, it's a bust." Scully said tiredly. "We woke
up the owner of the satellite company, only to be
told he contracts out installation services. We call
the contractor, only to be told they use day labor
and sometimes they hire people on for just a few
days, as was the case recently when every satellite
dealer in the greater Phoenix area decided to have
preseason baseball packages on sale, and we have a
list of over 200 names of installers. We need to go
back to the hotel and let the computer try for a
match."
Mulder sighed and rubbed his neck again. "You're
right. Let's try go back to the room and try to get
some sleep. But how do we get there? Scanlon
picked us up."
She dangled a set of car keys in front of his face.
"They finally gave us a car to use."
He sighed in relief. "More of that hospitality."
Scully nodded, relieved as he was. After she
packed up her briefcase, she stood and stretched.
"So, you really think Alison Dubois is psychic?"
she asked with a smirk.
"Scully, she's the real thing," Mulder replied,
pulling on his suit jacket. "I talked to Scanlon.
He's convinced."
"Mulder, she works with him, she's a friend. I tell
people all the time that you're amazing."
"Scully! You talk about our sex life in the FBI
locker room?" he whispered in her ear, and then
pulled back so she could see his look of feigned
indignation.
She smacked his arm and shook her head.
"Seriously, Mulder. I really think we might be
chasing a wild goose here."
"Do you have another line of inquiry we aren't
following up?" he retorted.
"No," she admitted. "I just don't want you to place
too much faith in a 30 something former housewife-
slash-former law student who has visions of
murders."
"You believed Clyde Bruckman," Mulder pointed
out irritably.
She stopped and crossed her arms, glaring at him.
"Mulder, Clyde was a very lonely man who -- "
"Correctly predicted that I was going to be attacked
by a killer in the basement of a hotel, after I'd
stepped in a banana cream pie," Mulder recited.
"Alison is the real thing, Scully. Just wait. Besides,
at least we're making some headway. We never
would have picked up on the installer if not for her."
Scully refrained from further comment while she
unlocked the car and they both settled into their
seats. By the way he was sitting, he was pretty
steamed at her. When they were on the road back to
the hotel, she spared him a glance. "Look, Mulder,
you know that I accept a lot more now than I ever
did when we were first partnered," she said evenly.
He blew out a breath and grudgingly nodded his
head.
"I'm just saying that until she does something like
tell us 'this is the guy, he lives here, go get him',
Alison Dubois really doesn't help this investigation
that much. Not to mention I question the wisdom of
bringing a civilian to a crime scene."
"We took Clyde to a crime scene," he interjected.
"We took Clyde where he told us to go. We didn't
know it was a crime scene until the car got stuck in
the mud."
"The mud used to bury Claude Dukenfeld," Mulder
reminded her. She had to smile at his uncanny
ability to pull names from cases over a decade past
out of thin air.
"Look, I don't want to argue about this," Scully said
tiredly. "I just want to be careful how much time
we spend following up leads Ms. Dubois gives us."
Mulder leaned his head back against the headrest
and reached down to take her hand. "I only follow
where you lead," he said with mock seriousness.
Scully rolled her eyes at his rock song reference. "I
wish."
Dubois Household
6:30 am
The television screen shows nothing but static. The
man is standing with his back to the viewer. He is
hitting a remote control with barely concealed rage.
"Friggin piece of -- "
A doorbell rings. The man sighs and tosses the
remote on the coffee table where it clatters and then
falls to the floor with a plastic crunch. "Damn," the
man mutters as he crosses to the door.
On his way he passes a window and the viewer can
see the TV repair truck at the curb. "Dish R Us" it
reads on the side panel. He opens the door and the
viewer follows him as he turns back to the
television, never showing the face of the person
who has just entered. The man points to the TV and
growls "200 channels of static! Fix it, please!"
Two hands appear with a length of twine between
them. They move behind the man, his back is
turned and can't see them before it's too late --
Alison let out a startled gasp and opened her eyes
wide. Panting for breath, the alarm clock next to
her went off and scared her out of her wits. She
slammed her hand on the top of the machine,
silencing the buzzer.
"Joe," she called out. She heard the shower running
and tossed the covers off to get out of bed. "Joe,"
she called to the bathroom door as she entered.
"Hey, there," he said, sticking his head out of the
curtain. "You're up. I thought you'd sleep."
