THE GHOST AT HER SIDE - Pt. 2
by - Joyce
March 1998

NOTE: Italics indicate thoughts.  Underlining is for emphasis.

 

 

With scarcely a twinge, Mulder watched Scully drive off with Simon to a well-earned dinner. He was getting better at letting her out of his sight. There was still a hollow ache approximately where his heart used to be every time they were apart, but he was beginning to get used to it. He had to get used to it if Scully was going to have any sort of life of her own.

Taking a firm grip on his resolve to give Scully breathing room, Mulder allowed his awareness of her to narrow down to a silken thread that stretched out across the distance between them. He would be able to find her again when she called. Until then, he needed to start earning his keep.

The town square was beginning to fill with people closing up their shops and businesses and preparing to go home. He wandered over to the bookstore that had been Toby Culvert’s place of business. The Small Bytes Cafe next door was about half-full of people, much as it had been the night of Culver’s murder. The cafe was small, four tables and a long counter crammed in a narrow room. On the other side of the cafe an office supply store was in the process of expanding into the last space at the end of the short block. Three businesses close together, a square full of people, yet no one saw Culver’s killer approach with a musket, fire and leave.

"I’ve heard of see no evil, hear no evil, but this is ridiculous," Mulder groused.

The spot where Culver’s body was found glowed with a dark, oily sheen to his hypersensitive sight. Violent death left its indelible mark upon the scene even though Mulder was certain the bloodstains had been scoured off the sidewalk. Walking carefully around the spot, Mulder tried to visualize the crime scene as described in the reports. Culver had just closed his store and apparently was starting his evening walk across the square towards his home about five blocks away.

Mulder stood in silent contemplation as twilight closed in on the square. Street lamps lit up the corners of the square, but left the park in shadow. The sidewalks were illuminated by the lights from the cafe and a few businesses still open after dark, but the lighting was dim. It was possible that a killer could approach Culver from the darker shadows of the park, but the blast from the musket should have rattled the windows behind Culver.

Mulder paced distances and tried to piece together the crime, but nothing fit. No one heard anything or saw the muzzle flash from a musket. Culver was murdered within a few feet of a dozen people and no one even noticed until someone stumbled over his body in the street. Mulder understood the stubborn refusal of witness to get involved, but this was a small town with the inherent nosiness of small towns.

Spying an unoccupied bench on the edge of the park, he drifted over and sat down to watch the flow of people in the square, to get some idea of how many people might have been potential witnesses, but were not. As he sat idly observing the mixture of people out for an early evening stroll and leisurely shoppers, Mulder allowed himself to relax. It was at moments like this, in the darkling hour between day and night, that he could imagine himself still alive with endless possibilities stretching out before him. In short, he could dream of a future.

At one time those dreams had included a family, children, the whole ‘settling down’ bit. On rare occasions, he had allowed himself to ponder the confused mix of emotions he felt for his partner. His death had effectively ended those dreams, but not the emotions which spawned them. If Gordon had not assured him otherwise, Mulder might have concluded that his current existence was his corner of purgatory – an eternity of coping with the unresolved and now unresolvable issues of his heart.

As he sat there in the deepening shadows, Mulder pondered again what he was supposed to accomplish as a ghost. Gordon had been blunt – he was to remain on earth as a ghost until something he was supposed to have achieved was completed. It was entirely possible that his mission was simply to see that the conspiracy which had haunted his life, their lives, was neutralized. A logical enough mission, yet Mulder couldn’t help but hope that perhaps his duty lay closer to his heart – to see Scully safe and happy.

As much as he longed to insure Scully’s future, Mulder felt a gnawing horror at the prospect of completing his mission and dissolving into the afterlife. As painful as his situation was, he shuddered to contemplate leaving her. His heaven was here, at her side. He had no need of harps or angels or pearly gates. How could he rest separated from her? He recalled reading once, that hell was nothing more than an unfathomable separation from God. Well, he wasn’t sure about God, even now, but hell for him would be existing apart from Scully.

It was ironic in a way. His reward for completing his life’s task was to willingly walk into hell. Still, if he had been willing, when alive, to die to protect her, surely he could do no less than embrace the torture of separation in order to ensure her future happiness. Mulder felt the build-up of static electricity around him and hastily shut off his errant thoughts. The last thing he needed to do was set off a miniature electrical storm right in the center of town. Wouldn’t Tonto love that little display of spirit manifestation? he thought with a resigned smile.

"Wonder if Scully could use a full-time guardian spirit? If you’re listening, Gordon, I’d be willing to stick around and do the job," Mulder whispered his prayer to the evening breeze and tried to believe in a God who wouldn’t tear his soul apart for the sake of granting him eternal peace.

Fearful of wandering too far down that path, Mulder resolutely turned his attention back to the case. As far as he could tell from this very unscientific sampling, the killer took aim in plain view of over a dozen people and successfully carried out his murder with no one being the wiser.

It was almost as if the murderer didn’t exist. Mulder smiled at that thought. Ghosts didn’t need to lug around ancient muskets or wave cutlasses at people. He was learning there were ways his type could kill that left no trace. "OK, scratch an irritated ghost as the main suspect," Mulder commented to a passing cat. The cat hissed and spat at him. Mulder retreated into the gray limbo world before the damn cat called in reinforcements. For some reason cats just didn’t take boo for an answer. Dogs wisely retreated and howled their protest at his unnatural presence, but cats seemed to feel a more direct protest was called for.

The thread binding him to Scully began to hum calling him to her. Responding instantly to her summons, Mulder followed the thread to the place where she waited for him. The closer he got, the warmer the connection until he felt as if he were surfing on top of a tidal wave of molten fire. The heat of her life called him to her.

When he arrived, Scully was standing by a window staring at the darkness beyond the dim lamp in the yard. A thick band of woods lay like a barrier between the lights of the town and the faint light from a farmhouse. Her expression was relaxed, even a bit pensive as she held the thick curtains aside with one hand, the other hand resting against the window frame. Mulder wondered what she was thinking about; if they were pleasant thoughts and if he was part of them. Most of the weariness she had carried around her like a cloak all day was gone. The result of a nice relaxing dinner with no untimely interruptions by yours truly, he thought with a peculiar half-pleased, half-sad resignation.

Scully stood quietly by the window staring out at the darkness. She had changed into comfortable jeans and extra-large sized T-shirt. Clinging to invisibility, Mulder hovered in the room behind her, silently watching her. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times in his lifetime he had been granted the simple pleasure of watching his partner unobserved. Death brought him endless opportunities for observing her unguarded moments, but it was the memory of watching her when he was alive that he treasured most. Each moment was a precious memory that recalled the pleasant sensation of being alive as well as a bitter reminder of the possibilities he had squandered. He willingly embraced the pain as price for the pleasure.

