DEDUCTIVE REASONING
by Jess Archibald

part 1/2 	
South Washington, D.C.4:03 a.m.	
She pulled up along the curb, killing the engine as she did, letting the car glide to a halt in front of the building.  It seemed she'd been following him for hours, impatient with the slow process of justice and horrified at the prospect of a lengthy delay.  This man had to be taken off the streets.  Now.  Before he killed again.	He ducked into the front entrance to the building, shutting the door behind him.  What would he be doing at a dockside building at this hour?	

She got out fo the vehicle and made her way to the door, slowly covering the distance, drawing out the gun as she went.  The front door wasn't locked and it opened at the slightest pressure with the faintest of squeaking noises.  Holding her breath, she listened for signs that he had heard her trying to get in, but all was silent.  She eased inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, wishing she'd brought a flashlight with her from the car. 	The faint rushing of displaced air off to her left was the only warning she had as something whistled towards her head.  She raised her right arm to deflect whatever it was and a heavy metal bar came down on her forearm.  A yelp of pain tore from her throat and the gun dropped to the floor.  By this time her eyes had adjusted enough for her to see the man facing her, taking in  his  large frame and angry look as he swung the bar at her again.  She droped under the blow, scrambling around for her gun, hands flying over the floor, coming up with only dust.
	
The bar came again, this time catching the side of her head with a glancing blow that knocked her flat to the found, as he loomed over her.  She raised her good arm to ward off the next blow, pulling at the pockets of her coat until her wallet fell out.  He scooped it up as she kicked him in the knee, bringing him down as she rolled out from under him, still searching for the gun.  With a growl, he threw the bar at her, hitting her across the chest with enough force to spin her around.  She hit the floor face first and the gun was mere inches away from her face.  Reachig towards it, she oculd see him out of the corner of her eye, squinting at her ID in the dim lighting of the predawn hour.  Whatever he saw made him smile and his hand came out of his pocket with a knife.	The numb fingers of her right hand wrapped around the butt of the gun and she rolled onto her back, bringing it around to bear on him, even though he was impossibly close, the gun going off even as he brought the knife down into her stomach.  	Their screams mingled in the stillness of the morning.

Residence of Fox Mulder4:51 a.m.	
Fox Mulder heard the pounding on his door and dragged a hand over his eyes.  It wasn't even dawn yet and he thought that whoever it was at his door should at least have the manners to wait for a little while longer.  It was all right for him to go knocking on doors in the middle of the night, but he expected a little more respect for himself.

"Mulder!" came a voice muffled by the wooden door.  "Mulder, open this goddamned door before I kick it in!"

Not precisely the female voice that he would have dreamed about hearing, but it would have to do since he entertained no doubts that she really meant it.	Getting off the couch, he crossed  to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open just as the woman outside raised her fist to pound on it again.	

"What's going  on?" he asked in a puzzled tone as she shouldered him aside to stalk into his living room.	"What the hell have you been doing?" she asked in a shrill tone.  "Sleeping?"	"That's what most people do in the night," he replied calmly.	

"Yeah, well someone forgot to let Dana in on that little tip."  Zoe Bateman swung around to face him, hands on hips, anger and fear flashing across her features.	

"Whoa.  Back up a second.  What's going on?"	"Dana went after your suspect.  Alone."	"She *what*!?!  A knife wielding nutcase with a probable history of mental illness who's wanted in connection with at least four violent deaths and you're telling me Dana *Scully* went after him by *herself*!?"	

She nodded.  "Don't look at me that way, I'm not the one who went after him."	Mulder started scrambling around for some clean clothes to put on.  "We've got to find him before she does."	"Mulder."	"Why didn't you page me or something?"  He grabbed up a shirt and tie, starting to head for the bathroom to change.	"Mulder!"	He turned back to her and this time saw something on her face he didn't want to acknowledge.	"Mulder, the D.C. police found her car twnety minutes ago.  It's been abandoned . . . 

J. Edgar Hoover Building 5:16 a.m.	
Mulder stood in the middle of his office, staring across the room to the gruesome display of murder victims.  Two men and two women.  All young.  All dead.  The first death had been that of twenty-nine year old Kelly Jane Winters, a dancer in the touring company of *Cats*.  Next came Dale Kevin Micheals, twenty-six, a graduate student at the local university.  Then Sarah Karla Pritchard, thirty, a wife and mother to a young boy.  And then it was Kyle Birley's turn, a twenty-eight year old who had just sold the rights to his first novel.	All of them had been stabbed to death by the same individual and the only thing that linked them was the letter K that appeared in all their names.  If he stuck true to from, the killer's next target would be a woman.

Dana Katherine Scully . . . 	Why did she had to try and go after their suspect on her own?  They didn't have enough to charge him yet and Mulder was certain with a little more digging they would have him.  No one was watching the man since Skinner wasn't yet convinced they had the right man.	But Scully hadn't wanted to wait, not willing to risk him killing again, accusing Mulder of dragging the investiagtion out because he wanted to really nail those arrogant bastards in VCS by handing them a court worthy case on a silver platter with his name engraved on it for all to see his ownership.  He had responded in kind, leading to another shouting match that could be heard halfway down the hall leading to their office.  The argument had ended with Mulder throwing up his hands in surrender, saying they could get a warrant first thing in the morning since it was already after ten o'clock at night and *he* didn't want to be the one to wake up some judge with the rather flimsy circumstantial evidence that they had.  She had glared at him, but finally nodded, grabbing her coat and saying she'd meet him at the court house at eight o'clock the following morning.  Not once did she mention the little fact that she was going to go after their suspect on her own in the middle of the night.	Saul Eldwin was their most promising suspect.  He had been seen by Kyle Birley's roommate as he came home the night of the murder.  Apparnetly Eldwin had been leaving the building as the roommate walked up.  No one in the apartment complex had ever seen him before, but a sketch of the suspect had yielded a name after it had been circulated around the Cureau and the local police.  Eldwin had a record for minor offenses like theft and narcotics possession and one fo the officers had recognized the man's face from the drawing one morning at roll call.	

Mulder had taken the case as a favour to an old friend in the Violent Crimes Section but had nearly been frozen out the first few days of the investigation by some of the other agents.  Scully had risen to his defense by calling the worst offenders on some of their comments and none of them had wanted to get in an argument with Mulder's partner.  He had tried not to take offense at the notion that he needed defending, but it was hard on his ego and his temper.  Working relations between the X-Files agents had been at an all time low in recent months but last night's argument had been the last straw for Mulder who had stormed out of the office without a second thought to his partner.	He wasn't sure who he was more angry with right now, Scully or himself.   Bateman wasn't helping since she kept throwing him looks that were a cross between sympathy and agner as she drove him to the office, refusing to let him drive, afraid he'd wrap himself around a tree the way he felt at the moment.  Right now, Skinner was holding court in his office while Mulder stood staring at his office walls.  He had been told to stay the hell away from the investigation as had Bateman and her partner Sheltong.  If Mulder was any judge, those two were probably already htting the streets to conduct an unoffical canvass of the area where Scully's car had been found.  The vehicle had already been dusted for prints, coming up negative for any, not even Scully's so it had been concluded that someone had wiped it down before leaving it in the parking lot adjacent to a construction site on the northen side of the city.  There were some blood stains on the material in the driver's sdie that were being typed by the Bureau labs even as Mulder paced his office.  The car had been discovered by a patrolman who ran the paltes when he found  it in the empty lot in the small hours of the morning.	Mulder stopped pacing in front of his desk and picked up a stone paperweight, throwing it against hte far wall with an angry sound.  It hit hard, creating a dent in the plaster before falling onto the floow with a bang.	He didn't feel any better for it.	"Dammit, Scully," he whipsered, staring again at the photos on the wall in front of him, this time seeing a different face instead of the victims.  	

So far none of the victims had been moved from the scene of the inital attack.  Either Scully had run a foul of someone else or something she did had cause the killer to change his pattern.  And sometimes patterns were all they had to go on.  An APB had been put out on Saul Eldwin but so far no one had seen him.  He wasn't at home and he didn't start work at his office until nine o'clock.  That was almost four hours from now and if Scully wasn't dead already she almost certainly would be by then.	

