Guilty as Charged(1/2)

Guilty as Charged(1/2)
By Vickie Moseley

Sun Dec 15 1996
Summary: Mulder faces his worst nightmare and it's up to Scully to wake him
up in time.

XA Disclaimer applies.
Disclaimer: I won't make any money off this. Big surprise, right?

FOURTH SEASON WARNING: Some spoilers scattered throughout, mostly refering
to Herrenvolk and Home. No romance. No significant others. Some bad
words. Probably PG13 or there abouts.

Comments to me: vmoseley@fgi.net

Guilty as Charged
By Vickie Moseley
begun Nov. 11, 1996

An open field
August 15, 1996
3:00 pm

The sun was beating down and not a breath of air was coming
from the beaches to the east. Two men in suits and three men in
blue uniforms were standing in far right field of an old baseball
park. The rusted backstop cast the only shadow on the area.

"I don't like this, I don't like this one bit," Det. Steve Marker said
as he stood near one side of a slight mound in the large open field.
"I mean, I've lived here all my life. I've played in this very field
since I was old enough to ride a two wheeler. My brother's kids
have played here. I know this field, Rick. I would have noticed
something like a, a grave!"

Marker was young, only 29, but he looked even younger. His
casual good looks were in stark contrast to his superior, Rick
Price, who stood beside him. Price was older by ten years and had
made a career of looking the part of the hard bitten police
lieutenant. Where Marker was dark, dark brown hair, dark eyes,
Price was blond. Where Marker dressed in unassuming business
attire, Price was dressed to the nines in designer suits and
expensive hand tailored shirts. The young man sometimes
wondered just where Price got all his money, God knew he wasn't
relying solely on what the good residents of Martha's Vineyard
paid him.

"Steve, look. I know it was just an anonymous tip, but this
damned case has been on the books for 23 years. Wouldn't it be
worth digging in the dirt a little if we could close it?" Rick said as
he watched the crew of forensic officers dig a hole in the ground.
The hole was about three feet across and four feet long, just the
size for a small child's grave. They were about 3 feet down when
one of the men called out.

"We got somethin'. Careful boys, don't mess this up," the older of
the three said and each man put his spade aside and started the
painstaking work of uncovering the objects with the care of
archeologists at an ancient site. After another hour, the objects
began to take shape.

"It's a skeleton, all right. And look here." Price reached down
and picked up a small pin from the dirt. He recognized it
immediately, even before he noted the initals engraved on the
back.

"Don't tell me it's his," Marker said in disbelieve. "That's just too
pat," he added shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, I was there when he got this. I always knew that guy
was looney tunes. Now I got proof." Price took out the evidence
bag and dropped the 20+ year old Eagle Scout pin into it. "Call in
an APB, Steve, and book yourself on the next shuttle. He's got
some questions to answer. And maybe this time, he'll be awake
enough to make sense."

Fox Mulder's Apartment
August 15
7:30 pm

"You really don't have to do this, Scully. I'll do fine all by
myself," Fox Mulder assured his partner as he hobbled into his
apartment on crutches. "It's not like I've never been on crutches
before," he added as he made his way around the furniture and
landed with a 'thump' on the couch. He dropped the crutches
under the coffee table and propped the plaster encased foot and
and ankle on the couch like a seasoned professional. Scully
perched on the coffee table across from him.

"I know that, Mulder, but the doctor said you were to stay off
the foot for at least a couple of days. I know you. By tomorrow
morning you're going to be trying to gimp your way down to the
metro stop and ride the train into work. But for tonight, I expect
you to follow the doctor's orders, if I have to hold you at gun
point to make sure you do," she said forcefully.

"You know how much that turns me on, Scully, when you talk
about holding me at gun point," he teased. She shot him a
scathing look and he grinned. "Lighten up, Scully. I broke my
ankle. At least that means you get some time to clean up the
paperwork that's be piling up in the office," he reasoned.

"ME clean up the paperwork?! Mulder, if I remember
correctly, at least HALF of that paperwork is yours," she cried.

"Yeah, but Scully, I'm injured. You wouldn't make me do
paperwork when I'm injured, would you?" The twinkle in his eye
was enough to make her forget about any injuries.

"Mulder, keep this up, and it won't be just a broken ankle," she
growled. "Now, what do you want for dinner? My treat."

"You are feeling guilty about this, aren't you?" he asked
seriously. "Scully, it wasn't your fault. I was the klutz who fell
off the fire escape. You had nothing to do with it," he said with a
gentle squeeze of her hand.

She looked at him for a second and almost seemed to believe
him. Then, reality set in. "Mulder, it was my fault. I should have
cut him off before he got to the fire escape. If I had . . ."

"The guy would have done the same thing, Scully," Mulder
reasoned. "He was too big for either of us. He would have tossed
you off the roof. Besides, you didn't have your gun," he added
pointedly.

"I still can't believe I lost it," she sighed with exasperation,
refusing to look at him.

He grinned broadly. "Hey, it happens. I must be rubbing off
one you." She let her eyes travel up to his face and smiled in
return. He really didn't think she was to blame. He wasn't even
bothering to forgive her, because for him, there was nothing to
forgive. All she really needed to do was forgive herself.

"OK, Mulder. You might just be rubbing off a little, but we
are NOT getting anchovies on the pizza," she said and picked up
the phone to place the order.

Twenty minutes had elapsed and they were deep in discussion
over the relative merits of Friday night television programs when
there was a knock on the door. Scully got up to answer it. She
opened the door, wallet in her hand, and stared right in the faces
of a pair of uniformed Arlington policemen.

"Can I help you?" she asked in surprise.

"Is Fox Mulder at home, Miss?" a plainsclothed detective
asked. She hadn't notice him at first, he had been standing out of
her line of sight.

"Yes, but he's indisposed. Can I help you? I'm his partner,"
she informed them and noticed the looks that were exchanged
between the detective and the uniformed officers.

"Miss, if Fox Mulder is in that apartment, we'll have to ask you
to step aside," the detective said in an official voice and started to
move her to the side. She gave him a look that sent a shiver down
his back, but she moved to allow him in. By this time, Mulder
was struggling to find his crutches so that he could stand and see
what was going on. He was on his feet, but wobbly and as he
reached out a hand to steady himself, the detective caught his
elbow. "Fox William Mulder?" he asked.

Mulder looked down at the hand on his arm and then back at
the detective's face. He had no idea what was happening, but he
was sure he didn't like how it was going. "Yes," he said slowly.
"I'm Fox William Mulder."

With one swift motion, the detective's other hand whipped out
a pair of handcuffs and snapped one ring on Mulder's left wrist.
"Fox William Mulder, I'm Detective Steven Marker of the
Chilimark Police Department. I need to bring you in for
questioning regarding the murder of your sister, Samantha Ann
Mulder. You have the right to remain silent." The rest of his
rights were lost in the fog that surrounded Mulder as he realized
what was taking place. Anxiously, he searched the room and
finally found who he was looking for--his partner.

"Scully?" he pleaded.

Scully had been standing at the door, just behind the uniforms.
She was in shock, but quickly came to her senses. "Detective
Marker, there must be some mistake. Samantha Ann Mulder is
my partner's sister and was kidnapped over 23 years ago. She
wasn't murdered." By the time she had finished, Marker had
effectively handcuffed Mulder to himself.

Steve looked at the woman who had now crossed the room,
standing close to him and the man in his handcuffs. His instincts
put him on the defensive, but he could tell by the look on her face
that she wasn't going to cause trouble. She was confused. As
confused at the man he was handcuffed to. "Look, I'll go into
more detail at the station. For now, I'll tell you that a body has
been discovered, and there is sufficient evidence to assume that it's
the body of Samantha Mulder, 8 years of age and that she was
murdered. Based on evidence found at the scene, I've been
instructed to bring Mr. Mulder here in for questioning." Steve
turned to his captive and gave him a half smile. "Now, can you
handle those crutches, or should I give you a hand?"

Arlington, VA Police Dept.
Precinct 4
August 16, 1996 1:30 am

Scully found him sitting on a wooden bench. Mulder's head was
flung back, his broken ankle propped on his two crutches in an
effort to keep it elevated, his eyes clenched tight with pain lines
across his forehead. He didn't even startle when she sat down
beside him. She shook his shoulder gently.

"How did it go?" she asked, not wanting to sound as concerned as
she felt.

"What could I say? I don't remember. That's what I told them.
About 50 times. I was beginning to think if I tried a different
language it might make an impact, but the kid didn't look the Latin
and Greek type," he said, stifling a tired yawn.

"What evidence do they have that it could be you?" She knew he
was exhausted, but there were so many missing pieces to find.

"They found my Eagle Scout pin buried with the body. It had my
initals on it." He had a faraway look and a noticeable shiver ran
through him.

That was enough to convince her that he needed sleep more than
questions. "C'mon. Let's get you home," she said quietly.

"Aren't I supposed to stay here, tonight?" he asked, his voice
hoarse and raspy. "I mean, I'm such a desparate criminal that they
brought me in 'cuffed." His sarcasm was the thin veneer keeping
his anger and anxiety in check.

