KILLER

PART 3

As Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun, he felt the
lightest touch of a small hand on his leg.  He opened his eyes and
there was a little five year old girl standing on the step next to
him.  She had touched him to get his attention.  Her eyes, even in
the indirect lighting, appeared to be a brilliant blue and she had
curly ash-blond hair tied with a blue ribbon.  She wore a dark blue
windbreaker with jeans and a sweatshirt, and red tennis shoes.

Mulder slowly lowered the gun and returned it to his holster.  That
would have to wait.  The girl solemnly watched his every movement,
and finally spoke.

"My daddy said not to play with guns."  She looked at him a long
moment, then added, "And I think you need a bath."

He knew that he was covered in blood.  He probably smelled pretty
badly, too, since he had been perspiring like a fountain all day.
It was no wonder she thought he needed a bath.

"What's your name," he huskily asked her.

"Kate.  We live in Annapolis, and my daddy is in the Navy."

Mulder glanced around, but saw no one who looked the least bit
interested in Kate or himself.

"Are you lost?"

"No," was the confident reply.

Mulder was afraid to move a muscle, fearful that the demons in him
would take over again any second and he cringed at the thought that
he could be dangerous to this beautiful little girl.

He felt like the Frankenstein monster sitting there watching the
Kate pull a small doll out of a pocket of her windbreaker and then
settle down on the steps near him and begin to play.

Thinking, "Please, where are her parents?" he prayed that they
would hurry and get her away from him before...he couldn't think
about it or he would go mad.

"Kate!  There you are!  We've been looking everywhere..."

Mulder's eyes tracked up to the left and saw a very large and
muscular man in jeans and bulky sweater coming down and across the
steps toward them.  "You get what you pray for, I guess," Mulder
thought.  Except that this guy could be trouble when he got a look
at the kind of guy his daughter chose to associate with.  Better
leave.
He got to his feet, gave a backhanded sort of wave in the general
direction of Kate and her approaching father, and headed down
toward the Reflecting Pool.  Hopefully, the father was still far
enough from him so that he couldn't get a good look at his
appearance; the darkness helped, too.

Walking for as long as he felt the need to distance himself
sufficiently from the girl, he finally sank gratefully onto a bench
located halfway down the length of the pool.  He sat and stared at
the shimmering surface of the water for a few minutes, then the
realization hit him.  It had been a hell of a long time since the
helpless rage had overcome him.  It had never given him such a long
lucid period before.  Could it be possible that the drug could wear
off?

Then the memory of what he had done earlier returned in a rush to
punch him in the stomach.  His short moment of hope returned to
horror and regret.  Tears blurred his vision and he bent over
clutching his mid-section.  He rocked back and forth in torment,
the picture of that bloodied little boy etched forever in his
brain.

He tried to think:  His will had been updated a little over a year
before.  When he realized how important Scully had become in his
life, he had made her a part of it.  No, he couldn't think of
anything left to be done anymore.  A spasm of despair washed over
him again, and he didn't want to wait any longer.  Oblivious to all
but the pain of living, he once again removed his gun from it's
leather cradle and re-checked the clip.  He closed his eyes and
whispered an apology, "I'm sorry, Scully."  And he hoped his long
lost sister Samantha would understand why he could not carry on his
life-long search for her any more.  He brought the gun up to his
head once more and closed his eyes.

Then something that felt like a boulder hit him between the
shoulders and he went head-first off the bench into the ground. 
The wind was knocked out of him when the boulder's full weight
landed on his back.  His gun left his hand and took off like a
bird, flying beyond his grasp.

Mulder began to fight as though he had gone berserk, kicking and
punching at his attacker, but more hands had joined in the fight,
trying to hold him down.  He felt handcuffs tighten on his wrists
behind his back, and he suddenly went limp, too weary physically
and mentally to fight any longer, still gasping for breath.