Suddenly, Mulder didn't feel so well and he sat down behind his desk, reaching for the file with one hand.  Maybe he could find something that would give him a clue where to look.  Regardless of Skinner's orders, there was no way he could just sit there and wait for someone else to find his partner.	

His cellular rang, startling him and he grabbed for it, saying a silent prayer as he did so, hoping that it wasn't more bad news.	"Mulder."	

There was no answer, only the ragged hiss of someone breathing.	"Mulder," he said again, this time with impatience, one finger tapping out a steady beat on his desk.  "Is someone there or not?  I don't have time for this."	The sound of ragged breathing relented slightly as if someone was trying to get enough air to speak.  	 A cold chill ran through him as he half rose from his seat.	

"Mulder . . . " someone managed finally.  "Don't . . . don't hang up . . . "  The voice was thick and tired, some of the syllables slurring into others, but the first word had confirmed his worst guess.  "Please . . . don't hang up . . . "	

"I won't," he promised, hearing his own voice lurch a little.  "I won't hang up, Scully."	

*******************
Skinner looked up in annoyance as someone knocked on the door to his office.  The other agents in the room looked towards the entrance as well, wondering who would dare violate their boss' inner sanctum while he was in the midst of a meeting.  Scully thought he could take a pretty good guess under the circumstances and he was proved right as Mulder came in after only a three second period.  He had his cellular phone pressed up against his ear and a frantic look in his eyes although his voice remained calm as he spoke to whomever was on the other end.	

"Agent Mulder," Skinner began, but the other man shot him a look that stopped the words in his throat. 	"Hang on just a second," Mulder said into the phone.  "I'm not hanging up . . . I've got to talk to Skinner . . . just hang on, okay?"  He covered the receiver and looked directly at Skinner, ignoring everyone else in the room.  "Sir, we've got a problem."
Location Unknown 5:24 a.m.	
Dana Scully concentrated on her breathing, forcing one deep gasp out after another, trying to keep from hyperventilating.  Right now, that was the last thing she needed.  Dimly she could hear Mulder's muffled voice from her cellular as he spoke to Skinner, coming back on to speak with her every few seconds to make sure she was still there.	

The edges of her vision kept pooling with sparks of red and gray, with blackness creeping in from time to time.  One hand was by her head, having guided the phone close her ear before falling slack onto the dirty floor.  The other was pressed hard against her stomach and she had no intention of moving it.  It was the only thing that was keeping the flow of blood under even the crudest semblance of control.	"Scully, you still there?' Mulder asked again, his voice suddenly strong next to her ear.	"Un . . . unfortunately," she replied, gritting her teeth to keep her answer from including a cry of pain that would do nobody any good to hear.	Mulder picked up on the undercurrent anyway.   "Take it easy,  partner, we're working on it."	Her eyes  closed for a moment as she made an affirming noise, flying open as he came back on the line again.  A few moments had passed and she hadn't bee aware, drifting in and out.	

"Scully!"  Mulder was practically yelling into the phone to get her attention.  "Dammit, Scully, answer me."	

"I'm here," she responded weakly.	"You okay?"	"Been . . . been better."  A spasm of pain ran through her.  "Oh *God*!" 	

"Scully!"  Mulder's voice was alarmed.  	She groaned, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.  "Still . . . still here, Mulder."	"Okay.  Okay.  Hang on."  he went back to addressing Skinner.	She looked back up at the ceiling and wondered what it would feel like to die.

Northern Washingion 5:36 a.m.	
Doug Shelton knocked on another door, waiting in the early morning chill for the occupant to wake up and answer the sound.  On the walkway leading up to the building, Zoe was speaking rapidly into her cell phone, gesturing animatedly and raising her voice.  Doug pitied whoever was on the other end of that call.	"Who is it?' came the irritated voice of an elderly gentleman.	"Agent Shelton of the FBI, sir.  I need to ask you a few questions."  And if his boss found out he was asking 'a few questions' on a case that wasn't his, he'd be in a lot of trouble.	

"I haven't done anything wrong!" yelled the old man back, falling into the standard 'if they're at my door they must be after me' syndrome that plauged so many investigations.	"I'm not here about you, sir!" Doug called, fighting anger.  Time was of the essence and he didn't want to waste it arguing with this guy.  "I need to ask you if you saw someone driving a car around here earlier this morning."	

The door opened a crack and the man looked at him with one blood shot eye.  "I was asleep until you woke me, young man.  I didn't see anyone."	"Please, sir, it's important."  Doug tried his best to look unassuming but if he'd know this old coot would have answered the door he would have gotten his small, nonthreatening looking partner to handle this.  If he could have gotten away with it without her killing him for even suggesting it.	"I was *asleep*!"	"Doug!"  Zoe waved frantically at him.	He dug out a business card and handed it through the crack in the door to the man.  "Look, if you remember anything at all, call the number on that card.  A woman's life is at stake, so please, if anything comes to mind, call me."	The man took it grudgingly, slamming the door shut as Doug pivoted and bounded down the porch steps to meet Zoe.  This was the tenth house they'd tried, working further away from the drop site of Dana's car than the other agents.	"Dana's on the phone with Mulder," Zoe said, speaking rapidly.	"Thank god . . . "	She shook her head.  "She's been stabbed and can't give an exact location of where she is."	"But we can track -- "	"Cell phone, Doug.  We can't trace her in a city this large."  Zoe's gray eyes were teeming with fear.  "Skinner's recalling all the agents from here.  Figured we were out her too.  Best Dana can say is she was following Eldwin to the south side of Washington."	"Across town?"	"Yeah.  Dock side."	"That could take hours to search even with the amount of people that we have!"	Zoe started for the car.  "Skinner says that Dana took a knife to the stomach.  If that's true then she doesn't have hours."	

A sick feeling that had been with him since he'd gotten the call from the night staff snowballed into a mountain of worry.  "Then let's get over there."	

"Drop me off at the Hoover Building.  Skinner needs someone to act as relay between Mulder and the search teams.  I told him I'd do it."	"Mulder?"	"He's still on the phone with Dana, trying to keep her conscious and trying to piece together anything he can that would give us a clue where to look."

Hoover Building 5:43 a.m.	
Skinner had given his office over to Mulder who was sitting at the conference table, a pad of paper and a pen sitting in front of him.  The older man watched him from behind his desk, barking orders into his phone.  Right now, Mulder had the heel of his free hand pressed against his forehead, elbow propped up on the table as he focussed all his attention on the phone in his hand.	"Scully, can you tell me anything else about where you are?"  It was a struggle to keep his voice calm.  Every time he heard the tremor in Scully's voice it nearly set one off in his as well.  He couldn't let that happen.  Hearing the fear echoed in his voice wouldn't help her now.	But it was so hard.	" . . . No . . . "  Every response he got was delayed by the fight for air and a steady voice.  "I . . . don't think . . . this is the  . . . the same building . . . "	"Why not?"	 "Looks wrong."	"Okay.  So it's not the same place.  Can you at least tell me where you were?  It'll give us something to work from.	"Yeah . . . it was . . . "  There was a pause as she struggled to piece it together.   Mulder held his  breath involuntarily, willing her to remember.  "Damn . . . I didn't . . . didn't get the exact address.  Block before . . . before Crescent . . . I think . . . third building."	"Okay, that's good, Scully.  That's excellent."  He wrote it all down as fast as he could and then waved the paper at Skinner.  The quick response of the ex-marine would have been amusing under any other circumstances, but right now, Mulder failed to see the humour in the situation.  Skinner took the paper from him and nodded, one hand patting Muler on the shoulder in a surprsing gesture as the older agent crossed back to his desk and started in on the phones again.	Mulder exhaled silently, absently rubbing the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed for an instant.  Ever since he answered the phone, he'd been in constact motion, convinced that it would be a simple matter to get the address from Scully and have the EMTs sweep in before another five minutes passed.  It wasn't going to be that simple thought.  Scully couldn't give an exact location because she didn't have a clue where she was.  She couldn't get out to the street and flag down help because any movement sent enought pain through her to make her cry out.  Mulder knew it took a lot of agony to break through her stoicism and a part of him was dying with every second that passed.	