"Detective Marker's a kid. He didn't know what to expect. And
as for staying the night, I convinced them you weren't much risk
of flight since your whereabouts have been common knowledge to
the largest law enforcement agency in the free world for the past
14 years. Besides, I don't know that they have enough evidence
to charge you at the moment, forensics is still working with the
skeletal remains. I told them I would be responsible for you.
You're coming to my apartment, so I can make sure you get some
rest."

He started to object but she put up her hand. "It's that or the
hospital, Mulder. The doctor at the ER wanted to keep you the
night anyway. If you remember, you were under my care as it
was. And this has hardly been my definition of 'resting'. So now,
we're going home and you're going to rest, for real."

"You did call Skinner, right?" he asked intently. He hadn't had
much chance to talk to her once the interrogation began.

"Yes, and he sent out a team from the Boston office to ensure the
site is properly handled. Damn, I wish they had called us
immediately."

"What, and lose the biggest collar on Martha's Vineyard since
Teddy Kennedy's little cruise on the Chappiquiddick?" he smirked.
"Nah, I was never impressed with our local officers of the law
when I was a kid. I'm still not that impressed with them."

"Well, the Boston guys will take care of it now. They were called
in the last time," she said with a sigh. More than anything she
wanted to be up there, but other matters needed to be attended to
first.

As usual, he read her mind. "I need to get a lawyer, don't I?" he
asked as she helped him with his crutches. "I mean, Chuck
Peabody's a nice guy, he was great with my dad's estate and all,
but he'll freak if I ask him to represent me in a murder trial. Hell,
Scully, I don't even *know* any defense lawyers," he moaned.
She helped him to his feet and propelled him out the door and to
the parking lot.

"One of the detectives recognized you from the Gregor case. You
know, the night you got hit by a car? Anyway, she gave me the
name of a defense attorney that we can call in the morning. But
you realize, the trial will be in Massachusetts," she said as she
opened the passenger side door and helped him in the car.

"So I should just see if one of the Kennedy family lawyers is
willing to take on another case and I'm home free, right?" he said
with a ghost of that old twinkle faint in his eyes. She gave him a
dirty look and he nodded in quiet embarrassment.

"Mulder, you know there's been some mistake. That is not your
sister in that grave," Scully said evenly.

He looked at her for a moment. "How do you know that, Scully?
How can you be so sure?" he asked, all open sincerity on his face.

She looked at him in confusion. "Mulder, what do you mean?
How could it be Samantha? After all you've seen, after all you've
been told, how could you believe anything else?" Her hands
gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles shone white
under the passing street lights. "Mulder, you didn't kill your
sister." It was a statement of fact, not open for discussion.

"I wish I could be so sure," he whispered, just out of her range of
hearing. He laid his head back on the seat and pretended to fall
asleep for the rest of the ride.

She got him in the apartment and he headed for the couch. "Unh
uh, not tonight, mister. In the spare bedroom and move it," she
ordered.

He shot her a fierce glare. "No TV in there," he said, not really
wanting to waste even that much energy on communication.

"Yeah, that's why it's called a 'bedroom', Mulder. It has a bed.
Now if it had a TV, I'd call it a living room. Look, I'm way too
tired to be having this conversation, so get your ass in there and
get in bed while I get you some water to wash down these pills.
Or I'll use that blow dart gun we got off Samuel Aboah, if you'd
prefer," she said with a nasty gleam in her eyes.

"Never noticed how bitchy you are at 2 in the morning," he
grumbled and hobbled into the spare bedroom. He sat on the bed,
managed to hook his cast on his one sneaker heel so that he could
work it free. He succeeded, but it jarred his ankle enough to
really make it throb. He made a mental note not to try that again
too soon, at least not until the ankle was better. Then he laid
down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. In a minute, Scully was
standing by his side, a handful of pills and a water glass in her
hands. He made a great show of pulling himself up to a sitting
position.

"What are these?" he queried as he took the glass and examined
the pills still in her hand.

"Antibiotic, pain killer, sleeping pill. Want the PDR sites for
them?" she growled. He glared back at her and took the pills.
"And don't even think of 'palming' them, Mulder. I intend to
check your pulse in a few minutes. Anything higher than 50 and
you get a shot in the ass, got it?"

"You have been watching too much 'Xena--Warrior Princess'," he
muttered, but took the pills and made a great show of sticking
them on his tongue, then sticking the empty tongue out at her
after he swallowed. "Happy?"

"To my toes," she said dryly. "Get some sleep. Don't worry
about the alarm, I'm turning it off. You need the rest." She got to
the door before she turned back to him. "It's gonna be all right,
Mulder. I promise," she said and he was certain she meant every
word of it.

He wanted to tell her that no, he didn't know that. That to be real
honest, he felt like he was in a bad remake of his worst nightmare
and he wasn't sure of anything at this point. But she wouldn't
understand. He couldn't tell her that, so he simply smiled his good
night and let the drugs take him to sleep.

end of part one

M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst

XAngst Anonymous "'Thin air'? Why is it always 'thin' air?
and Myth Patrol Why isn't it 'fat' air, or 'chunky' air,
Construction Site or 'basically fit, but could stand
to lose a few pounds' air?"
---Garbaldi, B5

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

**********************************************************************
_ _
\ / For information on the XAngst Anonymous
\ / email fanfic list, please write:
X A N G S T Anonymous
/ \ & xangst@frii.com
/ \ The Myth Patrol Dean Warner--Founder and moderator
- -

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

From xangst@frii.com Sun Dec 15 20:25:34 1996
Guilty as Charged part two
V. Moseley
disclaimed in part one

Dana Scully's apartment
August 16, 1996
2:25 pm

The phone was ringing by his head. In a second, before he could
reach it, it stopped. "Let the machine get it," he mumbled and
rolled over on to his side. He winced when the cast hit the surface
of the bed too hard. "Damned ankle," he cursed and tried to go
back to sleep.

"Fox?"

Somewhere in his sleep riddled mind he knew that voice, but it
wasn't coming to him. He decided if he ignored it, it would
probably go away, so he did just that.

"Fox, wake up." This time the voice was accompanied by
someone shaking his shoulder and he had no choice but to pay
some attention. He turned his head and opened his eyes.

Maggie Scully's blue eyes stared back at him then gave him a faint
smile. "Hey, sleepy head. Dana's on the phone. She needs to talk
to you." She handed him the cordless phone and left the room,
closing the door behind her.

Coming more awake, he looked around him. Scully's spare
bedroom. His ankle in a cast. He glanced down and noticed the
slight bruise that the handcuff had formed on his wrist where he
had been shackled to Det. Marker. "shit," he whispered, as he
remembered the night before.

"Mulder? Are you there?" came the voice from the phone. Oh,
yeah, the real world, he thought.

"Yeah, Scully, I'm here. What time is it, anyway?" His voice was
hoarse, like he'd been asleep for days.

"Going on 2:30 in the afternoon," she answered. "How's the
ankle? Mom knows where the pain killers are if you need one."

"No, it's OK. I haven't walked on it, yet. I'll get some aspirin if it
causes me any trouble. The hard stuff dries my mouth out," he
said, scratching his shoulder and trying to position the pillow
behind him so that he could get somewhat comfortable. "What's
up?"

He heard the sigh in her voice. "Mulder, I asked Mom if she
could drive you down to the office. Skinner wants to talk to you.
I've been in meetings all morning. The ME in Chilimark has
positively ID'ed the remains found in a shallow grave in Hobbs
Park as Samantha. At some point soon, we need to talk."

He swallowed hard. It was Samantha. Oh, god.

ohgodohgodohgoditwasSamantha. His chest was tight and it was
hard to breath.

"My Mom?" he croaked.

Scully knew instinctively what he was asking. "Your mother
called the office this morning. The police were at her door earlier.
They want her to come in to the station for a deposition. I think
she's nervous, Mulder, so I told her I'd get up there as soon as I
can. She's allowed to bring someone with her to the station."

"I'll go," he said firmly.

"Mulder, you can't. She's going to be talking about the night Sam
disappeared. You can't be in the room. They would think you
were influencing her testimony," Scully reasoned. "Besides, I
want you to stay here until they call for you. For now, it's
probably for the best that you are several hours away. Stay put."

"I don't like this, Scully," he growled low into the phone.

"Neither do I, Mulder, but we don't have a lot of options. I'm
convinced that you've been set up. But I can't do anything if you
run off and look guilty." She let the words make their impact.
"Mulder, I've called that attorney that the Detective gave me last
night. He's seems like an OK guy . . ."

"Oh, boy, what a recommendation," he interrupted with a sarcastic
snort.

"Mulder, listen to me! You need to talk to someone. Do you
know of any lawyers on the Vineyard?" she asked sharply.

"There are no defense lawyers on the Vineyard, Scully. Only
estate and divorce lawyers. Everybody else goes to Boston," he
said tersely, rubbing his hand over his eyes and coming away with
sleepy crumbs.

"Well, then you need to talk to this guy," she said firmly. "He's
very successful, Mulder. He has a good number of acquittals
under his belt and those who weren't acquitted got very good plea
bargains."

"Are you listening to yourself here, Scully?" he said, raising his
voice. "This guy is one of those scum . . ."

"Mulder you _need_ him."

" . . . one of those two bit, slimey bastards who get people like
Tooms out on a technicality! Who let fuckers like Monty Props
escape the 'chair'! Who basically make our lives a living HELL!"

"Are you through, yet," she asked in a quiet voice when he's run
out of breath.