"You set the alarm," she accused.
"Oh, darn, sorry. I forgot to turn it off. I woke up
before it went off. I have that meeting this morning
with Chan. I need to be on the road in about an
hour. You're taking the girls, right?"
"He's going to kill somebody today," Alison said
absently. "I have to call Scanlon and those FBI
agents."
"As long as you get the girls to school," Joe
reminded her and stepped out of the shower. He
kissed her as he passed, noting the faraway look on
her face. "You aren't going to remember to take
them, are you?"
She looked up at him, as if just noticing he was in
the room with her. "Ever hear of a satellite
company called 'Dish R Us'?" she asked. Without
waiting for an answer, she walked out of the room
and over to the telephone by their bed.
Joe looked in the mirror and sighed. "Looks like
I'm taking the girls again," he told his reflection
with reluctant acceptance.
District Attorney's office conference room
8:05 am
Scanlon had the Greater Phoenix area yellow pages
opened before him, scanning each page carefully.
"Nope," he said, turning the book so that Alison
could see it from across the table. "Not a 'Dish R
Us' in there."
"Maybe it's new. Maybe it's opened since the
yellow pages came out," she suggested anxiously.
"Alison, maybe the guy bought a truck and painted
that on the side," Scanlon suggested.
The door to the conference room opened and the
Agents walked in. Mulder was carrying a tray of
Starbucks and set it down on the table.
"Compliments of our Uncle," he said, passing out
the cups. "Now, Alison, tell us this dream." He sat
down in one of the chairs and settled back, giving
her time.
"He's a repairman, that's obvious. He comes to the
house and they let him right in. As they're
explaining what's wrong, he walks up behind them
with the twine and -- " she stopped, uncomfortable
going any further.
"Did he look like this man?" Scully handed over the
computer-generated composite they'd received from
the Bureau in DC.
Alison shook her head. "I never see the killer. I see
through his eyes."
Mulder shuddered and sat forward. "OK, well, we
have a truck, we have the name of a company that
doesn't exist."
"Mulder, panel trucks are easy to disguise," Scully
offered. "He may have a white panel truck, but we
can't rely on the fact that he's going as 'Dish R Us'.
He could change it easily to something else.
"But this murder happens today, right Alison?"
Mulder asked.
She looked furtively over to Scanlon, who shrugged
back at her. "I don't know. It could happen today --
it could have happened last week and the body
hasn't been found." She leaned back in her chair,
looking defeated. "Sorry, it's not an exact science."
At Scully's less than lady-like snort, Mulder shook
his head. His eyes scanned the room and landed on
a classifieds tabloid next to the phone book. He
frowned and picked it up. "Have you looked
through here?" he asked.
"Classified ads? Yeah, but most of the ads don't
have names of companies -- they're all independent
and self-employed, probably. Just phone numbers.
There wasn't a 'Dish R Us' anywhere," Scanlon
assured him.
"What better way to allow yourself some freedom
of movement," Mulder said, looking over at his
partner. "You're right, Scully. This guy could be
changing the appearance of the truck every time.
That way, if there are any witnesses, it would turn
up a dead end."
"OK, so what are you suggesting?" Scully asked,
sitting forward.
"We bait a little trap," Mulder said with a smile.
Scully's eyes widened.
"Mulder, I do not like the sounds of that," she said
evenly.
"With proper back up," he said forestalling her first
objection. "And with the 'bait' in kevlar underwear,
to the chin," he added. "Scully, we're spinning our
wheels here. We have to do something."
"Getting you killed is not what I had in mind," she
said with arms crossed in front of her.
"So we're just going to call down the list until one
of these guys tries to off you?" Scanlon asked
derisively.
"Pretty much, yeah," Mulder shot back.
"You have a good time with that," Scanlon said,
sitting back to sip his coffee.
Alison picked up the composite picture of the
suspect. Her eyes were drawn to Mulder and then
back to the picture. "He's looking for you," she said
quietly.
"He wants to be caught," Mulder agreed.
She shook her head. "No, he's looking for you,
Agent Mulder. He wants to find you. Or for you to
find him."
"See, Scully. Even Alison agrees, I make the best
bait," he said waving his hands for effect.
Alison looked over at Scully. "I don't like this,
either. But I think it may be the only way to catch
him."