"Hey . . .  you . . . you still there?"  Her voice was soft and ragged, carrying an undertone of exhaustion.	"I'm right here," he responded instantly, head lifting, eyes opening.  "How are you doing?"	"Not . . . not so good."  She sighed, gasped and gulped in a breath.  "Can't believe I . . . that I was so . . . so *stupid* . . . rookies know better . . . . "	

He bowed his head, eyes shut again, concentrating on her voice.  "Why'd you do it then?"  He kept his tone even, not forcing her to answer.	"Not sure . . . not that *you've* ever done . . . done anything like that . . . "	He swore he could hear faint humour in her words.  "That's why I have you around.  To keep me in check."  An expresion half amused, half anguished, crept over his features.  "I didn't realize I was supposed to do the same for you."	"Neither . . . neither did I."  There was a sadness in her voice that he had never heard there before."	"Keep hanging on, Scully," he urged.  "We've got at least two dozen agents out looking now.  I think Skinner's pulled agents off three different stakeouts and six field assignments.  You've given everyone a day off -- "	"For a scavenger's hunt," she whispered.  "One that . . .  that doesn't necassarily . . . have a happily ever after . . . "	"Don't -- *don't* -- say that."	"You always said that I . . . that I was a rotten lair . . . no sense lying now . . . "	"Scully . . . "  He pitched his response midway between a reprimand and an encouragement.  As long as he kept her talking, he kept her awake.  He was buying time for the searchers to move into high gear.  A growing part of him admitted he was doing it for more than that though.  There was so much left unsaid between them and it might be the last chance he had to say it . . . 	Years of iron control squashed that thought right where it was, but a tiny part wriggled loose and hung teasinly at the edge of his thoughts.	His eyes darted over to Skinner to find the other man watching him a questioning look behind his glasses.  Mulder shook his head.	The door to the office opened to admit Bateman and Shelton, who looked arond the room expectantly, moving in the unspoken way that partners had, covering each other's backs instinctively, not even having to think about it.  Like Mulder and Scully did . . . 	He covered the receiver for a second to clear the lump from his throat.  Bateman's eyes darted over to him and softened slightly.  He went back to the phone.	"Bateman and Shelton just walked in.  Now you've done it.  Missing Persons is looking for you.  The city's not big enough to hide you now."	"Thank . . . goodness."	Bateman came over to the confernce table while Shelton conversed with Skinner.	"Hi," she said softly.  "Skinner and Doug are heading out to look.  I'm manning the phones."	Mulder nodded.  "Hear that, Scully, now Skinner's looking for you."	"What . . . what about you?"	The words hit him like a physical blow.  Why wasn't he out searching?	"Someone's got to keep you company on the phone," he improvised, mind whirling, scrambling to find the answer, for himself if not for her.	Shelton and Skinner left the office, the younger agent detouring long enough to clasp Mulder's shoulder reassuringly and to exchange looks with his partner.  	

Mulder noted them leaving in a detached manner, watching Bateman move the phone from Skinner's desk to the other side of the table with a vacant gaze, thoughts still on Scully's question.  He knew why he wasn't looking.	He couldn't handle it if he blew it.	This way, he could sit here and blame the others if they reached her too late.  he didn't have to be the one to look down  at the body, knowing that he wasn't fast enough.  It didn't have to be him to make the indentification.	But that wasn't all of it.	Moving would increase the chance that he might loose the phone signal and if he did, there was no guarantee of getting it back again.  Most of all, he didn't wany anyone else sitting here, talking to her, perhps -- please, God, no -- perhaps listening to her last words.  It was his duty.  His . . . 	His right?	Not something that could be put into simple words.	Scully accepted his answer, not demanding clarification on the matter.  He wondered if it was because she believed him or because she simply didn't have the energy to get into it.  He promised himself that he would explain it all to her when they found her.	If they found her . . . 	Bateman rapped a knuckle on the table, demanding his attention.  He looked up sharply and she shook her head at him.  She must have seen which direction his thoughts were wandering in and she didn't like the look of it.	Neither did he.	"Scully," he said finally, stirring himself.  "I promise you that we'll find you, okay?  You just have to hang on until then."	"Mulder . . . don't, okay?  She had to wheeze to catch her breath.  "No one knows . . .  where I am . . . "	"We're the FBI remember?  It's our job to find things like this out."  He tried to find a humourous note in his voice, but was failing miserably.  "C'mon, Scu -- *Dana*.  you've got to hang on for a little while longer."	Bateman's head jerked up in surprise, mouthing, "Dana?" with a look of shock.	Mulder ignored her, waving a hand in her direction.  "Can you try to hang on?"	He heard Scully draw in a sharp breath, not in pain this time, but in surprise.  "I'll . . . I'll try . . . "	He nodded even though she couldn't see him.  "Okay."	Bateman went back to her phone, chewing out whoever was on the other end, one finger twisting the cord into a tight knot while her free hand hovered over a pad of paper.  "Just work on it, Tatem, or you'll have AD Skinner on your tail."  She stabbed her finger down on the disconnect button, looking up briefly to meet Mulder's tortured eyes.  "Just keep her talking, Mulder," she said softly.  "We'll take care of the rest."	He knew they would try.  He just didn't know if they'd be good enough. 
South Washington 6:02 a.m.	
Doug pulled up along side the curb, parking in between two other Bureau vehicles.  There were agents crawling all around the area and the only reason anyone paid attention to them was because Skinner was in the car with him.	Two agents came up to offer reports.	"We've searched this whole area, sir," said one, an older man with penetrating eyes and a scowl on his face.  "There's nothing here."   	"Search it agian," Skinner barked.	"Sir?"	

"You heard me.  I want this whole area gone over again.  I don't care if you have to pull more agents in on this.  Just get it done.  One of these buildings has to have something inside that'll give us an idea.  Scully said it was the third building in from here."  Skinner pivoted, craning his neck to get a lok at the area.  "Which would put it over there," he pointed.  "Get five men and search it again.  Shelton and I will join you."	

The agent nodded.  What else could he say?  He turned away and started gathering his men.  The second agent cleared his throat to get Skinner's full attention.	"Sir, the local police have offered some of their manpower to help in the search.  Agent Carlmicheals turned them down, said to keep it a Bureau matter, no sense getting anyone else involved in this."  The younger man looked distinctly uncomfortable.  "I just thought you should know, sir, since I don't hink he'll tell you."	

Skinner narrowed his eyes.  "And you dont' approve of Carlmicheals' dismissal of outside help, Agent Blythe?"	"No sir, I don't"  Blythe stood his ground, not looking anywhere but Skinner's face.	"Neither do I.  Did you get the anme of the officer who offered help?" 	"Yes, sir."	"Call him back.  Tell him we'll take as many people as he can spare."  Skinner watched the younger man scramble away to find a phone.  "I'm going to have to have a talk with Carlmicheals later."	Doug opened his mouth to volunteer doing it for him, but quickly shut it again.  Getting angry at Carlmicheals, however appealing that sounded, would have to wait.  The third building was beckoning.	"Let's go, Shelton, and keep in contact with Bateman."	"Yes, sir."

