Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com)
Rating: R
Category: Casefile, MSR
Spoiler: Nothing specific. Takes place season
7-ish.
Summary:
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They
belong to CC and Co.
Special thanks to: Sybil. In addition to having
endless patience with my sentence fragments,
dashes and ellipses, she also makes some damn
fine catches. She's a great beta, my biggest
cheerleader and keeps me excited about writing.
That's a pretty big challenge she meets beautifully
and, for that, I thank her very, very much.
[page]
Part 1
XXXXX
Rescue me
Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too
Come on and rescue me
(Rescue Me, Aretha Franklin)
XXXXX
August 19, 1999
Scarsdale, NY
To: Lawrence@tempetko.com
From: BronxBoy64@msq.com
Subject: Please say you will
Dear Jessie,
I hope I'm reaching the right person. Actually, I'm
pretty sure I am. Your aunt told me where you
worked. In case you didn't notice, they sat me right
next to the charming lady at Mike and Wanda's
wedding reception. After that, it was a simple
matter of bribing the right people to get your email
address <vbg>. Actually, as you well know, you are
listed in your company's on-line directory.
It was so good to see you that day, even though I
spent far more time getting reacquainted with your
aunt than you. But, that's the way weddings go. You
bridesmaids have to spend time with that pesky
woman in white!
At the very least, I was happy I had the chance to
say hello. And flattered you remembered me after
all these years. Time and tide waits for no man and
the years have not been especially kind to me, but I
found you just as lovely and fresh as the last time I
had seen you even though two decades (gulp)
have passed.
So, does this mean that I am after your obvious
discovery of the Fountain of Youth? No. I'm afraid
it's too late for me. I merely would like to sincerely
request the pleasure of your cyber-company. It's
been so easy to lose touch with our childhood
buddies and I would very much like to catch up with
someone from the "old neighborhood." No one in
my current circle of friends/acquaintances
understands what it was like in the 60's when a
neighborhood really was a collection of people who
knew and liked each other. It would be nice to
reminisce.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Your friend,
Todd
After reading the strange email, Jessica closed her
eyes and tried to remember Todd as a child. He
was five years younger than she was and a cute,
pudgy, shy kid. That was about all she could
remember. The man she briefly met again at her
cousin's wedding was a really big guy she never
would have recognized if Wanda hadn't muttered
his name to her as he was walking in their direction.
She was probably 14 or 15 when his family moved.
Her family stayed. Way too long. Way past the
point of good sense.
Jessica shuddered a bit. The neighborhood had
gone down so quickly. But, at one time, it had been
wonderful. It truly had. And Todd had been a part of
it all.
What was the harm in reminiscing, anyway?
To:BronxBoy64@msq.com
From: Lawrence@tempetco.com
Re: Please say you will
Dear Todd:
Sure. I'd love to catch up on old times . . .
XXXXX
November 17, 1999
Hoover Building
The day after the first time they made love, Scully
found herself staring at Mulder across the room.
Those lips had been on her face, her eyes, her
mouth. She tried to remember their exact texture,
recall the exact pressure against her skin. She
touched her own lips lightly. She would never quite
view her body in exactly the same way. It was now
a roadmap: this is where he kissed her first, this is
where he touched her and she gasped, this is
where he laid his head after they were done.
She hadn't realized she had closed her eyes until
she opened them and found him staring at her with
the smallest, shyest of smiles. There would be no
smirking today. That much she knew. Loving
Mulder, really loving Mulder, was going to be even
more of an adventure than the one they had already
been on. The man never did anything that meant
something to him without total commitment. She'd
be in for the ride of her life.
XXXXX
November 29, 1999
Hazelton, MO
Smoke.
The urge to laugh was almost overwhelming. It
literally hurt when she swallowed the sound as it
tried to escape from her throat, but she knew it was
only a manifestation of the hysterical panic she felt.
If she gave in, she was finished.
Up until this moment, she would have sworn the
worst thing that ever happened to her was waking
up in this strange room as an obvious victim of
kidnapping. Apparently, one should never make
such definitive assertions. Fate tends to take them
as a challenge and set the bar higher. She was now
trapped in a fire with no means of escape.
Kidnapping *and* being trapped in her worst
nightmare was definitely worse than just a plain old
abduction.
More and more smoke was coming in under the
door, and she knew she had to stop thinking and
start acting. She looked around the windowless
room. The only furnishings were a single bed, and
a night table containing a couple of gallons of
bottled water and bags of assorted snack foods.
She knew she should touch the door. See how hot
it felt. Maybe it had miraculously been unlocked
since the last time she checked. She should check
again. She should.
She should stop the rising panic and get up and do
something but she wasn't sure if, as in her dreams,
her feet could move.
She took a deep breath of thick smoke. The door
wasn't hot but it was still locked.
She returned to the other side of the room and took
off the bedding. She wadded up the sheets and
stuffed it under the door, as far as the tight space
would allow. She pulled off the pillowcase and
poured some water on it. She couldn't remember
the rationale behind it, but felt it was the right thing
to do. She put it up to her face and lay flat on the
floor in the furthest corner of the room.
Who was she kidding? At most, this would only buy
her a few more moments of life.
A few more minutes.
"Our Father,
Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name . . . "
The door burst open. A large man stood in the
doorway. For a moment, he was a silhouette
against the smoke-filled room. She didn't know
whether to laugh or cry. Perhaps Fate had turned
nastier and he was actually the kidnapper. Maybe
he wanted the pleasure of killing her off himself.
He approached her and she brought her legs up in
a fetal position.
He held out his hand. "Don't be scared. I'm going
to get you out of here."
Something about his face reassured her. She knew
he could save her.
She took hold of the hand he offered, got to her
feet and offered no resistance when he scooped
her up in his arms and carried her out of her prison.
XXXXX
*Five months later*
April 7, 2000
Washington, DC
9:05 AM
Karen Noyes took the seat offered to her. She was
nervous. It wasn't every day that you sat in front of a
bona fide FBI agent, or two. Agent Mulder was a
good looking man who already seemed interested
in what she might have to say. Agent Scully didn't
look disinterested but she didn't have that rapt
attention thing going for her that her male
counterpart seemed to have. She was simply
leaning against the edge of his large desk, waiting
patiently. Karen took a deep breath, said a quick
prayer that someone would believe her, and began.
"I live in the same apartment house as my best
friend, Jessica Lawrence. She has been missing
now for three days. She went to work, went to the
gym afterwards and disappeared. Her pocketbook
and gym bag were lying under her car. Nothing was
taken, as far as we can tell-money, credit
cards-everything was in place. No one saw
anything. And the authorities took down a report but
no one seems overly concerned. Well, maybe I'm
not being fair. They said they are investigating but
no one seemed to want to listen to what I had to
say. And I can't say that anyone has been gathering
evidence or whatever in Jessie's apartment. I think
they feel she just walked away from her life. But
she wouldn't do that and, really, do you walk away
without money?"
"What led you to this office?" Agent Scully asked.
"I called the local FBI office a few times. They
didn't even seem to know about the case. I'm not
sure what's going on. Isn't kidnapping FBI
business?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, anyway, I finally reached someone who
listened to what I had to say and he told me I might
want to contact you. There are some elements of
Jessie's case that I think could help in tracking her
down and they fall under the . . . paranormal? Is that
the word?"
"The word to describe what, exactly?" Scully
asked.
"Jessie's psychic ability."
"That would be the word," Mulder said with a slight
smile on his face.
Karen nodded. "Jessie . . . well, maybe psychic
isn't exactly right. I mean, she can't predict what
lottery numbers will come out or anything. But she
has these visions. Prophetic dreams, really. The
only trouble is she has no way of knowing if what
she's actually experiencing is a dream or a vision.
Does that make any sense?"
"Sometimes her dreams are just dreams and
sometimes they seem to come true?" Mulder
asked.
"Yes. Exactly. And it's only later-when some part of
what she has dreamt has come true or suddenly
makes sense when it didn't before-it's only then
that she understands it was a vision."
Mulder nodded.
"Anyway, she had disturbing dreams over the last
few months. Very disturbing. On at least two
occasions, she seemed to be having these
nightmares that she knew were not her own. They
were very detailed and real but she knew she was
not the 'star' of them. She also knew she had heard
about these dreams before but she had one secret
detail that the original 'dreamers' did not. She knew
they were kidnapping victims. It was like these
women were kidnapped and forced to live out their
worst recurring nightmare. One had nightmares of
being caught in a fire with no way out, and the other
had dreams of drowning.
After a long internet search of recent kidnappings,
she found two stories that had those elements in
them. No one is listening to me when I try to tell
them about Jessie and the dreams. I think they all
think I'm nuts but I just needed to tell someone in
case I'm right. I mean, in case Jessie was right and
there is something in front of us we should be
paying attention to."
"You think she envisioned her own disappearance,
as well?" Scully asked.
"I think it's possible."
Scully leaned forward, "Tell us more."
XXXXX
12:38 PM
Scully clicked the "download now" button for the
fourth time. Once again, the "select a program"
icon appeared. She slapped her palm against the
side of the keyboard.
"Mulder, this file won't open."
"You've been downloading it for the past fifteen
minutes."
"I know that," she said with exaggerated patience.
"The download is complete but it's not opening."
Mulder walked over to Scully's desk and bent down
to see her screen. She could smell his aftershave
and almost feel the heat coming from his skin. The
man had no concept of boundaries. It was one of
the things she liked best about him.
"No offense, Scully, but two paper cups and a
string would be more efficient at this point. We're
going to have to requisition a new computer for
you."
'There's nothing wrong with this one. It's just a little
slow."
His right hand came over hers as it gently rested
against the mechanical mouse. Her fingers
involuntarily jumped at the feel of skin against skin.
He moved his hand away.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
Damn it. That wouldn't help things at all. In spite of
expectations to the contrary, their relationship was
not all smooth sailing. She had been right about
Mulder's level of commitment. If he was
preoccupied with a case and expected it to detract
attention from the two of them, he backed off
completely. After a few heavy-duty cases with no
physical or emotional contact in between, she
almost forgot what his lips felt like; how his body fit
against hers.
"Just put your hand back, Mulder," she said,
somewhat impatiently.
"Your wish is my command," he said and covered
her hand with his.
He guided her hand along the mouse pad,
interrupting the movement with a few left and right
clicks, pressing her own finger down against the
plastic. She had never viewed a computer mouse
as an erotic object before but having his hand
cupped and in motion over hers suddenly elevated
the status of the lowly rodent.