"How much does he cost?" he asked weakly, exhausted by his
outburst.

"One hundred fifty an hour. And expenses."

"Holy shit," he replied. After a moment he sighed. "OK, I'll talk
to the son of a bitch. But only 75 dollars worth." He was quiet a
moment. "Scully."

"Yeah?"

"Tell my mom . . . ," he choked. Even now, even with Scully, he
couldn't say the words.

"I'll tell her, Mulder, don't worry. But I'm pretty sure she already
knows," Scully said softly and hung up the phone.

J. Edgar Hoover Building
4:00 pm

Walter Skinner didn't like what was happening. It was going too
quickly for it to be anything but a frame job. But his
responsiblities were clear. The best he could do for Mulder was
make sure every eye was dotted and every tee was crossed. He
didn't even look up when Kimberly knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said, staring resolutely at the file folder on his desk.

"Agent Mulder is here, sir," Kimberly said and stepped aside to let
Mulder struggle through the door with his crutches.

"Agent Mulder. I heard you had another, uh, injury," Skinner said
evenly. "Have a seat."

"I don't think I was called in so you could update me on the new
managed care provisions of our health plan, was I, sir?" Mulder
asked as he lowered himself into the chair. He noticed
immediately that he was not alone in the room. Another man,
presumably an agent, was also sitting in the other chair in front of
Skinner's desk.

"No, Mulder, you were not," Skinner said and looked directly at
the young man before him. "I wanted to inform you of the
progress of the investigation into this discovery in Chilimark." He
motioned to the other man. "This is Agent Crowley from the
Boston office. He has been out to the site this morning and wants
to ask you a few questions."

Mulder nodded, keeping his expression blank. Inside, his guts had
just twisted into a knot that would have made his old scout master
proud. "Agent Crowley," he said, and reached over to shake the
other man's hand.

Crowley was actually younger than Mulder, but sported the
regulation Bureau cut on his medium brown hair and the
conservative suit with the classic tie. Next to him, Mulder looked
like a teen ager. "I've read some of your profiles, followed your
work. It's good to meet the man," he said and Mulder could
almost hear the unspoken 'behind the myth' that would have
inevitably followed that statement if Skinner had not been in the
room. Crowley reached down and pulled a folder out of his
briefcase. "Agent Mulder, according to the statements made at
the time of your sister's disappearance, you have no recollection of
the events of that evening."

Mulder nodded. "That's correct."

"I notice this statement was given on January 29 of 1974. Was
there some reason you weren't interviewed closer to the date of
the disappearance?" Crowley had a bland expression on his face,
but Mulder suspected he was already coming up with some pretty
keen conclusions.

"I was hospitalized immediately following the incident," Mulder
said, his voice dropping low and his hands gripping the arms of
the chair.

Crowley's frowned and flipped some pages. "Were you injured?"

"No. I was," Mulder stopped and cleared his throat. He knew all
this was in his own medical records, it was all Bureau information.
Either Crowley hadn't bothered to look there, or the bastard knew
exactly what he was fishing for and was just making Mulder
squirm on the hook. He gritted his teeth and started again. "I was
in a coma for close to a week. Then I was unable to keep food
down for three weeks. I was released from the hospital on Dec.
24 of 73. The doctor felt it best not to question me on my sister's
disappearance until I was stronger. That was about a month after
my discharge from the hospital."

"There was no physical cause for your illness?" Crowley asked,
and Mulder noticed that his voice had now taken on the quality of
silk. The bastard had him just where he wanted him.

"The illness was thought to be related to hysteria following a
traumatic event. Following that hospitalization, I had no further
incidents requiring hospitalization," Mulder said firmly. He'd been
through this a thousand times with EAP following some of his
more traumatic cases. This was familiar territory and Mulder was
a master at avoiding the many landmines buried beneath the
surface.

Crowley glanced over at Skinner who stared back with a steely
glare. No help from that quarter would be coming. Time to
redirect the attack. "Agent Mulder, what was your relationship
with your sister?" The tone held more meaning than the words
and hung in the air like an accusation.

"What exactly are you implying?" Mulder growled, deep in his
throat.

"Agent Mulder, I don't think Agent Crowley is implying anything.
And it's a question that will be asked again before this whole mess
is cleared up," Skinner said in a warning voice. "I suggest you
calm down and answer the man."

Mulder swallowed hard. This was not what he expected, not what
he wanted to think about. The years of guilt had tarnished so
many of his memories of Sam. It was only recently, standing in an
open field in Tennessee, that he was able to tell Scully with some
fondness of the times he had shared with his little sister. He
forced his mind in those back inner recesses, to where the good
times lie wrapped in dust and cobwebs.

"We had a normal relationship. She was four years younger, but
she wasn't much of a pest. We fought, like all kids. But when she
was scared, she usually ran to me instead of to Mom or Dad. We
talked a lot, I taught her to play ball. Nothing noteworthy." He
shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want to know?"

"Were you attracted to your sister--I mean sexually?" Crowley
asked and immediately sensed that he had tromped on the wrong
toes. Mulder was out of his chair, and lunged at the other man
with a look of sheer murder in his eyes. Crowley leapt out of his
chair and only the fact that Mulder's cast caught on a chair leg
saved him from having Mulder's hands firmly around his throat.

Skinner was around his desk in a second and grabbed Mulder,
who was trying desparately to untangle himself from the chair and
reach Crowley where he was standing across the room. "Agent
Mulder, that will be enough!" he said, holding the agent in a half
nelson to keep him from getting to the other man. "And Agent
Crowley, the next time you use that kind of interrogation
technique, I suggest you have the subject handcuffed and wear a
kevlar vest, because you are only asking for trouble," Skinner
seethed. "Now, Crowley, you are dismissed. We'll talk about this
later."

By the time Skinner was able to turn his attention to Mulder, it
was obvious that all the wind was out of the agent's sails. He was
slumped against the overturned chair, breathing heavily. He was
pale and shaking and he looked up at his superior with a cold
terror in his eyes.

"They didn't find anything like that, did they? No sign of sexual
assault? Oh God, please, please, not that," he murmured and his
voice trailed off.

The AD was quick to reassure him. "No, Mulder. None
whatsoever. There was nothing in the ME's report to suggest
that. They've sent the remains down here to our labs, but so far,
there is no evidence of that."

"But if it's just bones, there wouldn't be any way to know for
sure," Mulder whispered, his eyes dead. His chest heaved with
each breath.

"No, you're right. There wouldn't be any way to tell." Skinner
knew he would gain nothing by lying to the man slumped beside
him. "But there is no reason to believe it occured until we have
evidence to support it, you know that Agent Mulder." He spoke
the words as he would to a recruit, who had just asked a question
on procedure.

The tone got the desired results. Mulder drew a deep breath and
straightened a little. Skinner helped him to his feet and then into
the now righted chair.

"Agent Mulder, in light of the recent discoveries concerning your
sister, I think it would be best for all concerned if you took some
time off."

Mulder closed his eyes for a second. It was exactly what he had
expected and precisely what he had prayed against happening.

"I need to get to the bottom of this, sir," he said, trying to make
that sound like a reasonable request.

"And you are precisely the wrong person to do that, Mulder. You
know that as well as I do. It's not a suggestion. It's an order."

"Am I suspended," Mulder spit out the word and glared at his
superior.

He was leaving Skinner no choice and he knew that full well. "It
appears that's the only way to get through to you," Skinner
growled. "I don't want to do this, Mulder. But it's the only way I
know to keep you out of this. You are hereby suspended, with
pay." Skinner had to smile at the raised eyebrow that little
addendum produced. "You'll need to leave your guns and your
badge. You won't be able to go to your office unless you have a
security guard escort you there," Skinner said evenly.

"I understand, sir," Mulder whispered. He felt like he had just
been punched in the stomach. Until that moment, except for the
ride to Scully's apartment the night before, he had come close to
convincing himself that it was just a bad dream. Even when he
was arguing with Scully about talking to the scumbag lawyer, it
hadn't sunk in, it wasn't real to him. But this, taking his job away
from him, shutting him off from his X Files, just when he needed
them most, it was more than he could deal with. His whole world
was being ripped apart from the inside.

He shifted in his seat, since he couldn't stand easily, and took his
gun out of it's holster at his hip. He leaned down and removed the
one that was holstered at his 'good' ankle. Then, slowly, with a
forced blank expression, he opened his jacket and took his badge
out of the pocket and placed them all on the desk in front of
Skinner.

"I look forward to returning these soon, Agent Mulder," Skinner
said firmly.

Mulder took a deep breath, pushed himself out of the chair and
tucked the crutches under his arms. "I look forward to getting
them back, sir," he said with more confidence than he felt. With a
quiet dignity, he left the room. Once he was near the elevators,
Kimberly heard the distinct sound of an ashtray hitting the far wall
of her boss' office.

Maggie was waiting in the lobby. She saw the slump of his
shoulders, as if he were carrying the weight of the world and her
heart went out to him. But she knew this young man. He was a
very private person and would never allow her to offer her
comfort. The most she could do was let him know that she was
there and that she cared for him. She rose to her feet and went to
meet him as he crossed the FBI emblem on the floor of the lobby.

"Thanks for waiting, Mrs. Scully, I'm sorry it took so long," he
apologized. "I feel bad that Dana pressed you into 'babysitting'."