Location Unknown 6:06 a.m.	
Dana felt her breath rattling in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut.  Mulder's voice was still next to her ear, trying to talk her through this whole ordeal, but it wasn't working.  It hurt too much to allow her to be distracted out of it, stabbing needles of pain running through her, each one almost as potent as the first stab wound had been.	"Dana, you can't think about it," he was saying, voice almost frantic through she knew he was trying to hide it.  The panic in his voice was as audible to her as her own was when she spoke.	She regretted putting him through this.  Calling him had been the only thing she could think off when she'd come to, wracked with pain on the floor of god only knew what building.  The cellular phone had still been in her pocket, her ID pouch tossed casually onto the floor next to her, the laminated cover splashed with blood over her ID photo.  It had been the first thing she's seen when she'd regained consciousness and it had startled her into movement before she'd realized her postition.  Trying to move had made her black out again and whe she'd woken up the second time, she knew better  than to move more than the tiniest amount.  She knew the 911 call wouldn't have helped, not with a cell phone.  She's called Mulder out of desperation . . . and something else.	She had wanted to hear his voice, neede to hear the warmth and reassuracne that it carried with it.  These days it was usually raise din agner or scorning her contibutions in favour of some bizarre notion or another until she was ready to scream in frustration.  She realized now it didn't matter.   The petty arguments, the abortive attempts at working through whatever was driving them apart.  None of it mattered.  She had turned to him for help, for comfort and he was there, trying his best to help her even though she'd been treating him with something less than complete respect.  For that she was grateful and for that she was trying to hang on.  She couldn't die on him like this.  She knew how his mind worked and he'd blame himself until the day he died.	"Mulder . . . " she said suddenly, needing to console him as much as he was consoling her.  "Mulder . . . this isn't . . . isn't your fault . . . "	"If we'd gotten the warrant last night this wouldn't have happened."	"If I'd stayed . . . stayed *home* . . . this wouldn't have . . . have happened . . . "	"God, I wish you *had* stayed home."  The honest regret in his voice made her eyes suddenly feel damp.	"Me too," she admitted in a tiny voice.	"I'll make you a deal, Dana," he saidd.  "If you don't *ever* do this again, I won't either."	"Sounds . . . sounds good."  She swallowed with difficulty, tasting the coppery tang of blood in her mouth.  A shudder ran through her.  She was bleeding internally and there was no way of telling how bad it truly was.  "Mulder . . . "	"Yeah?"	"I'm scared."  The words were barely above a whisper, and she had to fight to get them out.  Federal agents were supposed to do their job, get it done and never express fear.  It cost a lot to admit to fear now, but there was no denying it.  Her thoughts flashed back to early the year before, after Pfaster had come within an inch of killing her before Mulder and an FBI team had moved in at the last second.  She'd broken down after, weeping from pent up fear and stress.  Mulder had been a proverbial rock then, saying nothing, merely holding on to her as she sobbed, waving off the other agents and even the paramedics until she had cried herself out some twenty minutes later.  That was the only other time she'd been this scared and even then there hadn't been time for the full ramifications to wash over her until *after* it was over and Pfaster was in custody.  This time there was nothing to think about except for what was going to happen and she was terrified.	She heard Mulder take in a deep breath and let it go.  "So am I."  His voice was hoarse with emotion that he usually suppressed, burying it so deeply that it harldy ever leaked out except as vicious humour that stung at those around him.  Dana realized that part of the anger between them the last few months had stemmed from the fact that they weren't being open with each other about anything, much less their emotional states.	Her eyes swept across the ceiling of the room she was in, resting on the rafters for a moment before skimming down the wall  and across the floor.  Something caught her attention and made her take a sharp breath that brought tears of pain to her eyes.	

"Dana?"	"Mulder . . . he left . . . he left the knife . . . "  She looked frantically around her, moving as little as possible but felling the need to get a complete look at the room.  The movement pulled on the wound and nearly made her curl into a fetal position.	"Dana!"  Mulder sounded alarmed.	"Where's . . . where's the gun?" she said half to herself.  "Oh *dammit*, Mulder!"	"What is it?  What's wrong?"	"Eldwin took . . . he took my gun, Mulder."  She let her head sag back against the ground.  "Dammit."	"Are you sure?"	"It's not here . . . "	"Maybe you droped it where ever he attacked you."	"No . . . I . . . I shot him . . .  with it . . . " The motion had left her drained and it was all she could do to speak, eyes closed, free hand resting lightly against the edge of the cellular.	"You shot him?"	"Yeah . .  right as he got . . . as he got me."	"You didn't tell me that before."  He wasn't accusing for a change, merely poining out.  He sounded almost excited.	"I must've . . . must've forgotten . . . " Her voice was slurring again.  "I'm . . . I'm sorry . . . "	"Dana, I need you to listen to me, this is important.  How badly was he hurt?"	"I . . . don't . . . don't know . . . "  She tried to picture the scene again, but every time she did, she saw the knife descending and felt the impact as it ripped into her.  The memory of the gun going off was still there though.  She'd felt the sudden spray of blood as Eldwin reared back with a cry, her own scream joining with his.  The gun had fallen from her hand as she automatically tried to stop her bleeding, the knife pulling free as he fell back.  Common snse and training had taken over and she'd grabbed again for the gun, but he beat her to it, reaching to take it with his left hand, his right arm hanging uselessly from his side.  There'd been a sudden burst of pain in her skull as he'd used the gun in a crude back hand and then she'd woken up here . . . with the knife beside her and the gun gone.	"Dana?"	"Right arm . . . I hit him in the arm . . . maybe the shoulder . . . "  Her head was spinning.  "He would have to . . . have to -- "	"Find a doctor.  Bateman!"  Mulder's voice grew distant for a moment and then came back on again.  "She's getting people to call around to the hospitals now looking for gunshot wounds."	"The gun . . . "	"She'll tell them he's armed and dangerous," he soothed.	She nodded weakly, forgetting that he couldn't see her.  "Good."	"You doing okay?"  His voice was gentle.	"Hurts like hell," she replied faintly.  "Puncture wound to . . . to the lower abdomen . . . internal bleeding . . . trauma to the head . . . head and right arm . . . "  Where the metal bar had landed earlier was sore and swollen, the arm probably fractured, but she had been able to ignore it with the adrenaline flowing, but now it was competing with her stomach, a distant pain but still there.  Her head had complaints of its own as well.	"What trauma?'  He sounded worried again.	"Got hit with . . . with a metal rod of . . . of some sort."  A faint painfilled smile spread slowly across her face.  "I guess . . . guess I'm about as banged up . . . as you ever get . . . "	"You didn't have to do that on my account, Scully," he responded.	"You're . . . calling me . . . 'Scully' again," she pointed out gently.  	"Don't I always?"	"No . . . you were calling me . . . calling me 'Dana' . . . you only do that . . . when you're worried . . . "	"I *am* worried."	"Me too."  Her eyes drifted shut again.  "Me too."

Hoover Building 6:15 a.m.	

Mulder was sitting on the edge of his seat.  Someon had brought in coffee for him and Bateman, but his was rapidly cooling on the table.  He couldn't bring himself to drink right now.  His stomach was twisted into about a billion little knots that seemed to be crawling up his throat to choke him.	Bateman was on the phone, alternating between several phone lines, including Shelton's cellular.  From the expression on her face Mulder could tell that no one had found anything yet.  In the last thirty minutes, he'd been checking his watch every few seconds.  This was taking too long.  Scully's voice was getting weaker with every passing moment; she couldn't have much time left.	

Every time he tried to tell her something that had been on his mind since Bateman had shown up at his door just under an hour and a half ago, he'd frozen, unable to get the words out.  He'd known full well that he'd been calling her 'Dana,' but had shrugged it off when Scully asked.  He was more than just worried.  He flet like someone had taken out his heart and used it as a pin cushion.  Little bits of him were leaking out into the ether with every tick of the clock.	It was funny.  In every drama from the masterpieces of society to the worst ever brought to light there was a moment when everything crystalized, came into perfect focus.  Mulder was having his moment of clarity right now.	Did he love Dana Scully?	It sure as hell felt like it.  The thought of her being somewhere out there, alone, injured, *dying*, was driving him to the point where all he could do was sit there and react with hollow dread.  Their constant feuds of the last few months, their angry words had evaporated from his memory like snowflakes on a hot fird.  All that mattered was how he felt now, the sense of completion that she brought to him, the intense feelings that were a deep part of him.  The terrible feeling that it was all going to die unsaid, along with her.	He supposed he'd never said anything becuase he feared that her fellins would run a far different course than his.  Rejection had never been one of his favourite things to deal with.  Better to never tempt the experience at all, to stay alone.  There was less risk of pain in being alone.	But life was a risk.  As an FBI agent he knew that better than most.	

