Blood Ties 13: Echoes in the Dark
By Dawn


Chapter 1

Quantico
11:36 PM
Three weeks later


The faces of the dead were always with her. Shadows that dogged 
her steps throughout the day became specters haunting her dreams. 
Liz Marshall. Corinne Peterson. Jenna Culleeny. Emma Watson. 
Vacant eyes in red, swollen faces. Necklaces of bruises adorning 
pale throats.

Scully opened her eyes, curling her chilled fingers more tightly 
around the styrofoam cups. She focused on the lighted numbers 
above the steel doors, allowing the mechanical rumbling and harsh 
fluorescents to ground her. Now was no time to begin jumping at 
phantoms. 

The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors slid open to reveal her 
boss, briefcase in hand and trench coat slung over his arm. Scully 
straightened from her slump against the back wall.

"Sir."

"Agent." Skinner hesitated briefly before stepping aboard. He 
glanced at the control panel, then moved to stand beside her. 
"Working a bit late, aren't you?"

Scully cocked an eyebrow, keeping her gaze trained on the doors. 
"I could say the same of you, sir."

"Point taken."

The awkward silence was blessedly brief. The doors rolled open to 
the correct floor, and Scully got off. Skinner caught her elbow 
before she'd taken more than a few strides.

"Agent Scully, a moment, please."

She ducked her head to hide the fire in her eyes. It wasn't difficult 
to guess what this was about. "Of course."

After a quick look around, Skinner guided her into a copier room 
across the hall. Scully set the two coffees on a cabinet and folded 
her arms. 

Skinner took in her defensive posture without comment. "How is 
he?"

"If you're speaking of Agent Mulder, he's fine."

"Fine?"

She bristled at the skepticism. "Considering the circumstances, yes. 
He's doing everything humanly possible to catch a killer, as 
ordered." The words _by you_ hung heavily in the air, unspoken.

Skinner clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching high on his left 
cheek. "I've been getting phone calls."

"Let me guess. He's alienated the original profiler, pissed off SAC 
Crittendon, and irritated the hell out of the local PDs. The lab folks 
are tired of him hounding them for results and the Forensics 
department wishes he'd realize they have other cases besides this 
one. Descriptors like arrogant, pigheaded, and overbearing were 
used."

"You left out the part where the custodial staff is refusing to clean 
the conference room."

"With all due respect, what did you expect, sir? We've both seen 
enough to know that this is the way Mulder works. If you had 
issues with his methods you should never have--"

"Scully, I'd like to remind you that, when push came to shove, I 
had no more choice in this matter than you and Mulder. Don't 
make the mistake of overestimating my position in the chain of 
command."

Scully flushed when a quick glance at Skinner's face revealed that, 
yes, he remembered her brash rebuke. "I know you did your best to 
keep us out of this case. I just hope you understand that calling him 
on the carpet now, when he's in this deep, won't help catch this 
killer."

"I'm not here to reprimand him, Scully."

She frowned. "You're not? But--"

"Crittendon's a former jarhead with zero tolerance for anyone who 
bends the rules--or has the audacity to think outside the box. I 
warned him to be careful what he wished for when he set his sights 
on Mulder. As far as I'm concerned, he got exactly what he had 
coming to him."

Scully frowned. "I just assumed..."

"This is an unofficial visit." Skinner rubbed the back of his neck, 
and for the first time Scully noticed the lines around his eyes and 
mouth. "So how is he--really?"

Scully scooped up the coffee cups and tipped her head toward the 
door. "He's right down the hall."

They passed the muted activity of the bullpen, where a few staunch 
souls hunched over their desks, scribbling out profiles or reviewing 
casefiles. Scully led Skinner to the conference room, the tapping of 
her heels echoing hollowly through the deserted corridor. A 
rectangle of light spilled through the open door, but the oblong 
window had been covered over from the inside. 

Scully walked in, set one cup on the paper-strewn table, and 
continued to where Mulder stood, arms crossed, in front of the 
back wall. From the corner of her eye she saw Skinner register 
what Mulder was looking at, then set down his briefcase and scan 
the room.

"Mulder."

He didn't move. She slowly realized he hadn't blinked, his gaze 
hazy and slightly out of focus. She looked at the photo that had 
him mesmerized. Emma Watson at the dump site, her hair combed, 
the blood washed from her face and body, limbs arranged neatly 
into a position of repose that contrasted sharply with her wide 
sightless eyes, the scleras blood red with ruptured capillaries.

"Mulder." She tugged his hand free and placed the cup in it.