"It's all right, Fox. I had the afternoon free, I'm happy to help out.
Do you need to get anything from your office? I could go get the
car and wait for you outside," she suggested.

"No, that's OK, Mrs. Scully. I can just tell Dana what I need and
she can bring it home with her tomorrow. Has she called yet?
She should have made it to Boston by now," he said, trying to find
some threads of normalcy in the tulmult of his world.

"I'm sure she'll call when she gets there, Fox. Come on, let's get
you home. You haven't eaten yet and you must be starved." She
held the door for him as he managed the crutches.

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he really wasn't hungry. In
fact, for all his purported insomnia, all he really wanted to do at
that moment was go back to Scully's apartment and go to sleep.

*****

M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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

From xangst@frii.com Tue Dec 17 06:43:51 1996
Guilty as Charged part three
V. Moseley
Disclaimed in part one

Chilimark Police Station
Interrogation Room B
5:00 pm

"Now, Mrs. Mulder, I understand that it has been 23 years since
the night your daughter disappeared from your home, but we need
to have you tell us everything that happened that night," the
Assitant District Attorney Andrea Caveny said with practiced
ease. She was a young woman, not yet thirty, but this was a very
high profile case and she was eager to meet the challenge. Andrea
had grown up on the Vineyard, and knew the story she was about
to hear. This would be the first time she would hear it without the
multitude of comments that accompanied it as it had been handed
down in the small seaside community of Chilimark.

The Mulder family lawyer was in attendence, looking a little out
of his depth. Charles Peabody liked dealing with wills and estates
and trusts and ways to keep finances secure. He liked all that
because it allowed him ignore the part of the law that dealt with
murder and mayhem and destroying people's lives. But until he
could find someone else to help her, he knew his client needed
him.

Mrs. Mulder looked over at Dana Scully and gave her a weak
smile. Dana wasn't allowed at the interrogation table, but was
seated against the wall, still in eye contact, if Mrs. Mulder needed
her. Mrs. Mulder took a deep breath and began.

"We were going over to the Gibsons for cards. It was something
we did a couple of times a month. For years, we would have one
of the high school girls come over and watch the children, but
early in the summer, Bill decided that Fox was old enough to be
left alone to watch Samantha. We were only next door, after all."

"How far was the Gibson home from your house, Mrs. Mulder?"
Andrea asked for the record.

"I guess 'next door' is a bit of misnomer. We had one to one and a
half acre lots in that subdivision. So the Gibson's house was
several yards away. The lots were all wooded, mostly oak and
maple. The leaves were still on the oak trees, but the maples
leaves had all fallen by Halloween that year. I remember Fox and
Samantha playing in them when they were ready to go Trick or
Treating." Mrs. Mulder's voice took on a far away tone and
Scully couldn't keep the smile off her face as she thought of her
partner going Trick or Treating. She even gave herself the luxury
of wondering what he had gone as that year.

"So it's possible that you wouldn't have heard what went on at
your house?" Andrea asked, breaking the illusion of happy
memories that had settled on the other two women.

"Yes, it's possible. I mean, Jack, Dr. Gibson, used to like the
radio on so he and Bill could listen to the Celtics game or Red Sox
or whatever team was playing. So Millie and I would have to
almost shout to be heard. But we had a good time. A very good
time," she said sadly.

Once again, Andrea broke the spell. "Mrs. Mulder, what time did
you go back to your home that night?"

Mrs. Mulder looked up, as if she had just walked into the room.
"Uh, it was eleven. I had called to make sure that Samantha had
gone to bed. Fox was allowed to stay up. It was Friday and he
loved to watch the 'ghoulie movie' as they called it then. More
often than not, he'd end up sleeping on the couch with the lights
on in the morning, but I didn't see any harm in it. Bill didn't like it,
that he watched those things, but Fox was just a boy."

"So at eleven o'clock, everything was fine?" Andrea asked,
beginning to scribble on a yellow legal pad, even though the entire
discussion was being recorded.

"No, no it wasn't fine. The phone was dead. It wasn't all that
unusual, the wind was strong that night. Bill said the lines must
have come down, that was common enough in those days. But I
was still concerned. I didn't want Fox and Sammi alone in that
house without a phone. What if something were to happen, I said
to Bill." The older woman turned to Dana, as if trying to explain
her concerns, seeking reassurance for her actions. Dana nodded
her encouragement.

"So the phone was out, and you left the Gibson's?"

"Yes. It must have been right at eleven because I remember the
late news was just starting. We had walked over and so it was
about five minutes before we got to the house."

"Did you notice anything unusual as you approached the house?"
Andrea prodded.

"Yes. The lights were out. Even the stairway light. We kept that
on until Bill and I went to bed. It was always on. And Fox would
have left it on while he watched the movie. But the house was
dark. I got scared and started to run, but Bill caught my arm and
reminded me that if the phone lines had come down, the electric
lines probably followed." She stopped and looked at Dana again.
"But the lights were on at the Gibsons' and they were on the same
transformer as us. We could tell if something was wrong at the
transformer by looking out our bedroom window and seeing if the
Gibsons' security light was shining."

"So you don't know why the lights were out just at your house?"
Andrea asked.

"When we got in the house, we found out it the electric was out
completely. The wall clock in the kitchen was stopped. It read
ten till nine. We had come through the kitchen door, you see. I
didn't like the children using the front door because we had a new
carpet and it was hard to keep the sand off it."

"Mrs. Mulder, I understand that you are trying very hard here, but
please, you don't need to explain your actions. You aren't on trial
here," Andrea said kindly.

Mrs. Mulder gave her a stern look. "Young woman, I have to
disagree. My daughter was taken from me that night. I have no
idea what happened or when. She was my responsiblity. My
child. My baby. You may not think I'm on trial for that, but
believe me, I have tired myself, and found myself guilty. I have
lived out my punishment, my sentence, every day since that night.
And I will live that sentence until the day I die."

"Of couse, Mrs. Mulder," Andrea said apologetically. "Please,
continue."

"When I saw what time the clock had stopped I got frightened. I
ran into the living room, calling for the children. I tripped . . ." A
sob caught in her throat and then broke free. " . . . I tripped over
Fox. He was lying on the floor. His eyes . . ." another choked
sob, "his eyes were wide open. He looked terrified." She shook
with the force of the sobs that engulfed her. "I thought he was
dead. I . . . I screamed for Bill." Her hands were wringing and
twisting on the table top. The older woman looked up and saw
Dana. She smiled weakly through her tears, seeing the tears
mirrored in the blue eyes that greeted her.

"Bill came in and tried to get Fox to stand up. He screamed at
him to stand up. He shook his shoulders and screamed in his ears
and tried to get him to stand up. But Fox just laid there. He
couldn't see us. He didn't know we were there." She stopped and
stared for a moment as the horror of that night washed over her
again. "I held him. I got down on the floor and held Fox while
Bill searched the rest of the house. He came down and told me
that Samantha was gone. Bill was crying by that time. I'd never
seen him cry before, not once. Never. He said he had to call the
police, the ambulance. Fox was still not moving, not talking, not
even acknowledging us. Bill ran to the Gibson's to make the
phone call."

The older woman took a sip from the styrofoam cup in front of
her. "Jack and Millie came back with Bill. Jack was our
pediatrician," she explained. "It was always so convenient when
the children were sick. Jack would just come over when he got
home and write out a prescription. Anyway, he said Fox was
suffering from shock. Hysterical catatonia. When the ambulance
arrived, Jack ordered an IV and some tranquillizers. Just before
the ambulance left, Fox' eyes had gotten so heavy, I guess he just
finally let them drop. Jack told me he was asleep, but I knew
better. My baby boy was very, very far away from me that night.
I don't know that he's ever really come back to me," she
whispered.

"Was there anything taken from the house, besides your
daughter?" Andrea asked, making more notes on the pad for later
questions.

"No. Nothing was missing. My pearls were lying in the jewlrey
box upstairs. My purse was on the kitchen doorknob, where I had
left it. It contained $50 and some credit cards. Our silver, Bill's
watch and good cufflinks were all in easy reach. No, they hadn't
taken anything. Just one of the most precious things in the
household," Mrs. Mulder said bitterly.

"As the ambulance was pulling out, the police arrived. They
brought dogs to seach the woods. We found Bill's gun, his
revolver, under the highboy in the living room. The box, an old
humidor, was on the floor. The police found Bill's fingerprints on
it and Fox'. That was all. The revolver hadn't been fired, but it
had a round in the chamber. I guess Fox must have tried to scare
off whoever took his sister." Her voice was calm and steady now.

"When did Fox regain consciousness, Mrs. Mulder?"

She bit her lip and frowned. "Not for several days. By the next
morning, Jack had called in a specialist from Boston's Children's
Hospital. Fox was officially diagnosed as comatose. He didn't
respond to any stimulus. His EEG was almost flat, very few
spikes. Of course, we didn't have CAT scans and the like in our
little hospital in Chilimark. Jack wanted to move him to Boston,
but I was afraid. I was afraid that whoever had taken Samantha
would try to take Fox, too. So I put my foot down. I wouldn't let
him out of my sight. I slept at the hospital, in his room. I spent
the days reading to him, talking to him, trying to reach him. On
Wednesday morning, I felt a tug at my hand. Fox' hand was
twitching under mine. By dinner time that evening, he was
awake."