"M . . . Mulder . . . "  Her voice was weaker than ever.	"Fox," he interrupted, surprising her and himself.	"What . . . ?"	"Less syllables," he said lightly.	The silence told him that she knew what he really meant.  	"This a . . . a one time offer?"	"We can talk about that later."  His voice was low, but Bateman was staring at him in shock, her mouth dropping open.	" . . . deal . . . "  Dana whispered.

Part 2/2
South Washington6:21 a.m.	
Doug stood in the middle of the building, eyeing the ground in front of him with suspicion.  Sunrise was still about half an hour away and the search teams had brought in flashlights to illuminate the area.  The artificial light tended to wash everythig with shades of yellow and the dark stains on the floor were no exception.  Resolutely, Doug knelt to get a better look, holding the flashlight high above his shoulder, trying to ge the best possible look.	Skinner approached him from behind as the younger agent reported his finds via the cellular to his partner back at the Hoover Building.  	"Looks like we've found the place, Zoe," Doug said.	"What'd you find?"	"Looks like blood stains . . . we'll have to try and follow them."	"Typing just came back from the blood taken from Dana's car.  It's not hers."	"Eldwin's then?"	"Yeah.  Dana shot him.  We're checking hospitals now."	"Good for her."  He took a deep breath.  "How's she doing?"	"hard to tell.  Do me a favour and hurry, okay?"	"You bet."	"Mulder's getting desperate.  They're on a first name basis."	"You're kidding, right?"	"Doug, do I *sound* like I'm kidding?"	"No, but you sound like you *wish* you were."	"Huh."	"I'll get back to you," he said, noticing that Skinner was looming over him.	"Watch your back, Doug.  Eldwin's still out there somewhere and he's got Dana's gun."	"Whoa.  Run *that* part by me again."	"He stole her gun."	"Dammit.  Zoe!  That's something we needed to know!"	"Hey!  I just found out!"  Her voice was rising with agner that he knew wasn't really directed at him.	"Sorry."	She sighed.  "So am I.  I've got to check in with the other agents."  She hung up as Doug got back to his feet.	"Shelton?"	"Looks like a blood trail, sir," he reported, phone still hanging from his hand.  "Agnet Bateman just told me that Scully shot Eldwin and that he took her gun.   She's got people checking the local hospitals."	"According to Mulder's profile of the man, he's not going to be stupid enough to walk into a hospital and hope for the best.  He knows that it would be reported right away."  Skinner surveyed the building.  "If he *was* hurt though, he couldn't have gotten very far.  Scully has to be somewhere nearby."	Doug looked around the one story building that was laid out like a warehouse.  "She's not here."	"Maybe not, but check again.  It's got to be here or one of the other nearby buildings."  Skinner headed back outside.	Turning to the other agents, Doug gave them a significant look.  "You heard him.  One more try."	He looked down at the blood stains one more time.  There was an awful lot of it.	"Keep it together, Dana," he said softly.  "We're almost there."	

Location Unknown6:22 a.m.	
Dana licked her dry lips and tried not to groan.  Intellectually she knew she was drifting into shock, knew it was only a matter of time, but that realization did nothing to dispel the fear that raced through her.  The room was suddenly much too cold and the strain on her muscles to keep them from shivering was almost as painful as letting them would have been.  The pain from the wound was beginning to subside, the edge taken off of it as her system slid further and further out of control.	

"Mulder -- Fox," she said quietly in a voice that was one step removed from reality.  "I'm getting really tired."	"Dana, you have to stay awake."  His voice was loud in her ear.	"I *know* that . . . I'm a . . . a doctor . . . 'memeber?"  Speech was difficult now, her thotughts scattering like seeds in a stiff wind before she could pull them into focus.	"I hadn't forgotten."   The tone of his response brought a half smile to her face.	She could remember all the times that she'd had to patch him up, from applying pressure to a bullet damaged artery on a dockside pier while praying for an ambulance to get down there before he beld to death, to arguing with an ER doctor in the Arctic to prevent Mulder from being brought out of hypothermia before treatment could be begun with anti viral drugs.  Give Mulder a stack of paper and he'd probably find some way to inflict severe bodily damage to himself.	Sometimes she wondered how he'd survived before she came along.	She didn't realize she'd been talking out loud until he replied, "Forget about debunking my work, Dana, they just wanted someone to keep my medical bills down."	"Guess I did . . . did a lousy job, huh?"	"No.  You did a great job.  Still will."	"Fox . . . "  It was strange how easy it was for her to call him that.  Strange and oddly soothing.  "Thank you."	"For what?"	"Letting me call you . . . by your name."	"Only you, Dana," he said softly, voice carrying more emotion that she dared to name.  He was trying to tell her something more.	"I . . . I know," she said simply.  "We've just got . . . got bad timing."	"We're going to find you," he said firmly.  "You just have to stay awake."  His voice caught.  "All right?"	"I"m trying," she said, her own voice unsteady.  But she was loosing the battle, the room swimming in and out of focus like a kaleidoscope, the colours blending into new combinations that taxed her eyes.  The need for forgiveness was suddenly overwhelming.  "Please . . . don't be angry . . . . angry for what I did . . . "	"I'm not angry," he said instantly, with conviction.	The thing light that had been coming in from a dirty window suddenly faded.	"It's getting so dark in here . . . "	"Dana!"  His voice was raised now, shouting in her ear, but even that was far away.	A frightened cry escaped her lips.	The window was being blocked by a person.

Hoover Building 6:26 a.m.	
Mulder was one step away from crying himself.  Dana's voice was unsteady,  trembling with fear, pain, exhaustion and some other emotion that he couldn't face naming right now.  Her words were becoming increasingly more difficult to make out and he knew he was losing her to shock.	His only recourse was to shout in the phone now, hoping that some part of her could still hear him and listen.	Bateman was watching him now, ignoring the phone in her hanmd a pained expression on her face mirroring the one on his own.	

"Come on, Dana," he was yelling into the receiver.  "Answer me!"  He looked over at Bateman, shaking his head.  "She's not answering."	"Oh, Mulder . . . " Her eyes were soft with grief.	"Dammit, she's slipped into shock!  Where's the hell Shelton and Skinner?" 	"Still looking."	"Come on, Dana."  This time he whispered the words into the phone, sagging in his seat, feeling a wave of numbness wash over him.	"Not . . . not dead yet, Katherine?"	He sait up straighter in the chair, pushing the cellular against his ear as if that would make him hear better.  This voice was one he hadn't heard before.  With his free hand, he waved Bateman over, turning the phone so they could both hear, covering the receiver.	"Not dead . . . bitch . . . shot me and still not dead . . . "	"No . . . " That was Dana's voice, weak and ineffectual against the ramblings of the other speaker.  "No . . . please . . . "	Mulder's eyes were wide with fear as Bateman dived for the other phone.  "Christ!  That's Eldwin!"

South Washington 6:30 a.m.	
Doug pulled the phone out of his pocket with mingled relief and horror.  So far they'd found nothing.  The blood trail led out the door to the building, but they'd lost it on the street.  A canvass of the homeless living in the area turned up no information about an injured man moving the body of a woman.  Not even the offer of money could get them to remember anything that might otherwise be forgotten.  Maybe, hopefully, someone else had better luck.	"Shelton."	"Doug, oh my God, it's Eldwin!"  Zoe's voice was filed with panic.  "He's *there*!"	Doug shut his eyes for a second, waving a hand in negation while he tried to figure out what the hell his partner was trying to tell him.  "Come again, Zoe?"	"Eldwin is with Dana!"	"What?!"  He spun around as if he could see them.  "What's going on?"	"I'm not sure exactly, but we can hear him over the phone.  He sounds pissed and like he's not willing to wait for us to show up."	Doug bolted out the door of the building, scanning the street for Skinner.  He spotted the AD about half a block away and Doug reached the nearest car, jerking open the door on a startled agent, slamming his hand down on the horn.  "Hang on, Zoe, I'm getting Skinner."	The AD looked up in surprise at the noise and saw Doug, waving frantically while giving the horn another blast for good measure.	"Tell me you've got good news, Shelton," he said, jogging up.	"I wish, sir.  It's Eldwin.  He's there, where ever Dana is."  He could see the horror in his own eyes relected in the eyes of the other man.  "It sounds like he's going to kill her."	The predawn calm was shattered by a gunshot.