Scully stirred and glanced back into the room, cocking her head slightly to one side as she looked around expectantly for him. Recalling with a guilty start that she had summoned him to talk, not indulge in silent observation, Mulder thrust his memories back into the locked chambers of his mind and gave a soft whistle in the odd minor key that he used to announce his presence. He smiled as a look of relief and anticipation lit up Scully’s eyes. Slowly, to avoid startling her, Mulder materialized beside the ancient wing chair in the corner of the room.

"There you are. I wondered if you had gotten lost," Scully teased. Mulder never liked admitting he had a cavalier attitude towards maps and directions that took them in strange detours.

"Nope, just took the ‘scenic route’," Mulder said seriously. Then he grinned, "This town isn’t big enough to get lost in."

Mulder gestured Scully over to the chair and he walked over to the large four-poster bed and carefully sat down, after making sure he was solid enough to stay on top of the bed. It was getting easier to maintain the right amount of cohesiveness without giving the matter his full attention.

"You’re looking better. Nice dinner?" Mulder asked solicitously.

"Better than I expected. The place looked like one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall diners, but they have a baked chicken recipe that I would kill for. This town is turning out to be quite a surprise, in more ways than one." Scully hesitated for a moment, gave Mulder an odd, apprehensive glance, then stretched out her feet on a padded footstool and settled back into the chair.

Despite the gesture of relaxation, Mulder sensed that the serious part of the evening’s conversation was about to begin. He pulled his legs up under him and settled back onto the bed. One minor advantage to being dead – his knees didn’t complain about the odd positions he assumed.

"OK, Mulder. We have established that I’m well fed and relaxed. Simon is across the hall in his room. I think it’s time we talked," Scully said with a slight smile that reassured Mulder that she wasn’t about to bring up any of his assorted missteps.

"I am completely and eternally at your service, Scully," Mulder said with a grandiose bow and a wicked grin. He was delighted by the answering twitch of Scully’s lips as she fought against returning a similar grin. It was fun to tease Scully, but there were perilous traps along that road, for both of them. She felt safe in his presence because it never occurred to her that a ghost retained the passions of the living. Mulder walked a fine line between maintaining the sly innuendoes he had teased her with when he was alive and concealing how her return volleys affected him.

"Where do you want to start first," he continued in a more serious tone.

"You might begin by explaining Chief Talbert," Scully retorted. She lifted one eyebrow in their silent language to indicate that he had some explaining to do and had best begin.

Mulder shrugged with a apologetic smile on his lips and mischievous reflection in his eyes.

"I don’t think we have that long, Scully. Tonto is one of the most complex individuals I have ever known. I never would have imagined he would turn up as a policeman in a small Ohio town."

"Mulder, you have a genius for meeting complex individuals. However Chief Talbert seems to know you a bit better than a casual acquaintance would," Scully prompted. Prying information out of an amused Mulder was like eating an artichoke – she peeled it out of him one layer at a time.

"I met Tonto my second year in Oxford. Believe it or not, he was a Rhodes Scholar majoring in ancient history. Nicknames are a way of life in English universities. I don’t think I ever knew his first name."

"Why Tonto?"

"Talbert is half Iroquois. When the other guys in the house learned this fact, he was lucky to get off with the nickname Tonto. We were two Americans in a house full of Brits." Mulder shrugged. "He was alone, even more so than I had been. He was a Yank and an American aborigine. I always was a sucker for the underdog. We ended up making the warden’s life hell though," Mulder reflected with a laugh.

"OK, so you knew him in college. Why would he ask for your help in this case?"

"I don’t know. Maybe he kept track of me. We were pretty close until I met Phoebe. Then . . . well, I pretty much blew everybody off after that." Mulder’s tone was cold. Phoebe was not a memory he enjoyed reliving.

Scully shifted slightly. Mulder sensed she was trying to bite back an acid comment about the woman she had met briefly and disliked on sight. Scully had a keen eye for character. Mulder wished he shared that sixth sense of hers that told her when a vicious predator was cloaked in the guise of a seductive woman.

"Anyway, Tonto is one of the good guys unless he has changed. I didn’t pick up any hint that he’s masquerading as a serial killer or Consortium hit man in his spare time," Mulder teased half seriously.

"Well, at least he has good taste in hotels and food," Scully jibbed back. Mulder acknowledged the hit with a muttered ‘touche’. It wasn’t his fault the Bureau’s per diem had rarely allowed them to stay in first-class motels.

"Did you pick up any clues while you were out exploring, Mulder?" Scully abruptly shifted the conversation, eager to get at the case now that her concern about Talbert’s mysterious connection with her partner was laid to rest.

"Other than the fact that the people in this town must be blind as well as deaf? No, not really." Mulder got up and began to pace, taking care to remember to walk around the furniture. "It is remotely possible that the killer could have approached Culver unseen, but the blast from the musket should have rattled the windows of the café. No one heard anything. I’m not really up on antique muskets, but I seem to recall that there is significant fireball visible even in broad daylight, not to mention one hell of a cloud of smoke."

Scully looked puzzled.

"I have very distinct memories of the sight and sound of the muskets used to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of Concord every year in Chilmark. It was very loud and very smoky. Yet here we have our perp firing off a musket in the middle of a public square and no one saw or heard anything." Mulder sounded exasperated.

Scully opened her mouth, then closed it again, then cautiously opened it again. "Ghosts?" she asked tentatively, the tenseness in her posture betraying her fear that her question might be answered in the affirmative.

"Being the resident expert on ghosts, Scully, I can assure you, we don’t need to use muskets and cutlasses to kill," Mulder assured her with a grim smile.

"Alright, then, some sort of silencer perhaps?" Scully offered with no enthusiasm.

"I honestly don’t know, but I rather doubt if they make silencers for black-powder muskets. Maybe the autopsies will turn up something tomorrow." Mulder hesitated and turned to stare out the window.

"Go on, Mulder. What else?" Scully sighed, wondering what exotic theory Mulder was preparing to drop in her lap.

"Nothing much," Mulder said, then squared his shoulders and turned to face her. "Would you really mind if I tagged along after Simon? I’m entirely too sympathetic to the corpses these days," he blurted out.

"As I recall, Mulder, you have never been particularly fond of autopsies," Scully responded with a teasing smile that prompted an answering smile from Mulder. "Just don’t scare Simon with any sudden revelations from thin air."

"I’ll be good. He’s not my type anyway - much too tall," Mulder added with a mock pout.

Scully fell silent, her eyes steadily boring through him as if she could read his mind. Mulder shifted uneasily, his body becoming hazy as he wondered what had prompted this sudden shift in mood.