"He leaves the eyes open. Why?" Mulder didn't look at her, didn't 
acknowledge her presence in any way. He sipped absently from the 
cup and continued speaking with the same flat, mildly curious 
tone. "Is he hoping they'll see him--the person, and not the 
atrocities he commits? Or is he proud of what he's done, wanting 
them to bear witness?"

Hyper-aware of Skinner moving quietly around the periphery of 
the room, Scully tried one more time. "_Mulder_."

Mulder blinked, focusing on her face. "Whatcha got, Scully?" He 
took another swallow from the coffee cup and grimaced. "Decaf?"

"What _we've_ got is company." Scully stepped back, giving 
Mulder a clear line of sight.

Skinner finished perusing the display of crime photos tacked to 
every available surface and joined them. "Agent Mulder."

"Bit late for a progress report, isn't it, sir?"

"SAC Crittendon keeps me well informed, Mulder. I just stopped 
by to see if there's anything you need."

Scully watched Skinner closely. If he was at all surprised by 
Mulder's haggard appearance, he hid it well.

"A killer would be nice." Mulder took one swallow of coffee, 
made a face, and set it atop a stack of file folders. Rolling her eyes, 
Scully rescued it before disaster could occur.

"I'd say you've got one." Skinner's dry tone warmed a bit. "When 
was the last time you slept, Mulder?"

"Not to worry, sir. Agent Crittendon held a briefing just this 
morning." When Skinner didn't rise to the bait, Mulder sighed. 
"I've slept. A bit less than usual, maybe, but I've slept."

Scully tucked her chin to her chest, chewing the inside of her 
cheek. _A bit less?_  He was averaging three hours a night, and his 
bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothing, and perpetual five o'clock 
shadow showed the toll it was taking. 

For a moment Skinner looked as if he might press the issue, but he 
simply nodded and gestured to the cluttered table. "How's the 
profile coming?"

"Which one?" 

Scully wanted to kick him when he got like this; she settled for a 
death glare instead. Mulder raised both brows in a "what did I do?" 
expression before elaborating.

"I'm currently on my third profile, but hey--three's the charm, 
right?" He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair till it stood on 
end. "I'm having trouble getting a handle on this...guy."

Skinner picked up on his hesitation. "Are you thinking it might be 
a woman?"

"No. Not exactly."

"As you know, sir, only about 8 percent of serial killers are 
female," Scully said.

"But you're considering the possibility?"

"There are aspects to the murders that suggest a woman's...touch," 
Mulder said. "Careful, precise, methodical. And the mutilations 
express rage that's almost...jealous in nature."

"But?" Skinner prompted.

"It's unlikely a woman would be strong enough to inflict this kind 
of damage." Scully indicated the Watson photo with a tilt of her 
head. "Not to mention the fact that the pattern of bruising suggests 
the killer had large hands. A man's hands."

"Maybe you're looking for two killers, working in tandem."

"It's possible." Mulder drifted back to the photo, his tone turning 
clinical. "There's a definite duality at work--the almost lavish care 
of the body is an odd counterpoint to the extreme brutality of the 
act itself. But are we looking at two killers or one with multiple 
personalities? Or something else entirely?" He traced 
Emma's face with his fingertip, frowning.

"Mulder." 

Skinner's authoritarian growl brought him back. Mulder gave a 
nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "Sir?"

"Go home." Skinner held up a hand when Mulder started to 
protest. "You'll never catch this killer--or kill-ers--if you're 
constantly running on fumes. Go home. Sleep for more than two 
hours. This will all still be here in the morning."

Mulder's reply was heavy with bitterness. "But another young 
woman might not be."

Skinner exchanged a pained glance with Scully. Retrieving his 
briefcase, he paused just inside the doorway. "Keep in touch." 

Once Skinner had gone, Scully discarded the two cups of now-cold 
coffee, packed a few folders into her own briefcase, and slipped on 
her trench coat. When Mulder made no move to gather up his 
things, she handed him his coat.

Ignoring her outstretched hand, he brushed past her and picked up 
a yellow legal pad covered with his hastily scratched notes. She 
watched him dig through several stacks of papers to locate a 
pencil, then collapse into one of the padded leather chairs.

"Mulder."

He spared her a brief look, then flipped to a fresh page and began 
writing. "You go ahead, Scully. I've got a few thoughts I need to 
jot down, and I want to go through Emma Watson's lab work one 
more time, just in case we missed something."

"You heard what Skinner said."

"Skinner's not here."

Her temper flared, fueled by worry and too little sleep. "He can be, 
if I call him."

"You wouldn't do that." He didn't even lift his gaze from the pad.