Location Unknown 6:31 a.m.	
Eldwin was pacing in front of her, his left hand wrapped around his right shoulder, which was still bleeding.  He was screaming obscenities, working himself into a killing rage.  All she could do was watch him.	" . . . try to kill me," he snarled, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, their glassy countenance chilling her to the core.  He was stone on something and the way he was moving it looked like it was PCP.  He was massaging the shoulder wound so hard that he was doing more damage than the bullet had.  "Gonna kill you ."	Somewhere outside a car horn blared.	Her gun was tucked in the front of his dirty jeans, the butt protruding over the waistband.	"Can't go to no hospital . . . they'll turn me in . . . "  He turned his wild eyed gaze full on her, drawing the weapon.  "All your fault!"	"Oh god," she whispered, eyes swimming into focus enough for her to see the barrel pointed at her head.  "Fox!"	"*Eldwin*!"   The voice erupted from the phone next to her ear and she winced away, gasping in shock as the gun went off, bullet slamming into the floor five inches away from her head, sending a spray of concrete chips into the air, some of them stingin her cheek.  His aim had been thrown off by the voice.	Mulder's voice.	"What the hell?"  Eldwin looked at her, squinting somewhat because he didn't remember leaving a man here to die.	"*DANA*!"  Mulder's voice was frantic.  To him the gunshot would have been incredibly forceful since the bullet hit closer to the phone than her.  "*Dana*!  Are you all right?!"	"I'm . . . okay, Fox . . . " she gasped as Eldwin leaned down, snatching the phone and placing it next to his ear, smacking her maliciously in the head with the gun.  She moaned as more pain spread through her skull.	"Who's this?" Eldwin demanded, holding the phone awkwardly with his injured arm, the gun still pointed at her.  "Gimme an answer or she's dead."

Hoover Building 6:34 a.m.	
Mulder was on his feet, free hand clutching the table top with tension.  When he'd heard Dana's hopeless whipser, he'd reacted to it, not thinking fully about what he was doing, shouting Eldwin's name.  And then the gun had gone off and his heart nearly stopped, automatically moving the receiver away from his ear and then immediately putting it back against his ear, screaming her name in fear.  Her answer gave him enough strength to rise as Eldwin came on the line.	"This is Agent Mulder of the FBI," he replied coldly to the man's quesion, fighting to ignore the threat.  "Is this Saul Eldwin?"	"Mebbe."	Eldwin sounded less than in complete control of his mental faculties and Mulder swallowed hard.  Talking a killer down was hard enough when he was rational . . . but if Mulder didn't Dana was going to die in the next few seconds.	"Listen, Saul, I want you to put the gun down."	"But I like it."  He heard an intake of breath.  "If I put it down, she'll shoot me again."	"No she won't."  Mulder was dimly aware of Bateman's frantic efforts on the other phone line, hearing her muffled conversation.  She'd jumped out of her seat at the same time he did.  "Dana won't shoot you, Saul."    "She's hurt, Saul.  She's going to die."  He managed not to stumble over the word.	"Good."

South Washington 6:35 a.m.	
"Where'd that gunshot come from?" Skinner demanded as half the agent present came out of defensive crouches, Doug included.	"Sounded close."	"Doug!"  Zoe's voice was echoing from the phone.  "Dammit!  *Doug*!" 	"Yeah, we're all still here."  He scanned the nearby buildings as he spoke.  The gun shot sounded really close.	"Eldwin just fired the gun."	"*Eldwin* fired?  We just heard a shot!"	"He's got to be nearby!  Mulder's trying to talk him out of the gun." 	"And Dana?"	"Didn't hit her."	"Thank God.  Look, Zoe, I'll get back to you, okay?"  He hung up without waiting for a reply.  "Eldwin just fired a shot.  It has to be the same one we heard."  He raised his voice slightly.  "Did anyone see someone matching his description in the area?"	Heads were shaking.	Skinner surveyed the buildings.  "Fan out, everyone.  But stay alert." 	"Hey, Mr. FBI!"  One of the homeless men from the next street over shuffled up to Doug, a look of excitement on his face.  "I didn't see no woman, but I did see a guy covered in blood."	Doug grabbed him by the shoulders.  "Where?"	"Next block.  He went into that old tenement over there."	Skinner was already heading for it when Doug let the man go and started after him.	"Hey!" shouted the man.  "Don't I get my twenty bucks?"	Agent Blythe shoved almost forty into the man's hand before sprinting after the other two.	"Thanks," he said, leaving the man to stare after them.	The man looked down at the money and a wide grin split his grimy face.  "Anytime."

Hoover Building 6:38 a.m.	
Mulder was sweating.	He wiped at his forehead with his free hand as Bateman watched him with trepidation from across the table.  Skinner's phone hung limply from her hand, almost forgotten.	"Listen to me, Saul.  Can you tell me where you are?"  Mulder tried to keep his voice calm, free of any anger he felt towards the man on the other end.	"Why do you need to know that?"  Eldwin sounded like he had been hit in the head several times with a blunt instrument.  Mulder could detect no signs of intelligence in his voice.	  Sometimes he couldn't believe the world he lived in.  A man with violent tendancies and what seemed like the working intelligence of an ant could get away with murder and sucessfully attack a well trained, smart, and rational federal agent.		"I want to talk to you."	"We're talking now."	"I want to see your face."  Mulder looked away from Bateman, out towards Skinner's window.  "It's easier to talk to someone when you can see them."	"I don't want to be seen."	"Saul.  Listen to me.  You're in a lot of trouble and it will only get worse if you don't put that gun down now."  He shut his eyes, saying a wordless prayer to a god he wasn't sure if he believed in.	A scrap of memory came to him unbidden.  Dana, just after she'd come out of her coma, looking weak and pale but alive.		She believed in him.  He had to pull this off.	"If I put the gun down, will I still go to jail?"  Eldwin's voice sounded childlike.	"We can talk about that.  Where are you?"	"*Stop* *asking* *me* *that*!"  The words were almost screamed over the phone.	"Okay, okay, just take it easy."  His mind was racing.  What did they know about this guy?  Why was he motivated to kill those with the letter 'K' in their names?	Kelly Jane Winters.	Dale Kevin Micheals.	Sarah Karla Pritchard.	Kyle Birley.	Dana Katherine Scully.		Saul Kendall Eldwin.	It came to him in an instant.	Mulder's eyes popped open again.  It wasn't those people that he wanted to kill.  It was himself.	"Saul, you didn't want to hurt those people did you?  You didn't want to kill them."	Silence.	"You're angry at yourself, aren't you?"	"I don't want to talk to you anymore."  Eldwin's voice was low and angry.  "I know who I want to hurt."	"Saul, wait!"	It was too late.	Eldwin had hung up the phone.	"*NO*!"  Mulder was trembling as he looked over at Bateman.  "I blew it."  He dropped the phone from his suddenly numb hand.  	Bateman was beside him in a flash, pushing him down in the chair behind him.  "You did your best, Mulder."	"It was't good enough."  He felt so drained.  "She's dead."   His eyes met Bateman's.  "Dana's dead."	And he began to cry.