"I miss you, Mulder. Tonight, eating with Simon, I found myself missing the little things – how you constantly played with the silverware, how your hands never seemed to rest. It’s too quiet," Scully admitted with a sigh, releasing Mulder from her intense gaze.

Mulder moved over to kneel beside her, careful not to touch her until she adjusted to the drop in temperature. She gave a brief shudder then sat quietly. Before Mulder could reach out to her, she laid a hand on his cheek, drawing her fingers down the semi-solid planes of his face in a slow caress.

Now it was Mulder’s turn to shudder with the force of his longing. His eyes turned into dark pools of shadow concealing his despair; his soul hummed with desire. Frozen by her touch, he knelt before her, helpless to stop the storm she was summoning. Preparing to plead with her for his release from this exquisite pleasure, his eyes met hers and he found himself drowning in a sea of unasked and forever unanswered questions.

With slow deliberation, she released his jaw until only one finger remained in contact. That finger glided down to his lips half open with the words of comfort he had been about to speak still caught in his throat. Scully gave him a smile so drenched in regret and sadness that Mulder felt his soul shatter and fall at her feet. The finger rested, just for a moment against his open lips, closing them, then departed as her hand dropped to rest in her lap.

Mulder remained still, a statue conjured by a gesture, now captive to her will. This was dangerous ground they were treading. More perilous than she could ever imagine. Thinking herself safe, believing him to be beyond all passion, she explored the edges of the one extreme possibility they had never allowed themselves to entertain. Mulder’s soul cried out in fear, for her, for himself. The living should not reach out to the dead for love, for completion, not when the dead would sunder his soul for the single memory of that union. Even without her touch, but feeling it burn upon his face, Mulder knelt there shuddering, helpless between the combined assaults on his resolve. Knowing it was wrong, knowing it would damn him beyond all hope of redemption, he waited for a sign, a summons from her that would betray her trust in him.

"Aaarrgghhh!!"

The scream of terror shattered the spell that bound them. Scully’s head snapped up as she bolted up from the chair, through Mulder to grab her gun. Mulder collapsed down onto and through the chair convulsing once as he broke free of the spell that had bound them in perilous desire. Feeling her pass through him was at once both erotic and terrifying, but sufficed to bring him back to his senses.

"Mulder, outside," Scully snapped as she opened the door, pausing to pound on Simon’s door. "Simon!" she shouted. Simon appeared, armed and rumpled, still awaking from his half-doze. "Outside, now," Scully barked as she hurtled down the hall to the stairs. With a muttered oath, Simon followed her, yelling something about ‘slow down, wait for me,’ before disappearing down the stairs.

"Shit," Mulder swore as he dematerialized and poured through the window into the night following the sound of the screams. Unhindered by the need to avoid trees and bushes, Mulder plunged after the terrified man. His screams continued, frantic howls of terror beyond words, beyond reason. Confused by the strange surroundings, Mulder used the screams as a beacon, ignoring everything but catching up to the screamer. As he drew close to the man he heard his frantic breathing and felt his terror like a filthy fog billowing around him. For just a moment, Mulder seemed to see a large dark shape surrounded by a pale aurora plunging out of the darkness behind the man. Startled by this shadow, Mulder paused and tried to focus on it, but it shimmered and faded before he was even sure it was there.

"Scully, over here. To your left," Mulder shouted as he heard her break into the woods behind him. There was no way he could stop this man, short of materializing right in front of him and considering his terror now, the sudden appearance of a ghost might be enough to stop his heart altogether.

Trying to keep the man in sight, while guiding Scully to him, Mulder didn’t see the gorge until the man hurled himself into mid-air and plunged down to the bottom one hundred feet below with one last despairing cry. Mulder was across the gorge before he realized what had happened. Hearing Scully running down the same path, Mulder quickly realized her peril and leaped back to intercept her.

"Scully, stop!" he yelled as he took a chance and briefly materialized in front of her, making himself solid enough to stop her headlong flight towards the edge of the gorge. Reeling from the shock of the sudden collision, Scully leaned against him, trying to catch her breath. Simon crashed onto the scene in time to see his partner in the arms of a shadowy figure.

"Halt, FBI!" Simon slid to a stop, aiming his gun at the man. Scully gasped and stumbled to her knees as Mulder abruptly disappeared. Simon advanced cautiously, gun at the ready, a confused expression replacing the fierce protective glare of a moment ago.

"I’m fine, Simon. What happened to the man we were chasing?" Scully asked breathlessly. Mulder’s sudden appearance and equally sudden vanishing act had disoriented her.

"I think he went over the edge," Simon said as he gingerly approached the edge of the gorge, about five feet from where Scully was getting to her feet. It was a miracle she hadn’t run right off the side of the gorge.

"Better call Chief Talbert . . . and the medics," Scully said wearily. It was going to be a long night. So much for early to bed and a nice refreshing ten hours sleep, she sighed.

Mulder watched the pair of them begin to move in the old familiar rhythm of preserving a crime scene. The man at the bottom of the gorge was dead, very messily dead. As far as Mulder could determine, he had simply run in abject terror to his death from a shadow. Whatever had chased the man to his death was no ghost, but Mulder sensed it wasn’t alive either. This was going to be a bitch of a case, he complained to the heavens.

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Confident, that between them, Simon and Scully could wring the last piece of evidence from the crime scene without his help, Mulder began backtracking the path the victim had taken. He wanted to get as far away from the place of death as he could, for his own sanity. The man’s terror fouled the air with a stench that was nearly unbearable. Whatever horror the man had run from was beyond his comprehension or belief. The longer Mulder stayed near the place of death, the more he had to fight an urge to flee into the gray nothingness and hide. Not a very helpful course of action and one he was determined not to take.

The world Mulder now inhabited was disturbed by the violence of the man’s passage through it. Sudden death sent ripples across the gray land that spanned the gap between the lands of the living and the dead. Like a storm at sea, the man’s death churned the surface of the afterworld. Mulder sensed that farther down, where souls at rest dwelt, the storm raised nary a ripple, but up here, on the surface, the wind howled in a continuous soul-splitting banshee wail.

An extremely uncomfortable thought occurred to him. They had an eye-witness to the crime, if indeed this was a crime and not simply an unusual case of suicide. The problem was that no court in the land would accept his testimony even if Mulder was able to reach the man and get some sense out of him. Remembering his own disorientation after his abrupt departure from life, he wasn’t optimistic the most recent victim was going to be coherent enough to answer questions, but he had to try.

Bracing himself against the violent winds, Mulder pushed into the storm, forcing his way down to the bottom of the gorge where the body of the latest victim lay sprawled across a fallen tree. Mulder was rather glad he couldn’t see the man’s head, which seemed to have impacted against a rock. Memories of the thump of the ball against his head followed by the abrupt fall into the gray nothingness of the afterworld were still too fresh.