"Adobe has disappeared from your list of
programs. You had it before, right?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Well, it's not there now," he clicked a few more
times and the download began. "This should take
another five or six hours. I'm going to print out the
damned articles and you can read them the old
fashioned way." He gave her hand a quick squeeze
before breaking contact.
Within moments, Mulder handed her a small stack
of reprints. She skimmed them while her computer
made grinding noises as it worked through its
download. Perhaps it was time to order a new one.
XXXXX
Same day, undisclosed location
Jessica woke up slowly. At least, that's what she
thought she was doing. For all she knew, she could
be continuing the mother of all nightmares. She
looked around. It was the same setting it had been
for the past few days. Perhaps she had died and
gone to hell or, at least, purgatory.
She was in the upper level of a private house. That
much, she could tell. At some point, there had
been a fire. The walls were blackened; some were
burned to the bare beams. The burnt odor mixed
with those of mold and mildew. A lot of water had
passed through this dwelling and a lot, apparently,
had stayed in all its various cracks and crevices.
Jessie had tentatively explored the place. A new
door had been installed recently; one that was not
ravaged by fire. It was securely bolted and
effectively cut her off from the lower level and,
consequently, freedom. All the windows were
boarded up from the outside. One or two had small
gaps between the boards so she could tell if it was
night or day, but that was about it.
There was no furniture anywhere. She was left with
some bottles of water, boxes of Power Bars and a
flashlight. There was toilet paper for the
non-working toilet and antibacterial wipes for her
hands. Basic needs cared for in a sub-basic way.
What a Prince.
Jessie was fairly sure it was a man who did this,
although she never saw him. She had been putting
her gym bag on the hood of the car when she
smelled an almost overwhelmingly strong men's
cologne. She was about to turn around when she
felt a stinging sensation on her neck. The next thing
she remembered, she was waking up in the
abandoned house, alone.
It was her worst nightmare come to life.
End of Part 1
Part 2
XXXXX
Hoover Building
3:15 PM
That afternoon was spent on the phone. Both
Mulder and Scully engaged in one phone call after
the other, punctuated by long periods of time when
one or the other was put on hold. At some point,
they both were on hold at the same time.
"Vivaldi, " Mulder called across the room.
"Jailhouse Rock," Scully replied.
"We should switch phones."
"It's the Muzak version."
Mulder faked a shudder.
Finally, it was time to compare notes.
"The Scarsdale PD received a phone call from a
Michael Powers at 7:45 on the 4th. The gym
Jessica uses is in a relatively small strip mall. There
is the gym, a Chinese restaurant, a beauty salon
and a Hallmark store. That's about it. Mr. Powers is
a personal trainer at the gym and he was going out
for his dinner break. His car was next to Jessica's
and, as he was getting in, he noticed the bags
sticking out from under her car. He took them and
went back to the gym, where he and the office
manager opened them. Guests sign in and out of
the gym and Jessica had signed out nearly an hour
before, after a 30 minute workout. They called her
apartment, received no answer and then called the
police." Scully said.
"Didn't the police think this was a little strange?"
"Absolutely. They also called her number and,
when she didn't respond, dispatched a car to her
apartment. They met Karen in the hallway when she
came out to see who was 'making a commotion' in
front of Jessie's door. She retrieved her spare
keys, they did a quick walkthrough of the apartment,
and determined that she had not come home after
she left for the gym. So, they went back that night
and the next morning and questioned the
storeowners and some of the clientele.
"No one saw anything," Mulder said.
"Not a thing. They didn't hear anything, either. No
screams. No car alarms."
"And they came to the conclusion that it wasn't an
abduction because no one saw it?"
"No. They came to that conclusion because at 5:05
she had sent an email to her boss saying she
needed emergency leave for at least a
week--possibly two-since she just found out her
father was gravely ill and not expected to live. Her
sister would be picking her up and taking her to the
airport so they could fly out to California and spend
his final days with him. They effectively closed the
case right there."
"But the abandoned bags, and even the workout,
make no sense, given those circumstances."
"No, they don't. Unless you take into account
another 'abduction' at their precinct. It was also a
woman in her thirties. A case where they went
completely by the book and called in the Bureau. A
case that was solved in about five minutes flat and
was absolutely not an abduction, even though there
were witnesses swearing they saw the woman
being dragged away from her car. What they
actually saw was a woman who had no regrets
leaving her husband and kids behind to go off with
a new boyfriend, but was drawing the line at leaving
her Lexus."
Mulder gave a good-natured chuckle, "Women and
their cars."
"In any case, they were looking for an excuse not to
call us in and have egg of their collective faces
again, and they found it with that email, even if they
were left with a few loose ends."
"They didn't share the information with Karen."
"She's not immediate family and they just gave her
the standard 'the investigation is ongoing'
response."
"Why do I sense there is still a good deal of egg
about to be used as a facial mask?" Mulder asked.
"Because they never actually called to confirm that
Jessica was, indeed, in California. When I called
them, they sounded as if they were giving the case
about as much priority as they would to finding
anyone's lost property. One simple phone call to
Karen-a phone call I made, by the way-would have
done the trick. Jessica's parents have been dead
for years and she never had any siblings. So, as of
a few moments ago, the closed case is
wide-open."
"Good thing I made shuttle reservations in between
phone calls," he looked at his watch. "We actually
better hurry. The plane is taking off in a couple of
hours."
"Pack light?"
Mulder let out a small sigh. "I hope so."
XXXXX
3:30 PM
Summit, New Jersey
Grace Del Vecchio glanced at her phone and
frowned. She supposed pissing off the FBI was
not the smartest move she ever made but, really,
how could she *know* this man was really a Fed?
It's not like anyone paid all that much attention to
her case while it was happening and she couldn't
imagine why they'd decide to do so three months
later.
Still, she agreed to meet with this Mulder-person at
the FBI field office in Newark. Why not? If he could
get past security, she'd assume he was legit. She
smiled at her own cynicism. When had she
become so jaded? Probably about the time she
woke up in the Atlantic Ocean, in freaking February,
no less.
In a way, she hoped this Mulder was the real deal.
She wanted to talk to someone who was actually
listening. Not so much about the abduction itself
but about her rescuer. Something about that whole
scenario just never sat well with her. Nope. It never
sat well at all.
XXXXX
Plane en route to NY
6:45 PM
Scully put down the file of newspaper articles
Mulder had printed for her. "Jessica certainly was
determined to find these people. Neither one of
these cases garnered national press coverage."
"They ended quickly and with good outcomes. Not
on the press's top ten list. But, thanks to the joys of
the internet-and choosing the right search
terms-she tracked them down."
"And they do seem to fit her dreams-at least the
way Karen related them."
"Yes, but we'll be able to tell more when we see
her dream journal."
Scully leaned forward a bit in her chair. "So, did you
reach both women?"
He smiled at the memory of those conversations.
"Yes. They were like night and day."
"In what way?"
"Well, Tina Price, the first victim, was very open
and . . . well, once she got started, it was hard to
get her to stop talking. Grace Del Vecchio, on the
other hand, wouldn't talk over the phone at all. I had
to agree to meet her tomorrow at the NJ field
office. Possibly, after a lie detector test, DNA
typing and whatever else she can think of to
confirm my identity, she might deign to give me an
interview."
"You know you love a challenge."
He looked at her with a smile that reached his eyes
and made them seem a shade warmer.
"Depends on who issues it." He leaned back
against the headrest and got down to business.
"Okay. Tina's story. She's a 42-year old nurse,
living alone in Missouri. She got up to go to work,
left her house, and as she turned back to lock her
front door, she felt a sharp pinch. The next thing
she knew, she was alone in a basement apartment
with no windows and a locked door. She was kept
there for two days with no contact with her
kidnapper and was rescued after a few smoke
bombs were set off in the hallway outside the door
to this apartment. Apparently, a passerby saw the
smoke coming through the door leading from the
basement to the outside of the house, went inside
and kicked open the door."
"They never found the kidnapper?"
"No. And there seems to be no apparent motive.
One moment, it was a normal day, the next-as she
put it-she was trapped in a nightmare. Only this one
had a happy ending when her knight in shining
armor arrived."
"You could have saved me a lot of reading, Mulder.
So far, you've told me very little I haven't found in
the newspaper articles."
"You have anything better to do up here, Scully?"
The comeback to his question was almost out of
her mouth when she thought better of it. Their
relationship, though drastically changed, was just
not like that.
"Anyway, it wasn't just the recounting of facts. It
was the way she said things. She mentioned the
nightmare aspect more than once. She meant it
quite literally, to her way of thinking. Tina's had a
recurring dream of being trapped in a fire with no
way out."
"So, you must have already come to the conclusion
that Jessica channels other people's dreams."
"You would think so, wouldn't you? But I'm
reserving judgment until I read the journals.
Scientific proof is my life."
She didn't hide her smirk. He believed it all right.
"The second odd thing is that knight in shining
armor bit. She seemed to be in the middle of some
projected Stockholm Syndrome. Instead of falling
for her captor, she fell for her rescuer, even though
she had very little contact with him."
"Well, that's kind of natural, don't you think?"
"Yes, but what the papers don't say is the man
disappeared right after he rescued Tina. He carried
her out of the building-which was *not* actually on
fire-laid her down in the backyard and left. It's
believed he then made an anonymous phone call
to the police to let them know her whereabouts and
that's about it. She never even had a good look at
him."
"You think he's someone with something to hide?"
"Or someone whose armor may be a bit tarnished."
XXXXX
8:30 PM
Undisclosed location
Jessica clicked off the flashlight. She had quickly
scanned the room and then turned it off to save the
batteries. She didn't think she could bear not having
the use of the portable light, even if it was only for a
few seconds at a time. Her imagination didn't have
to take giant leaps. In the dark, she heard noises:
things scrabbling across the floor. The first night,
her skin crawled continuously. Now, it just crawled
when something was actually crawling across it.
She shuddered and got up. She paced a little. She
knew she wouldn't trip over anything unless a
rodent suddenly crossed her path but she didn't
want to wander too far from the corner she
considered home base.
She had been wrong. This was close to her worst
nightmare but not actually the same. Many, many
times she had dreamed about being alone in her
old apartment-the one on Daly Avenue she had
grown up in.
It had been a nice railroad-style apartment in a very
old brownstone. Small rooms branched off of a
long hallway that ran the length of the house. Old
fashioned, but interesting. But her family had
stayed in the decaying neighborhood too long.