South Washington6:41 a.m.	
Skinner motioned for Doug to follow him inside the tenement, moving slowly.	The front door had been knocked off its hinges a long time ago and the wood was half rotted away, parts of it blocking the entrance, but not enough to stop anyone that was determined to get in.	The moved silently as Agent Blythe joined them from behind, a little winded form his sprint to catch up to the other two.  Skinner looked back in irritation as the younger man gulped down his panting breath and exhaled silently, nodding once to show he was ready for this.	Skinenr went in first, stepping over the pile of debris at the front of the doorway, Doug just far enough behind not to present a double target to whomever might be waiting.  He noticed blood spatters on the part of the door closest to him.  They had the right place.	Blythe moved in behind Doug, almost too close, his sleeve catching on the wood.  Stifling a curse, he tried to work it free, but Doug had to reach back and do it for him, wondering if he should send the man back outside for more agents to keep him out of the way.  They couldn't risk screwing this up because of some rookie.	Blythe met his eyes and inclined his head, letting him know he was on it.	Doug nodded once.  He'd better be.	The hall leading off the door had several different suites.  Some of the individual doors were gone, some still in place.  Parts of the ceiling had come down onto the floor, revealing bare rafters shrouded in cobwebs.  The overall impression of the place was so shabby, it would be the perfect site to dump a body.  It gave the feeling that there was more than one hidden in there.	Skinner looked back at Doug, raising his eyes towards the second floor and shaking his head.	If Eldwin had moved Dana this far, there seemed little reason for him to climb up a flight of stairs when the rest of the place was secluded enough.	Doug nodded, drawing his gun and following his boss down the hallway, Blythe right behind.	They listened at the first door, but heard nothing.  The next door was gone and Skinner covered Doug as he stuck his head inside for a quick look.	Nothing.	"*Stop* *asking* *me* *that*!"	The words came from the end of the hall, from one of the missing doorways.	It was impossible to run without making noise, but the three tried their best, making their way carefully around the scattered garbage and debris on the floor, trying not to trip over it.	Skinner reached the door first, and put his back against the wall next to it, while Doug stepped quickly across the opening to press himself against the other side wall, not daring to look in, waiting for a shout to tell him that he'd been spotted.	None came.	Whoever was in the room was too preoccupied to notice them.	Blythe stood to Skinner's right, looking scared and very young.	"I don't want to talk to you anymore," came the voice.	Doug peered cautiously around the corner of the door.	There was a man standing halfway into the room, with his back to the door, a cellular phone in his right hand, the shoulder of that arm dripping blood onto the already squalid floor.  His other arm was extended, pointing towards the ground and although Doug couldn't see the man't other hand, he was willing to bet there was a gun in it.	Beyond the man, on the floor, was a form, cloaked by the shadows cast by the man's body.  A bit of light was coming from a window along the side wall, a square patch of pale light that highlighted a patch of blood and an outstretched hand.	A woman's hand.	Doug drew his head back and took a deep, deep breath, looking at Skiner and nodding.  They'd found her.	"I know who I want to hurt."  The man threw the phone against the far wall with a bang that the federal agents could hear.	Skinner was counting with his fingers.	Three. Two.	"I'm going to kill you, Katherine."	One.

Dana was barely awake enough to register that Eldwin was screaming into the phone until he threw it against the wall with violent force.  That shocked her back into awareness as she saw the gun beginning to raise up level with her head.	"I'm gonna kill you, Katherine."	She looked into his eyes and saw death.	  A thousand memories raced through her mind, but none became clear.  	The room began to spin.	"*FBI*!" shouted a voice from behind Eldwin.  "Drop the gun!  Drop it or you're a dead man!"	She barely heard the order.	His eyes widened in surprise, the gun shaking slightly in his hand.	"Put it down!"  Another voice, this one angrier than the first.	The world began to dim.	Eldwin spun and fired.	The world faded to black.

"Shit!"  Doug flung himself backward as the man turned, landing on the floor on his rear as the bullet smacked into the wall opposite the doorway.  Skinner had likewise drew back, but didn't loose his footing.    Doug got back to his feet, crouching beside the door, about to angle for a shot.  Their job was harder bacause the very last thing they wanted to do was hit Dana by accident.  Eldwin of course didn't really care *what* he hit as long as a hole appeared in it when he connected.	Blythe jumped in front of the doorway, gun held high, squeezing off two shots.	"Blythe!" Skinner yelled in anger, yanking him back as Eldwin returned fire.	Doug kept his head low and peered around the door frame again.  Eldwin had taken both hits in the chest, but was still standing.	"Dammit, he's on something!"  There was no other way for him to still be upright if he wasn't.	"Stay *put*!" Skinner said to Blythe before looking around the corner for himself.	A bullet narrowly missed him.	He returned fire.	Doug stuck his head around the corner in time to see a samll hole appear in Eldwin's forehead as if by magic.  He tottered forward two steps, the gun dropping from his hand before he joined it on the floor.	Moving into the room, Doug kept his gun trained on the downed man, kicking the other gun far out of reach before bending to check for a pulse.  There was none.	"Blythe, go call for an ambulance."  Skinner stepped into the room.  "Tell them we've got a downed federal agent and if they don't get over here fast, I'm going to sick the IRS on each and every one of their employees."	"Yes, sir."	Doug heard the man's retreating footsteps but ignored them, moving towards the second figure in the room, kneeling in a pool of blood that still trickled slowly from around a slack hand.  Gently, he moved it over to reveal a deep stab wound in the stomach that immediately welled with blood.  He clamped one hand down on it, dumping his gun on the floor and searching for a pulse in Dana Scully's throat, wincing as he saw the purple bruise along the side of her head and the pale colour of her face.	Skinner joined him, pushing Doug's hand away from the wound before taking over the exertion of pressure.	The pulse was slow and unsteady, fluttering more with every beat of her heart.  She was still breathing though and Doug tugged off his trench coat, wadding it into a bundle that he slid under her head.	"Oh, man, Dana, you die now and Zoe's going to kill me," he said softly. 		"If there's anything left when Mulder's through with us."	Doug jerked his head around to face the Assistant Director with a look of shock.  The older man met his look with one of his own.	"Whatever she needs to hear," he said shortly.  "You keep talking to her."	Doug nodded, dismissing the other man, the dead body, and focussing on his friend.  "C'mon back, Dana.  Eldwin's dead and he's not going to be hurting anyone else."  He grabbed hold of the hand that he'd moved away from the wond and rubbed it, alarmed by the chill it held.   "Mulder's going to be glad to see you, you know.  He and Zoe have been raising hell at the Bureau.  Shouting at people, organizing the search.  They've been busy . . . and they don't want it all to be for nothing."	Skinner shook his head.	Guilting her into waking up wasn't going to work.	"Dana, I know you can hear me," Doug tried again.  "Mulder wanted me to tell uyou that he's coming as fast as he can."  Bits of what Zoe had told him and what he had overheard from his phone connection to her were filling his mind.  "I get the feeling that the two of you have a lot to talk about."	He almost missed the faint whisper but heard a quiet sigh of breath that made him lean in closer.	" . . . Fox . . . "	"He's coming."  Doug hoped to God Skinner didn't figure out what it was Dana and Mulder *really* had to talk about.	" . . . Eld . . . Eldwin . . . "	"Is dead."	Her eyes opened, fluttered shut then opened again, pain flitting across her features. " . . . ohhhhhh . . . "	"Easy.  Easy.  The ambulance is on it's way.  Just lie still."  Doug shot a look over at Skinner who actually cracked a smile.	"Agent Scully."	Her eyes darted over to him.	"Nice of you to join us."	Doug could hear sirens.	The window in the room suddenly lit up.	Dawn had finally arrived.