Mulder felt the man’s terror and the disorientation of his sudden death as he carefully looked around for any trace of the man’s spirit. The aura was too strong for him to have left the area; most likely he was hovering around his body frantically trying to slip back into the physical form. Mulder focused on remaining calm and aloof from the swirling emotions in the air. Finally the darkness lifted enough for him to see the ghostly form of a man in his late fifties, casually dressed in jogging shorts and T-shirt. Mulder admired the very expensive shoes the man wore, one hundred fifty dollars a pair, as he recalled. The spirit was frantically trying to jump back into his body with all the success of a man hurling himself against a brick wall. Mulder winced. He was glad now, in a way, that by the time he had gotten to see his body, he had begun to come to terms with the fact that he was dead.

"Hello," Mulder ventured carefully. Nothing in his psychology training had prepared him for this type of interrogation.

"Who ... who are you?" the spirit yelped in startled amazement.

"A friend. Well, at least someone who wants to help," Mulder corrected himself. At least the man hadn’t run away. Not that he would probably want to go very far from his body, but still...

"What happened? Why can I see myself lying here? Oh my God, what happened?" the new spirit wailed as he tried to ease himself back into the broken body with no success.

Mulder wished there was an easier way to do this, but he didn’t really think there was any easy way to tell someone that he was dead. Remembering Gordon’s blunt approach, Mulder decided to follow his example.

"You’re dead. You ran off the cliff and fell nearly a hundred feet." Mulder paused to see what effect this news had on the spirit.

"Who are you? Why are you telling me these lies? I can't be dead, I'm running for mayor," the man insisted with growing agitation.

Mulder raised his hands in a placating gesture and decided to drop the issue of death. This really wasn't his department. "Gordon, where in ... whatever, are you?" Mulder asked the empty ether.

"What were you running from?" Mulder asked in a deliberate change of topic as he carefully perched on a large boulder where he could watch the newborn spirit without getting too close to the body. From the sound of things up top, the medics had arrived. Pretty soon it was going to get very crowded down here and he was pretty sure the sight of his body being zipped up in a black plastic body bag was not going to go over well with this man.

The man looked suspicious at the change of topic, but shrugged and lay down atop his body trying to meld back into it. Almost as an after-thought he answered, "a large hideous dog. When I find out who let an animal like that run loose, I'm going to see to it that the animal is destroyed and then sue them for damages." The man almost gloated as he detailed the exact figures he expected to gouge out of the delinquent pet owners.

Mulder frowned. He hadn't seen any dog. Considering the reaction most dogs had to him, he doubted that even a dog in full chase would run past him without making some sort of protest. It certainly wasn't a ghost. Mulder wasn't sure if dogs could become ghosts, though he saw no immediate reason why they couldn't, but that would put the beast on his plane and, aside from himself and this irritating gentleman, there wasn't another ghost within five miles.

"Damn dog just appeared out of nowhere and charged. You would have thought someone would have heard it howling and come to help me. That's the problem with young people today, no sense of public duty. When I'm mayor, I'm going to make some changes in this town, you wait and see," the man ranted.

Mulder looked up involuntarily as a bright spotlight suddenly illuminated the area around the body. He flinched even though he knew he was invisible. Old habits die hard, he thought. The man's spirit however stood up and started waving frantically and shouting at the medics beginning their climb down the gorge. He was almost frothing at the mouth in fury at being ignored by the time the medics reached the bottom. He charged at them, yelling threats and promises of dire consequences.

It didn't take a genius to predict what was going to happen. Mulder almost felt sorry for the man. The medics walked right through him and knelt beside the broken body. Mulder watched as the man's expression went from fury to horror in a split second. A wail of despair, fear and loss filled the air. The spirit collapsed into a shuddering heap crying and wailing. Mulder envied the medics who couldn't hear a thing and proceeded, with calm detachment, to examine the body, being careful not to disturb anything.

Simon soon made his way down the gorge, followed by Talbert. Mulder backed away into the shadows. At least Scully remained up top. As Simon sketched the position of the body, Talbert made notes. Mulder wished he could walk over and take a peek at them, but didn't want to press his luck. The man's spirit was making enough noise to alarm any Sensitive within a mile radius. Mulder noticed that Simon kept looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. No use adding a cold chill to the repertoire.

A feeling of homely warmth, like a fire on a chilly fall afternoon, spread out from the shadows. Mulder lost all interest in Simon, Talbert and the body as he turned towards the source of that radiance. As he felt the heat spread out to envelop the area, he knew a desperate longing to walk into the radiance and rest, but he knew the welcoming fire was not for him, not yet.

"Hello, Gordon," Mulder greeted the incandescent shape that stood on the edge of the darkness. The radiance swallowed up the glare of the search light as if it were a candle set against the sun. Mulder felt a smile touch his mind. He tried to smile in return.

With an inestimable sadness, he watched Gordon go over to the man's spirit and embrace it. The wailing stopped as a look of wonder streaked with awe and fear swept over the spirit's face. Slowly, gently, Gordon enfolded the spirit and withdrew with it to the place it was meant to be.

Mulder half-raised a hand in farewell as he watched them go. The loneliness overwhelmed him and he threw back his head and let out a wail of grief. Dogs responded in a cacophony of hysterical echoes to his cry. Simon dropped his sketch pad and whirled in fright. Talbert went completely still and slowly turned around, trying to see into the shadows. From up top, Mulder saw Scully lean out over the edge of the gorge and reach out a hand to him.

"Mulder, it's alright. I'm here. You are not alone," she whispered to his ears alone. Pain and grief rang in her voice.

Mulder stretched out a hand to her, knowing the distance was too great, but needing to feel her touch as he had felt her words. As if she were a magnet, he felt himself drawn up to her until he knelt beside her.

"Mulder?" she whispered, careful not to be overheard by the deputies milling about.

"I'm here," he assured her, basking in the warmth of her presence. His trembling slowed and his grief faded as he remembered that no matter how serene and beautiful the place beyond the limits of his ghostly world appeared to be, it lacked the one essential ingredient to be heaven - it lacked Scully. Perhaps he was just not meant for harps and clouds and eternal peace if it all meant nothing to him without her.

"You're looking for a very large, very ferocious invisible, non-existent dog," he added with a spark of mischief, shaking himself out of his gloomy thoughts. Time enough for dour philosophical musings when this case was solved. Right now, he had to prove that he could be useful.

Scully glared at him, or at least in the general direction of the ice cube she felt appear at her side. Mulder briefly considered just letting his smile go visible, but decided prudence was still the better part of valor where Scully was concerned.