With Scanlon and another detective on the phone
making 'appointments' with the nine listed satellite
repair services in the classifieds, Mulder was
escorted to the Department's supply room, where he
was outfitted in a bulletproof vest and a choke proof
neck enclosure. A loose fitting cable weave
turtleneck sweater obscured the neck protection
from view. Devalos provided a furnished vacant
house to be used for the sting operation. By a little
after 9:30 everything was arranged.
"This is a safe house, we've only had to use it a
couple of times, but it's all state of the art," Scanlon
explained as he adjusted the view of the living room
now coming up on the computer monitor. "The
camera is hidden in the wall clock above the
fireplace. We'll have a perfect view of anything
going down."
"It better not be Mulder," Scully muttered under her
breath. At that moment, her partner came out of the
bathroom, tugging at the loose sweater.
"Is there A/C in this place? I'm burning up with all
this crap on," he said irritably.
"You wanted to play 'bait'," Scully reminded him as
she checked to make sure the neck protection was
fitting properly. "Mulder, do not take any chances.
If this is an Adam clone -- "
"Super strength, super intelligence, yeah, Scully, I
remember," he said gruffly. Looking down into her
worried face, he softened his tone. Gently, he
cupped her cheek. "I'll be careful," he promised.
She pressed his palm against her face, turning her
head just slightly to give the pad of his thumb the
briefest of glances with her lips. "Make sure you
do," she whispered back.
Alison tried to stay out of the way, hanging back by
the computer Scanlon was watching so intently.
The monitor was split between four views, one of
the living room, one of the interior of the garage,
one of the front door from a camera on the exterior
wall of the garage and another showing the back
yard.
"Lee, a truck is coming," Alison said, pointing to
the front door camera. Sure enough, a white panel
truck was pulling to the curb.
"Show time, Agent Mulder," Scanlon said with a
nod of his head for luck.
"Watch my back," Mulder tossed over his shoulder
as he walked out of the bedroom, closing the door
behind him. It was a short hallway to the living
room, and he glanced once around to make sure
everything was in place. His ankle holster was a
comfortable weight on his left leg, his belt holster
covered by the thick sweater. The only thing out of
place was the steady stream of perspiration trickling
down his back to pool in the general vicinity of the
elastic on his boxers. The doorbell rang and Mulder
drew in a deep breath, striding over to open the
door.
Three hours later
"Just a loose connection there, Mr. Hale," the fourth
repairman said as he handed Mulder a clipboard
with the invoice attached. "Just sign here and that'll
be $75, cash, check or credit?"
Mulder gritted his teeth and pulled out his wallet. "I
had no idea you guys made this much," he said,
barely concealing his contempt.
"Well, if we worked a straight 40 hour week,
maybe. But these things are pretty reliable. Once
you get acquainted with the system -- "
"Gee, look at the time. I have to get to the office.
Thanks so much for being so prompt," Mulder
jumped in, ushering the little man out the door.
Leaning against the closed door he looked directly
into the camera. "Who wants to trade places?" he
asked.
"Nobody," came the three voices from the next
room.
The call came in on Scanlon's phone at 3:30. After
listening intently, the Detective looked up at Scully,
muttered a curse to the person on the other end of
the line and disconnected the call. Standing, he
rolled down his shirtsleeves and pulled on his
jacket. "There's been another one. Tempe. We
need to get over there now," he said tersely.
Mulder was already at the door. "We have another
appointment in half an hour," he said. Scanlon was
dancing on the balls of his feet, waiting to be told to
go. "OK, how's this. Take Scully and check out
this new one."
Scully immediately put up an objection. "Mulder, I
won't leave you here unprotected," she protested.
"Scanlon, send a unit -- unmarked -- over here and
have them park up the street. Scully, we haven't
seen him so far today and we now have proof that
he's already killed somebody. We need to get over
there and see if there is anything fresh we can use,"
Mulder reasoned.
"I'll stay," Alison offered.
Mulder and Scully both frowned at that prospect.
"It could be dangerous," Mulder said shaking his
head.
"Look, I'll sit here and watch the monitors. And I
can call for the police down the street if anything
happens," she suggested.
Scanlon went over and jiggled the doorknob.
"Alison, lock this door, it's reinforced steel under
this veneer. You can see the living room clearly. If
Agent Mulder is not alone, under no circumstances
are you to open this door, understand?"
She nodded, paling. "I get it. Now you better get
going," she said.