She let her briefcase drop to the floor with a satisfying thud, 
slipped her phone from her suit pocket, and pressed speed dial 
before Mulder's fingers closed around the phone.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She slapped his hand away, furious at the heat in her face and the 
sting of tears in her eyes. "Preventing you from self-destructing, I 
hope."

"Scully."

Somehow, his enfolding her in his arms just made her angrier. She 
didn't want him to respond to her tears--it left her feeling weak and 
vulnerable. Endless days of living and breathing this case, seeing 
herself mirrored over and over in the dead, had left her emotions 
raw and too near the surface. 

She shrugged off the embrace and pinned him with a steely glare. 
"I need a little time to regroup, Mulder. And despite this Superman 
complex you've got going, so do you."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "No complex here, Scully. I'm 
nowhere near as fast as a speeding bullet--even on a good day--and 
I can't leap tall buildings worth a damn." He sobered. "If I were 
Superman, we'd've caught this monster already."

His self-deprecation drove away the last of her anger. She cupped 
his jaw, tracing the shadow beneath his eye with her thumb. 
"Skinner's right, you know. Driving yourself to a state of 
exhaustion is no way to catch this guy." When Mulder chuckled, 
she frowned. "What?"

"This is what I do, how I became the one-time golden boy of the 
BSU. I know it seems crazy to you, Scully, but it's what Patterson 
taught us. What he demanded of us. Immerse yourself in the case 
to the exclusion of everything else. Become the monster in order to 
catch the monster. I spent two _years_ in a state of exhaustion."

Scully didn't like thinking about how those years had been for 
Mulder. From the little he'd shared, she got the impression he 
didn't like thinking about it either. "Times have changed. You're 
not working for Patterson, and you're not in this alone."

Mulder curled his fingers around hers and pressed them to his lips. 
Then he accepted his coat and gestured to the door. "You win. 
Let's go home."

Not much of a victory, Scully thought, as they headed down the 
hallway. His fixed gaze and pensive silence made it clear his mind 
was still on the case. 

"I bumped into Kristen this morning when I stopped by the lab," 
she said as they got on the elevator, grasping for a distraction.

She could practically hear the grinding sound as he struggled to 
switch gears. "So...how is she?"

She punched the button and shrugged. "She looked a little rough 
around the edges. She told me she hasn't talked to Grey in three 
weeks. And immediately changed the subject."

"I'm not surprised. He stonewalled me when I called last week. 
Told me he was moving on, and it was time I did too."

"Really?"

"Really. Of course, his partner paints the picture a bit differently."

"You talked to Mark?"

"He got on the line while they were tracking Grey down for me. 
Said Mr. Congeniality's been nothing but a pain in the ass since he 
and Kristen split--grouchy, impatient, and generally lacking a 
sense of humor."

Scully sighed. "In other words, he's miserable."

"Completely."

She chewed her lip. "Maybe if we both tried again, if I talked to 
Kristen and you--"

"Scully, they're both adults, and you and I hardly fit the role of 
matchmaker."

"You're right. It's just..." She sighed again. "They belong together, 
Mulder. I know it. _Grey_ knows it."

The doors slid open and Mulder's hand drifted automatically to the 
small of her back. "Grey's never going to be able to reach for a 
future--with anyone--until he lets go of the past."

Scully looked up at him, suppressing a smile. "Voice of 
experience?"

Mulder crossed to the driver's side of the car. "If there's one thing 
we Mulders have in abundance, it's a past." He paused, key in 
hand, then slowly grasped the handle and opened the door.

"What's wrong?"

"It's unlocked."

"So you forgot to lock it." Scully set her briefcase on the back seat 
and got in. When he continued to stand with on hand on the door, 
frowning, she leaned across the seat. "Mulder?"

"I would swear I'd locked it, Scully."

"Mulder, I had to turn off the coffee maker three times last week."

"Your point being?" But he slid in beside her.

"You have to admit your mind has been elsewhere lately. If it's not 
related to this case, you don't see it. You drank half that coffee 
tonight before you figured out it was decaf." _Not to mention we 
haven't made love in two weeks._ 

He narrowed his eyes, but turned the key in the ignition. 
"Elsewhere, huh?"

"A bit."

He navigated through the garage, then reached for her hand. "I'm 
sorry."

She laced their fingers and squeezed. "I accept that pushing limits 
is what makes you good at this. But you have to trust me to know 
when to rein you in."

He smiled. "I trust you, Scully. Always."

"And I trust you. You're going to find this guy, Mulder. I'm sure of 
it."

He squeezed her hand, then withdrew, his smile fading. "I can't 
help feeling things are going to get a lot worse before that 
happens."

Scully looked out the window and said nothing. She felt it too.


Continued in Chapter 2