"Well, I didn't see a dog, but the man claimed he was being chased by a large vicious dog," Mulder admitted wishing he could go visible enough for her to see his perplexed expression. Trying to pour his quicksilver emotions into his voice was a lot trickier than it first appeared. He was so dependent on her catching the underlying meanings behind his words in a glance, a twitch of his shoulders or a smile that having to depend solely on words and the expressiveness of his voice was frustrating.

"I didn't see one either, Mulder, but I'll have Chief Talbert check for tracks just to be on the...." Scully's eyes suddenly went wide.

"How did you...?"

"Ever hear of ghosts, Scully?" Mulder asked with a very definite chuckle. "He didn't stick around for very long; he got the fast track to the afterlife, but he was very emphatic that he was attacked by a large vicious dog."

"Right. And I'm supposed to tell Chief Talbert that my partner, who is now a ghost, got this information from the dead man, who was briefly a ghost, but isn't around any longer?" Scully shook her head. "Mulder...."

"Sorry, Scully. I know it's not admissible evidence, but it's a start. I never said this arrangement was going to be easy." Mulder thought for a moment. "Why don't you tell Talbert you thought you heard the man scream something about a dog just before he ran off the cliff?"

"You want me to lie."

"Do you really want to tell him the truth?" Mulder asked. Scully shook her head. "Didn't think so. Don't think of it as a lie; think of it as a slight detour."

"Now I'm taking directions from a man with an absolute genius for getting lost." Scully chuckled and gave a reluctant nod of her head. "I'll do my best, Mulder. We'll talk later. Now disappear before someone overhears me talking to myself."

"Your wish is my command, Scully. Later it is. I'm going to scout around the dog population so it's going to get a bit noisy around here for awhile," Mulder warned with a laugh. He let his hand linger on Scully's for a moment longer then faded away into the ether and disappeared.

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Scully stood up and brushed the leaves and dirt from her jeans. Trust Mulder to come up with an off-the-wall theory that was just weird enough to be true. It was a starting point, but how, or even if, this death was tied into the others was still a mystery. On the surface, the death did not appear to be murder, but Scully trusted Mulder's instincts. Still, she planned to conduct a very thorough autopsy. A hallucinogen could be the culprit in this case, otherwise she was at a loss to explain the victim's headlong rush off the side of the gorge.

"Deputy Ross?" Scully looked around for Talbert's senior deputy. A medium-built older man with a weathered, outdoor appearance stepped away from the gathering crowd of curious townsfolk.

"Yes ma'am?" Ross replied in a soft bass that threatened to subside into a whispering rumble.

"Have you taped off the path the victim followed? I'd like to check for tracks," Scully suggested. Despite Talbert's clear directive to make every use of his deputies, Scully felt a little hesitant about assuming complete command. From what she had seen so far tonight, Talbert's deputies were professional and highly competent. No doubt Ross had already seen to the establishment of the crime scene boundaries, but she needed something to do. The memory of Mulder's soul-gutting wail still had her heart shuddering. What had he seen that prompted such grief? He sounded so alone, so lost.

"The ground's a mite dry for tracks, but I'll check out the area at sun-up, might catch tracks when the light is slanting just right. I'm going to leave Halsom here overnight to keep the terminally curious out of trouble." Ross flashed her a rueful smile. "Seems there's always some who find a 'do not cross' sign to be an irresistible temptation."

Scully nodded in agreement. She wasn't optimistic that there would be tracks. If Mulder was correct, then whatever was chasing the man didn't leave any tracks.

"Mind telling me what you're looking to find? From what I've been able to gather from the garbled reports of several witnesses, Amos Peters was out for his evening jog when he suddenly gave an unholy shriek and bolted for the gorge. No one saw anything chasing him, but they all agree that he was running flat out when he disappeared into the woods here."

"I'm not sure." Scully hesitated then mentally squared her shoulders and forged into the uncertain territory of prevarication. "I thought I heard him yell something about a ... dog," she ended with only a slight rush. Mulder would have given her one of his looks that told her he wasn't fooled in the least. Deputy Ross merely nodded and looked back along the path, now lit by search lights with a contemplative hum.

"Well, we certainly have enough of them around here, but Peters had dogs of his own and never seemed much impressed by anything smaller than his own Rottweillers. Still, there are some farmers hereabouts that operate on the philosophy that bigger is better. If there was a dog running out here, I should be able to tell from the tracks, providing of course I find the tracks," Ross chuckled. "I'll have Sullivant check around and see if any of our canine delinquents were running loose tonight." Ross sighed. "I'd be real happy to put this death down to misadventure. It'd make a nice change from murder. Folks are beginning to get spooked."

"So far, I think we can class this as unexplained, unless we turn up some tracks or I find drugs in the autopsy," Scully reassured Ross.

"Personally, I'm not sure 'unexplained' is anything to be relieved about, but the public seems to cope with unexplained phenomena better than they do with the idea that we have a killer rampaging among us," Ross commented dryly. He nodded at Scully and trekked back to the job of keeping the curious from obliterating what little evidence there might be in this narrow strip of woods.

Scully watched him leave and gave her original estimate of Talbert as a good solid policeman another notch upwards. His deputies were some of the best she had ever encountered. Those kind of deputies usually meant that the top man was very, very good.

From the scrabbling and scraping noises behind her, she guessed that Simon and Talbert were on their way back up out of the gorge. Simon had given her a resigned look when he realized that the only way down to the body was by rappelling down the side of a gorge by the light of a pair of search lamps. Scully wondered how Mulder would have reacted if faced with a similar challenge. She couldn't quite repress the smile at the thought of her very dapper partner donning a workman's jumpsuit and rappelling down the side of a steep cliff.

"I didn't think I looked that funny, Scully," Simon said with a bemused glance down at his dirt-streaked jumpsuit.

Scully started and came back to the present with a thump. Simon began stripping off the jumpsuit as Talbert climbed out of the gorge behind him.

"Find anything?" Scully asked to cover her brief lapse into daydreams.

"Hrmphfu" Simon replied as he struggled with the suit's zipper.

Chief Talbert refrained from laughing, but his eyes were definitely twinkling. "Nothing much. Amos Peters landed face down across an old hickory tree that used to stand right about there," Talbert pointed to a spot about five feet away. A jagged four-foot tall stump, almost buried under ivy, still maintained a tenuous grasp on life. "Lightning struck it about three years ago and sent most of it crashing into the gorge. I expect Peters was dead the moment he hit the tree. I doubt if he knew what happened. My question is - why would a normally sane, fitness-addict like Amos Peters suddenly take it into his head to run off the gorge? Silas Viderson might have pulled off that leap two hundred years ago, but Amos was no Silas." Talbert shook his head and went over to help the firefighters guide the raising of the body bag.

