Insomniac
Part 6
Details and disclaimers in part 1.
The fury
The fury struck him as hard as a sledgehammer. He was angry as hell,
realizing
it was over. Now that they knew about his set-up, he wouldn't be able to
keep
this up. But would he really stop? Could he stop? He didn't know.
Now that he had seen her and found her, he knew it would be impossible to
stop.
She was the one. He was as sure of it as anything that had ever happened to
him.
He held his own destiny in hands, and he knew he couldn't stop.
In a few days he would set the trap, and she would be there. He had set his
mind
on it. He smiled. The thought of it even pushed aside the anger for not
being
able to kill Margaret. He would move on and enjoy things to come.
He knew who she was. Her name was Mairéad. And to his joy, she was to be by
his
side once again.
The reason for it
Mulder sat up straight, leaning heavily against the pillows that supported
his
neck and head. The monitors were gone by now. He was making a very fast
improvement. The wound was healing nicely. He hurt only when he moved too
fast,
straining his body.
'Christ, Mulder,' Skinner said, folding his arms before his chest as he
stood
angrily in the room. 'If I knew you were suffering from sleeplessness, I
would
have dragged your ass back to Washington two days ago. Why the hell didn't
you
tell us how bad it was?'
'Scully knew,' Mulder said, receiving an angry glance from his partner.
'Besides, there is a reason for this insomnia.'
'Scully told me about your theory. Are you saying that your insomnia is
caused
by this case?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You had it before you were put on this case!'
'I must have known instinctively that I was going to get it. Sir, I know it
sounds crazy but all the details add up. I dreamt of a Barenaked
Ladies-concert,
thus related to the disappearance of Pearl Jennings -'
'- You could have read that in a newspaper and remembered it.'
'- All the women held in captive were kept awake during the process. I
dreamt of
them. I dreamt of Margaret before we found her. I knew she was in danger. If
we
had gotten there an hour later, like we originally planned, she wouldn't be
alive right now.'
'So you say that you are connected to your killer somehow?'
'It has happened before. Roche has been in my mind - I have been in his.'
'This is not Roche we're dealing with, Mulder. It's a killer that doesn't
even
know you. How do you explain this?'
'I'm not connected to the killer, sir. I'm connected to the victims. Or at
least, to the solution to all of this. I am supposed to solve this case,
sir. I
can't explain how, but I have a connection that has to do with this
sleeplessness.'
'Calm down, Mulder,' Scully said, as she sat down and placed a hand on her
partner's. 'Explain it calmly.'
Mulder sighed deeply, realizing he only had one shot at convincing the
others.
Someone else's life could depend on it. 'During the few moments that I'm
allowed
to sleep, I've seen a lot of things, sir. I saw a concert by a band called
Faithless. I saw something in the killer's hand. In my dreams he held
something
that I couldn't identify. I only realized what it was this morning. When I
passed out during surgery, I saw it again, more clearly now.'
'What did you see?' Skinner asked.
'Pearls. There were several pearls lying in his hand. Megan Nome, the
young
grad student that was found murdered, was missing body parts. Scully told me
this morning that the lab work showed all the parts came from her. John
Willis,
the one suspect, had the perfect alibi. Yet someone, using the name John
Nome,
worked at the Miami arena and all the others that had missing women. Our
killer
had a connection to both John Willis and Megan Nome. I'm thinking a friend
or
contact of both of them, probably from the same year.'
'Go on,' Skinner said.
Mulder moved agitated, trying to sum up everything he wanted to say. 'We
have
one man that can identify our boy because he had an argument with him. All
the
other managers didn't seem to know him. We unfortunately only have a vague
description that could match just about anyone. Agent Grayson and myself
have
seen this man in a flash. It could have been anyone. We cannot go that
direction
and hope that we might stumble into him. Our guy is going to use another
name
from now on to reach the same goal.'
'So you believe he's going through with it?'
'Yes, sir,' Mulder said firmly, 'his desire for blood has become too great
to
stop. He wanted Margaret to suffer slowly. I believe that's why she was
still
alive when I got there. He never believed I had enough time to get in there
and
help her.'
'What about those pearls then?' Scully asked curiously. 'What's up with
that?'
'It took me some time to figure that one out,' Mulder said. 'I called Agent
Oates this morning and asked him to run a check for me. He confirmed it. The
pearls weren't a clue to the whereabouts of the girls. It regards their
names.
That's how he picks them out. Their names all have the same meaning. Oates
ran a
check on the Internet. Margaret, Megan, Pearl, ... all the others had
variations
of these names. He selects them by that, and I'm thinking that's what he's
looking for ... someone who can replace the first pearl he killed: Megan
Nome.'
'We cannot verify this with Margaret, Agent Mulder,' Skinner said. 'She's
still
heavily sedated. Yet we need to know what he told her, and hope that we can
get
a clue from there.'
'Agent Oates ran another check for me, sir,' Mulder said, as he handed a
faxed
copy of a list to his partner. 'I never figured out why I dreamt of
Faithless,
so I ran a check once again. This band is finishing up a tour in the US
before
they'll return to the UK. Their last performance is in tomorrow, in New
York. I
know he's going to be there too. I can feel it.'
Suddenly Mulder laughed bitterly. 'It's been some time since New York, but
these
past few days I've been going through the motions of those events again. Now
at
least I know why. It - this - was meant to be.'
'I cannot justify this, Mulder,' Skinner said. 'I can't use your hunch to
move
the troops to New York. I need something more solid than that.'
'Make up a story,' Mulder said. 'But don't ask me to lie about this. Sir, so
far
my hunches have been right. I know I'm right on this one as well. We need to
move fast. We need to know who is going to attend that concert. We need a
list
of names. Every female name needs to be checked thoroughly. We need to warn
these women. If there are a lot of possible victims, we need to make sure
that
there is someone watching each and every one of them.'
'In meantime,' Scully continued, 'we need to go over the list of interim
security guards that are being used by that concert. Acting as a guard is a
great cover.'
'Ask Mairéad to do that,' Mulder said. 'Get Oates to check connections
between
John Willis and Megan Nome. He can do that from Miami. He's going to stay
here
and coordinate the search from here.'
'And what are you going to do?' Skinner asked.
'What do you think?' Mulder said. 'You're going to book us tickets on the
first
flight out to Philadelphia.'
'Not a chance,' Mulder and Skinner said in unison. Scully got up from her
seat.
'Mulder, for once, listen to me. You have to rest. You can't do this
anymore.'
'I'm the one shot you've got and you know it,' Mulder said. 'I've seen this
guy.
I've sensed him. You need me and you're not going to stop me. Afterwards you
can
do whatever you like, but right now I'm going with you. There's a flight out
this afternoon and we're going to be on it. I've already talked to Agent
Grayson
about arranging the tickets. She's coming with us. She knows the city and
will
be able to guide us through.'
'No, Mulder,' Scully said.
'I'm discharging myself, Scully. I'm not critically wounded.'
'You flatlined in the OR!'
'That was yesterday. This is today. Now, are you going to get me some
clothes or
do I have to get them myself?'
Skinner and Scully both knew there was no stopping him. In surprise Scully
glared at her partner as he shifted his long legs out of the bed, swaying on
his
legs. Instinctively Skinner reached out to grab him.
'No!' Mulder's strength seemed to return as he lifted his arm, stopping the
A.D.
from touching him. 'Don't!' Slowly the agent lifted himself up, returning to
the
tall, strong man he was. 'I'm doing this. If you don't like it, get lost!'