Landlords were already setting fires to their own
buildings to collect insurance. The teenaged
Jessica had watched as building after building had
been abandoned. The scariest sight had been
seeing her grandparents' old basement apartment
two years after they had been forced to move and
the building had been abandoned. The metal
sheets that the city used to block off the windows
and doors, to decrease squatting and illicit drug
use, had been torn off one window. The room
where so many Christmas Eve gatherings had
been celebrated was now piled nearly floor to
ceiling with rubble.
Ironically, the nightmares about Daly Avenue only
started after both her parents were gone. She was
alone in the apartment with no way out. What had
been a symbol for all that was cozy and welcoming
now stood for the deserted and threatening. But
this wasn't Daly Avenue. And she wasn't as
helpless as she was in her dream.
She just needed to think and explore her options.
There had to be a way out.
End Part 2
[page]
Part 3
XXXXX
April 8, 2000
12:15 AM
Jessica Lawrence's apartment
Scarsdale, NY
Mulder was arranging papers in small piles on the
soft gray carpeting of Jessica's living room when
Karen let herself into the apartment. He looked up
and saw her balancing the keys, a carafe of coffee
and a tray of sandwiches.
"I'd help you but I'm boxed in by my own printouts,"
he said from his spot on the floor.
"No, don't be silly. I can handle it. Where's Agent
Scully?"
He colored slightly, "She's out trying to find a
Starbuck's."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have come sooner.
Actually, I didn't think you'd still be here. But, then I
heard you moving around-the walls are pretty
thin-and I thought you might be hungry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. We can never
have too much coffee and the food is definitely
appreciated."
She set them down on the table and sat on the
couch near where he was organizing his papers.
"You sure have a lot of paper there."
"Yes, Jessica's computer is a treasure trove. We
found the original connection between Jessica and
the other two women."
"You mean, they had one, aside from the dreams?"
"It looks like it. They all belonged to the same
Yahoo group: Dreamedy."
"Dreamedy?" Karen frowned.
"Yes, and I quote from the group's home page,
'Whether comedy or tragedy
If it's a dream you're wondrin' about
We provide the remedy
Right here at
Dreamedy.'
Ain't poetry grand?"
"If you say so," Karen shrugged. Mulder laughed.
"That was Agent Scully's reaction, too. Jessica
never told you about this group?"
"No, but there would be no reason for her to do so.
I mean, she told me a lot about her dreams but I
didn't ask for details about her on-line life. I know
she loves the computer, loves the net and isn't
necessarily shy about on-line friendships. That's
about it."
"Well, we've been reading the message archives
from the past year. One thread, last September,
centered around the members' worst nightmares.
Almost everyone contributed to this one. Long
narratives on what they dreamed. Two of the
descriptions definitely sounded like Grace and
Tina's. I just have to confirm it with them but didn't
want to wake them at this hour of the night."
Karen's face fell a bit. "So, you think Jessica forgot
she read these descriptions and just let them play
out in her dreams? That she doesn't really have any
psychic connection?"
"I didn't say that. I found her dream journal entries
on this. First of all, she had these dreams at the
times the women were actually kidnapped. That's a
psychic connection right there. Even if she read
their descriptions word for word in September, why
would she have those dreams in November and
February, on the exact same dates of their
abductions? And second, she has a lot more
details-small little things that, again, I have to check
with Tina and Grace about-but, there doesn't seem
to be anything random about them."
Karen smiled again. "You know, Agent Mulder, this
is really so refreshing. You have no idea how happy
I am that you are not only listening without trying to
get me professional help, but you're actually
supporting my theory. I mean, I want Jessie back
and I don't think anything should stand in the way.
Even if something truly weird could help us find
her."
"Actually, I do have an idea," They heard a knock
on the door. "Ah, that will be Scully with the coffee."
Karen had already leaped up and answered the
door. A pissed-off Scully stood there, coffee-less.
"Everything is closed. I thought this was the city that
never slept."
"That's New York City itself. The state has plenty of
drowsy moments. I brought coffee, Agent Scully."
Scully smiled and closed her eyes tightly for a
moment, "Bless you," she walked over to the table
while Karen ran into the kitchen for mugs. She
came out and put them on the table and Scully
began to pour. "For a while there, all the reading
about sleep and dreams was putting me under.
This is much appreciated, Ms. Noyes."
"Karen, please."
"Karen. Do you think you could stay with us for a
little while? We are almost done with the printouts
of the dream journal and the copies of some of the
letters from the Yahoo list we think might be
pertinent to the case. But I found a file on the
computer that I would just like to skim through and
print out and I'd like to ask you about what you
might know about it. If you have the energy for it
tonight, that is."
"Absolutely."
Scully nodded, took a sip of her coffee and went to
the computer, as Mulder started putting each pile of
paper in a separate manila folder and marking each
one.
XXXXX
12:35 AM
Undisclosed location
Jessica looked toward one of the windows. They
had probably been boarded up at the time of the
fire, which she thought might have been a while
ago. Perhaps they wouldn't be that hard to break
through.
There was really only one way to find out.
Jessica took off her running shoe and smacked the
back of it against the glass until it broke. She
cleared the larger pieces with her hands-placing
them neatly on the floor. Cool air reached through
the 1/4 inch crack between boards. April in New
York was still chilly. Still, if she got too cold, 'home
base' could be changed to another room.
She pushed against each board, punched each
one, smacked each one with her shoe. Nothing.
She stood for a moment breathing the cold night
air. It helped push the smells of the house into the
background. The world was out there. Freedom
was out there.
She needed to be out there.
XXXXX
Jessica's Apartment
12:45 AM
"There is a file marked 'Todd' on Jessica's hard
drive. Do you know anything about this?" Mulder
asked Karen.
"Todd? Yes, I know all about Todd."
"They had an email relationship, of sorts," Scully
said.
"Well, yes, I guess you could say so. He was a little
wacky and maybe she overreacted. I don't know."
"Well, she seemed to be concerned about
potential stalking. She saved email messages from
him she seems to have forwarded from work,"
Scully said. "Some of them seem a little overly
intense but I guess, not knowing the person behind
them, we can't judge accurately. Did you ever meet
him?"
"No. Jessie barely had contact with him as an adult.
She met him again at some sort of family wedding.
Her cousin invited him because he was the godson
of someone or other. It was no big deal. She
invited half the world. There were almost 400
guests."
"How did you get blackballed?" Mulder asked.
"I didn't. I was on vacation. Hawaii or the dull
wedding of a near-stranger. It wasn't the most
difficult choice of my life."
Mulder smiled in response.
"Anyway. I don't think they did more than say 'hi,'
and then a few months down the line, he writes to
her. She writes back. For the first few letters,
everything was fairly casual. Gossiping about the
good old days on Daly Avenue. Hey, I grew up in
Queens. I know old neighborhoods, but Jessie
drove me down old Daly Avenue once. What they
were waxing poetic about is beyond me. That place
was a shit-hole. Pardon my French."
Scully nodded in amused acknowledgement.
"So, as I was saying, it was very casual. Then, he
started talking about what he had been doing all
those years since he moved. Unbeknownst to him,
Jessie had mentioned him to her aunt, who had
talked about him with some of the old biddies that
used to live on that block. They all had moved away
decades ago but managed to know all kinds of
personal details about everyone and had a pretty
strong grapevine going.
Jessie knew Todd had been some sort of wrestling
champ in high school and college. I think he even
made it to the Olympics, but didn't win any medals
or anything. Then, he got married, had a son, and
things went south. His house burned down, and
there were rumors floating around about that one.
He lost his job. His wife took his kid and left. And
he moved back into what was his grandmother's
house. She's dead, though. So, he lives alone."
"What kind of rumors?" Mulder asked.
"That he might have torched the place himself. But,
you know, old biddies, as I said. It made for a juicy
story. Jessie said he was very honest in his writing.
He told her she might have heard rumors and he
would appreciate it if she didn't believe all she
heard. And he said he had problems with
depression and has some major heart ailments and
stuff from past steroid use. All kinds of things like
that. He also talked about custody problems with
his ex-wife. For some reason, she didn't want him
to see his kid at all. Of course, he made it sound
like it was all her fault but there are always two
sides to the story. Jessie sort of gave him the
benefit of the doubt but understood that."
"So, she knew a lot about him."
"Yes. He was emailing her several times a day."
"And she was answering?"
"Yes. I mean, it was almost like a coffee break from
work, you know. Anyway, then things got weird. And
it was one of those moments where-if I had the guy
in front of me-I'd probably say, 'Dude, you just
signed your own death certificate.'"
"Why?
"Because he started getting very poetic about her
looks, her personality . . . all that stuff. He had done
that a little since the very first letter but she sort of
put it down to his b.s.ing her. Now, he was really
turning up the crapometer. And, while Jess is
pretty; she doesn't particularly think so. I actually
think she felt he was either making fun of her in
some way or trying to manipulate her. But, anyway,
she put that aside. In another email or two, he
asked her out. And that's where I had my 'dude'
moment. The guy had the right approach in his first
email to her. It was casual and nice. Just two old
acquaintances reminiscing. If he had approached
her about meeting and going out in the same way,
she would have gone. But he said something about
her letters giving him the strength to take a chance
on love again and how it would be an honor to
escort Her Gorgeous-ity to dinner at the Plaza,
followed by a play and a chartered helicopter tour
around Manhattan. I mean, it was overkill. Come on,
a helicopter?
The last relationship she was in? You know how her
computer is non-password protected? Well, it
wouldn't be if she were still with Kevin. She would
have had to lock him out of everything because he
was such a control freak. She dumped him after
only a few months. Too father-figure-ish for her.
Not to get Freudian or anything but her dad had
such control over her mother's life, that when he
died, her mom didn't even know what to buy to
make for dinner. She wasn't sure what foods she
liked. She only cooked after consulting what he
wanted. Even though she loved both parents
desperately, she never wanted to repeat their
mistakes in her own life."
"Do you think Kevin could have done this?" Mulder
asked.
"No. He was pretty serious about finding a 'little
woman.' He married the next girl he dated after
Jessica. I think they are having a baby now."
"Okay, then. Back to Todd. Jessica wrote him back
after the helicopter tour invitation and stopped their
email relationship?" Scully asked.
"Not at that point. She wrote and very gently told
him that she wasn't interested in dating him. Gave
him the 'let's just be friends' routine. He seemed to
back off and then, within the week, he was turning
on what he felt was the charm again. She told him
to stop. He did. Another few days passed and he
referred to something she had mentioned very
briefly in one of her first emails. It's a place she
likes to go and relax. He said maybe they'd
'accidentally' meet there some day. Just like that.