"Sorry, Scully. I hope you have a strong stomach. Chief Talbert made a preliminary ID of the body based on clothing and shoes and a class ring. The face is a bit of a mess." Simon looked a little green.

"I've seen worse, Simon. It's part of the job." Scully hesitated. Simon had been a little ways behind her during their run after Peters. If she could just convince him that she had been close enough to hear Peters shout something that didn't reach his ears.

"Deputy Ross is going to check for tracks tomorrow, so stay well clear of the path," Scully said with off-handed confidence.

Simon looked up at her, pausing in his effort to pull the jumpsuit off over his shoes. His expression went from open puzzlement bordering on a question to sudden stillness. He seemed to be debating something with himself and Scully braced herself to answer questions with as much honesty as she could to coat the essential lie.

"Who was that man that stopped you from running off the cliff?"

When the question came, it came from a direction she hadn't been expecting and hadn't even considered preparing for. She hesitated, trying desperately to come up with a passable lie, anything to get Simon off the track.

"It's not an unreasonable question. A man runs off a cliff and a mysterious someone steps out of the shadows to prevent my partner from following him, then disappears. Seems to me that the gentleman has some questions to answer." Simon kept his voice very level and calm, but he was watching Scully like a cat watched an indecisive mouse. Scully would not have been surprised to see him lick his lips.

"Simon ... I ..." Scully began then stopped, drawing a complete blank. Simon's question was reasonable. He had every right to believe that the man in question might have knowledge about the crime. Scully felt the jaws of the trap closing in on her. No matter how she explained the man's presence, anything short of the absolute truth would seem to be an obvious evasion.

"Scully, I'm not trying to pry into your private affairs, but we have two, maybe three murders on our hands. If this man knows anything, saw anything, we need to question him. I'm not saying he is involved, but we have to be sure." Simon shucked off the jumpsuit and threw it aside. His voice betrayed his concern as well as his growing frustration with a situation he did not understand.

Scully took a deep breath and wished she was into praying to the saints. St. Jude came to mind immediately, but what she really needed was a patron saint of liars.

"Simon, I can't explain, not now. The man has absolutely nothing to do with this case." Except of course that he's my invisible partner who is trying to help us, she added silently to whatever amused saint happened to be listening. She looked up at Simon with a calm, straight face. "Just trust me for a little while on this."

Simon looked at her as if weighing the options open to him. Finally he nodded. Scully let out the breath she hadn't known she had been holding in a loud relieved sigh.

"There is something very strange going on here, Scully. I can't operate in the dark. If you can't trust me with this, then maybe ... maybe ..." Simon stopped unable to continue.

Scully looked into his eyes, brimming with hurt and confusion and silently damned the errant ball that landed them all in this mess.

"Simon, it's not entirely my secret to tell, but I give you my word that it has nothing to do with any lack of trust I have in you. Just give me some time to work this out, OK?" Scully paused and hastily blurted out the rest before her better judgment interfered. "I promise, if it begins to affect our ... my handling of the case, I will tell you."

Simon nodded again, this time trying to give her a smile. On impulse Scully reached out and grasped his arm, wanting the contact to reassure him of her trust, despite her keeping Mulder's existence a secret.

"You're my partner, Simon. I won't do anything to place you at risk. Now, I have to set up a toxicology screen for Peters and the sooner I get to it, the sooner I can get some sleep. Deputy Ross is going to be out here going over the scene at sun-up, maybe he can use your expertise," Scully suggested. "You are supposed to be one of the best crime scene analysts the VC ever had, aren't you?" she added with a smile.

"That's what they kept telling me every time they got me up before dawn to look at a crime scene," Simon replied with a self-mocking smile. "Guess this means an early breakfast," he sighed. "I hate mornings," he muttered as he followed Scully out of the woods.

Scully knew he realized she was diverting his attention and was grateful he accepted the diversion. It was a temporary reprieve. She and Mulder had to talk, and soon, before the situation got completely out of hand.

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It was after midnight by the time Scully wearily opened the door to her room and sank down the chair she had abandoned nearly three hours before. Instead of the quiet relaxing evening she had anticipated, she had spent the evening investigating yet another murder. A more complete autopsy would have to wait until morning, but her preliminary examination confirmed that the cause of death was massive trauma resulting from a fall. The blood-work for the toxicology screen was prepped and ready for shipment to the state crime lab first thing in the morning. Chief Talbert had promised her that one of his deputies would personally transport the samples to the lab in Columbus.

This case was not making any sense. Three men dead, by different methods, with no other connection than their local prominence. At least with Amos Peters' death, she could hope that the toxicology report would turn up traces of a hallucinogen. That was certainly better than trying to justify Mulder's contention that the dead man had been fleeing from a large glowing dog.

Speaking of Mulder, Scully wondered where he was. The sound of howling dogs for an hour after the body of Amos Peters had been pulled out of the gorge had given her a good idea of where Mulder was and what he was up to. The town was silent when she finally left the impromptu morgue in the basement of the town's funeral home. Apparently whatever idea Mulder was pursuing had lead him away from the canine population, no doubt to the relief of every dog owner in town.

"Mulder?" she whispered, wondering how he could hear her if he was across town. Still, he had assured her that he would know if she called him, no matter how far away he was.

Long minutes passed with no response. Scully began to nod as she sat in the chair. It was so comfortable and she was so tired, it would be easy to fall asleep. So much for his ability to hear me, she thought with only a trace of irritation. As much as she knew she and Mulder needed to talk, she needed sleep more. Only half-awake, she went through her pre-bedtime routine, occasionally calling to Mulder until she gave it up as an exercise in futility. He was probably off chasing some elusive lead, oblivious to everything else. In a way, the old familiar feeling of exasperation with her wayward partner comforted her and she fell asleep wondering what on earth he was finding so engrossing.

Hearing her breathing slip into the soft regular rhythm of sleep, Mulder detached himself from the shadows in the corner of the room. Leaning over her, he adjusted the sheet around her and then went over to the chair and sat down where he could watch her. Ignoring her repeated calls had been hard, but he had seen that she needed rest and he was not ready for that conversation she kept insisting they needed to have. He hadn't completely recovered from the last 'conversation' they had in this very room. Somehow he was going to have to find the words to tell Scully that while he might be a ghost, he retained all the emotions and, to a certain extent, the abilities of Mulder the man.