Skinner seemed shocked but not as shocked as Mulder, who realized he had
uttered
his thoughts. He didn't want to talk like this to the man that had become
his
friend, but there were more important things in life. He didn't have time
for
good behaviour right now, not while being so frustrated with the situation.
'All right,' Skinner said, standing clear from the agent. 'Have it your way.
But
one wrong move and I'm sending you to DC. Got it?'
Mulder nodded obedient, admitting his weakness. 'Agreed.'
A few hours later the afternoon flight brought a group of FBI-agents and
AD's to
New York.
Breathing down his neck
He could feel them breathing down his neck yet he didn't want to call it
quits.
There was still too much to do - too much that he still wanted to
accomplish. It
wasn't even that difficult this time to find her. She was an FBI-agent after
all. One quick call and he knew where she lived.
He went to her house that night with Margaret's blood still on his hands. He
watched when she came home in the middle of the night. She closed all the
curtains but he could see dancing shadows as she made her way to the
bathroom.
He envisioned her as she showered. In his dreams his hands were over her
throat,
and he was slowly strangling her. He kissed her when she died, and her fear
was
what fed him after all these years. He could finally have her to himself
once
again and get rid of the demons that started years ago.
What good fortune that he had found her. What luck that she was there. She
was
the one. He knew it, as much as he knew now that he had once killed her
before.
Her phone
At the Miami Field Office the phone on Mairéad's desk rang for minutes
before
another agent finally picked it up, and told the man on the other side that
she
had left for New York on a case.
Surprised he put down the phone, wondering if she was off his case. Was she
no
longer looking for her? Furiously he called the airlines and reserved a
ticket
on the first flight out to New York. If she were neglecting him, he would go
after her. He wanted her to know it was he that would kill her.
Another favour
Before long he booked a hotel room in the city. He was frustrated as he
realized
that she had interfered with his plans. In Miami he could have used his
knowledge on the arenas to get to her. Now he had to settle for another
solution. He could no longer take her the way he had taken the others. Or
could
he?
He reached for his cell phone and called the one that had always helped him
out.
If he knew anything that might help tracking her down, he would tell him.
'It's me,' he said. 'I need another favour.'
'I'm tired of these favours,' the man on the other side said. 'You do
realize
that the FBI's been here looking for you? I want out of your activities.'
'Really? What did they ask?'
'They think you'll be at some concert in New York. Please tell me you're not
in
New York.'
The killer laughed. 'What do you think?'
'Please let this one go. They'll be all over you. If you want to track her
down,
don't do it now. She's not worth the effort. Hell, what am I saying? Just
stop
doing this! You're putting their lives in my hands and I don't like it.'
The killer paled as his hand clawed around the cell phone. 'It's too late to
back out now. You're doing this for me, or I'll kill your daughter and then
your
wife. I'll make you watch. You know I'll do it.'
After a long silence on the other side, the man said, 'Just promise me this
will
be the last time. I'm afraid.'
'After tomorrow, I'll have what I need,' he said.
'Where can I deliver it to you?'
'I'm staying at the Centre Holiday Inn. Have the package delivered there by
tonight, and tell them I'll report first thing in the morning.'
'Agreed.' The man hung up, not wanting to hear his 'old friend's' voice any
longer.
The killer smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror. Would she recognize
him? Of course not. She would pretend that she didn't know who he was. But
he
knew who she was, and for now that would suit him just fine. Tomorrow night
she
would be his, and he could retire.
Exhaustion
Exhausted Scully had fallen asleep on the bed. He watched her as she slept.
She
had given him a sleeping pill to catch a nap as well, but it hadn't taken.
When
she finally closed her eyes and slept, he placed a blanket over her body and
lay
down beside her. She seemed so tired. She needed the rest.
And the irony of the facts was that she had come into his room to make sure
he
could sleep. But he couldn't. He hadn't slept for so many nights now that he
hardly remembered what it felt like to close his eyes and nap.
He wanted to sleep. Of course he did. He had
never felt this exhausted in his
life. But nothing seemed to work. Even when he drifted off, his body was in
full
alert, ready to jump up at any sound or movement. And now even that wouldn't
come anymore.
When he looked in the mirror, he saw a deadbeat man with eyes that hardly
seemed
to focus on anything anymore. He hadn't shaved properly for days. Somehow
that
only added to his fatigued features. When he walked about, it felt like
everything about him was ready to fall apart.
And when the morning came and first sunlight poured into the room, the only
one
sleeping, was his partner.
Tension
The day grew tenser when the first results of the ticketing agency came in.
Going on Mulder's advice, out of the 9,000 sold tickets, twenty-three women
were
potential subjects. And that only included the named tickets. There were
still a
lot of potential "candidates" left that they didn't know about.
Mairéad took it upon her to contact all the women and inform them about the
potential danger. Most of them waved away the danger, saying they were in
company. Talking to them by phone, it was impossible to know what they
looked
like. Mulder insisted that the killer wasn't about to select just anyone. He
wanted someone with the particular features that Megan Nome had.
The day became more and more hectic when Mulder and Scully drove to the
arena
and talked to the manager, informing him as well of the potential risks. Of
course they couldn't cancel the concert. It was too risky. The killer would
simply move on and pick out another concert. He wouldn't stop.
When they sat inside the manager's office, drinking coffee while waiting for
a
list of security guards, Scully leaned to Mulder. 'I hope you're right about
this, Mulder,' she said softly. 'If he picked out another concert, we're
screwed.'
'I know we're right about this one. I can feel it in my bones.'
Mulder refused to look at her as he focused on the list of employees that
were
hired for tonight's concert. John Nome was nowhere in sight. Yet Mulder knew
he
was amongst them.
'Can we talk to them?' Mulder said.
'Most of them come in tonight.'
'Are there men on this list you don't know?'
The manager glared at the list and frowned. 'I don't know all of them by
heart.
You should know that there are a lot of security guards during a concert
like
this. I can't pinpoint them all out to you. But I can tell you that we
always
work with the same agency. I have no reason to distrust them.'
'Grand Security?' Scully asked.
'That's right.'
'Who is your contact there?'
'Tim Johnson. He's been my contact for years.'
Scully and Mulder shared a glance. They had heard the name before. The one
link
they thought that would never lead to the killer, turned out to be more than
valid. Could it be that simple after all?
'Can you tell me where Mr. Johnson works, sir?' Mulder asked.
'He's got an office right here in New York, but he travels around quite a
bit.
To be honest, I've never even seen him. He became my contact when the last
one
died of a heart attack a couple of months ago. I can give you the address
and
his phone number.'
'That would help us a lot, sir,' Scully said, jotting down the data on her
notepad. A few moments later the agents were on their way to the offices of
Grand Security, that worked nationwide. Mulder knew they would find Tim
Johnson
there. And he probably had an interesting story to tell.
On the way out, Agent Oates called and told them he had a list of people
that
were in Megan Nome's graduation year. There were about four men that matched
the
description of John Nome. And two of them were unaccounted for.
Fear
The young woman shivered when she talked to the FBI-agent on the phone. The
explanation of how she could be a potential victim struck her. She had read
in
the newspapers about this case. She had seen photos of the victims on the
Internet, where some serial killer-search site had all the gory details. She
had
been repulsed by what she had seen, yet at the same time she had known all
along
she could be a victim as well.