With 'accidentally' in italics and everything. She got
pissed then and told him that was it. He was getting
too stalker-y for her. He wrote and denied
everything, she wrote and said they were obviously
working under two different assumptions about
their relationship and continuing to write was
obviously giving him ideas she never intended for
him to have. And that was it."
"He never contacted her again?"
"Nope. You know, I guess some folks might
consider Jessie a little cold. But she's not. She's
just fiercely independent and she just has never
fallen in that way. I mean, I think it might be nice if
you loved someone that much that you'd want to be
consumed by their passion, if you don't mind me
getting all Harlequin on you. But if you don't feel
that way, and the other person does, it's just
smothering."
XXXXX
Staten Island, NY
2 AM
He looked at the information on his computer.
Someone was using Jessica's computer.
Someone was more than using it; they were
searching it. They had logged onto Dreamedy and
were looking through old email.
Damn it. He thought they weren't paying any
attention to the case. He had been fairly careful not
to be seen but she had left the gym a little too
quickly. It was still light out and he had to work
quickly. And the injection had dropped her like a
sack of potatoes. He could do little more than kick
her bags under her car and get the two of them out
of there before someone saw anything.
Shit. He should have taken the time to get those
bags out of there. If he had, no one would even
have noticed that she was gone at this point.
There was nothing left to do. He had to improvise
and step up his timetable. He went upstairs to pack
a small bag.
XXXXX
Marriot Hotel
Scarsdale, NY
3:00 AM
They reached Scully's room first and she paused a
moment before attempting to put the key card
through the slot.
She looked at the files Mulder was loosely holding
against his chest.
"What time is your appointment with Grace
DelVecchio?" She asked him.
"9:45. I figure I have to leave here about 7:45, in
case of traffic."
"You sure you don't want me to come along?"
"No. You didn't talk to her, Scully. She might even
be more paranoid than I am."
"That's not possible," she said, sliding the files out
of his hands and clutching them to her own chest.
"Hey, just what do you think you're doing?"
"Leading you not into temptation. I'll read these in
the morning. If you toddle off to bed right this
minute, you might get about three to four hours of
rest."
"Yes, dear," he said, mockingly.
She stared up at him, feeling a sudden sadness
washing over her. There were no real casual
endearments between them.
Not for the first time, she wondered why this was
harder than she ever thought it would be. On the
few occasions they decided to share a bed, it was
not difficult at all. It was pretty much non-stop
passion from sundown to sun-up. Work was work.
Flirting still existed but it was no more intense than
it had been before. But casual, non-working,
non-intimate moments seemed to take on a tension
that wasn't there before. Or maybe it was just her
perception. Or, maybe . . .
Just maybe . . .
She really wanted to feel his lips against hers again
and needed to justify why she just didn't take the
man by the collar and pull him down to her. She
wouldn't, though. She never wanted him to feel she
was trying to distract him from work. And the man
worked nearly all the time. They both did.
"Sweet dreams, Mulder," she said as she looked
up at him.
He quickly looked to his left and right and
confirmed that they were alone in the hallway. He
leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. They
were as soft and warm as she remembered. He
pulled back and tucked a strand of her hair behind
her ear. "Nice hallway. No bees," he said, his eyes
warm and smiling, as he leaned forward and kissed
her one more time, this time lingering a bit over the
inside of her lower lip.
"Night, Scully," he said as he turned and walked
down the hall to his own room.
It was only when she was alone, with the scent of
his after-shave lingering on her cheek that she
realized she had forgotten all about the zip disk in
his pocket. Ten to one, he would not been getting
three to four hours of sleep tonight after all.
End of Part 3
Part 4
XXXXX
FBI Field Office
Newark, NJ
April 8, 2000, 9:47 AM
Mulder was casually sipping a large cup of coffee
in an interrogation room. Nice touch, he thought.
Put a paranoid woman in an interrogation room like
a common criminal. That should make her warm up
to him all right. He startled a bit as the door
suddenly sprung open and the woman in question
was ushered in the room.
She was tiny. Barely five feet tall, with what they
used to call "big" hair and really high heels. He
smiled. The Scully Syndrome.
Grace was not smiling at him. She looked him up
and down, and sat carefully on the edge of the
chair he gestured to.
"It won't collapse, I promise." He said.
"What?"
"The chair. It's not a trick chair. You're sitting in it
like you're prepared to bolt."
"I am prepared to bolt. So, what is your story, Mr.
Mulder?"
"I have a story?"
"You must. I mean, I can't figure out why in the
world anyone suddenly cares about something that
happened a couple of months ago when they didn't
give a crap when it happened."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Actually, there has been
another abduction and we feel there might be a
possible connection to yours. It's as simple as that.
It would really help if you could go over the details
of your kidnapping."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Can I get you some coffee?" Mulder asked.
"No," she said and added half-heartedly, "thank
you. Jeez. See, this is what happens. I'm forgetting
the manners my mama taught me. She must be
rolling in her grave. I'll help."
"Okay. Do you mind if I tape our conversation?"
"Sure. Knock yourself out," she waited as he turned
the recorder on. "Okay. The sad part is, there aren't
that many details about the kidnapping. And, if you
ask me, that's why no one cared about it or even
gave it much thought. Maybe they felt I did it myself
or had some friends who were playing some hokey
trick on me.
I left work on a Tuesday night. I work as a waitress
at a local dinner. My car was parked in the back lot.
It's dark back there. Just a single sensor light that
went on as I passed behind the dumpster and went
to the cars. I felt a sharp pinch on my leg. I looked
down and saw nothing. Then, I must have passed
out. I remember nothing until I felt this incredibly
cold jolt. I mean, I just woke up instantly and
realized I was under water. In my down jacket. You
know how hard it is to surface when you're wearing
wet duck feathers? So, I'm struggling to get up and
the waves keep knocking me over. I don't think I
was actually in water over my head but the freaking
waves were doing a number on me worse than if I
had been dropped in the middle of the ocean. And
it was so cold. Those idiots who dump themselves
in the freezing ocean on New Year's Day-I forget
their names-they should all be locked up as
menaces to society. Freaking lunatics."
"But you were rescued?"
"Yeah. And this is what I wanted to talk about to the
fucking Feds. No offense," she nodded to him in
deference. He smiled back. "I mean, I was happy
to see him at that second. Who wouldn't be? I'm
floundering around out there in my wet clothes that
are bringing me down. I'm half drugged-that much I
know. I've swallowed half the freezing Atlantic
Ocean and here's this guy coming toward me. He
immediately yells out that I shouldn't worry, he's
gonna save me, so I didn't think of the guy who
nabbed me. And, at that point, I wasn't even sure
what had happened to get me into that water. All I
really knew was I was drowning. Just like in my
dreams. So, he barrels over the waves. He was a
big, tall guy. I get sucked down again, and I feel
him grab my jacket and pull me up. Then, he
tosses me over his shoulder and walks to the
shore. He dumps me on the dry sand, asks me if
I'm all right and then says he's calling for help. I
never saw him again. The cops and ambulance
showed up a few minutes later. I think I was half out
of it by the time they arrived."
"They received an anonymous phone call?"
"Yes."
"They couldn't trace it?"
"No. It was from a pay phone."
"And what bothers you about your rescuer?"
"Well, I can understand someone not wanting
credit for doing something good. I mean, 'no good
deed goes unpunished' and all that. What I can't
understand is how anyone could have been on that
beach that night, unless he was up to no good. It
was cold. When I say cold, I mean cold. It was
about 7 degrees. And with the wind chill-it was
worse. And I woke up when I hit the water. If I
hadn't, I would have drowned. It's as simple as that.
As it was, I was gonna drown in a few minutes. So,
you're asking me to believe that the kidnapper
dumps me in the water, runs off, and a kind
rescuing type of guy just happens to be walking
along the freezing cold beach at 1:30 in the
morning, sees me drowning and rescues me
before I can drown? Nuh-uh. He was right there.
That freak was the kidnapper. He must have
dumped me, saw that I woke up instantly, walked a
little distance from me and when I surfaced, played
the role of the hero."
Mulder nodded and waited for her to continue. She
seemed to be thinking out loud.
"Hell, can you even call it a kidnapping? My shift
was over at 10. I was abducted for three and a half
hours. So, someone grabs me, drives me to the
shore, dumps me in the water and rescues me.
Weird, huh? Unbelievable, huh? The Feds must
have thought so for all the time they spent on my
case. They didn't call me a liar to my face. I mean,
after all, they did have a call about coming to
rescue me and I sure as shit needed rescuing. I
was in the hospital for a few days with hypothermia
and all that crap but they didn't quite buy my story.
Kept asking about friends or boyfriends with weird
senses of humor. Hey, I have friends who laugh at
South Park and crap like that. But they aren't cruel
people who would try to drown me for a laugh."
Mulder put his hand to his mouth for a moment and
leaned back. She was squinting at him again.
Finally, he leaned forward. "Did you get a good
look at him at any time?"
"There was a full moon. I saw him as he hovered
over me after he laid me out on the sand."
"You think you could work with the police artists to
make a sketch? It would really help."
"Sure. I can try. I mean, I want to help this other
person. I don't want some other woman feeling this
way. All creeped out and non-trusting and stuff."
He nodded. "You don't know anyone named Todd,
do you?"
"Todd? No. I never met a Todd in my life."
"Do you belong to a Yahoo group called
Dreamedy?"
"Not anymore. Real life became a lot more scary
than a bunch of dreams."
"But when you did, what was your screen name?"
"Jersey Girl 71."
"That's what I thought. Did you have any personal
connection to anyone on the list?"
"You think one of them did it?" She asked, leaning
forward.
"Not necessarily."
"I didn't write to anyone off-list," Grace said. Mulder
stood.
"Well, I think I'll go in and ask for a sketch artist.
Want that coffee now, while we wait?"
"Sure. Why not?" He finally got the smile she
denied him when they first met. She looked nice
when she smiled and he no longer felt his ass was
in any danger of being kicked.
XXXXX
Continued in part 2/2
Title: Nights of Shining Armor
Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com)
Part 2 of 2
See notes and disclaimers in section 1
XXXXX
Scully's hotel room
2 P.M.
Scully laid face down on the bed, her upper body
rested on her elbows, as she read over the files
containing the reprinted posts from Dreamedy.
She had already compiled a small list of the
differences between the two women's original
descriptions of their worst nightmares and
Jessica's own interpretations of their dreams.
She looked sharply at the door as it began to open.