"He cried at first. He wanted Sam. He didn't know why we
wouldn't let Sam come see him. See, he had his tonsils out when
he was ten and we brought Sam up to see him in the hospital. It
was the only way we could get him to stay in bed, he hated
hospitals." Mrs. Mulder shot Dana the ghost of a smile. Dana
smiled in return.

"When we told him that Samantha was gone, he was inconsolable.
The vomiting began. While he was in the coma, they had been
feeding him through a tube down his throat, and when he woke
up, they took it out. But after we told him about Sam, he got so
sick. He couldn't keep anything down. After a day, Jack and the
specialist ordered the tube put in again. They sedated him so that
he would sleep most of the time."

"He slept. He slept for almost three weeks. It wasn't the coma,
the EEG showed that there was brain activity. He had regular
sleep cycles. He just shut himself off, drew into himself and didn't
come out. The doctors kept the tubes in, since he couldn't stay
awake long enough to eat and he only threw up if he did try to eat
anything."

"All that time, those four weeks, we searched. The police, then
the FBI, everyone on the island, every one searched. Ms. Caveny,
I know you think you've found my daughter's body in Hobbs Park.
But let me assure you, we searched every inch of that field 23
years ago and there was nothing. No dirt disturbed, no mound.
Nothing. The FBI did more in the 70's than just tap the phones of
war dissidents, you know," she said tersely. Scully was amazed at
how quickly the woman had pulled herself back together. It was
obvious now where her partner got his backbone. "And I really
don't appreciate you dragging up all this hurt and heartache from
my past just to make a political name for yourself," she added with
a daring glare.

Andrea shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but other than that,
didn't acknowledge the comment. "Mrs. Mulder, just one more
question. Would you say that Fox was a violent child? Did he
ever show signs that he might hurt his sister or that he didn't want
her around. And please remember, Mrs. Mulder, you are under
oath and the courts have determined that there is no priviledge
granted to the relationship between a parent and a child."

The older woman's face flushed bright red and for a moment,
Scully was ready to call the paramedics, fearing another stroke.

Slowly, the older woman rose to her feet and leaned over the table
so that she was just inches away from the Assistant DA. "How
_dare_ you even suggest such a thing," she seethed, keeping her
voice low, just as Scully was used to hearing her partner do when
he was at his limit and beyond. "They were brother and sister. He
loved her. She loved him. They played together, they worked
together. He watched over her like a guardian angel. When she
skinned her knee he carried her all the way home. When she got
teased because of her freckles, he went to her teacher and
complained about the kids on the playground. He would no
sooner have harmed a hair on her head than he would have flown
to the moon!"

"I know what you're thinking. I know how easy this could be for
you. He was alone with her. It makes a nice tidy murder mystery
to have the older brother commit the crime. That way, you don't
have to dig--you don't have to come up with who really took my
daughter. But did it occur to you that my son was as much a
victim that night as my daughter? That what happened, what he
witnessed, put that boy in a coma, _a coma_ for a week. I don't
know what was done to him. The doctor ran test after test but
nothing was conclusive. Even so, he was sick, so sick we thought
we might lose him, for weeks after that night. I almost lost both
of my children to the bastards who did this and now you're trying,
ONCE AGAIN, to blame my son! Well, young woman, you and
everyone else on this God forsaken island can GO TO HELL!"

Her words echoed off the cinderblock walls and faded off into a
deafening silence. To his credit, Charles regained his composure
before any one else in the room. "I think my client has had
enough for one day," he said evenly and gathered his papers into
his briefcase before getting up to join Mrs. Mulder, who was
already standing at the door.

Andrea swallowed and a faint blush colored her cheeks. "Thank
you for coming down, Mrs. Mulder. If we have any further
quesitons, we'll call you. You are free to leave."

As they were leaving the interrogation room, Dana leaned over to
her partner's mother. "She shoots, she scores! Two Points, Mrs.
Mulder," she whispered with a proud smile.

In a voice still slightly shaky, the older woman answered. "Thank
you, dear. Coming from you, that means a lot."

*****

M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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

From xangst@frii.com Thu Dec 19 07:02:13 1996
Guilty as Charged part four
By Vickie Moseley
disclaimed in part one

Dana Scully's apartment
9:30 pm

Maggie heard the key in the lock and jumped to her feet. She let
out a relieved sigh when her daughter stepped wearily in the door.

"Hi, baby, how was the flight?" Maggie asked, taking Dana's
briefcase so that the young woman could shed her suit jacket and
shoes at the door.

"Bumpy, as usual," Scully replied, then looked around the living
room. "Where's Mulder? I expected him to be waiting on pins
and needles," she said with a worried frown.

"Asleep. We got back from the office and he went straight to bed.
He said he wasn't hungry. Didn't even ask for a pain killer. I don't
know exactly what happened in Mr. Skinner's office, but Fox
seemed awfully quiet on the ride back here. I figured with the
night he had, he probably needed the sleep," Maggie said, but
noticed her daughter's concern. "Should I have kept him up?" she
asked, a worried look on her face as well.

"No, no. It's all right. He's probably just exhausted. The only
time he gets any rest is when he's banged up. The ankle's
bothering him, I suppose and he's sleeping it off. I'll go in a wake
him in a minute." She walked over to the couch and lowered
herself into it with a groan. Maggie smiled indulgently and went
into the kitchen, coming back with two glasses of iced tea.

"Here, you look like you could use this," Maggie said as she
handed a glass to Dana and sat down on the couch beside her.

"Thanks Mom. You're psychic," Dana said with a return grin.
She drank half the glass then put it on the end table and leaned
back, letting her head drop back on the back of the couch.

"How was Fox' mother? Is she all right?" Maggie asked after
Dana had a minute to relax.

Dana looked up and over at her mother and made a conscious
decision not to correct her partner's name. She straightened in her
seat and looked more at ease. "Yeah, she's all right. For now.
You know, Mulder thinks his mother is fragile, but she's anything
but. That woman is tough as nails. And after all she's been
through, Mom . . . well, she gave as good as she got tonight. I
was proud of her." She looked her mother straight in the eye. "I
almost thought it was Maggie Scully in that interrogation room,"
she grinned.

Maggie let out a breath of air that sounded like p-shaw and
grinned back at her daughter. Then she got serious again. "Did
you see the remains? Did Mrs. Mulder identify the body?"
Without realizing it, Maggie was grimacing. She couldn't imagine
a worse experience than identifying your child's body, especially
after 23 years.

"The remains have been sent down here. They've ID'd them from
dental and DNA records. I'll get my chance to see them
tomorrow morning. I doubt that there will be much to see,
though. The grave was shallow, which means it wasn't that good
at protecting the remains. Oh, and one other item was found."
Dana chewed on her lip a minute and stared out into space.
Maggie reached over and put her hand on her daughter's lap.
Dana looked up. "An Eagle Scout pin. From the looks of it, it's
probably about 20 to 25 years old. There were initials on the
back. FWM"

Maggie clenched her eyes shut. "Surely they don't think . . ."

"Mom, don't you see what's going on? Someone has gone to a lot
of trouble here to make it look like Mulder killed Samantha and
then buried her body in that field. But it's a fabrication, an
elaborate lie," Dana hissed and stood up to pace the floor in front
of her mother. "I'm not convinced it's even Samantha's bones they
found in that grave."

"Dana, how can you say that?" Maggie demanded. "How could
you know something like that?"

Scully thought for a long while before she answered. She knew
these people and knew full well what they were capable of. How
much could she tell her mother before she put her irrevokably in
danger? But then, how did Scully know that her mother wasn't
already there? Still, she didn't want to take the chance.

"I don't know how I know, Mom, I just do. I know Mulder. I
heard his mother's account of the night his sister disappeared. He
was in traumatic shock. He couldn't have killed his sister. But he
probably witnessed what happened."

"He's taking this pretty hard, Dana. You'd better keep an eye on
him," Maggie warned.

She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the forehead, then
pulled her to her feet. "Why don't you head home, Mom. You've
got to be beat. I need to wake up Sleeping Beauty in there. We
have some work to do tonight."

Maggie nodded, gathered her purse and left.

Dana walked into the bedroom and turned on the lamp on the
nightstand. Her partner was sound asleep, he didn't even move
when the light came on. She sat down on the bed, careful to
avoid hitting his left leg and jostling the cast.

It never ceased to amaze her how young he looked when he was
sleeping. He'd once accused her of drooling on him, but it was an
ironic joke, at best. Mulder slept with his mouth open, as if even
in sleep he had theories to expound, ideas to explore, truths to
convey to the universe. And, as she knew happened on occasion,
screams to release from the most tortured parts of his soul.

This time, he appeared different. Oh, the hair was mussed as
usual. Some strands standing up at attention, while the hair next
to that was lying as if a stylist had just removed the brush and
comb. His breathing was steady. She'd seen it ragged enough
times in her life. She was grateful that this time, he didn't appear
to be sick. It was his face that made her rethink that. His face
wasn't relaxed. There were lines near his eyes, around his mouth.
His face was held taut and rigid. Almost in pain.