'Miss Weatherby,' the friendly agent said, 'you have nothing to fear, but I
do
have to ask you if you have seen anything out of the ordinary lately. Do you
believe you might have been followed? Have you noticed men that you haven't
seen
before?'
'Agent Grayson,' the woman said patiently, 'I live in New York. Every single
day
there are people passing by I've never seen before. I don't know. But if you
feel that I'm in danger, I'm not going.'
'Can I ask you what you look like, Miss Weatherby?' Mairéad asked, jotting
down
notes on a large pad before her.
'I look just like those other victims,' the woman said. 'I'm Irish. And to
be
honest - I'm very much afraid.'
'Would you mind if I came down to talk to you?'
'Sure. I'm at home right now. I'm sure you've got my address.'
'I do,' Mairéad said. 'Thank you.' The agent hung up and left a message for
Scully before she took off. If there were just a remote chance that this
woman
was their victim, she would have to do anything to help her.
When she arrived at the woman's house, the clock struck two. The hours were
passing too fast, and she didn't like it.
Changing features
He knew now she was staying at the Regency. The FBI could afford a decent
hotel.
But he wouldn't take her there. The night before the package had arrived at
the
hotel, sent to him by courier. It didn't take too long this time to arrive.
After all, it just had to come across town.
When he had opened it, a copy of a map dropped on the table. He looked at
it,
going over the old corridors and hallways that were used in the past. There
was
nothing he could use, except for a small room. It would be too dangerous to
use
this time. He needed time with Mairéad, to make sure she was the one. No,
this
time he would take her outside, even if it meant taking some risks. And
looking
at the map, he knew exactly how to go about it.
He glanced at his watch. It was after three. In a few hours he would have to
go
to the arena. He would dye his hair first, and get rid of the black
moustache
he'd had for months. He knew he looked completely different without it. They
wouldn't recognize him for sure.
In the package a new badge had been placed. All he had to do was place a
fake
photo between the plastic flap and he was all set.
He took his jacket and went out to buy colour shampoo and a shaving kit. Two
hours later he looked nothing like the man he had been for years. Not even
his
old classmates would recognize him now. He smiled as he grabbed his 'Grand
Security' outfit and left for the arena. In a few hours he would see her
again.
Johnson
Tim Johnson, a man in his late forties with wife and child, sat nervously
behind
his desk as the agents took a seat before him and started asking him
questions
about the schedules of his security guards that were used for concerts.
'Look,' Johnson said as he played with his pen, 'I've responded to all these
questions a few days ago. One of your colleagues came here and asked me
exactly
the same things. I am responsible nationwide for the ticketing service, yes.
I
travel around the country and meet with the local offices on occasion. I
have a
lot of people working for me. There's no way I can keep a watch on
everything.
It takes up too much of my time.'
'But you do know that one of your guards might be a serial killer?' Mulder
said.
'Or haven't they told you?'
'It's nonsense. I know it is. Whoever this person is, he's there without me
knowing about it.'
'Would it be that easy to infiltrate your group, sir?' Scully asked.
'Someone on
a high level that can manipulate personnel files must know about this. This
man
cannot have done this by himself. He cannot put himself on those lists,
unless
he breaks into your systems and puts his name there. You do realize that
your
name has been under all the contracts and approvals?'
'Are you implying that I'm involved?' Johnson asked as his face turned a
bright
red and his hands started fidgeting with the pen even more.
'Can you tell us you're not?'
'If you think I did it, why don't you arrest me then?' Johnson got up from
his
seat. 'Go on, arrest me. But you don't know for sure, do you? How dare you
enter
this office and accuse me of such horrible things?'
'Who is John Nome, Mr. Johnson?' Mulder asked. 'Can you go through your
files
and show us a photo of this man?'
'Of course I can.' Johnson relaxed and sat down, typing away on his pc until
he
found the personnel file. He turned his screen so they could see the same
photo
they had tracked down in Miami. It was a photo of John Willis. Yet in Miami,
the
manager had clearly stated this was not John Nome. The personnel files were
doctored with.
'This is not John Nome,' Mulder said. 'If you cannot tell us who hired this
man,
we have no reason than to suspect you, sir.'
Johnson again flushed. 'I've got nothing to do with this. Arrest me if you
will.'
Mulder got up and looked at the closed cabinet behind the man. They knew
they
needed a search warrant to go through his things, but something told him he
would find a lot of evidence in that cabinet.
'Do you mind, sir?' Mulder said, as he stepped behind the desk. Johnson got
up
and said furiously, 'That's private property!'
'You've got nothing to hide, do you sir? After all, you're innocent.' Mulder
quickly opened the cabinet doors before Johnson could utter another word. On
the
shelves lay several maps of arenas and concert halls. Most of them were
quite
old and dusty. But it didn't take an expert to see that they shouldn't have
been
there.
'How did you get these maps, sir?' Scully asked as she moved forward.
Johnson
looked more nervous now.
'I collect them,' he said. 'My father used to work at a concert hall and
started
this little hobby. He gave them to me after he retired. That was the reason
I
stepped into this branch.'
'We are going to have to place you under arrest, sir,' Scully said, as she
grabbed Johnson's hand and pulled it behind his back. 'You are suspected of
conspiracy to kill. You have the right to remain silent. Anything -'
'I know my rights,' Johnson said, as he lowered his head. He knew it was
over
but he just wouldn't believe it. His eyes focused on his daughter, the girl
he
was so proud of. What would she think if she knew he had helped to kill
after
what had happened to Megan?
Tim Johnson sighed deeply and turned towards them. 'I'll tell you what I
know,'
he said. 'It's no use for me to keep on lying. I've grown so tired of it. I
know
what I've done and what I'm guilty of.'
'What are you guilty of, sir?' Mulder asked. 'You helped him find his
shelters,
haven't you?'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
Johnson took a deep breath. 'He threatened to kill my daughter like he had
done
Megan. And I knew he wasn't kidding. I know what he's capable of, and I know
what he's done.'
Mulder stared at the man in surprise, suddenly realizing they had been so
close
all this time, yet so far away from the truth. And when it came down to it,
all
trails lead to Megan Nome.
The confession
Mairéad felt that she had struck the right cord after talking to Laurie.
Everything about her reminded her of the ways of lives of the other victims.
She
had their looks in common and of course the name. She could be the one.
After requesting Laurie to drive downtown with her, the woman reluctantly
agreed. At the New York Field Office, both women were overwhelmed by the
busy
activity. In an interrogation room she saw Mulder and Scully talking to an
older
man.
'Wait here, Laurie,' she said, pointing the girl to a seat near a desk. AD
Skinner stood before the window and watched. The sound was turned up, and
they
could hear everything that was being said. AD Davis was on the phone with
DC.
'Is that him?' Mairéad asked tense.
'No,' Skinner said. 'It's his snitch.'
The AD turned his glance back to the window and listened attentively as
Mulder
questioned the man. But there was no need to force the truth out of him.
Johnson
was talking by himself.
'I knew Megan Nome,' the man said. 'And I knew him. My daughter graduated
with
him. There was a bunch of them - a group of friends that were very close.