Before she even had a chance to reach for her
gun, Mulder poked his head through the door.
"Mulder, I could have shot your head off."
"Not by keeping your gun on the dresser, " he said,
looking at the furniture in question, then putting the
appropriate sheepish expression on his face. "I
sort of realized you could hurt me as I was opening
the door. I'm sorry. I got a spare keycard
downstairs. Flashed my badge. I thought you might
be napping."
"Napping?"
"Hey, there's s first time for everything. Actually, I
thought you might still be asleep from last night.
We got in very late and you didn't have to go
anywhere." He shrugged. "Why not?"
"For the same reason you hauled your ass up," she
frowned at him. "We have a case. For the record, I
got up, had breakfast and have been working ever
since."
Mulder removed his jacket, tie, shoes and socks
and unbuttoned the top three buttons and cuffs of
his dress shirt. He plopped down next to Scully in
the same position she was in--face down--but he
was doing nothing to hold his body up. He rested
his head on his folded arms and looked at her
instead.
"Tell me all you've done, Scully. I'm just gonna
close my eyes for a minute while I'm listening."
"Don't be silly, Mulder. Take a nap. You're the one
who needs it. Did you get any sleep at all last
night?"
"An hour."
She shook her head, "The zip disk."
"Mmmm, hmmm. Don't be mad."
"I'm not. We'll talk about the case later."
"Just a couple of hours, Scully. Don't let me sleep
any longer. I still want to try and arrange something
this evening," he popped his head up, suddenly.
"Frohike. I need to contact him."
She put her hand between his shoulder blades and
pushed him down. She leaned over and whispered
in his ear. "Relax. I called him. I gave him Jessica's
ISP# and he's going to check and see if anyone
hacked into her computer. He's going to do a little
hacking himself to find access the member list of
the Dreamedy group and we'll take things from
there, all right?"
"Mmmm," she watched his lips as they formed the
silent words, "and you wonder why I love you."
She smiled. He never quite said that out loud.
But it was enough. For now.
XXXX
Scully's hotel room
3:45 PM
Scully was still making notes when she felt Mulder's
hand reach out and grab the list she made earlier.
Even half-asleep, he had unerring accuracy.
"You still had fifteen minutes," she said, looking
over her shoulder at the alarm clock, yet knowing
he'd never go back to sleep.
"Don't need it. What's this?"
"A comparison between Tina and Grace's original
nightmares and what Jessica dreamed. You did
confirm that they were on that mailing list?"
"Yes. Grace in person, Tina by cell phone in the
car. Remind me to recharge my battery, by the way.
This list is perfect. She definitely got the details
right."
Scully raised her eyebrow. "Tina's list has 'potato
chips and Poland Springs.'"
"Yes, and both were thoughtfully provided by her
kidnapper. 'Dry ice,'" he read. "Okay, this is more
symbolic of something that produces smoke but is
harmless. So, it's an accurate detail of the
homemade smoke bombs. "
Mulder laughed as he read down the list.
"What's so funny?" Scully asked.
"Grace's list-'ducks.'"
"Yes. That's why I put a question mark after it. I'm
not sure it wasn't a typo."
"She was wearing a down jacket."
Scully smiled. "So, she was cooperative after all?"
"Yes. There was a little resistance, at first . . ."
"Then you flashed her those baby hazels . . ."
"Baby hazels. That's a scary thought. Actually, I
think she just wanted someone to believe her. Her
abduction was so short and witness-free that I'm
not sure anyone took her seriously. The fact that
her case ended up in the newspaper was due
mostly to her knowing someone on a local paper
who pushed for it to get picked up by one that was
city-wide. She thought it might help get the guy. It
didn't. She does have a good memory for detail, by
the way," he got off the bed and walked over to
where he deposited his jacket when he came in the
room. He sighed as he dug through the inner
pocket. "I'm getting old, Scully. I used to be able to
stay up for days but I was so tired I forgot to show
you this."
He handed her a sheet of paper that had a
computer-generated picture of their suspect. The
face Scully looked at was not one she'd normally
envision under the circumstances but years of law
enforcement told her there was no such thing as
'normal.'
He was a heavy-set, slightly balding man with a
friendly face. She wondered how the sketch artist
worked that one out. Most of these pictures looked
like mug shots or DMV photos, not like head shots
being submitted for a remake of Mr. Roger's
Neighborhood.
The phone rang and Scully picked it up. "The lovely
Dr. Scully, I presume."
"Hello, Melvin," she teased.
"I know you can't see me, but I'm trembling over
the intimacy, Dana, my love. Tell that partner of
yours to switch on the laptop. I've sent you both a
present."
"What is it, Frohike?" she said, gesturing to Mulder
and the laptop on her desk.
"I found out who has been hacking into Jessica
Lawrence's computer. Well, I mean, aside from the
usual spam artists and potential virus-spreaders.
He has been doing it so often it wasn't hard to find.
A man named Todd Spector. 36-years old. Lives in
Staten Island in a home he inherited from his
grandmother. He's a divorced father of a 3 year-old
son. Former IT professional let go due to 'bizarre
and unprofessional' behavior, which was not
detailed in his personnel records, at least not the
computerized ones. He seems to be living off an
inheritance his mother left him when she passed
away last year. Anyway, aside from all of that, he
made quite the hobby out of hacking Jessica's
computer. His last attempt was just last night. He
did, indeed, know she was part of Dreamedy and
signed up himself, sometime last August, but never
participated.
I sent you his both his driver's license photo and
the one his company had on file for him, along with
all current and past addresses and phone numbers.
You can shower me with affection now, Scully."
"Consider yourself showered."
"Ah, beautiful and amusing. I shall await your next
request for information with bated breath."
"Thank you, Frohike."
"Any time, toots," he said, and hung up.
"Frohike just called me, 'toots," she informed
Mulder as she walked toward him and the laptop.
"Want me to beat him up for you?"
"No, I'll enjoy doing that myself. What have you
got?"
"We've got ourselves a match. Take a look." He
held up the computer-generated photo next to the
ones on the screen. They were all, in fact, pictures
of Todd Spector: Suspect Number One.
End of Part 4
Part 5
XXXXX
Undisclosed Location
April 8, 2000
6 PM
Someone was in the house. She had heard the
noise of breaking boards coming from downstairs
hours ago. After that, silence. The board she had
managed to remove lay on the floor in pieces. Her
foot was sore from kicking at it. Her heart was sore
after seeing absolutely nothing but land to her left
and right; not another house or human in sight.
Jessica felt her breath hitch as the panic began to
rise. Whoever was downstairs, she wished he
would stay there. Or leave.
She grabbed the box of Power Bars and dumped
them out. She put the cardboard over her face and
tried to breathe into it.
Calm. Calm. Nothing good could come through
panicking.
She felt her stomach clench as she heard
footsteps walking up the stairs.
She was about to meet her kidnapper.
XXXXX
Theresa Spector's House
Staten Island, NY
6:02 PM
When Mulder and Scully arrived at Todd Spector's
house, all they found was a nosy neighbor who
virtually ran out of her home to talk to them. She
had seen him leave, before dawn, with a suitcase.
He hadn't seen her as she looked through her
bedroom window. She was up early making sure
her husband got off to work on time and heard
Todd's screen door open and close a few times.
That, apparently, was a rarity. Todd was quiet. She
never really saw him coming or going on any kind
of regular basis.
After briefly searching the home for evidence, all
they found in the museum-like atmosphere was a
messy upstairs bedroom where Todd, apparently,
"lived." The rest of the house looked like it hadn't
changed much since it's former owner died.
Nothing was out of place but everything was
covered in dust.
They confiscated his laptop as evidence and
moved on to the next address on their list: the one
belonging to Todd's ex-wife.
"I had to give up," the former Mrs. Todd Spector
informed Mulder and Scully shortly after they sat
down in her small, toy-cluttered living room.
Jonathan Spector, her son, was down for a nap.
"You can only live with someone like that for so
long before you feel as if he's sucking you down
with him, you know?"
"Well," Mulder said with a smile. "Actually, we'd like
you to tell us anything you can. How about starting
at the beginning of your relationship?"
"Okay. I met Todd in high school and we went on to
college together. He was cute and big in a nice,
beefy kind of way. He was a wrestling champ. He
actually was good enough to get into the Olympic
trials. But, that was just about the time when
anti-doping came into the Olympic spotlight, and
his coach had pretty much been supplying him with
steroids for years. At any rate, sometime during the
trials, drug testing began and he bowed out before
they tested him. He knew he'd be discovered and
didn't want his family to suffer through the scandal.
Of course, his dad was still alive and didn't
understand at all. He was a rather boorish man. He
felt that there was no bigger scandal than dropping
out of the competition. He always talked about
getting someone else to switch urine or blood or
whatever. In other words, cheat and take victory any
way you can. At any rate, Todd came back feeling
like a disappointment to his family.
He thought of waiting for the next Olympics. But
when he went off the steroids, all the muscle went
to fat. That was okay by me. I didn't care. He was a
sweet guy, you know? And by that time, I loved him
for him, not as a champion athlete. Besides, I was
just glad he was off the steroids. They had already
done some damage to his heart and his mood. He
had a tendency to get depressed and moody.
Anyway, after graduation, he got a job in computers
before they became the everyday pieces of
equipment they are today. We got married. For
many years, we were not able to have a baby. And
then I got pregnant, and our troubles began. Todd
was jealous. Before Jonathan was even born, Todd
was jealous of him. He felt he wasn't getting
enough attention. He suddenly worried about his
appearance. Somehow, he got hold of steroids
again. Somehow," she scoffed at her own words.
"The man could get anything from anyone. He had
contacts all over the world thanks to his trusty
computer. Even though the steroids had done such
bad things to his body, he was still convinced they
would suddenly turn him into the athlete he was in
high school and college and I'd suddenly pay more
attention to him than the little unborn baby I had
waited for so long. So, he took them. He also
started lifting weights and working out. And getting
nasty. Not physically nasty or anything, but just very
whiny about the baby and how I never needed him
for anything but sperm. Stupid things like that. I
hear paranoia and mood swings are kind of part of
the whole drug package. Maybe. Maybe not. He
always had an overly quiet personality that leaned
toward depression. After Jonathan was born, things
got even sillier." Theresa looked around a little and
reddened, before leaning into Scully. "I was . . .
nursing Jonathan and Todd felt-well, only he should
get that privilege-and I mean that quite literally. I'm
just not used to that kind of thing."
Scully nodded. "There were some rumors going on
about a fire in your home?"