After Scully and Scanlon left, Mulder sat down in
the chair the Detective had vacated. "He's coming
here, isn't he?"
"He wanted them out of the picture. But Agent
Mulder, I don't like doing this," Alison admitted.
"I don't like it, either, but I see no other choice." He
stood and started toward the door.
"She's gonna be really pissed at you if you get
yourself killed. You're her one in five billion, too,
you know," she said timidly.
He looked at Alison over his shoulder. "Yeah. I
know that. But thanks for the reminder," he said
with faint smile.
The doorbell rang. Mulder pulled the bedroom door
shut behind him, waiting to hear the click of the
lock into place before going into the living room.
Alison had a bird's eye view of the encounter. The
young man who walked into the room was no more
than 24, had dark hair on the black and white
surveillance picture. He was easily as tall as
Mulder. Mulder didn't turn his back on the young
man, facing him down for a few minutes. With a
glance over to the camera in the wall clock, where
Alison could see a very blank expression on the
agent's face, he purposely turned and bent over the
projection television taking up a corner of the living
room.
Adam, or Jay as the nametag on his shirt identified
him, stalked the two feet to stand directly behind
Mulder but didn't reach into his bag. Alison
watched in horror as a small ice-pick style stiletto
dropped from his sleeve and into his hand. In a
movement so swift the camera didn't show it as
more than a blur, Jay jabbed the stiletto firmly and
to the hilt into Mulder's side. The sharp blade sliced
neatly through the agent's borrowed Kevlar vest,
missing any ceramic plates that might have
deflected it. In almost the same motion, Mulder
drew the weapon at his ankle and fired point blank
into Jay's chest. Both men were down before
Alison had a chance to scream.
Phoenix Baptist Hospital
6:50 pm
A very shaky Alison gave her statement to Scanlon,
who took it along with the video from the
surveillance camera. Not much more was needed at
the scene. Jay was pronounced dead at the scene
before Scully had a chance to make it back to the
safe house. Mulder was stabilized as much as
possible and taken to the nearest trauma center,
Phoenix Baptist Hospital, just a few blocks away.
After going home quickly to feed the kids and cry
on Joe's shoulder, Alison was back at the hospital,
checking on Scully. She had a bag in one hand and
a cup of Starbuck's in the other.
"Low fat soy latte, vanilla," she said handing over
the cup to the agent, who had yet to acknowledge
her presence. Scully took the cup with forced
movements, her eyes dull. "Have you heard any
more?"
Scully looked up at Alison and nodded to the seat
next to her. When the psychic had settled down
beside her, the agent's chin started to tremble. "The
blade punctured the lung. There was major blood
loss at the scene." She stopped long enough to
brush tears from her cheek. "He's still in surgery.
They haven't come out to talk to me yet." Her voice
trailed off and she looked away, toward the entrance
to the waiting room.
Alison slipped her hand over Scully's, where they
rested on her knees. She squeezed gently. "He
loves you. He'll pull through, just on the strength of
that love," she assured the agent.
Scully's head snapped up and her eyes flashed, but
when she saw the look of tender understanding in
Alison's face, she lost all her anger. "I just . . . I
mean I thought it would get better. I thought after
I'd told him how I felt about him he would take
better care of himself. But that hasn't happened.
He still takes risks like this and . . . I don't know
how to make him stop," she said tearfully.
Just as Alison reached over to give Scully a much-
needed hug, a man in scrubs appeared in the
doorway. "Family of Fox Mulder?" Scully was up
and moving toward him in a heartbeat.
Alison watched as the doctor spoke briefly to
Scully, who nodded and hurried down the hall with
him. Alison found herself in the lounge, but not
quite alone.
"Why did you do it?" she asked the sullen young
man who had been slouching in the corner all the
while she'd been talking to Scully. "Why kill all
those people? Why come after Agent Mulder?"
Adam laughed bitterly and stood up straight, turning
almost toward the window and then coming to pace
in front of Alison. "The better question is why not
Agent Scully," he said calmly, instructing her. "She
was there with him most of the time. But I'd
already decided to divide and conquer. She would
have been easy prey once he was gone. So why did
I do it? I knew I could get their attention. I wanted
them to come to me. They destroyed my family.
They imprisoned my sisters before we could even
meet. It was all about vengeance. 'Vengeance is
mine, sayeth the Lord', isn't that what all the
wealthy preachers teach?" He turned back to face
Alison. "I wasn't born, you know. I was created.