John
Willis was in that group as well. Everything went fine for years until
Willis
started developing a crush on Megan. My daughter told me about it, and said
that
Megan felt flattered but wasn't interested. Then Megan got murdered. We all
thought Willis had done it, but he had the perfect alibi. My daughter never
believed he was the one and started asking questions. Then she noticed that
he
was acting strange as well, even though he tried to hide it. She told me
about
her suspicions and found herself being silly. But I too noticed it. And one
night, when he was at our home, I caught him looking at my daughter the way
he
had looked at Megan. And so I confronted him with it.'
'What's his name, sir?' Scully asked.
'Morris. Morris Aldham. He was one of Megan's best friends. Yet he
slaughtered
her like an animal, and I knew he was going to do the same with my daughter
if
she kept on questioning the facts. They talked to him. He too had an alibi,
provided by someone he no doubt paid off. But he was never under real
suspicion.
Willis had the stamina of killer written all over him.'
'What happened when you talked to him?'
'He just smiled and said I was nuts. Then he leaned forward and I'll never
forget what he said. His eyes - god almighty - I've never seen such cold
eyes.
They looked into mine and he just smiled and said that he was going to cut
off
my daughter's hands as well, like he had done Megan's. He said that he kept
parts of Megan in a freezer, just as a memento, and that he liked to take
them
out and just look at them.'
'And he threatened your daughter?' Scully asked.
'Yes, of course he did. He knew how far to go to scare me. And it succeeded.
For
years I kept my mouth shut, fearing that my daughter might some day
disappear as
well. But she never did. And then a few months ago he knocked on my door and
said he needed my help.'
'Did you know what he was planning to do?'
'No. He asked me for the maps. My daughter had told them once that I
collected
them. And now he wanted copies of them. I didn't ask why. I just gave them.
And
when I read about the first murder, I knew it was him. It wasn't a
coincidence.
By then I was in head over heels.'
'Why didn't you call the cops? They could have protected you.'
'He's like a chameleon,' Johnson sighed. 'I was too afraid for my daughter.'
'Yet you stood aside and watched him kill the others. You knew you could
have
saved a lot of lives, but you did nothing. You bargained your daughter's
life
against his, knowing that he wouldn't stop. Have you helped him now too?'
'Yes.'
'What name is he using?'
'Morris Peters. I provided him the badge but I don't know what disguise he's
using or what he looks like.'
Mulder glanced at Scully who nodded and left the room. Then the FBI-agent
leaned
forward and whispered, 'Do you think your daughter will be proud of you,
sir?'
Johnson didn't give an answer and leaned forward, hiding his face with his
hands. Mulder got up and left the room, closing the door behind him. Now
they
had a name. But did they have their killer?
Morris Aldham
Agent Oates received a call around five to investigate the past of Morris
Aldham, one of the graduate students that were now under official suspicion
of
Megan Nome's murder. A check on the man revealed he was a salesman,
travelling
around the country on an independent basis. He sold life insurances. And no
one
had ever noticed that he sometimes disappeared for two or three days in a
row.
No one had ever seen he was at the cities where the murders took place.
He brought in his travelling expenses and somehow managed to sell insurance
between the kills. He was a normal, decent guy with black hair and a
moustache.
There was nothing extraordinary about him. He seemed perfectly normal.
Yet he had slaughtered several women and enjoyed every second of it. He had
done
it in a public place, relishing the fact the world was looking for him.
And no one had noticed. Until today. And the most frustrating thing was that
all
this time someone had known who he was, and hadn't done anything to prevent
it.
All these deaths seemed so useless.
Frustrated Mulder rummaged through the file, reading about the man's past.
He
regretted not having this information sooner. But what could he have done
about
it? This was always what happened. Through research and the gathering of
bits
and pieces the truth came out. At the end that was their job.
To be continued ...
Insomniac
Part 7
Details and disclaimers in part 1.
Running out of time
Time passed quickly. They were running out of it. Before long the doors
would
open and the crowd would step in to listen to the band. And they couldn't
postpone or cancel the concert.
Mulder listened in silence as Mairéad explained about Laurie's fears,
stating
that it could be a chance for them to catch the killer in the act. If indeed
he
was after her, they couldn't afford not having her there. But how could they
have her play a victim? Their first priority was not to jeopardize the
woman's
life. Yet using her to set up a trap seemed logical and straightforward.
Mairéad took it upon her to talk to the woman and ask her what she wanted
to do.
She had planned on going to the concert by herself. She was still new in
town
and hardly knew anyone that could have gone with her. But now she wouldn't
have
to go by herself. An agent would be by her side at all times, keeping a
watch on
her while they searched for their killer.
Hopefully, Mairéad thought, it wouldn't be necessary. She thought of Mulder
and
Scully who were on their way to the arena right now to talk to all the hired
guards. As soon as they found Morris, they would prevent the danger from
happening during the concert.
She shivered when she remembered the photo they had shown of this man. His
expression had seemed so cold, even when he was eighteen years old. In just
a
few years he had become a gruesome murderer that wouldn't stop until they
stopped him. She had seen Margaret and remembered the blood. He had tried to
strange her without remorse, cutting her skin and flesh so deep that it had
left
a large mark that would forever remind her of what she had been through.
Even now she was still kept unconscious, to give her body and mind the time
to
heal. They all knew that she would not be able to give them sensible
information, and now she didn't need to.
Just get him, Mulder, Mairéad thought as she waited tense for news. If
nothing
positive came, they would have to head out to the arena themselves and try
to
make the best of an impossible situation. She didn't want it to come that
far.
Instinctively she knew it would.
The ID's
Before long the guards that were already there showed their ID's. Mulder
talked
to all of them, taking his time as he tried to figure out if one of them was
the
man he was looking for. But none of them wore a badge with the name of
Morris
Peters. He wasn't there yet.
Frustrated Mulder glanced at the entry and exit-doors of the empty arena. In
a
few hours this place would be packed with people. How would they be able to
go
through the motions with so many people inside? They couldn't check
everybody,
could they?
Mulder looked around as the guards became impatient and were dismissed to go
back to work. At the same time they were sent back, Morris stood behind the
exit-doors and glanced at the agents inside. He recognized the man he had
stepped.
Morris cursed under his breath. When the agent fell, he had hoped he was a
goner, but here he was - alive and kicking. And he could ID him.
'Hey,' Morris said, grabbing another guard by the arm, 'what's up with these
folks?'
'Don't know. They're looking for someone.'
'Are they?' Morris said softly, glaring at the guard before him. They looked
a
bit alike. Morris turned around and said, 'I was wondering if you could help
me
out. I've got a bit of an issue back there.'
'Sure,' the guard said, walking with him through the doors that lead to a
shut
room. Morris delivered the key chain he had stolen from the security guard's
office and opened the door to a small storage facility.
The other guard tried to switch on the light but it didn't work. 'The lights
don't work,' he remarked.
Morris smiled in the darkness. 'I know.'
Big trouble
Mulder walked through the building and looked at the blonde guard that
walked to
the middle and seemed to be checking out the safety measures. He was wearing
a
'Grand Security'-outfit. Quickly the agent came over and flashed his badge.
'FBI,' he said. 'Can I see your ID, sir?'
'Sure,' the guard said, showing his ID.
Mulder's eyes examined the guard's calm features. 'Thank you.'
'Is there something wrong?' the guard asked.
'We're looking for someone named Morris Peters.'
'I'm sorry - never heard of him,' the guard said. 'Excuse me if you please,
we
have to get everything ready.'