She could chalk it up to the ankle. Even if he had spent the better
part of the day with it elevated, a broken bone always hurt worse
the day after the injury. He hadn't been off it enough right after
they had come back from the hosptial. It had swollen,
undoubtedly. Broken bones don't forgive. If you don't pay
attention to them right from the start, they will let you pay for it
the entire long time it takes them to heal properly. She
remembered that her mother had said he hadn't taken a pain pill.
She'd make him take one before he went back to sleep. He would
need it to get through the night.

Right now, however, she needed him awake.

"Mulder. Hey, come on. Rise and shine. I'm back, I need to talk
to you," she said, gently rocking his shoulder so that he wouldn't
startle on her.

"mmhhmf," he said and rolled so that his face was buried in the
pillow.

"Mulder, come on. Mom says you went to bed the minute you
got back from seeing Skinner. You've slept more in the last 24
hours than you normally do in a week. Come on, I need to talk to
you." Her voice was a little louder and she was leaning down
close to his ear.

" . . . wait till morning?" he pleaded, still muffled by the pillow.

"No, it can't wait. We have things we have to do in the morning.
You have an 9:30 appointment with Mike Chambers. He's the
lawyer I told you about. But I want to talk to you now, Mulder,
so shake a leg." She shook his shoulder again. "I'll even make
you some eggs. I don't think you've eaten all day, have you?"

Groggily, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Not
hungry," he replied. Then he gave her a dirty glare that said she
wasn't needed to help him out of bed and she beat a hasty retreat
to the kitchen.

She heard the crutches on the hardwood floor as he progressed
down the hallway. She'd thrown a package of bagels in the
microwave and put cream cheese and strawberry preserves on the
table with a glass of milk. He ignored them and went in to sit in
the living room.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, thinking once again that men
really are pigs and followed him in to stand over him. "You'll get
strawberries on the sofa. Come eat in the kitchen," she ordered.

"Scully, I'm not hungry, really. Now, sit down and tell me what
happened with my Mom." He pointed to the arm chair across
from his place on the sofa and then settled back to listen.

Scully frowned, but sat down. "The Assistant District Attorney
took her statement. Her name's Andrea Caveny. Ring any bells?"

Mulder nodded. "Her old man was mayor when I was kid. I went
to school with her older sister, Leslie. Math whiz. Can't say I
remember much about Andrea except she tended to be a bit of a
snoop," he said, laying his head back on the cushions and closing
his eyes.

"Well, she's probably made it a life's work, then. Anyway, she
asked the standard questions, had your mom go over the details of
that night." Scully decided not to mention the question that
provoked the violent outburst from his mother at the end of the
interview.

"They were at the Gibson's," Mulder supplied, not bothering to
open his eyes.

"That's what she said."

"What did she say happened when they came back home?" he
asked, finally taking the time to sit up and look at her.

"I'm sure you've heard it before, Mulder," she said with a wave of
her hand. "The electric was off. She went into the living room
and tripped over you. You were in shock. You're dad searched
the house and couldn't find Samantha. He went over to the
Gibson's and called the police." She ticked it off matter of factly,
hoping to lessen the impact the memory might have on him.

He sat there listening as if it was the first time he'd heard the story.
"She tripped over me?" he asked. "She said that. That she
tripped over me?"

"Yes, Mulder. You were lying on the floor in the living room,
with your eyes open, but you didn't respond. Apparently your
father tried to shake you to get you to look at them, but you
were," Scully stopped and frowned. "Mulder, you've heard all this
before, haven't you?"

He shook his head slowly. "I wasn't real with it at the time,
Scully. I read the file on it when I was assigned to ISU, but Mom
and Dad's statements were pretty sketchy. Just said that they'd
found me in an hysterical coma and that the lights and phone were
out." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "How was she? I
mean during the questioning?"

"She did great, Mulder. She broke down a little when she talked
about finding you. I guess at first she thought you were dead.
But she's a tough lady. I don't think you give her enough credit,"
Scully chided him lightly.

"I probably don't," he admitted. "I was down in the living room,"
he muttered, screwing his face in intense concentration.

"Where did you think you were, Mulder?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I have different dreams. One time,
I'm in my bed and Sam's across the hall in hers and there's this
light and I can't move. I never see her, I can just hear her calling
to me." He stopped and swallowed. "Can I have a glass of water,
Scully," he asked apologetically.

"Sure, of course, Mulder," she said, jumping to her feet. "Sure
you don't want something to eat?"

"You're dangerously close to turning into your mother, Scully," he
smiled wanly. "Not that it would be a bad thing, mind you," he
added with a wink. "No, just water. I'm just thirsty."

Once she had given him the water and sat down again, she
thought for a moment, then continued where they had left off.
"You said you have 'different dreams'. What are the other ones?"

"There are a couple that are what I call 'housecleaning dreams'.
What ever case we're on, where ever we are, Sam's there and she
floats in the air and I try to reach her. Or someone grabs her and I
try to stop them, but I'm frozen in place. Stuff Carl Jung would
put in textbooks. But the only other dream from the house is like
you described. We were in the living room watching TV. We got
into a fight over what to watch. The fuse blew and the lights went
out. Then the whole house started to shake. There was a bright
light coming in all the windows. It blinded me at first. When I
could finally see, Sam was levitating. She floated out the picture
window in the living room. I tried to get Dad's gun . . ."

Scully sat forward on her seat. "Your Dad's gun? Go on, Mulder.
What's the rest of the dream?"

He took another sip of water and thought for a moment. "I had to
climb on one of the extra dining room chairs because Dad kept his
gun in an old cigar box on top of the highboy. I got it down and
tried to get bullets in it, Dad always kept it unloaded. My hands
were shaking so hard, the bullets kept falling on the floor. When I
had it loaded, I pointed it at the door. Right then, the door blew
open and there was the bright light again. Only this time, there
was someone, something, standing in the light. It was tall, thin,
with long arms that reached out to me." He stopped and looked
over at her. "And that's the part where I wake up in a sweat," he
said as casually as he could.

"Mulder, that dream fits more with what your mother said they
found. Did the file mention the gun? That they found it lying on
the floor next to you?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he said, frowning in concentration. "No, I don't
think I saw that in there. That's weird, isn't it?"

"Well, the gun hadn't been fired. Maybe the officer just didn't
think it was pertinent, since it was obviously unused," Scully
suggested.

Mulder shrugged again. "It was the first major crime we'd had in
Chilimark. I'm sure things got out of hand, and fairly quick. Like
I said before, Chilimark's finest aren't that fine. I know the FBI
didn't get involved for a day or two. It wasn't until the Chilimark
police decided to label it a kidnapping that they entered into the
picture."

"Did they question you?" Scully asked quietly.

He gave her a sad smile. "You mean after they decided I wasn't
ready for a rubber room? Yeah. But it was in late January. I
didn't get out of the hospital until Christmas Eve and the doctors
wouldn't let anybody near me for a month after that. I missed
almost two whole months of school." His face broke into a grin.
"Took me three nights to catch up on all the homework," he
added.

She refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him see her grin
back. She hid her smile behind her hand. But there were more
serious matters to discuss. "So what did Skinner want?" she
asked.

The laughter faded from his eyes. "Not much. I'm suspended," he
said flatly.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Mulder . . ."

"Yeah, I know, it's to be expected. But Scully, that doesn't make
it any easier to get used to, you know," he said through clenched
teeth. "Oh, and I met the asshole in charge from the Boston
Regional office."

"Did that go well?" she asked, hoping that it did. More than
anything, the agent in charge of this investigation would need to
be an ally. Scully didn't know anyone at the Boston office and had
no idea who had been assigned to the case.

Mulder never answered her question, which meant the answer was
no, it probably didn't go well. He got very quiet and she watched
as he struggled with his thoughts. "Scully. Do me a big favor?
Tomorrow, when you do the autopsy, would you look real hard
for any evidence of sexual assault." He saw her start to raise an
objection and he put up his hand to stop her. "I know it's hard on
a body that's mostly bones, but . . . I just really need to know."

She could tell there was more to this request than appeared on the
surface, but she also knew he wasn't going to tell her the rest.
She'd have to find out for herself. "Sure, Mulder. I'll see what I
can find."

That line of questioning was at an end, so she decided to change
to another. "Well, Mulder, I want to look at your medical records
from back then. I think you can build a solid defense on the fact
that you were obviously suffering a deep trauma after seeing your
sister abducted."

He stood up and using just one crutch, he walked over to the
windows looking out the front of the apartment. "Unless the
trauma was killing my sister," he said so softly that she almost
didn't hear the words. When she realized what he was saying, her
blood chilled in her veins.

"Mulder, what are you talking about?" she demanded.

He refused to turn and look at her. Instead, he stared out the
window, rubbing his arms up and down as if in an effort to warm
them. "There's another dream, Scully." He didn't say anything for
a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts. Trying to decide if
he should make this confession, even to his most trusted friend.

"What other dream, Mulder? What are you talking about?" she
prodded.

"I started having it after I started profiling. I'm out in a field. I
don't recognize the place, it's like those movie sets in cheesy sci fi
movies that are all fake mountains and volcanoes and stars above
and a couple of moons for good measure. And I'm standing over
her. Samantha. She's lying on her back. Her eyes are open,
Scully, but I know she's dead. I scream at her, tell her to get up,
that she can't die, I don't want her to die. And I start to get mad
at her, because she isn't listening to me. I bunch my hand up in a
fist and I'm gonna hit her to get her to listen. And then I notice
what I have in my hand. My old knife. My Scout knife. There's
blood on it." As the last words left his mouth, he started to shake
so violently she was afraid he would fall. Scully ran to his side
and helped him back on the sofa.