Hoover Building 6:59 a.m.	
Zoe bit her lip and looked at Mulder.	He was almost curled in on himself, sitting in that chair.  He was ignoring her, the tears falling from his eyes without end.	She wanted to cry too.	For herself, for Dana and for Mulder.	She'd suspected that the two of them might one day be involved, but hadn't dared to say anything about it.  Dana would have only scoffed  and denied it, while Mulder probably would have asked her when she'd last had counseling.	Never had she imagined it would come to a head like this.	"Mulder . . . "  Her own voice was wavering, her eyes trembling with unshed tears.  "Mulder, I'm sorry . . . "	How completely inadequate those words were.	She sat down in her own chair.	Dana Scully, her best friend, was dead.		Zoe didn't believe in God but she said a prayer for her friend's soul anyway.	The phone in front of her rang.	She almost didn't pick it up, but instinct made her.	"Bate -- Bateman," she said, having to clear her throat.	"We've got her."  Doug's voice was almost as ragged as her own.	"What?"	"We found her.  She's in transit to Washington Memorial now.  Skinner's in the ambulance with her and I'm en route to my car."	"But Eldwin -- "	"We got there just as he was about to shoot her.  He's not going to be a problem anymore.  Skinner killed him."	"But -- "	"Look get Mulder and get over to the hospital.  The paramedics weren't sure if she was going to make it or not."	"I . . . I will."	"Zoe?"	"Yeah."	"I don't care what the paramedics said.  She's going to make it."	"I hope so." She hung up.  "Mulder."	He was still too wrapped up in his own grief to notice her.	"Mulder!"	His head jerked up, puzzlement and pain flashing through his eyes.	"They found her."	"Wh -- what?"	"They *found* her.  She's still alive."  Zoe got out of her chair, and grabbed his trenchcoat from the back of one of the tables's other chairs, tossing it at him.  "Come on.  We've got to get to Washington Memorial."	He caught the coat by reflex.  "She's alive?"	Zoe nodded.

Washington Memorial Hospital12:58 p.m.	
They were still waiting. 	Most of the other agents had gone back to work,  Skinner had been the last to go, after word had come from one of the surgeons that Dana was going to pull through -- barely.  Out of professional courtesy, one of the surgeon's had left the operating theater when her part was done and let them know immediately what the prognosis was.  Dana would still be in surgery for a while longer but her skull X-ray had come back negative for any fractures, her broken arm had been set, and the doctors were finishing up repairing the damage wrought by the knife.  As long as there were no complications and infection didn't set in everything was going to be fine.	Mulder wasn't willing to take anyone's word for it and had merely grunted at the news.  Zoe had broken out into a relieved grin and gone off to call Margaret Scully, Doug in tow as she tried to figure out exactly what she was going to say.  Skinner has started to leave then paused, looking back at his agent, who was sitting in a hospital issue chair with his elbows propped up by his knees, head in his hands.	"Agent Mulder."	The look the younger man gave him was bleak.	"Ah . . . Mulder."  Skinner's harsh look softened.  "You did your best.  If you hadn't kept Eldwin talking as long as you had we never would have gotten there in time."	"The irony, sir, is that if he hadn't have come back to finish her off, we never would have found her at all.  I still blew it.  I couldn't save her."	Skiner sighed.  "She wasn't asking you to."	Before Mulder could ask him what he meant by that, the older man left, leaving him staring after him with an expression of disbelief.

5:47 p.m.	
The sun had set again.	Mulder looked out the window, one arm braced against the wall, letting the dusky colours wash over him.  The light fromn the hospital room was dim, setting the perfect mood for him.	In the bed behind him, Dana was still unconscious, this time from sedation rather than shock.  Addording to her doctor, she'd lost a massive amount of blood.  He believed the man.  He'd seen some of it on Shelton's clothes and Skinner's hands.	He shut his eyes and breathed a thankful word to whatever deity had been watching out of her this morning.	They hadn't a prayer of find her in time, until Eldwin came back.  The gunshot had given the searchers notice that he was there.  And if that homeless man hadn't seen him enter that building . . . 	Mulder shuddered, opening his eyes to stare out at the ever deepening darkness.	He'd gotten a description of the man from Shelton and made a mental note to go thank him personally.	Coincidence within coincidence.	That was all that had saved Dana's life.	He hadn't done a thing . . . 	" . . . hey . . . "	The voice was hesitant, filled with an aching tiredness and some other, undefinded emotion.	He turned back towards the room forcing a bright smile onto his face.  "Hey, yourself. "  Crossing back to the bed, he sat gingerly on the edge of it.  "How you feeling?"	"Awful," she said swallowing with difficulty.  "But alive."	He poured a glass of water from the bedside pitcher and handed it to her.  She took it awkwardly, trying not to tangle the IV lines from her left arm, her right in a cast.  Mulder helped her avoid knotting the cords and then took the glass from her when she was done.	"What . . . what happened?" she asked in a weak voice.	"What do you remember?" he countered in a gentle tone, brushing sweat dampened red hair from her face, careful to avoid the bruise that had spread along her temple to half way down her jaw.	"Not . . . not much . . . Eldwin . . . "  Her gaze dropped from his face and she drew in a deep breath, wincing a little.  "He came back . . . with my gun . . he was going to . . . to kill me."  Her voice was shaking and she reached out for his hand.  He let her take it, reaching with his free hand to place it along her right cheek.  Her blue eyes were damp with tears but she refused to shed them.  "I was scared."	"It's all right."	Her eys met hs and the tears brimmed over.  "I thought . . . that I was going to die."	He felt his heart lurch again, this time not from fear but from pain.  "I know you did."	Her shoulders were shaking with sobs that she strangled down, which only made her stomach hurt more, pain flaring across her features.  Mulder shifted a little closer and pulled her into his arms, deftly avoiding the IV lines.	"Let it out, Dana," he whispered into her hair, feeling tears of his own forming in his eyes.	She did and he held her until the worst of the sobs from both of them had petered out.	"I'm sorry," he said as they pulled apart.	"For what?"  She was confused.	"I couldn't do anyting."  He had felt so helpless and even a little jealous of the fact Shelton and Skinner had been the ones to find her.	"Mu -- *Fox* . . . "	
It was strange to hear her call him that face to face.  Strange but at the same time very comfortable.	"When I called you, I *never* expected . . . I thought that no one would find me."  Her eyes looked frightened.  " I just didn't want . . . I didn't want to die without . . . "  She paused, groping for the words.  "Without . . . without saying goodbye."	His hazel eyes locked on hers.  Was she saying what he thought she was?  Did it matter?  He had to tell her what had been preying on his mind all day, growing more and more urgent as he had kept vigil over her during the afternoon.	"Dana,  I . . . I -- care -- *deeply* for you."  He was afraid to meet her eyes.  "I knew that, but I don't think I realized how much until I was powerless to help you when you needed it most."	"Fox -- "	He held up a hand, the other one clenched tightly in his lap.  "I wanted you to know that."	"Thank-you," she said softly.	He looked up at her insurprise.	An engimatic half smile was playing across her face.  "Why do you think . . . think I called *you*?"	He grinned, a great burden lifting from him, his hand seeking hers again.  "I wasn't sure."	"Neither was I."	Their eyes met again and this time neither of them wanted to look away.  Mulder leaned in towards her and their lips met briefly.  He pulled back, eyes searching hers.	"Is this going to work?"	"If we make it."	

Outside the room, Zoe put a hand out to stop Doug from opening the door, her gaze locked on the scene visible throught the mesh window.	

"Uh, Doug, hang on a couple of seconds."	He looked hat her in puzzlement.  They'd spent the day doing all the  paperwork on the case after swinging by Doug's place so he could get a change of clothes.  By the time they were finished, visiting hours were over the the hospital, but rules were sometimes bent for law enforcement officers so they had headed straight for the place.  And now Zoe wanted to wait?	"I don't think they want to be disturbed right now."  She had a strange expression on her face, one that was part mischeif and part shock.	Doug looked in the window.	"Oh, man, I hope Skinner doesn't find out about this . . . "	Zoe giggled.  "I won't tell it you won't.  C'mon, G-Man, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."	He smiled at her.  "After the day I've had, you'd better throw in dinner."	"At a hospital cafeteria?  I'm not paying for a stomach pump."	Doug let her lead him down the hall.  "I'll take my chances . . . "	"And so will they," she replied with a grin.  "And so will they."

Pentagon 9:51 p.m.	
The man regared the transcript in front of him, ignoring the smoke that drifted around.  It looked like the listening device he'd had placed in AD Skinner's office had finally paid off.	A predatory smile crossed his face as he read the report again.	Very profitable indeed.	 He reached for the phone, removing a card from his jacket pocket that had only a telephone number on it.  This card had been waiting to be used for a long time.	And the time was now.

THE END?

    Source: geocities.com/area51/vault/3768