'Sure.' Mulder watched as the guard turned and walked away. This man looked
nothing like Morris Aldham, yet at the same time there was something vaguely
familiar about him. But the man walked about as if nothing was wrong and
continued to do his work.
Mulder shook his head and walked away.
Less than an hour later the doors opened and the first concertgoers were let
in.
Within an hour the place was packed. And Mulder knew they were in for
trouble.
Big trouble.
Part Four
I can't sleep, something's all over me,
Greasy, insomnia please release me,
And let me dream about making mad love on the heath,
Tearing off tights with my teeth.
The Concert
Mulder felt a sting in his side as he joined the group of agents gathered at
the
entrance of the concert hall. They watched as hundreds of people moved
forward,
showing their ticket and receiving a stamp before coming in. There was
laughter
and joy in the air. No one seemed to care about anything but the music they
were
about to hear.
'Anything?' he asked in anticipation as Scully frowned and bit her lip the
way
she always did when she was nervous. She shook her head. 'This is hopeless.
We
have to get him when he gets to Laurie.'
'If he gets to Laurie.'
'She's our best shot right now. Grayson is coming over with her. She agreed
to
play the decoy.'
Mulder felt warm in the sticky heat of the arena. The fact that the concert
was
indoors only added to the claustrophobic feeling.
'Morris Peters didn't show up,' he finally said, taking off his jacket. He
was
still wearing a tie that he loosened with the thumb of his right hand. He
was
painfully aware of the fact his gun was in sight. Several concertgoers
glanced
at him before passing through. Fortunately they probably thought he was part
of
the security.
'He didn't?'
'All security guards had to check in before seven. He wasn't amongst them.'
'Do you think he knows we're here?'
'Probably. But that won't stop him from coming. He's enjoying the game too
much.'
'So he's probably amongst the crowd then. He could be anyone.'
'He always took his girls from the front. Somehow he knew they were there.
He
had to be checking their habits for some time. He must have had details on
particular habits in their lives - including the concerts he went to. If
he's
after Laurie, he must have done the same with her. So he knows she likes to
stand near the gates in case she feels faint. All of his victims did that.'
'It would make it easier for him to take them away. The safety gates lead
straight to the emergency exits, and thus to the other corridors,' Scully
said,
glancing at the busy crowd. They all knew the place was going to be packed.
Before long Laurie stood before them. Mairéad was walking beside her.
Laurie
looked very nervous.
'You're going to be fine,' Scully said reassuringly. 'There will be three
agents
near you. You'll be safe all the time.'
'I know,' Laurie said with a pale smile. 'Thank you for your efforts.'
'Thank you for wanting to do this,' Mulder answered, smiling back as he put
a
hand on her shoulder. Laurie nodded and looked at the agents that were there
to
protect her. Mairéad watched as they took off in the crowd. Now all they
could
do was hope that this was the woman he was after.
The concert didn't start for another hour. As the warming-up act started,
the
crowd was up and about, swinging and dancing as the band brought the best of
them. There were still groups of people gathered in the lobby. Mulder walked
past them and dropped his jacket off in the security office where all the
guards
were monitored.
'Bob, have you seen Jack?' the chief officer asked.
'Negative,' a voice responded. 'He was supposed to be here about an hour
ago. I
haven't seen him since this afternoon.'
'Thanks. Ask the others if you will and report back to me.'
'Sure.' The voice cut off as the chief officer sighed and frowned.
'What's wrong?' Mulder asked. 'Who's Jack?'
'One of my regulars. I wonder where he is. It's not like him to bail out on
us.
I know his wife is pregnant but he would have called me if he had to go.'
'What does he look like?'
The chief officer looked surprised. 'Blonde, tall, regular guy.'
'I've seen him,' Mulder remembered. 'We talked briefly. He showed me his ID.
He
wore glasses.'
'Jack doesn't wear glasses.'
'Yes, he did - he -' Mulder stopped, slowly recalling the feeling he'd had
when
he spoke to 'Jack'. It wasn't so difficult to disguise yourself. Change the
colour of your hair and get rid of the moustache, and you would be a
completely
different person.
'What is it?' the security officer asked agitated.
'Search this place. If my hunch is correct, Jack is still here and he might
be
in trouble. Search all closed up storage facilities, booths, whatever -,'
Mulder
said, recalling very clearly the ID of the security guard he had spoken to
before. If he was correct, Morris Aldham/Peters was now walking around with
the
ID of Jack Smyth.
'I can't alarm the other guards without alarming the fake Jack too. He'll
hear.'
'Can you use an alternative frequency?'
'I would still have to alert the others. There's no way.'
'Locate the guards that you trust and inform them. They'll locate him. We're
looking for a short, blonde man wearing a fake ID. He'll most likely hang
around
the safety gates. He has a map of this arena. He can be anywhere.'
Mulder rushed outside where he met Grayson, Skinner and Scully. Davis was
coordinating the search from the other side, monitoring all the emergency
exits.
'He's here,' Mulder said. 'He probably killed one of the guards and took his
place. There's one man missing. Let's go.'
Mulder pushed himself a way through the crowd, just as the main act started
to
perform. Faithless instantly started off with a bang, moving the fans up and
about as they began a rhythmic tune.
Scully grabbed her partner's arm, stopping him in his tracks. 'There are too
many people here, Mulder!' she shouted over the noise. 'We'll never find him
like this!'
'We don't need to find him. We need to find Laurie before he does!'
'I know where she is,' Mairéad said. 'Follow me.'
'Check all regular exits,' Skinner ordered the agents that stayed behind.
'Make
sure that no one leaves without a thorough check-up. Compare every woman
with
the picture you have. The rest of you, come with me. Agent Mulder, you stay
here.'
'Not on your life,' Mulder simply said.
Mulder swayed on his feet as he pushed himself into the crowd, feeling too
hot
in the business suit, even without the jacket. His tie felt choking. The
crowd
was already swarmed with dancing people, all getting in the mood as the
second
song started and caused a shout of recognition and joy.
They moved through the crowd, using the safety gates as a reference not to
get
lost. They held back most of the people. Several thuds and thumps later,
Mulder
thought he couldn't go on any longer. Someone had hit him hard in the side,
causing him to sway on his feet again. He could feel a sharp pain going
through
his side where the stitches reminded him that he was still wounded.
The others followed behind him. Suddenly, as the next song started, Mulder
got a
hard push as a woman screamed that this was her favourite sing and jumped up
and
down to prove it. He turned to move back to the gates, and then realized he
had
lost the others.
They were all gone. Scully was no longer behind him. Just a second before
she
had been right after him. He had felt her touch when she had put her hand on
the
back of his neck, as if to show him she was still there. He turned to find
her,
seeing nothing but blurry faces. It hadn't been a good idea to move through
the
crowd. He felt dizzy and unstable.
Quickly he lost the tie, simply dropping it to the ground. As it dropped he
remembered that Scully had bought it for Christmas once. A sting of sadness
passed through his system. Then he shrugged and moved on.
He pushed forward again, ignoring the shouts and protests of people while
doing
so. They didn't like intruders in their carefully sealed-off area. They had
fought hard for this privileged spot so close to the stage and weren't about
to
let go of it.
'Sorry,' he muttered several times, carefully keep his hand on his gun that
was
still strapped to his clothes. If someone noticed it, panic would arise and
he
wanted to avoid that at all cost. He didn't feel like causing a mortal
incident.