He wasn't crying, but he wouldn't stop shaking. She took hold of
his arms and tried to get his attention. "Mulder. Mulder, listen to
me! That sounds just like those other dreams. The housecleaning
dreams. You put yourself in the minds of killers back then,
Mulder. One of them just got mixed up in one of your dreams. It
doesn't mean anything, do you hear me, Mulder. Nothing. It
doesn't mean you killed your sister," she said firmly, hoping at
some point that he would look at her and calm down.

Finally he stopped shaking. He closed his eyes and leaned back.
"I'm so tired," he whispered. "So tired." Before she could get
him off the couch and to bed, he had fallen asleep in a sitting
position.

*****

M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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

From xangst@frii.com Thu Dec 19 07:19:59 1996

Guilty as Charged part five
V. Moseley
Disclaimed in part one

August 17, 1996
8:00 am

The phone started ringing as she stepped out of the shower. For a
second, she thought maybe Mulder would pick it up. He was still
sleeping on the couch, where he had fallen, exhausted, the night
before.

She still wasn't sure what had happened. She didn't think it
qualified as convulsions, the actions looked more like severe
tremors or the chills. He had been aware enough to tell her that
he was tired. But the speed in which he had gone from tremors to
sleep had frightened her. At first, she thought he might have lost
consciousness. She pinched his earlobe, just to see what would
happen and he batted her hand away, but had not opened his eyes
or changed the rhythm of his breathing. It wasn't that long
afterward that she noticed as he slipped into a REM sleep cycle,
something even Mulder would have trouble faking.

His pulse was strong, his heart was steady, his breathing was even.
She chuckled to herself when she considered how many times
when he had kept her up all night with his crazy theories, that she
had wished to have him just fall asleep and leave her alone for a
few hours. Now he was doing that and she just wanted him
awake enough to talk to her.

The phone was still ringing as she grabbed her robe and tied it
around her waist. Mulder was still sawing logs on the sofa. And
drooling on her good chintz pillows, she noticed. She reached for
the phone and made as much noise as possible answering it. He
was oblivious to her actions.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner. Is Agent Mulder
there with you?"

"Yes, sir. He's asleep in my sofa. Do you need to speak with
him?" she asked, almost hoping for an excuse to dump some cold
water on her slumbering partner.

"No, he probably needs the sleep," Skinner said. "Actually, I'm
calling more for your benefit. I got word that the Detective from
Chilimark will be coming to take Agent Mulder into custody in
about an hour. I know you were counting on being at the
autopsy, but I thought it best to put a rush on this and you were
still in Chilimark. There were a number of scorings across the
ribcage. COD is down as stabbing." Skinner took a deep breath
before he continued. He didn't notice Scully was holding her
breath, too. "And Scully. The team I sent out from Boston found
something else. A metal detector picked it up. It was a knife."

Scully closed her eyes and almost dropped to her knees. "A Boy
Scout knife," she whispered.

"Yes, that's right," the AD said with some surprise. "It has Agent
Mulder's initals _and_ his prints on it. And a good amount of
dried blood."

"Samantha's blood," Scully said in a shaky voice.

"Yes, it was a positive match. The knife was found only 4 feet
from the grave. I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I hope you were able to
contact that lawyer you mentioned yesterday."

"We have an appointment this morning. I'll call him right now,
maybe he can get over here before Marker does," Scully said with
a sigh. "Thanks for the warning, sir," she added.

"You know I won't be able to do much more than this, don't you
Scully?" he said quietly.

"Yes sir. I understand." She hung up the phone and looked over
at Mulder. The optimism of her morning was quickly being shot
to hell.

"Mulder, wake up. We've got company coming and you look like
something the cat hacked up," she said, giving his hair a tug as she
dialed the number of the defense attorney.

While she waited for the other party to pick up she looked at him.
"Det. Marker is coming to take you into custody."

"I heard you talking to Skinner. They found my knife," he said
flatly.

She didn't have a chance to say anything else, because someone
picked up the line. "Hello, may I speak to Michael Chambers?"
In a few short sentences, she relayed what had happened and
Chambers had promised to be there within the half hour.

By the time she was off the phone, Mulder was making his way to
the bathroom. "Do I have any clothes left over here?" he asked
meekly as he glanced down at his rumbled sweatclothes that he
had slept in for the night.

"Not pants, but I think you have a clean shirt that got mixed up
with my stuff when your luggage got trashed a while back," she
called from her bedroom. "It's hanging in the closet. You weren't
in your suit long enough yesterday to get it _too_ wrinkled, were
you?"

He smirked ruefully at the memory of his little altercation with
Agent Crowley the day before. "Nah, and besides, you don't need
good clothes to go to a hanging," he remarked grimly and went
about trying to shower with a cast on his foot.

She got dressed and went to fix breakfast. The bagels were still in
the refrigerator, but she wanted him to eat something a little more
substantial. She grabbed a couple of eggs, some shredded cheese
and a little milk and whipped up an omlet. Some toast and coffee
went on the plate and she placed it all on the kitchen table by the
time he made into the room.

"Eat. And that is _not_ a request," she said with a stern glare.

He sighed heavily and sat down on the kitchen chair. "An egg,
Scully? What happened to 'your cholesterol count must be equal
to the national debt, Mulder'?" he said sarcastically, pushing the
egg around on his plate.

She pulled a chair out and sat across from him. "OK, that's it. I
have no evidence that you have eaten anything since lunch two
days ago. I know you, Mulder. You are avoiding food. But you
can't do that and expect to remain conscious for very long. Now
choke down that egg or . . ."

"Don't threaten me, Scully," he growled and stood up, pushing the
chair back so hard that it skidded across the floor, banging against
the cabinets. He glared at the chair, then at her and hobbled into
the living room with one crutch.

She sat there for a moment, trying to figure out how to reason
with him, but a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She
ran a hand through her hair and got up to get the door.

"Ms. Scully? I'm Mike Chambers," said the older man standing in
her doorway. Scully blinked a couple of times. Except for the
hair color, which was more gray than dark brown, and the steel
wire rimmed glasses, the man before her was spitting image of
Mulder's friend, Frohike. She realized she was staring and
fumbled to cover.

"Ah, Mr. Chambers. Yes. Thank you for coming on such short
notice," she stammered and ushered the man into the room. He
made a bee line for Mulder.

"Mr. Mulder. A pleasure to meet you," he said sincerely, taking
Mulder's hand into firm shake. "I'm familiar with your work in the
Behavioral Sciences Unit. Exemplary." He was grinning from ear
to ear and looked like a happy elf about to grant Mulder's every
wish.

Mulder was not impressed. "Did I come too close to any of your
other clients, Mr. Chambers," Mulder groused, releasing the man's
hand rather abruptly. It did nothing to deter the older man's
enthusiasm.

"No, no, can't say I've had the joy of trying to undo your
handiwork. Not yet, at least," Mr. Chambers added with a wry
grin. "I've talked to a few collegues who would love to be on
your jury, however." The smile just would not leave the man's
face.

"I'll just bet they would," Mulder retorted with a scowl.

Mr. Chambers sat down on the arm chair across from Mulder and
opened his brief case. "Now, let's see. I took the liberty of
digging around a little yesterday. This kidnapping case is from
November 27, 1973, is it not?" he asked.

Mulder nodded.

"And you were how old at that time?" Chambers had taken out a
small tape recorder and set it on the edge of the sofa, so that it
would pick up Mulder's voice. "Oh, I'm recording this, of
course."

"Of course," Mulder said dryly. "I was 12 the night it happened."

"Good, good. Now, Mr. Mulder. Tell me everything you can
directly remember from that night," Chambers said calmly.

Mulder sat still as stone. Almost imperceptively, he started
chewing on his upper lip. Dana had come in from the kitchen and
sat next to him on the sofa. She noticed his hands starting to
tremble.

"Mulder?" she whispered.

He sat there. He said nothing.

"You don't remember anything of that night, do you Mr. Mulder?"
Chambers said gently. "It's OK. I'm on your side. You can tell
me."

"I don't. I can't remember any of it," Mulder said in a voice so
low that it was difficult for Scully to make out the words and she
was right next to him.

"I understand you've tried hypnoregression," Chambers said.

Mulder shot Scully a fierce look but she shook her head in the
negative. Chambers broke the silence. "Mr. Mulder, I have
sources beyond your partner. And I don't believe I've violated
your privacy by contacting them in this matter. I've no idea what
you learned in those sessions, but I do know that you did go
through the therapy. Didn't you?"

"Yes," he answered relunctantly.

"Did you learn anything?" Chambers asked.

"It was muddled. Nothing was clear," Mulder said tersely.

"Mr. Mulder. I have to ask this. After I do, the matter will be
settled as far as I'm concerned. Did you kill your sister on Nov.
27, 1973 and bury her body in Hobbs Park in Chilimark,
Massachusetts?"

A loud knock on the door obliterated the sound of Mulder's
whispered answer.