Just like the atomic bomb. Not my fault I went
'boom', is it?"
"You were too born," Alison said defiantly. "Some
woman carried you in her womb, someone loved
you. And you turned your back on them to become
this -- this thing you are."
Adam/Jay looked down at Alison where she sat.
"You really think love is enough?" he said with a
sneer. "You really believe all that shit you were
shoveling to her?" he cocked his head toward the
seat Scully had just abandoned.
"Always," she shot back.
"Well, I wasn't the only one like me. There are
others out there. Maybe love can overcome
genetics." He turned and walked toward the door,
fading out of view. "But I doubt it," he said just
before his image winked out of sight.
March 2, 2006
9:05 am
The nurse had just come in to take his vitals. The
doctor had removed the vent just a few hours before
and now Mulder looked like he was just sleeping
late on a Saturday. Scully ran her fingers over the
tape securing the IV to his hand. When the fingers
of his hand flexed, she pasted on a smile and
waited.
It didn't take him long to open his eyes. Hers was
the first face he saw, the only one he looked for.
He smiled weakly at her before closing his eyes
again briefly and then blinking them open once
more. He swallowed roughly and grimaced. An
attempt to clear his throat only caused him pain.
"Want some water?" she asked and didn't bother to
make him answer. She held the straw up to his lips
and he sipped greedily.
"You're being nice. I must have really been in a bad
way," he rasped. At her trembling chin, he reached
out and clasped her hand. "Sorry. Probably not the
smartest thing I could have said, huh?"
"Mulder, do you realize -- no, I know you do. You
knew full well what was likely to happen and you
took the risk anyway," she said too calmly for his
liking.
"Should learn to keep my mouth shut," he muttered.
"I'm sorry, Scully. But you can't accuse me of
knowing that he was going to stab me. I had on
body armor not to mention that neck brace."
"Mulder, you still knew he would try and kill you.
But you went ahead and took the risk." She
couldn't look at him. Tears were hanging on the
edges of her lashes.
He reached over and cupped her cheek, stroking it
with his thumb. "We take risks every day. I won't
lie to you and say I didn't expect him to come as
soon as you and Scanlon left. But Scully, if our
places had been reversed, can you honestly tell me
you wouldn't have done the same?"
"I don't want to lose you like that," she said softly.
"Scully, I'm doing everything I can. I wore the vest,
I wore the neck protection. Hell, I wore my ankle
holster. And I knew that Alison could see
everything and would call for backup and
ambulance immediately. I covered all the bases.
Aren't you the one who gets mad at me when I try
to keep you out of harm's way?"
She put her hand over his and held it there. "I just
hate -- "
"I know. I do, too," he said tilting his head. "But
it's the life we have and I'm not sure I want to
change any of it."
"I supposed it's not the same as a ditch," she
admitted.
"Not by a long shot," he agreed.
There was a rap at the door and Scully called 'come
in'. A large bouquet of balloons appeared to float
into the room, coming to rest on the bedside tray
table. Alison emerged from behind them. "Hey,
how are you feeling?" she asked Mulder with a
smile.
"Not bad, considering," he said hoarsely, nodding
toward the water cup again. Scully accommodated
him and put the water back on the table.
Alison nodded and bit her lip nervously. "Just
wanted to tell you that DA Devalos is writing a
letter of commendation to your superiors in
Washington. He really thought you both went out
of your way to catch this guy."
"Alison, you were instrumental in our tracking him
down," Scully said.
"Thank you, Agent Scully. That means a lot to
me." Clearly flattered and slightly embarrassed,
Alison turned to Mulder. "So, when are they letting
you out of here?"
He looked at Scully who rolled her eyes. "Three
days, four if he causes any trouble," she told Alison
while staring right at her partner.
"Well, I'd be happy to give you a ride to the airport,
when they let you go home."
"We'd like that. Thank you," Scully answered for
both of them.
"I'll let you get your rest," she said, heading for the
door. "Oh, one thing, Agent Mulder. When you get
home, don't blame Agent Scully for the puddle in
the den upstairs. You're the one who left the
window open during the warm spell before you left
last week."
Scully looked over at Mulder and crossed her arms.
Mulder looked at her sheepishly. "Think we better
call your mom."
The end.