Finally he reached the front area where the biggest fans gathered to wait
for
their band to perform. By then everything just swayed. He could hardly make
out
the faces. He grabbed onto someone, trying to keep on his feet.
'Get off me, drunk!' he heard a woman shout and she pushed him away. Her
hands
pushed hard in his side, and he shouted as the pain struck him. Then he
realized
he was bleeding underneath his white shirt. Damn it, another shirt gone to
hell,
he thought as he turned away from her.
Where the hell was Scully? Why couldn't he find Skinner? And where were
those
damned gates?
Suddenly he saw a guard and realized he was closer to the gates than he
thought.
Quickly he pushed himself forward, flashing his badge to make way. Now they
all
passed and ignored him as a calmer song started, and excited people shouted
to
each other how much they enjoyed the concert.
'Mulder, FBI,' he shouted against to the guard that stood behind the gate.
The
man looked at him curiously, examining him. He was African-American. At
least
one guard that couldn't be Aldham, Mulder thought wry.
'Did you see this woman?' Mulder held up the photo of Laurie they had
received
before in case of emergency. He had held the photo in his pant's pocket. It
was
torn and wrinkled.
The guard first shook no, then looked curiously at the photo again and said,
'Two of yours - both women - picked her up and brought her to the emergency
exit. One of my colleagues helped them over the gates and is bringing them
to
safety.' The guard pointed towards the small exit area created in the midst
of
the gates.
Mulder felt relief, realizing that Laurie was safe by now. It was over. Now,
all
they had to do was find the fake 'Jack' and bring him in for justice.
Mulder crawled over the gates, nearly losing his gun as he did. His shirt
was
soaked with blood by now. He felt the guard's eyes on him but ignored him. A
few
people stared at the weapon that was clearly visible, but turned their faces
to
the podium again, hoping not to miss a single thing. With the guard behind
him,
Mulder hurried through the passageway, towards the emergency exit.
When he pushed open the door, the first thing he saw, was another guard that
looked at them curiously. In the darkness it was difficult to tell who it
was.
He was talking to Mairéad who stood in the darkness, looking much more
relaxed
than she had done for some time.
'Agent Mulder,' she said. 'Laurie is okay. Agent Scully and AD Skinner
brought
her away.'
Mulder nodded relieved. 'Are you okay, Agent Grayson?'
'Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just glad that she's okay. I just wish we could nail
that
bastard.' Mairéad turned her attention to him, spotting the blood. 'You're
hurt.
Are you okay?'
Mulder nodded. 'I'm fine. Let's go.' His eyes caught the guard in the
shadows,
suddenly realizing it was the same guy he had seen before. The badge was
gone.
He wasn't wearing any. And the others hadn't recognized him. Mairéad had
brushed
by him and didn't know it was Morris. His eyes stared deadpan at them,
waiting
for them to make the connection. For he knew they would.
Suddenly, within a few seconds, they all realized what was going on. The
African-American guard glared curiously at the man standing in the shadows
and
said, 'wait a minute. Who -?'
Mulder pulled out his gun, reacting already too late when the blonde guard
got
out a gun and shot his colleague. With his other hand he grabbed Mairéad,
pulling her so close to him that she gasped for breath.
His hand was inside her jacket, and dropped her gun on the floor. He kicked
it
to the far wall with the tip of his right shoe.
Mulder aimed his gun at the killer. His fingers trembled as he tried to get
a
good shot in the darkness. But he knew he couldn't get a clean shot - not in
the
state he was in. From the corner of his eye he stared at the dead guard on
the
floor. No one had even heard the shot. It had been tempered by the music and
noise outside.
All help would come too late. He was dead. His eyes stared into nothingness.
'Let her go, Morris,' Mulder said.
Morris Aldham smiled. 'Finally you know my real name. It was about time,
Agent.
Now, why don't you drop that gun? You know I'll enjoy killing her.'
Mulder was surprised by the softness of the man's voice. Before they had
hardly
spoken. He had expected a hard voice, just as hard as the dead look in his
eyes.
Instead the man seemed to keep his head tilted a bit, as if he couldn't hear
that well. There was nothing dangerous in his features, except of course for
the
fact he held a gun on Mairéad.
'You didn't get Laurie,' Mulder said. 'Agent Grayson is not your means to
get
out of here. Not one FBI-agent in the country will allow for you to pursue
this.'
'Laurie?' Morris smiled softly. 'Whom are you talking about?'
Mulder stopped in his tracks as his eyes met Mairéad's. Then he knew she
had
known all along she was a possible casualty. It was written all over her
face.
Hadn't she told him she had Irish blood running in her veins?
The woman swallowed as she closed her eyes and bitter tears dripped down her
cheeks. 'My father used to call me Margaret,' she spoke softly. 'I'm sorry,
Agent Mulder. It was the only way.'
'She lied to you,' Morris remarked with surprise in his voice. 'You knew I
was
coming after you, didn't you?'
The woman swallowed away the lump in her throat. 'I felt it the moment we
brushed against each other in that damned hell that you created.'
Mulder bit his lip, angry with himself for not making the connection. Why
hadn't
he realized it? He had seen Mairéad in his dream. He had seen her as a
victim.
But he had waved it away, too busy putting his theory together. And Mairéad
had
become a willing victim in order to help others survive. She would become an
excellent agent one day. If she lived to see the day.
Morris pointed his gun at Mulder's head now, still using the female agent as
a
shield. 'It's up to you, Agent. Shoot to save yourself. Kill her in order to
live. You know you won't get a clean shot. So why don't you shoot her and
then
me and get it over with? Just one casualty more or less - what the hell does
it
matter anymore?'
Mairéad's scared eyes found his. He had remembered how she had done
everything
she could to help him out. She had put herself beyond and above the call of
duty. He couldn't do this to her, not even when it meant being killed
himself.
Suddenly the abyss leaned towards him. He had the choice between life and
death
right here and now. And he chose death above murder.
'No,' Mulder said, lowering his gun as Mairéad tried to hold back her
frustration. 'I'm not killing her.'
'Fine,' Morris said, pointing his gun at the male agent. 'Have it your way.'
'Don't!' Mairéad screamed, pushing herself so hard against her attacker
that
they both swung against the brick wall behind them. Morris shouted but
didn't
let go of his gun and her as the shot went off and hit the opposite wall. It
passed Mulder's ear within an inch.
The second shot struck the agent's shoulder, sending him hard against the
wall.
Mulder fell, dropping the gun before him as he leaned heavily on his knees,
heaving as his exhausted body tried to gather its strength.
Tremendous pain shot through his shoulder, but it wasn't as bad as the
exhaustion that simply took over, refusing to allow him to stay on his feet
for
another second.
Not now, Mulder prayed. Don't let it be over now. I don't want to die a
useless
death.
Morris shouted something that he couldn't hear. Then Mulder felt a rough
hand
grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then he was shoved inside a
small
room, hidden behind a heavy door. They were on the move but Mulder was
hardly
aware of it.
Someone supported him gently. This time the rough hand was gone. He heard
Morris' voice behind him speak, and then they were inside another room and
the
doors were locked.
Morris sighed deeply as he glared at his two hostages. The footsteps had
sounded
hard. He had known they were coming. And now his chances of getting out of
here
with her were gone. But he still had them, and he wasn't going to let them
go.
They were his ticket out. In order to have the woman do what he said, he had
to
keep the man alive for now. But as soon as they were outside, he would kill
and
dump his body.