"Rumors. Yes. I suppose there were. Probably
started by my mother who could never keep
anything to herself. Listen, this sort of has to be off
the record because I can't possibly pay back my
half of what we received from the insurance for
rebuilding on the property. And I never had proof,
anyway. Todd was becoming increasingly
depressed and moody as Jonathan began to coo
and crawl and do all the cute things babies do. One
night, there was a fire. He woke me up and
immediately began to carry me out of the house.
He was going to go back for the baby but I wouldn't
let him leave without him. I pounded on his
shoulder a bit and then he dropped me, ran to the
nursery and grabbed the baby-like it had been his
idea all along. Then, he got us all out of the house
and called 911 from his phone in the car. He kept
going on and on about how he saved his family and
then got really angry with me for not showing him
his "due" appreciation. But, how could I? I don't
know if he truly would have left Jonathan in there to
die, but I do know that his son was not his top
priority. And I think his top priority was being some
kind of hero to me. Kind of living out a fairy tale or
something by rescuing the damsel in distress and
forgetting about the damsel's baby. The fire
inspectors never found any proof. They put the
whole thing down to faulty wiring but Todd had the
knowledge to rig that. We stayed together with his
mother for a while but he was getting more and
more moody, more and more resentful of the baby
and I just couldn't deal with it anymore."
"How did he lose his job? We just have an odd
notation of 'unprofessional behavior.'"
"Yes. That began while I was still pregnant. He
would just get furious over things. If a vending
machine didn't work, he'd more or less attack it. I
think the straw that broke the camel's back was
when he couldn't get a computer to do what he
wanted it to and he basically ran his fist through the
monitor. That's when they let him go."
"You said you didn't feel he was a violent person,"
Scully said.
"And he's not. Not toward people. He needed to
take out his aggression on something and he used
inanimate objects to do it."
"And what is your relationship like now?" Mulder
asked.
"Now? I try to stay away from him. He doesn't do
anything but give me the cold shoulder anyway, but
every once in a while he kicks up a fuss about his
right to see Jonathan. Jonathan is a happy little 3-
year old. When he meets with him, Todd basically
does nothing but plop Jonathan in front of the tv
with cheese doodles and stories of how bad
mommy is."
"Did he ever mention a woman named Jessica
Lawrence to you?"
"No."
"Was he unusually attached to memories of his
childhood?"
"I guess so. He always brought up his boyhood
days in the Bronx but I didn't think too much about
it. I talked a lot about my childhood in New
Rochelle. Childhood can seem idyllic in retrospect.
I guess he could have fixated on it later. That kind
of seems like something he might have done after I
left. Since he blamed the baby and all. Maybe he
needed to go back and once again be the 'boy'
everyone loved."
Mulder looked at Scully. Civilians were getting
better and better at pop psychology.
They thanked Theresa Spector for her time and left
the house. Mulder stopped on the front porch.
"How about a small detour on our way back to the
hotel?"
"The Bronx?"
"The Bronx."
XXXXX
Daly Avenue, Bronx, NY
7:30 PM
In a little over an hour, Mulder and Scully were
making their way through split-personality streets
that were architecturally interesting. Some had
brand new buildings, some had stream-cleaned,
renovated pre-war apartment houses, and nearly all
the streets had some greenery nearby. The
borough was a little less 'gray' than they expected.
When they found Daly Avenue, they found
themselves on one of the refurbished blocks. They
got out of the car and started walking down the
street.
"There doesn't seem to be a 2064 anymore,
Mulder. That was Todd's old building. Let's try
2070. That was Jessica's building," Scully said,
reading the address from her notebook.
The front and inner door of the brownstone was
open. Mulder and Scully had to squeeze past a
couch that was currently being moved through the
front door.
"Could you tell us where the superintendent is?"
Mulder asked one of the muscular young men
moving the couch.
"Apartment 1. Something wrong?" he asked, taking
in the agent's formal appearance.
"No, not at all. We just have some questions for
him."
"About someone in here? Cause I don't want to be
movin' in no hotbed of crime. I got kids."
"No. This is ancient history," Mulder said with what
he hoped was a reassuring grin. The last thing he
needed was for the landlord to sue the FBI for a
lost source of income.
"Good. Can't be too careful nowadays."
Mulder made his way around the furniture and went
down a long hallway.
"I was kind of hoping for an abandoned building,"
he told Scully.
"So was I."
"I don't think she's here at all."
"It doesn't seem likely, does it?"
He knocked on the door to apartment 1 and flashed
his badge. In a few moments, he was let into an
elderly Russian woman's apartment.
"My husband is Super here. Vell, not really. Ve own
building. Bose of us. But most people don't know
that. He's downtown now. Vis his buddies. I can
help."
"How long have you owned the building?" Scully
asked.
"Not too long. Four years. That's it."
"Well, we actually just have a few questions. Are all
the apartments filled?"
"Yes. We have vaiting list. No waycancies for
couple of years at least."
Mulder took over the questioning. "Is there a
storage area, perhaps in the basement, or any kind
of maintenance room?"
"There is furnace downstairs. For oil-to heat the
house. It's wery old and big."
"Have you been down there lately?"
"Sure. I need to bleed it vonce a veek."
"Uh-huh," Mulder said, not knowing exactly what that
meant but not feeling the need to ask. "So, there is
really no place for anyone to hide. Maybe an old
dumb waiter shaft?"
"Nah. Those ver boarded up years ago. All have
been painted over so many times, you'd never get
them to open vizout making hole in vall."
Mulder pulled out Jessica and Todd's pictures.
"Have you ever seen these people before?"
"No. Vait. Let me get my glasses," she scooted
into the kitchen and was back again in a moment.
"Him. Yes. Only him. He's next on apartment vaiting
list. The Ortiz family is moving out, he vill be
coming in vith new vife."
"When did he get on your list? You said it was a
couple of years wait," Scully said.
The old woman blushed. "Vell, not too long ago. He
pay three month deposit in advance."
She pulled out a ledger. "'Mr. and Mrs. Todd
Spector. Due to move in May 1st. ' He pay for
apartment in early March."
As they walked down the stairs of the brownstone,
Scully turned to Mulder.
"Everything did come full circle, Mulder. But he's
not holding her here. He's planning on bringing her
here as his wife and start a new life where their
lives began."
"Well, we know one thing with almost total certainty.
He's not planning on hurting her. If anything, I'd say
he's planning his biggest 'rescue.'"
XXXXX
Undisclosed location
8 PM
The kidnapper was toying with her. She had heard
his footsteps just outside her door a few hours
before and then he went back down the stairs.
Now, she heard them again.
Home base. Jessica had crouched down in the
corner she considered home base, after quickly
placing remnants of the board against the window.
Hopefully, the kidnapper wouldn't realize she had
knocked it out.
Oh, who was she kidding? He probably had more
important things on his mind: torture, rape, murder.
What was that children's book? She couldn't
remember. The one where the girl got really, really
tiny. Maybe she could make herself so small, no
one would know she was there.
The door opened with a bang.
"Jessie. Thank God."
She opened her eyes. That voice was vaguely
familiar. The man before her was vaguely familiar,
too. Aw, shit.
"Todd?"
"Yes, I've come to rescue you."
She felt her shoulders relax a bit, but she also had
a vague feeling of unease.
Rescue. Todd.
What was he doing there?
He was reaching out a hand to her.
She didn't want to take his hand. A few months
before, he had been bragging about possibly
stalking her during the coming summer. He had
talked about life and love and second chances to
make correct decisions. That didn't make sense.
What second chances? They were children when
last they met. They didn't make decisions that had
any kind of outcome on the adults they became.
That didn't make any sense and this didn't, either.
Her thoughts whirled around her and faded into a
white haze. Literally. She felt herself being
momentarily pulled into a state of non-being: not
life, not death. Then the haze cleared and she once
again saw the man's thick hand extended toward
hers. That way led to non-being. She slapped his
hand away and he took a small leap backwards in
surprise.
"What . . . " he sputtered. "I'm rescuing you. I'm
here."
"Why are you here? Where is here?"
"Because you were kidnapped. It's in all the
papers."
"And how did you know where to find me if the
police obviously couldn't?"
"Um . . ."
"You brought me here."
"Of course I didn't. What are you talking about,
Jessie?"
"Of course you did. Why was I so freaking stupid
that I believed you actually faded into the woodwork
when I asked you to?"
"Jessie. You are under a lot of stress. Let me take
you away from all of it."
"I'm not going anywhere with you. You want to
rescue me? Open the doors to this place and
stand back and let me leave with your car. I will call
for help as soon as I get to the nearest gas
station."
"Jessica. You need me. I'm not letting you go
alone."
"I told you. I'm not going anywhere with you."
There was anger and confusion in his eyes, but
confusion reigned. After a few moments, he made
a decision.
"I'll come back for you in the morning. I'm sure,
after you've gotten over the surprise of someone
kindly rescuing you, you'll change your mind. In the
meantime, I will stay here and guard the place.
Make sure the kidnappers don't return to kill you . . .
or worse."
He turned and left, locking the door behind him.
XXXXX
Undisclosed location
9 P.M.
Mama had been right. Jessica was a little nuts.
Who knew she would give him so much trouble?
And after he did his two trial runs, too. There was
no trouble with those two girls at all. In fact, they
seemed to appreciate his presence when he came
in and rescued them. They didn't slap his hand
away and reject him.
It was such a good plan. Set up a series of
kidnappings with Jessica as the last victim. The
kidnapper struck members of a certain mailing list
and made them relive their worst nightmares.
Perhaps whoever had looked at her computer
already figured out that connection. Maybe it wasn't
such a bad thing after all. Well, except for the fact
that he hadn't been very careful about hacking into
Jessica's computer and probably left a trail. That
was careless. Still, all was fair in love and war and
once they were married, no one would question his
taking a peek at her on-line life.
And they wouldn't suspect him of the other two
kidnappings. For heaven's sake, Tina lived in
Missouri. And even though Grace was much
nearer, geographically, they still wouldn't suspect
him of being physically able to drag her out of that
water-not with all his physical ailments. Still, he had
been working out. He was perfectly able. They just
didn't have to know that.
But it should have been easier with Jessica. She
should already be snuggled with him somewhere,
showing him her appreciation of his rescue efforts
and getting to know him as an adult. As a man.
The problem was, she was always so independent.
She used to walk down Daly Avenue, after she lost
her baby fat, with her matching outfits, oblivious to
the world. Hot pants and a tank top or halter.