Lying on his side on the cold grass, he could see that the initial
attacker had been Kate's father.  She must have told him about the
"smelly guy with the gun."  The other two bodies present were
uniformed District of Columbia police officers.  One of them
approached Mulder and asked if he wanted to sit on the bench; it
would be warmer and dryer then the wet grass.


Mulder thought about moving for a minute.  He really didn't want to
get up, but decided to be cooperative as long as he had to wait
around to finish what he had started, anyway.

The officer helped him to his feet, and he perched on the edge of
the bench.  Mulder had gotten a look at the policeman, who was
blond, handsome and appeared to be all of sixteen years old. 
Great; a rookie.

"I'm Officer Charles Clarke, and my partner's name is Jeff Clement. 
I don't think you realize how hard we've been looking for you,
Agent Mulder."

That caught his attention.  They knew who he was.  He didn't say
anything, though, and just kept staring down at the ground.

"Thank goodness that little girl told her father about you and he
was concerned enough to try to stop you from killing yourself."

Mulder broke his silence then to mutter, "This isn't fucking Sesame
Street here.  With a daughter like that, he should have run the
other way from a man who has a gun."

Officer Clarke looked startled more by the fact that Mulder had
spoken than by what he had said.  He took it as an invitation to
continue the conversation.

"We're trying to contact your partner right now, but she's out of
the office and not at her apartment.  We've been getting a busy
signal on her mobile phone."

Mulder winced at the thought of having to face Scully with what he
had done.  God, it hurt so much.

Mercifully, Officer Clarke stood up to talk with his partner, and
Mulder was left to himself for awhile.  He noticed there were a few
people attracted by what looked like an arrest, but when nothing
much happened, most tended to drift off.  Then he saw Kate standing
with a woman who must be her mother.  They were a good twenty yards
away, but were standing in the glow cast by one of the
intermittently spaced overhead light poles.

Her mother looked like Kate, which is to say she was beautiful. 
They were apparently waiting for the missing member of the family
so they could go home.  Kate saw Mulder looking their way, and gave
him a radiant smile.  His heart ached to see it, and for some
reason his eyes became suspiciously damp.  But, God help him, he
could not smile back, and doubted he would ever smile again.  It
hurt too much.

But he discovered that he could hurt even more, when he saw Scully
running toward him from the side street.  Her brow was furrowed
with concern, and changed to relief and joy when she got close
enough to see that he seemed to be whole and still alive.
When she reached him, she leaned down to make eye contact, and her
breath caught in her throat when she saw the immense pain and
sadness there.  No matter how this turned out, she would be haunted
forever by the expression in those eyes.  She sat down next to him,
slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, feeling
the stiffness of his unyielding muscles.  They were more like stone
than flesh.

Scully was never demonstrative, especially when there were
spectators interested in their every move nearby, but she seemed to
have lost that particular inhibition, at least for the moment.  She
knew that the hungry need this man had for comfort and forgiveness
was far greater than her capacity to give, so she simply offered
what she could and hoped it would help in some measure.

He couldn't speak; he was so ashamed that he couldn't bear to look
at her again.  She understood and at last released her hold on him. 
She looked around for someone in charge and had Mulder's handcuffs
removed.  Then she arranged to ride with him in the police car when
they took him to the hospital to be checked out.

The first thing she heard him say when they were settled in the
rear seat of the police car was, "Please, Scully, I can't do this." 
His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed.

"Just take it one thing at a time, Mulder, and we can get through
it together."

His eyes blazing and teeth clenched in anger, he loudly protested,
"Dammit, Scully!  I...murdered...a little...child!!  Can you
understand what that means?!"  His voice rose and cracked on the
last word, and his fist hit his thigh with an audible sound.

Scully bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes, and nodded. 
"Mulder, you know that the drug is responsible, not you."

"Does that matter!?"  His horror was so great that she was struck
mute in its smothering presence.

Her cel phone rang.

Pulling it out of her pocket without taking her eyes off Mulder,
she softly answered, "Yes?"