Steve Marker looked very uncomfortable standing in the hallway
of Scully's apartment building. He had been getting bad feelings
about this case from the minute he'd been put on it. This case was
just too pat, all the pieces were coming together to form a nice,
neat, little . . . frame. Marker might be on a little poedunk police
force, but he had all the instincts to take him farther. As far as he
was concerned, this case stunk to high heaven.

"Good morning, Agent Scully," he said when the door opened.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion at this hour." He stood just inside the
door after Scully had opened it to allow him in. "I won't take up
too much of your time. Is Agent Mulder here?" It was a
formality, he could see the back of Mulder's head from where he
was standing. But there was another man in the room and Steve
wanted to make it clear he wanted to know who the guy was.

"Yes, he's in the living room. Go right in," Scully.

Mike Chambers stood up when the young detective entered.
"Hello, Detective Marker. My name is Mike Chambers. I'm
representing Agent Mulder." Mulder didn't miss the fact that he
had been 'Mr.' just moments before and was now 'Agent' when in
the presense of the detective.

Steve took Chambers outstretched hand. "Mr. Chambers. I take
you will be meeting us in Chilimark?" Steve asked. He wanted it
clear from the outset that he wasn't running a bus service. The
lawyer had to find his own way, he was here to escort Mulder and
no one else.

"Yes, I'll be flying up this afternoon. Of course, I'm
recommending to Agent Mulder that he refrain from discussing
the case while you and he are in the car. Wouldn't want to miss
out on any of the good stuff," Mike said affably.

"Of course not," Steve said flatly. "Agent Mulder, I hope you'll
agree to come along willingly. I'm sorry about the cuffs the other
night, but I had no idea what to expect. You can understand, can't
you?" The young man was almost pleading.

Mulder looked him over. He was tall, almost Mulder's height. On
the slim side. Looked like he had spent his share of time on the
beach during the summer. Suddenly, the way Marker held his
head clicked a mental image in Mulder's mind. "You're Gary's
little brother," he said at last, a note of surprise in his voice.

Marker blushed. "Yeah, I am. I didn't think you'd remember. I
was in grade school when you left for Oxford."

Mulder smiled. "I remember Gary coming to school and saying
his parents kept talking about getting a surprise, but he'd found
out that it was just a baby brother."

Steve supressed a chuckle. "Yeah, that's like him. He's an
architect in Las Vegas now."

"Wow. Someone who managed to get a real job," Mulder said
derisively.

Scully pulled him aside. "Remember what Mike said, Mulder.
This is not the time to have a class reunion. Don't say anything
unless Mike or I are in the room, got that?"

"Don't worry, Scully. The minute we're in the car, I'm planning on
falling asleep," he said with a wicked grin, and followed Steve out
the door. Scully noticed that the crutches weren't slowing him
down a bit.

Scully walked them to the main entrance and watched as Mulder
got in the detective's car. When they were out of sight, she went
back into her apartment.

"Agent Scully, I hope you're able to get a few days off. I think I
might need your assistance in Massachusetts," Chambers said
when she came into the living room.

Secretly, she had planned on being there whether she was wanted
to not. But the expression on the lawyer's face caused her
concern. "That's not a problem. What is it, what's the matter?"

Mike turned on the little tape recorder. He played the question he
had posed to Mulder--had he killed his sister.

There on the tape was the whispered answer no one had heard
earlier. With the volume up, it echoed off the walls of the now
sunny apartment.

"I just don't know."

FBI Headquarters
9:30 am

"Agent Scully, thank you for coming in. I'm Agent Crowley from
the Boston Regional Office and this is Agent Collins. He
performed the autopsy last night." Crowley offered Scully a seat
at the conference table and she took it and sat down.

"I thought I made it clear that I wanted to perform the autopsy on
the remains," Scully said in an even tone. She was trying her best
to avoid ripping the arms off this particular fly and beating him
about the head with them.

"Yes, well, AD Skinner mentioned that you were interested, but
we wanted to get right on this. Since it is a Bureau matter, and
there is an Agent involved directly in the case, we thought we
should proceed as quickly as possible. Now, I understand that
you've had a chance to review the body." He smiled, but only his
teeth showed any encouragement.

"Yes. I have," Scully answered tersely.

"Did you find anything that might cause you to disagree with our
initial findings?" Crowley asked. Scully shot a look over to
Collins and wondered again if clones might be a reality. Or maybe
just androids.

"No, I did not. However, there are a number of lab tests that I
would like to see performed on the samples that were taken . . ."

"And I'm sure each and everyone of them will be performed in
good time, Agent Scully. But as it currently stands, we have in
our possession the remains of Samanth Mulder. And we have the
murder weapon and physical evidence linking your former partner
. . ."

"My _current_ partner," Scully interrupted sharply.

"My mistake, I apologize. You current partner is linked directly
to this murder. Now, I fail to see what these test you wish to
perform are likely to tell us."

"For one thing, it will positively identify Samantha's remains,"
Scully said tersely.

"The DNA match was exact, Agent Scully. Those bones belong
to Samantha Mulder," Crowley said with a slightly bemused tone.

"Then we don't know exactly _when_ she was killed," Scully said
in a deadly calm voice.

"She disappeared in Nov. of 1973. I think it's a safe bet she was
killed at that time," Crowley said, no longer bothering to hide is
amusement.

"But we don't know that, do we Agent Crowley?" Scully seethed.

Crowley leaned forward in his seat and stared Scully down. "I
don't know what you're trying to pull here, Scully, but I think I
have a pretty good idea of where this is going. I wouldn't worry if
I were you, though. I hear they allow even Death Row inmates
conjugal visits now in many states."

"You son of a bitch!" Scully yelled and was halfway across the
table when the Assistant Director walked into the conference
room.

"Agent Scully! What is the meaning of this?" Skinner demanded
and Scully had the presense of mind to pick herself up off the table
and straighten her jacket.

"Sir. It was . . . a misunderstanding, sir," she said, and shot
Crowley a look that would have turned sand to glass.

"Agent Scully, I want to see you in my office. Now," Skinner
ordered and didn't bother to see if she followed him out of the
room and into his office.

"What just happened in there?" Skinner asked, once the door was
closed.

Scully was still seething, but took a second to calm down. "Agent
Crowley made an allegation that I found inappropriate, sir."

"And that allegation concerned what, Agent Scully?" Skinner
hated the way Scully could beat around a bush and still end up
smelling like a rose.

"The allegation concerned my relationship with Agent Mulder, sir.
Agent Crowley was under a commonly held mistaken assumption
and I was merely attempting to stop an unfounded rumor."

"I think you can accomplish that without bloodshed in the future,
don't you, Scully," Skinner said. It took Scully a minute to see the
twinkle that played in his eye.

"I think you have a point, sir. I will endeavor to be more
controlled in my persuasive techniques in the future." She, too,
could hold back a smile when she needed to.

"Now, about this request to have this case reassigned. I
understand your concern, Agent Scully. But I cannot assign you
to this case. It is being handled by the Boston office," AD Skinner
intoned to her. He was standing in his shirtsleeves, even though it
was only early morning. He had that look which spoke to hours at
his desk.

"But sir. This case _is_ an X File. And as such, we, or rather, I
have jurisdiction," she said evenly.

"Agent Scully, you are not the head of that division," Skinner
reasoned.

"No, sir, I am not. But, as in the past, in Agent Mulder's absense I
have worked on cases by myself," Scully countered.

"Scully, be reasonable. That was when Agent Mulder was
hospitalized during an investigation. An ongoing investigation.
Not one that has been gathering dust for 23 years," Skinner cried,
pacing the space between his desk and the window behind it.

"Sir. Please. We both know what is occuring here. If I don't
have the your blessing when I go up to Chilimark and start asking
questions, they will hand me a one way ticket back. And Mulder
will be behind bars before either of us can make a move to prevent
it." She took a deep breath. "Sir. I know you think I'm too close
to this. But please, no one else knows the details like I do. I need
to be on this case, sir. Mulder's very life may depend on it." She
hated using the emotional approach, but she was running out of
options.

Skinner turned to stare at her. "How is Agent Mulder holding
up?" he asked, the concern showing through his usually gruff
exterior.

"I'll be honest with you, sir, not that well. He's not eating and he
seems to sleep all the time," she said slowly. This particular card
might just turn against her, it was a risk to play it.

"Sounds like depression," Skinner commented.

"Actually, it sounds exactly like the symptoms he displayed when
he woke up in the hospital following Samantha's disappearance.
I'm afraid this whole incident has triggered something in his
psyche that's causing him to withdraw, however incrementally. I
want to avoid that at all costs."

"As well as a conviction, I might add," Skinner said grimly.

"That goes without saying, sir," Scully nodded.

Skinner picked up the file folder from his desk and glared at it.
Samantha Mulder's smiling face stared back from the picture
paperclipped to the folder. The AD sighed and shook his head.

"You have three days, Scully. I think I can hold off the troops for
that long. Expose this for the farce it is and get Mulder back here
ASAP." He looked at her over the folder. "It's the best I can
offer."

"I hope it will be enough, sir," she said sincerely, and left the room
as quickly as she had come in.

*****

M&S---EP---GLWG---Smoker for Scully--------------------Queen of Angst

xangst@frii.com------------Die-Hard Skinner Chick---------Dean Warner

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