Everything fit in all the right places but she didn't
seem to give a second thought to the effect she
might have on those around her. The older boys
would pass by in cars and shout things at
her-compliments, to their own minds, and she
would just walk on and ignore them. Even though
he was younger, he wanted to take those boys
aside and tell them that was not the way to win a
lady's heart. It was crude. This was not a crude girl.
This was a princess who was oblivious to her own
beauty.
Mama told him not to do that, or the boys would
beat him up.
It was that damned Billie Jean King's fault Jessie
was so independent. Jessica used to be a fan of
tennis and that was when Billie Jean was number
one on the circuit. The woman couldn't just shut up
and play. She had to talk about women's lib and
equal this and equal that. No wonder Jessie was so
messed up. You had to watch who your children
idolized.
Still, even the most spirited of horses could be
broken. Not that he was comparing Jessie to a
horse. He would never do such a thing. And he
didn't really want to break her spirit. But she
needed some time to think. She needed some
time to realize she didn't have to go through this
world alone and not every man was crude. There
were some knights of old, ready to rescue their fair
maidens and give them the lives they deserved.
All they wanted in return, was a little appreciation.
That wasn't too much to ask for, was it?
End of Part 5
[page]
Part 6
XXXXX
Mulder's room
April 9, 2000
12:45 AM
"Well, we're going to have to look at things from a
different angle tomorrow. He has to be keeping her
somewhere," Scully said, as she got up from the
bed where she had been making some notations in
one of the files.
"I'll just read over these again and then turn in."
She shook her head. There was no stopping him.
She went to the door.
"Goodnight, Mulder. Try and get some sleep."
"Night," he said, without looking up from his files.
She turned back to him and watched as he read the
same file for probably the hundredth time.
He looked up and saw her staring at him with a
frown on her face. "What? I said 'goodnight,' didn't
I?"
She nodded. "Todd has it all wrong, you know."
"Well, of course he does. He's not exactly a stable
individual."
"I meant, about the knight in shining armor
business. You're one."
"One what?" he asked, still taking peeks at the file.
"A knight in shining armor."
"I am?" He said, looking up finally.
"Yes. It's not about swooping in and rescuing a
woman. It's the way you conduct your life. The
sacrifices you make for what you believe in. The
way you're ready to fight any battle . . ."
"Tilt at any windmill?"
"That, too," she smiled. "Still, the one heroic act
Todd is building his hopes on wins a woman's
gratitude, not her love."
"Are you trying to tell me something, Scully?" he
said, with a coy little smile.
"Maybe," she said.
"Wait a minute. I suppose the outcome of that
speech is not a given after all. It could go two
ways."
She gave him a slow smile. "Yes, I guess it could."
"No clues?"
The smile suddenly left her face. "It's almost
irrelevant. The truth of the matter is, the armor
sometimes gets in the way when all a woman wants
is to feel the knight's arms around her. That's the
day-to-day practical dilemma. 'Night, Mulder."
She turned and walked out of the door.
XXXXX
Scully's room
1:20 AM
A half hour later, she heard a knock on the door.
Before she could even get up, he was announcing
himself.
"Scully, it's me. I'm using the key. Don't shoot."
He walked in wearing a hotel robe and slippers.
She sat up in bed and looked at him. "That's nice,
Mulder. Scare the people next door with talk of
gunfire."
He gave her a pointed look. "We *are* in New York.
It's cold out there."
"Most people don't walk around hallways
half-naked."
He gripped the sides of his robe. "I don't do things
by half, Scully," he said with a leer. He walked over
to the bed and slipped the plush robe off and slid
into bed beside her.
"Armor's off," he said, cuddling closer.
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is. Here, feel."
"The armor is never off, Mulder," she said, not sure
why but knowing she had to pursue the
conversation.
He moved back a bit. "I'm here, Scully."
"Yes, but I didn't want to force you to come here.
That's my problem. I didn't want you to feel
manipulated into making a choice between work
that you need to do and our relationship."
"I wasn't manipulated. I finished what I was doing
and then came here. I know that wasn't easy for
you. You never complain and if you even hint at
something, I want to take notice."
"It's not just this place or this moment, Mulder. This
has been going on from the beginning. We have an
all or nothing relationship with not a hell of a lot of
time for long, passionate nights together."
"So, you'd settle for a grope here and there?" It
was his turn to shake his head. "You deserve
more."
"And so do you. So, we're 'settling' for nothing.
Does that seem right to you? If the world would
end tomorrow, I'd be a whole lot happier knowing I
spent a couple of hours with you than if I couldn't
even remember the scent of your skin because I
wasn't close enough to smell it." He looked at her
and his eyes seemed a shade darker, a shade
warmer, and a lot more mischievous than they were
a moment before.
"I didn't have time for a shower. You might not like
the smell of my skin."
She gave him a look.
"Okay. You can smack me now."
She shook her head and put her arms around his
waist. "I don't want to smack you. I want to kiss
you."
"Um, feel free?"
She buried her head in the crook of his neck and bit
him softly. Then she kissed his 'wound.' He ran his
hands down her back and to the edge of her
pajama top. He bunched up the material and was
prepared to lift it off when she stopped him and
pushed him on his back.
"Just lay back and relax, Mulder."
"I'm relaxed," his voice went up an octave on the
last syllable as she reached down and grabbed his
erection. "Sort of."
She straddled him and sat back against his thighs.
Her fingers were softly, but steadily becoming
reacquainted with him. He enjoyed watching her like
this. She was so serious as she set about her task
of arousing him. She was also sexy as hell in a red
pajama top and no bottoms. Her thighs encased
his in creamy whiteness and he could feel her lack
of underwear against his skin. She looked at him as
he watched her and a faint color rose to her
cheeks.
"I was reading before. You can turn off the light, if
you want to."
"First, with the grip you have on me, that might be
risky business. And second, I like looking at you."
She nodded and looked down at him as her hands
moved faster on his skin. He saw her smile as he
let out a deep moan. A job well done. And she
thought *he* was a workaholic.
Suddenly, she stopped.
"What?" he asked.
She looked down at his fully erect penis, as it
seemed to hover near his belly. "I like what I see,
too," she said. She lifted off her pajama top and
grabbed his forearms and pulled him to a sitting
position. She lifted herself up, positioned him
against her and slowly sank down. She was wet and
warm and very ready for him. Maybe quick gropes
weren't so bad after all.
"You are mine," she said, pressing her bare
breasts against his chest. He looked down and saw
their bodies pressed together. Scully's skin was so
much lighter than his. The sight of her perfectly
round bottom bouncing steadily against his thighs
made him smile. It was not a sight he ever really
expected to see and never wanted to take for
granted on any level. At the same time, he knew he
had been running scared. He had been so thrilled
at the changes in their relationship, he was worried
about his commitment to the x-files. And he
supposed recommitting himself to his work while at
the beginning of a new phase of a relationship was
lousy timing. But she hung in there.
He threw his head back as she increased her
pace. He needed to hold on a bit longer. He
wanted to feel her coming around him. Feel the
ripples of pleasure emanate from her body to his
and push him over.
She hung in there all right. And she didn't want him
to change. She just wanted him to give her
whatever he could. And he sure as hell could do
better than he had been doing.
Scully reached behind him and grabbed the
headboard and then began riding him like a
madwoman. Her breaths were coming fast and
furious and finally, finally she gave a soft cry and he
felt her orgasm. He held her still as he pumped up
into her and matched her cry with one of his own. In
a moment, they were a sodden heap of loose limbs
as they both lay like rag dolls against the
headboard.
"I'm yours, huh?" Mulder asked, in a voice filled
with spent passion and pure fatigue.
"Did I say that out loud?"
"You sure did. Before you wiped me out. You want
to take it back?"
She shook her head. He ran his hand down the
small of her back and rested his big palms on her
behind. He could feel one of her tiny aftershocks. It
made him smile. "Good. I like a possessive
woman. And you take such good care of what
belongs to you. How could I possibly complain?"
"Go to sleep, Mulder," she whispered softly.
"Yes, dear," he said and took her with him as he
scooted down the bed until he was flat on his back
and she was lying like a blanket above him.
End of Part 6
Part 7
XXXXX
Undisclosed location
April 9, 2000
4 AM
Todd set up the homemade smoke bombs at the
entrance to the house and right outside of the
entrance to the second floor. If all went well, he'd
be carrying Jessica down those stairs and looking
like the true hero he was as he carried them both
out through the billowing smoke.
It wasn't part of his original plan. After all, a fire was
part of Tina's nightmare, not Jessica's. But he
needed to do something to hasten her acceptance
of him and this might turn the tide. Besides, since
this wasn't a real fire, there was no real danger. He
wouldn't make that mistake twice in one lifetime.
He shook his head to wipe out that particular
memory. Times were different now. He would get
the girl and they would live happily ever after. It was
just the way life was meant to be.
XXXXX
Scully hotel room
4:15 AM
Scully was wide awake within a couple of hours.
She listened for Mulder's deep rhythmic breathing
but it wasn't there.
"You're awake, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Us?" he said, opting for political correctness but
falling a bit short in the delivery.
"No. Seriously."
"I'm thinking of Daly Avenue."
"I'm thinking of how much of an effect a 14-year old
girl could have had on a 9-year old boy."
"Ah, Scully," he said, gripping her bare shoulder.
"You have obviously never walked a mile in our
Reeboks. You are talking about a shy little kid.
Jessica was probably nice to him in that
condescending way young teens have to
demonstrate their superior manners whilst pleasing
their parents. She had sprouted in all the right
places and that old male ego kicked in and
convinced the little pre-pre-pubescent that she
liked him-liked him."
"So, that obsession doesn't concern you?"
"No. If his life was falling apart and he was unable
to fill the role he felt destined to fulfill with his own
wife, he would embrace the past where things were
simpler."
"Then why are you thinking of Daly Avenue?"
"Todd's family left just as the neighborhood was
changing. He was not there when the buildings
were being burned for insurance. Years later, while
semi-stalking Jessica, in the middle of some sort of
steroid abuse, romantic overload combination, he
finds out the very ironic fact that her worst
nightmare centers around that semi-burnt out shell
of a neighborhood. Although, if you look at her
original post, she never mentions anything being
burnt out. She just mentions being completely
alone in her now empty apartment with no way out.
It's more a dream of loneliness, than fear, but he
might not have taken it that way.