"Agent Scully?  This is Officer Ken Griffin; we spoke earlier about
the shooting incident involving the seven year old child and his
father?  Well, the reports I'm getting from the detectives on the
scene are that some drunk kid, age approximately 22, height about
five feet nine inches, got pissed off...er...angry when he couldn't
buy tickets to a sold-out show, and began shooting at people in
line at the box office."

Scully realized that she had been holding her breath during this
report and slowly let it out as she listened.
"Then a male passer-by saw what was happening and tried to grab the
child to get him out of the line of fire, while drawing his own gun
and returning fire at the shooter.  But before he could put the boy
all the way behind his own body, a bullet caught the kid right in
the chest.  One witness said that the guy came unglued when he
realized the boy was gone and he couldn't help him.  The shooter
took off and was out of sight by the time this guy stood up and
looked around for him.  Then the guy took off, too."

In a kind of trance, Scully thanked him for getting back to her,
and disconnected.  She sat there for a second, then looked up at
Mulder.

"You didn't kill that child, Mulder," she said.

He didn't seem to hear her, lost in his own private hell as he
gazed unseeingly out the window.

"Mulder!" she said sharply.  His head slowly turned toward her.

"The police reports are in; Mulder, you did not kill that child. 
You were trying to save him."

The confusion plainly showed on his face.  "But I remember..."

Scully said, "Your memory was affected by the drug.  You tried to
get the child out of the line of fire.  The police have witnesses
who say you shot at the gunman, and tried to protect the little
boy."

"But if I were subject to the homicidal tendencies of the drug, why
would I do that?  Wouldn't I be more apt to BE the shooter?"  But
she could see the dawning hope in his face that the endless
nightmare could have an end, after all.

Scully shook her head, not knowing the answer, then an expression
of realization hit her.  "Mulder, you haven't had one of those
rages since I've been here."

He nodded and said, "No, the effects seem to have worn off.  It's
been at least an hour and a half since I came out of the last one."

Mulder's body sagged, and he said in disbelief, "I didn't kill
him."  Then he dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "I'm
so tired, Scully."

She hesitated for a second, knowing how private a person Mulder
could be when under such emotional strain, then she reached over
and put her hand gently on his head, ruffling his hair a tiny bit. 
The friendly gesture seemed to have no effect, so she retrieved her
hand and said, "While they are checking you over at GW, I'll talk
with Skinner.  I'm sure that he can clear things up with everyone
else so you can go home and get some rest."

Still with his face hidden in his hands, Mulder gave a slight nod
that Scully barely caught.

Another minute passed, then Mulder took a deep breath as he sat
back and lowered his hands to rest them on Scully's.  His eyes
sought hers and held them for what seemed forever.

The intensity of the desire that tore through Scully was completely
unexpected.  "Oh, no," she thought.  "He doesn't need more
complications in his life right now, and neither do I."  But Mulder
could see the change in her expression and the way her body seemed
to lose its rigidity.  He pulled her up against his chest so that
her head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.  She could feel
his heart beating and the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

"Mulder..." she began.

She was halted by the whispered, "Shhh.  We'll deal with this, but
not now."

She sighed and relaxed, putting aside all the problems she could
see with this new aspect of their relationship.  Then she smiled as
she heard his soft snoring and realized that he was asleep.


EPILOGUE

The cigarette-smoking man patiently waited for the younger man to
give him the information he needed.  Once again, they were in the
small conference room, seated across the table from each other.

"He was picked up by the police when he tried to kill himself.  His
partner is with him on the way to a hospital."

The smoke curled around the older man's head as he inquired, "And
his condition?"

A shrug.  "The drug must have worn off.  He hasn't gone bat-shit
for quite awhile now."

"It didn't last as long as I had hoped," was the thoughtful reply.

"What do you want me to do now?  Give him another dose when he
leaves the hospital?"

"I think not.  It would be best to lay low for the time being.  But
stay available - I have a few other 'surprises' for Agent Mulder.

He smiled.

The other man thought, "If sharks could smile, that is exactly what
they would look like."  He shivered, and left the room with a sense
of relief.

THE END