Then he put his attention to the woman leaning over her colleague and smiled
as
he grabbed her by the arm. 'I've waited quite some time for this moment, my
little pearl, and now you're mine.'
The hunt
Scully knew her partner was in trouble. His blood was all over the place
when
they rushed back after Mairéad's and Mulder's sudden absence. Everyone was
accounted for, except for the two of them. And Mairéad had stayed behind to
find
Mulder.
Laurie was brought home by one of the agents. The concert was coming to an
end.
Everyone was taking off. But there were guards missing. Scully remembered
the
guard with the black cap that was pulled widely over his eyes. She hadn't
known
him. And he hadn't been wearing a badge.
'Damn it,' she muttered under her breath, realizing she had been too busy
minding Laurie's safety. That had been her first priority. And now she might
have delivered her colleagues in the hands of a killer.
She rushed back to the spot with Skinner and other agents behind her. The
guards
were making sure everyone left calmly. The place would be deserted soon. The
search for the missing guard was still ongoing.
Blood was on the wall and floor. The traces lead to a locked door. And there
were the guns. Mairéad's and Mulder's both lay on the floor. It was a token
of
their imprisonment. 'Does anyone have the key to this room?' she shouted.
The
chief security officer had followed them and used his key chain to open the
door. They were in a small room. Scully realized she had been in the same
situation before. She wasn't about to find Mulder in danger again. They had
to
move faster than that. But she knew she wouldn't like what she was going to
find. The blood trail seemed to be everywhere.
And then it just stopped. The agents looked around, trying to figure out
where
they could have gone, until Skinner discovered a small doorway that lead to
a
storage room. There the blood trail started again.
The shelter
Morris laughed as the male agent moved his body. He spoke to him yet he
seemed
to be somewhere else. His shoulder wasn't even that bad. A through and
through
had caused some bleeding perhaps, but he had been lucky.
Mairéad rested in Morris' hands, listening to his senseless words. Yet at
the
same time everything seemed to make sense as well. The pieces finally fell
together.
'I've missed you for so long,' he whispered in her ear, keeping an eye on
Mulder
who sat on the floor, leaning with his head against the wall. 'I knew I
would
find you one day though. But you shouldn't have messed around with Willis,
darling. You knew I had a crush on you. Why did you fuck me and him at the
same
time?'
Mairéad listened in shock as Morris was dragged back to the past. Suddenly
it
didn't seem to matter anymore that there were people outside these doors
trying
to find them. Time had come to a stop and there was nothing else but the
past,
leaning heavily as a blanket over them all. They were forced to go back in
to
the past with him, and accept what it had brought them.
'You knew I wanted to marry you, but no - you went out and fucked him
instead,
and left me alone in the darkness. But I gave you your darkness too, didn't
I? I
punished you for what you did, and left pieces of you all scattered all over
the
country. You guided me to find you again and now that I have, you will be
mine
forever.'
She looked straight into his eyes and her look seemed very confident when
she
smiled. 'You're right,' she said. 'I have been denying it, but here I am.
You
can do whatever you want with me.'
His eyes changed as she willingly took her place into the past. 'You won't
fight
me anymore?'
'I won't.'
He kissed her. His tongue was on her lips and inside of her mouth and he
grabbed
her so tight that she could feel the barrel of the gun sticking in her back.
If
he moved his finger now, the gun would go off. She let him kiss her. She
closed
her eyes and accepted what he wanted to do with her. There was more to
consider
than reality. There was more to do than protect her own life. She was
responsible for Mulder's condition. She had to get him out of here.
She stopped him. 'They'll be here soon. You have to tell them that you want
us
to leave. But leave Agent Mulder here. He's hurt. He won't do you any good.'
Morris let go of her. 'I'm going to kill him. He tried to stop us.'
'He's not worth it. If you kill him now, you'll get everyone to come after
us,'
she said softly and sensual. 'I'll come with you, I swear. But you have to
leave
him behind.'
'No.' Morris said, aiming his gun at the agent's head. Mairéad shoved him
hard.
With one hard kick he sent her against the far wall where she hit her head
and
dropped like a log. She was out like a light. Mulder moved from his
position,
crawling towards her.
Morris laughed out loud, looking at the agent crawling on the floor on all
fours. Was this the FBI-agent that had tracked him down? He was nothing but
a
scrubby man, someone who didn't look like he was able to think straight. He
seemed like a madman, the way he crawled there pathetically.
The killer kicked him in the ribs with the tip of his shoe, sending the
agent
rolling on the floor. Mulder moaned as he rolled on his back and again on
his
belly, biting the dust. His shoulder was burning like hell. His body seemed
to
be at the end of its rope. He shook his head softly, trying to gather his
thoughts.
He ended up on his back again, trying to focus on reality. He needed to stay
awake. If he didn't, it would all be over. Mairéad would die.
'No,' Mulder moaned, protecting his ribs as he tried to get up. 'Leave her
alone
-'
'Not on your life,' Morris said, walking slowly towards the agent, making
circles around his body. 'She's a bitch, just like Megan was. I know now
that
I'm meant to do this. I'm chosen to kill women like her. All they do is lie
and
cheat and feed us what we want to hear.'
'You're a coward, Morris,' Mulder said, opening his eyes slowly. 'You feed
on
innocent women because you can't stand it that you killed the one you loved.
You're nothing more than a pathetic bastard. Mairéad's done nothing to you.
None
of them have. You pick them out on looks. You think you control life and
death.
But you're nothing more than a coward and a loser.'
Morris turned towards Mairéad who lay on the floor. 'I'll show you what a
loser
I am,' he said, turning his back towards Mulder. 'I'll kill her before your
eyes
and you'll stay alive with the knowledge it was your words that drove me to
it.'
The moment Morris turned his back towards the agent and attempted to kneel
down
beside Mairéad; a shot went off, striking Morris Aldham in the side.
Morris'
surprised glance was turned down as he spotted the trickle of blood that
slowly
became a pool. And then it just poured out.
Morris turned and saw the strapped ankle holster, now visible. And he saw
the
small handgun in Mulder's hand. Morris mumbled something, the gun still in
his
hand. A second shot filled the room. Morris fell flat forward, his hand
stretched out and finally losing the gun.
Mulder sighed deeply as he stared at the man's dead eyes. Mairéad's eyes
opened.
The female agent seemed out of it. The back of her head bled where she had
hit
the wall. Her eyes caught Morris' body. Then she stared at Mulder.
They both felt the same regret.
To be concluded...
Insomniac
Part 8
Details and disclaimers in part 1.
Safety
'Mulder,' Scully said, hurrying towards her partner who sat with his back
against the wall again, awaiting their next moves. At first he hardly seemed
to
notice her. His eyes sought out Mairéad's. She seemed fine on the outside,
but
he knew she needed mending on the inside.
Then he looked up curiously to see who was touching him. His partner held
her
fingers against his throat to check his pulse. She frowned when she saw the
damaged shoulder and the bloody shirt. From the corner of her eye she saw
that
Mairéad was talking to Davis. Someone took a look at the back of her head.
She
was cared for.
'Hey ... Scully,' her partner said with a faint smile. 'Fancy seeing you
here.'
'You're delirious, Mulder. What the hell have you done to yourself?'
'Me?' he said with a grin, 'nothing. I'm fine, can't you tell?'
'Like hell you are,' she said.