As far as his investigation of the area dogs went -- well, other than sending every dog within the town limits into hysteria, he turned up nothing. Whatever chased Amos Peters off the cliff, it wasn't one of the town dogs. Every one of them large enough to intimidate a man was either chained up or locked behind fences. The strange half-shadow shape he had glimpsed just before Peters ran over the edge of the gorge bothered him. It wasn't a ghost. It certainly wasn't real, yet there was something about it that radiated horror that even he could feel. There wasn't much that scared him, but he really didn't want to meet up with whatever that thing was.

After drifting around town scaring dogs, Mulder had gone back to the crime scene and perched on the edge of the gorge and tried to put himself into profiler mode. Between Tonto and Simon, he suspected there wasn't much physical evidence that would escape notice. Scully would have the corpses telling her their life stories. Unfortunately, Mulder had this sinking feeling that all the physical evidence was simply going to confuse the case.

He was deep in thought when he felt Scully call him. He felt her exhaustion through their link. She would be determined to talk to him, but he wasn't sure he was ready to talk to her. When they finally *talked* he didn't want any distractions.

By the time he reached her room, Scully was already half-asleep in the chair, her weariness coming off of her in waves. Knowing he was acting as much from selfishness as from a concern for her, Mulder did not announce his presence, letting her believe him too preoccupied to respond to her. That, in itself, might have ramifications that could complicate their relationship, but he would worry about those when, or if, they arose. Now, Scully needed an uninterrupted night's sleep. Watching over her from the chair, Mulder let his mind rove over the reports he had seen earlier that morning and tried to put the pieces together.

The night passed quickly for Mulder. Shortly before dawn he heard Simon leave his room across the hall to join the crime scene team. Scully's breathing indicated she was still in deep sleep. She looked so young; sleep wiped away the stress that were turning her eyes old before their time. Even the grief which had weighed her down recently was fading. Of course as the grief faded, she was acquiring a whole new level of stress, Mulder noticed with a resigned acknowledgement of his own persistent contribution to her stress levels.

At least the night had proved useful for something other than watching Scully sleep or scaring dogs. Mulder could recite the various crime scene and background reports by heart. Two links between the first two victims had finally slipped into place. One of the links also applied to the third victim and possibly the second did as well. He wasn't sure the links would prove to be very useful. He suspected Tonto might already have noticed them, but Tonto was looking for a motive as a base and so far Mulder could not discern a motive buried in all the reports.

The sun was full up and shinning as brightly as only a late July sun could shine by the time Scully opened her eyes. Mulder stifled a laugh as her bleary eyes registered the fact that she was not in her own bedroom -- OK, her mind was beginning to function, she had remembered she was on a case. Mulder could almost see the wheels begin to turn as Scully stretched and glanced over at the travel alarm clock by the bed. A look of shock was quickly followed by a breathtaking vision of a t-shirt clad Scully hurtling out of bed and into the bathroom. God, he loved mornings.

Fifteen minutes later, Scully emerged from the bathroom, her hair still slightly damp, and grabbed her cell-phone.

"Chief Talbert? I'm sorry, I must have overslept...." she began.

Mulder couldn't hear Talbert's response but from the look on Scully's face, it must have been reassuring.

"Thank you. I did tag the samples "rush" so, with luck we'll get a preliminary report back in a couple of days." Scully listened for a moment, her face registering chagrin, relief and then a touch of impatience.

"I understand, but I would like to get to the autopsies just as soon as possible. Just tell the funeral director I will be there in ..." Scully glanced at her watch and frowned. "... twenty minutes." She listened for a moment or two longer then nodded. "Yes, twenty minutes. Tell Agent Ambercrombie I will meet him at your office around noon. Thank you again, Chief Talbert."

"Damn alarm clock," Scully muttered as she glared at the offending object.

"Good morning to you too, Scully," Mulder said as he materialized in the chair.

Scully started then closed her eyes for a moment before giving him a smile.

"Morning, Mulder. Did you have fun last night?" she asked as she dried her hair and pulled it back out of her face. Her eyes twinkled as she teased him.

Mulder basked in her refreshed energy. Whatever the consequences eventually, the short-term benefits of his decision not to acknowledge her call were obvious.

"Yes, I did," he replied with a warm smile. No need for her to realize the double significance of his answer.

"We have to talk and soon, Mulder," Scully switched out of teasing mode and became serious. The memory of her last conversation with Simon came back crystal clear.

"Scully..." Mulder began, trying to deflect her.

"Simon suspects," she added brusquely.

Mulder's eyes went wide then dark with concern. This was not a complication they needed right now.

"He saw you last night or, at least, he saw a man step out of the darkness and stop me from running off the edge of the cliff. Naturally he wants to know who you are and if you know anything about the case."

"Well, I refuse to apologize for saving your life, but I'll admit this complicates matters. Is he going to be a problem?" Mulder asked with a trace of concern.

"Not immediately. He has agreed to trust me that the mysterious stranger is not involved in the case, but I won't be able to stall him forever." Scully sighed and wondered why her life only seemed to grow more complicated.

"We'll just have to keep him too busy with the case to worry about stray mysteries," Mulder said with more hope than he felt. "Oh, I did come up with a couple of common factors between all three victims."

Scully turned to look at him, a mixture of hope, anticipation and, perhaps, a trace of uneasiness.

Mulder repressed a chuckle. She seemed so convinced he was going to bounce some off-the-wall theory off of her that it seemed almost a shame to disappoint her.

"Sorry, Scully, no ghosts that I can find. I'm not saying we're stuck with a plain ordinary serial killer. Something very odd is going on, I'm just not sure what," Mulder added with a shrug of his shoulders.

Scully gave him a stern look as she shrugged on her jacket. Mulder never did like to come straight to the point.

"First off -- all three victims were killed between eight and nine o'clock on a week night. Perhaps not very significant, but doesn't it seem strange that a killer should target his victims during a time when so many people would be out and about. Thomas Jackson was murdered just after nine p.m. on a Thursday. Toby Culver was murdered at eight p.m. on a Tuesday. Amos Peters ran off the side of the gorge at approximately eight-thirty last night, which was a Thursday." Mulder paused for a minute and pondered a spot on the wall behind Scully's left ear.

"OK, we have a killer who likes to kill before it gets dark. Are you trying to tell me we have a killer who isn't allowed out after dark?" Scully asked incredulously.

"Interesting theory, Scully. Been saving that one up for me?" Mulder asked with a grin.

"No, I really doubt we're dealing with a child ... " Mulder fell silent as he tried to snag a passing thought and failed. Something important had just flitted through his mind and he had been too busy teasing Scully to grab it. "Damn, I hate when that happens," Mulder swore irritably.

Scully raised an eyebrow in a silent question and paused, one hand on the door knob, obviously listening, but also obviously impatient to get started with the autopsies.