I'm pretty sure he took the other two women to
establish some sort of serial kidnapping fantasy
that he could use to convince Jessica he truly
saved her. And he probably had the full intention of
going to Daly Avenue, finding an abandoned
building and setting up an old apartment to keep
her in. But nothing has stood still. What he found
was a neighborhood in the middle of urban
renewal. A good place to take a new bride, too,
perhaps-if they are into the nostalgia of reliving their
childhoods as adults. But now he needs to keep
her somewhere similar."
"A burnt out shell of a place . . . "
"Right. And his ex-wife mentioned getting
insurance to rebuild on the property. She said
nothing about the property itself being sold. So,
that building might still exist."
"There's only one way of finding out," Scully said,
as she made a mad dash to the bathroom to get
dressed
XXXXX
Todd and Theresa Spector's house
New Rochelle, NY
4:25 AM
Jessica watched the smoke as it came through the
bottom of the door.
She felt no panic. She had actually felt very little
panic since she found out Todd was responsible
for her abduction. As frightened as she had been
when he was writing the notes, once she had seen
him again, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Their
relationship hadn't really changed a bit. They knew
nothing about each other as adults. They were still
interacting as they did as children. He was a pain in
the butt kid and she was the one he had a crush on.
And everyone knew a 14-year old girl could kick a
9-year old boy's ass.
"Smoke bombs," Jessica heard herself saying.
"Todd!" she yelled.
She remembered the article about one of those
women whose dream she shared. Todd must have
been responsible for her kidnapping and
subsequent rescue. He was the common factor
between herself and those women. Damn.
"Todd!" she yelled again.
The door burst open and he stood in the doorway,
in true super hero pose. She wasn't buying any of
it.
"Toss those bombs out of the window so the
smoke can dissipate."
"What bombs? There are no bombs. We have a
small fire. I don't want to alarm you but it's
necessary that you leave right now. I'm here to
save you."
He approached her and grabbed her hand. She
stretched her other arm down and picked up a
shard of glass from its pile on the floor and
scratched his hand from elbow to wrist. He pulled
away sharply and watched the blood drip to the
floor.
"What the hell are you doing, Jessica? I'm only
here because I love you and want to get you out of
here. God, you're like a rabid dog or something."
"I'm going to show you a rabid dog in a moment.
Now, I'm leaving here and you can do what you
fucking well please but if you're planning on killing
me or something, you better do it now."
Todd looked insulted but stood aside as Jessica
started down the stairs. After a moment, she could
hear his footsteps slowly following as she carefully
made her way through the smoke. The white mist
was so thick in front of her and, once again, she felt
as she had the first time Todd had extended his
hand toward her. She felt as if she were lost in time
and space-in a world somewhere between life and
death.
She heard a wheezing sound behind her and then
felt a thud as Todd fell against the creaky banister.
She had enough time to brace herself against it as
his body fell down the entire flight of stairs and
landed in a heap at the front landing.
She saw his bright blue shirt through the billowing
smoke and ran down the stairs. She touched his
neck for a pulse and didn't feel one. Jessica flung
open the door. It wasn't locked. As the smoke
started clearing out the front door, she could see
Todd's car and freedom.
But she couldn't leave a dying man. Certainly not
this one. Leaving him to die would leave herself
with a lifetime of guilt. There was a bond between
the former residents of Daly Avenue. She couldn't
fully understand it, but she respected it. She had to
at least make the attempt to save him.
She left the door open and went back to him. She
checked for a pulse. If it was there, it was faint and
she couldn't find it. The damned jackass had heart
failure as he was trying to 'rescue' her.
Jessica cursed herself for not taking CPR courses
or for really finding out what to do in an emergency.
Finding a phone, at this point, would have to wait.
He would be long dead by the time she located
one. He probably needed CPR now and she'd just
have to wing it.
She remembered compressions and mouth to
mouth. A certain amount of time for each. She
could do that. She made sure his airway was clear
and then breathed into his mouth for 8 seconds.
For some reason, that seemed like a good amount
of time, considering she didn't really know how long
she had to do this. Then she did the compressions
for double that time, cursing all the way.
"You think," she said, pushing down on his chest,
"that I need to be saved from something. Well,
"she said, pressing down again, "I don't. I stopped
believing in fairy tales long ago." She breathed into
his mouth for the requisite amount of time. When
she was done, she started the compressions
again. "You didn't even see your opportunity to be a
hero when it was right in front of you. Your kid, you
idiot. He wasn't out to get you. He was out for love.
All kids are. And you're his daddy. You can do no
wrong in his eyes. Not at this age. You could have
been his hero. But, no, you have to act like an ass
and leave him through whatever the hell it is you
did, that pissed your wife off so much she doesn't
even want you to see him." She stopped for more
mouth to mouth. "Well, you're not dying on my
watch. You can have that second chance. That
much I can give you. For old times sake."
She kept up the compression and breathing until
she found the faint pulse she was looking for. She
continued doing what she was doing because she
didn't know what else to do.
When Mulder and Scully came running through the
door, Jessica was shocked to hear sobs in
between her rescue efforts. The sobs were coming
from herself.
XXXXX
Daly Avenue, Bronx, NY
April 11, 2000
9:30 AM
"Look at it," Jessica told Karen as they walked
down the street. Jessica kept looking at each
building in wonder, Karen wondered if perhaps they
should double check Jessica for injuries. The
place, while improved since the last time she had
seen it, was still just a notch or two above a
shit-hole.
"Jessie, it's been one day. This is really not the
time to be here."
"Agents Mulder and Scully said Todd put us on a
waiting list for an apartment here. I just want to get
that cleared up with the landlady. No one is moving
here and she can rent to whoever she wants."
"A phone call would have been sufficient."
"No," she said, looking around. "I need closure.
This will do it. She looked at the community garden.
"This has taken the place of two houses. My
grandparents lived right about here. It was the
corner house. Todd and his family lived in the
building next door. It's so funny. I still can't
remember anything specific about Todd from the
past. He was just a little kid who played in the
streets and just moved away at one point."
"Well, you made more of an impression on him,
obviously."
"No. I think the idea of me made more of an
impression on him. He didn't know me at all."
"What do you think they are they going to do with
him?" While Jessica had spent half of the night
before filling her friend in on the details of her
questioning and her long sessions with the two FBI
agents, she spent most of the following day
sleeping. This morning, she was pretty determined
to go straight to her old neighborhood and no
amount of discouragement could change her mind.
"Well, after he gets released from the hospital,
there will be a trial. He'll be down for three counts
of unlawful imprisonment or worse. I don't know. I
imagine there will be an insanity hearing, perhaps. I
know Agent Scully said something about there
being a whole hell of a lot of steroids in his blood. I
have no idea what will really happen."
"What do you want to happen? I mean, I'm sensing
a whole nostalgia thing going on here, that makes
me think you want to fix things somehow. You have
that knack, you know."
"Well, there are some things I can't fix. I guess I
faced those facts. I will go out there and tell the
truth. Whatever happens afterwards is up to the
courts, Todd and his family."
She stood in the middle of the street and looked
around. The house she had spend the first 19
years of her life stood just a few steps away from
her. Suddenly, she couldn't move.
"You know, this place has changed but still reminds
me so much of childhood. I can almost hear the
laughter. But if I walk in that building for the first
time since our moving van took us to a new life, it
*will* be my worst nightmare. Everyone is gone,"
she could almost see her dad's bright blue eyes,
her mother's warm smile. "Let's go. Let sleeping
dreams-and nightmares-lie. I'll call the landlady
from home."
Without another word, Karen linked her arm through
her best friend's, gave her a tiny squeeze and
headed back toward the car.
XXXXX
Plane on the way back to Washington, DC
9:45 AM
"What's wrong?" Mulder leaned over and briefly
rested his chin on Scully's shoulder. She was
looking out the window of the airplane at nothing but
clouds.
"Jessica is kind of haunting me a bit."
"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," he teased.
"Well, the jury is still out on that one. This was such
an odd case, Mulder. In a way, it was not even an
x-file."
"Oh, I don't know about that. There were the
prophetic dreams. There was also that disturbing
life-death vision Jessica experienced twice during
her captivity. That could signal a whole new realm
of psychic ability."
"Mmmm. When push came to shove, Jessica held
her own. Chances are, even if we never had shown
up, she would have gotten out of it just fine."
"And that makes you sad?"
"No, no. We served our purpose. It was wrong to
brush off Karen Noyes' concerns. It was wrong to
ignore facts due to possible repercussions with the
FBI. After yesterday's dressing down, I'm sure the
Scarsdale P.D. will never ignore proper procedure
again. And I am glad Jessica was able to keep her
head. I talked to the doctors who examined her.
There is sure to be some post-traumatic stress and
she might need a bit of therapy for that, but I think
she will be all right. Considering the fact Todd was
playing on the worst, subconscious fears of these
women-they didn't do half as badly as one might
expect."
"I guess that's the crucial difference. Dreams are
scary because of their ethereal qualities. Add
some substance to them, and they can become
manageable."
"I guess so."
"You're not going to tell me why Jessica haunts
you?"
"Of course I am, Mulder. It was heart wrenching
when we walked in and she saw us. She had been
sobbing as she was doing the CPR."
"It was an emotional overload."
"I know. For that split second, I felt all those
emotions with her. It's also ironic. Todd spent so
much time weaving dreams of being her knight in
shining armor and she was put in a position where
she had to decide whether he lived or died."
"It's not easy being a hero, is it?" he asked,
brushing her shoulder with his.
"You tell me," she said, brushing his shoulder right
back. "Mulder?"
"Hmmm . . ."
"You want to come over tonight? We could just
order in, have a nice bath or something and turn in
early? Does that interest you at all?"
He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed her
fingers lightly against his mouth.
"Very much so, My Lady."
"Ugh," she said, pulling her hand from his. "No
heroes, no courtly anything. Tonight, it's just me
and you, okay?"
He smiled and leaned down to place a quick kiss
on her shoulder.
Scully looked at him as he leaned back against his
chair and closed his eyes.
This was comfortable. This was easy. And they
were doing *this* just fine.
And, even with the roller coaster dips in between,
she had been right.
It was the never-ending ride of her life.
The End
Author's notes:
I like author's notes. I don't know why. Just a
chance to continue gabbing, I guess.
This story is dedicated to my mom, because even
though she isn't "allowed" to read my stories, she
"knows they are great." How's that for unconditional
love?
And it's also dedicated to the echoes of laughter
from childhood memories. And to the fuzzy vision
that comes with age, turning what was sometimes
torture to live though into a Donna Reed episode
<vbg>.
Christmas-time brings out the sentimental fool in
me.
Thank you for reading this and have a very happy
holiday season.
Nights of Shining Armor
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