'How did you find us?'
'That wasn't so difficult. We just had to follow the blood trail you left
behind. If I didn't know better, I would say he was trying to lead us to his
shelter this time.'
'I think he was,' Mulder said softly. 'He wanted it to be over with.'
Scully thought her answer over for a second and then smiled to reassure her
partner. 'I guess so.'
Mulder's eyes drooped as she worked on stopping the bleeding. He bit his lip
in
pain when her experienced hands moved. He had been shot on exactly the same
spot
she had shot him so long ago. She knew he would heal quickly.
But his reactions worried her. 'Stay with me, partner,' she said. 'Don't
pass
out on me now.'
She glanced behind her to find Skinner's worried look. But Mulder's eyes
closed
as if they were finally allowed to do so. He slid aside, losing his balance
against the wall, and slumped slightly forward, into her arms.
Skinner helped her to put her partner on the floor in a more comfortable
position. Frantically she felt Mulder's pulse again. Then she looked at
Skinner
and Mairéad in surprise, as she said, 'He's asleep.'
'You mean passed out,' Mairéad said.
'No. I mean asleep.'
As if to support her words, Mulder opened his eyes briefly, glanced at them,
mumbled something, and closed his eyelids again, trying to slide on his side
as
if to take a nap.
Scully remembered what Mulder had said before. Once I get this case solved,
I'll
be allowed to sleep. Somehow, he managed to do just that. After nights of
sleeplessness, his body was finally resting.
How he did that, kept on surprising her.
Sleep
Mulder slept for over twenty-four hours before finally opening his eyes,
wondering where in the world he was. He wasn't so happy that he woke up in a
hospital though. Scully found him arguing with the doctor over it.
They both had to convince her partner he had been shot and had managed to
rip
open the stitches to his side again. This time Skinner and Scully were not
as
easy as they had been before. There was no way out of a recovery period.
That, Mulder had to find out for himself when he was ordered to stay for at
least three days. Despite his protests - proving to Scully he was fully
alert
and feeling much better - he was ordered the rest by Skinner, and he knew
his
boss would live up to his promise.
And so he slept.
Concluding
'Did you know that this band - Faithless - has a song called 'Insomnia',
Mulder?' Scully asked as she put the roses sent by the security guards in a
vase.
'Yeah, I do,' Mulder said. 'Why?'
'I don't know. It kind of suits you right now. You couldn't get any sleep.
Basically, you do realize that you have made an X-File out of this case?'
'Because of my dreams?'
'Because of the fact you wouldn't sleep, not even drugged and filled up with
medication. That in itself is an X-File.'
'We've seen cases before where people were having trouble sleeping,' Mulder
said. 'There were medical reasons for that - unnatural causes. I cannot
explain
why I wasn't able to sleep during this time. I just know that somehow I was
connected to this case. Perhaps, in a way, my mind was preparing for this
case -
already going into that world Morris had created. I don't know how else to
explain it.'
The day before, Scully had told him that the real Jack Smyth had been found
badly wounded in a small storage facility near the lobby of the arena,
stabbed
in the back with a sharp object. But he survived. He had lost a pile of
blood,
but at least he was able to pull through. At least there was one survivor
out of
this ordeal.
Mairéad had not been admitted to the hospital. She had needed stitches and
had
been thoroughly checked but except for a bad headache, she was fine. Mulder
wondered why she hadn't come to see him though. He had wanted to talk to her
about the events, but she had radically refused to do so.
Scully sat down on the side of the bed. 'Do you know that Mairéad has given
her
resignation?'
'What?' Mulder said. 'You're kidding me.'
'Don't worry. Davis refused to accept it. She's going to talk to an
FBI-counsellor about this case. I guess she learned the hard way that an
FBI-agent's first task is to keep herself and her colleagues out of harm's
ways.'
'She did just that,' Mulder objected.
'She should have told us her suspicions. She jeopardized you and herself.'
'Doesn't anyone of us do that, every single day, Scully?' her partner asked.
'Let's be honest. Every time we go out on the streets, we know that it can
be
over. I encourage her for trying to find her own way. She knew instinctively
that she was a potential victim. She crawled inside Morris' head and wasn't
afraid to face the danger. She's going to be an excellent profiler.'
'Are you planning on mentoring her?'
Mulder sighed. It was a discussion he didn't want to have. 'I don't belong
to
the VCS.'
'But next time Davis asks you, you're going to be there again. You can't say
no
to these cases, can you?'
Mulder looked at her seriously, realizing she was afraid that he would leave
her
and The X-Files some day. 'I can't say no,' he said slowly, 'because it's a
part
of who I am. Scully, I studied psychology because I knew that some day I
would
be doing this line of work. If Samantha hadn't been there ... I guess I
wouldn't
have worked on The X-Files in the first place. But she was there, and I
don't
regret my decision. I just want to find a way of combining my work. I know I
have a value here. I can't just turn my back towards it.'
Scully looked sad, yet at the same time there was a pride in her eyes he
hadn't
seen before. He grabbed her hand. 'I'm not leaving you,' he said forcefully.
She smiled and touched his face. 'I know. I'm just afraid that one day I
won't
be visiting you at a hospital anymore, but at a morgue, staring down on your
body. I can't bear it if that should happen. I can't go on without you.'
'I promise you here and now that will never happen,' he said. 'I cannot
guarantee it, but I'll try. Don't ask for anything more. And please don't
ask me
to make a choice.'
'I'm not,' she said as she kissed him.
He smiled. 'Now then, when are you going to let me out of here?'
She laughed and waved her finger like a schoolteacher would. 'Don't push
your
luck, buster.'
Insomnia
They were pleased about her. They didn't hold the events in New York against
her. Mairéad realized that the moment Davis called her up and told her she
was
getting a new case. This time she would be the main profiler. She would
still be
able to count on the support of her more experienced colleagues, but they
were
certain she could handle it.
She didn't sleep that night. She kept on revisiting that night, with
Mulder's
life in her hands. She knew she could not change the past. She could only
work
on her future.
And when she got to work the next morning, she was setting up the profile,
putting the pieces together as if she had never done anything else. She had
learned from the best after all.
She found their killer. She found the victims. And she became good at her
job.
The next case was already lining up.
But at night, she found herself staring into the abyss, realizing there was
merely a thin line between sanity and insanity. She didn't know where to
draw
the border between what was right and wrong anymore. She found herself
distrusting everyone. She sold her house in Miami and moved back to New
York.
She didn't want to walk that line between good and wrong. Yet at the same
time
she knew she was already doing it. She couldn't stop herself.
She looked into the abyss. And there was no one to drag her out.
She dreamt of the kiss she had shared with Morris when she was trying to get
them out of that room in one piece. She dreamt that he was still alive and
near
her. In her next dream he was strangling her. And his mind and thoughts was
passing on to her. She had become him and he had become her.
She woke up startled from those dreams. She looked at her hands and noticed
there were still in one piece. He hadn't cut them off and left pieces of her
body all over the globe.
During the days she saved people. During the nights she killed them.
One day she would contact Mulder and tell him about it. He would understand.
But
she wouldn't do that just now. Right now she had to deal with her past and
present. She would have to cope with the future.
And she knew she could only count on herself in this hard, cruel
world.
- The End -
--
Happy is the heart of him who writes; he is young each day." --
Ptahotpe, c. 2350 B.C.
Nooooo Chris, Mulder LIVES!