"Nothing, just my mind playing tricks on me again. Anyway, the second common factor is that all three of the victims seem to have played a significant role in town politics. Jackson was on the city council, Culver was on the local library board and Peters was running for mayor. You might ask Talbert for a more complete rundown on their political lives."

"OK, we have a narrow window of opportunity used by the killer and a predilection for politicians," Scully nodded thoughtfully. "It's not much, but it is a start. I'll pass the information on to Chief Talbert and to Simon and we'll see if anything shakes loose. Thanks, Mulder," she added with one of her dazzling full smiles that reduced Mulder to a smoky haze barely remembering to wave goodbye as she hurried out of the room.

"Damn, if she only knew what those smiles of hers do to me. I must have been the densest idiot alive not to have told her once how much I cared for her," Mulder muttered softly to the empty room before he faded into the ether.

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Simon stretched. His back muscles pulled uncomfortably as he stood up from the awkward squatting position he'd been in for the last hour. Deputy Ross and his team had finished scouring the area around the crime scene for tracks, any tracks and come up with nothing. Ross had been at a loss to explain why they couldn't find any evidence of the dog Amos Peters had screamed about. The ground was dry, but even Simon could pick out an occasional footprint left from the EMTs last night.

For the past two hours, Simon had gone over the approximate area where Amos Peters bolted out of his routine evening jog to run terror-stricken to his death. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to explain why a perfectly health middle-aged man should suddenly take it into his head to run into the woods and off the side of a cliff to his death.

"Damn. There has to be something. Peters was running for his life," Simon muttered as he surveyed the area.

"Nothing, eh?" Deputy Ross walked carefully to his side on the narrow boards Simon had erected over the area he was searching.

"As far as I can tell, Peters just decided to bolt for the cliff. There is no evidence he was attacked," Simon responded with a sigh.

"Well, whatever your partner heard Peters scream was chasing him, it wasn't a dog. I found a set of Peters' prints on the other side of a fallen tree limb; the ground is still soggy from the rains last week. Peters was running at full speed. His prints were clear and deep. If anything was chasing him, its prints should have shown up in that same area. There wasn't room to jump over the limb and avoid the soggy area."

Simon shrugged, at a loss to explain the lack of physical evidence. Whoever the killer was, was damn good, too good. Even the best of killers left something behind. Simon felt lost. He was missing something. The complete absence of physical evidence was, in itself, a clue. Unfortunately, he didn't have the least idea what that meant. Damn it, I'm missing something here, he swore to himself.

"Did you hear anything?" Ross asked hopefully.

"I was too far back. Scully is a lot faster than she looks. By the time I caught up with her she was standing on the edge of the cliff and Peters was dead at the bottom of the gorge," Simon replied, being careful not to mention the mysterious gentlemen who appeared out of nowhere to prevent his partner from following Peters. Another mystery on top of a mystery.

"Well, maybe the toxicology screen will come up with something. Peters was an irascible old Puritan, but some of those can really put away the alcohol. If you don't mind, I'm going to pray that we find evidence that Peters was suffering from alcohol-induced dementia." Ross walked off towards his car. Simon felt sorry for him, but was helpless to offer him any hope that the killings would stop or that they were making progress in finding the killer.

Slowly, trying to cudgel an idea out of the murders that left no clues behind, only dead bodies, Simon packed up the planks and cleared out the bright yellow crime-scene tape that had blocked off the area. The methods of death were a clue. Simon felt that fact screaming at him, but he couldn't pin down what the clue pointed to.

"Why? Why does my first case with the X-Files have to be such damn labyrinth? I'd have liked to given Scully some reason to believe she was not getting a VC reject as a partner," Simon muttered as he waved off the offer of a ride back to the police station. Walking might help clear his head. Besides, there was a coffee shop on the way. Coffee and a danish, caffeine and sugar -- two of the basic food groups for thinking, in his opinion.

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Mulder watched Simon as he cleared up the debris of tape and planks. The man was good. He doubted if there was an inch of ground Simon hadn't examined or a tree Simon hadn't checked for trace evidence. Mulder never had the patience for this kind of detective work. Give him piles of reports from the people who gleaned the last bit of information from crime scenes and bodies and he could create a profile of the killer and then crawl inside his head. For the first time, Mulder began considering the unique advantages the X-Files had with this new partnership. All jealousy aside, Simon and Scully were two of the best crime scene detectives he ever met. Scully could also make leaps of deductive reasoning that he envied. Simon had the makings, but needed time, experience and a few cases like this one where he had to put his brain into overdrive. Still, they lacked the one thing he could give them -- his unique genius at profiling.

A raffish grin spread across Mulder's face and lit up his eyes. The boys in VC were going to be eating the dust of the X-Files division in a few years. Of course, they did have this rather impossible case to solve first. It was driving him crazy and, from all the signs, was galling Simon as well. The answer was staring him in the face, laughing at his blindness.

Taking care to stay a good ten feet behind Simon, Mulder followed him down the street, watching Simon stare at the small town that hid a killer who was baffling the finest minds in the FBI. Everything looked so ordinary, a typical small Midwestern small town right down to the frame houses and the neat rail fences. Mulder tried to imagine what forces were driving someone to kill the men who wielded power in this community. He brushed against the elusive idea that had been dodging his best efforts to pin down into a concrete thought. OK, if motive was eluding him, he'd concentrate on the method. In his experience, the method provided a better insight into a killer's mind than the motive.

Mulder was so preoccupied by his own thoughts that he didn't see Simon suddenly stop until the last minute. "Shit!" Mulder gasped as he stopped so abruptly that he actually felt like a plucked bowstring. Simon gave a convulsive shiver and turned around. Mulder retreated immediately . The last thing he needed was to create a public scene. Two feet was definitely too close. Simon was still shivering and his breathing was ragged, but it was beginning to steady as the shock wore off. From what Scully had told him, suddenly encountering his cold aura was a bit like taking an unexpected bath in ice water. Mulder could hear Simon's heart beating fast, but strong.

Simon was looking suspiciously around, almost as if he expected to be able to see what caused the sudden temperature drop. Mulder faded out until he was a shadow of a shadow. Simon had a very odd look on his face, one that suggested he recognized the effect he just experienced. If he'd had breath to hold, Mulder would have been holding it. This was not good. This was very definitely not good. Simon was not stupid. Give him enough clues and he might come to a very awkward conclusion. Mulder tried to imagine how Simon would react to the presence of the man he accidentally killed and found his imagination fell woefully short.

Careful to stay away from Simon, but curious about what had caused him to stop so suddenly, Mulder looked around the area. A large lot containing the rubble of a demolished building boasted a sign: Future Home of the Viderson's Gorge Public Library and Information Center. The names of several prominent citizens were listed underneath the larger letters announcing the construction company and architect of the proposed project.

Mulder gave a contented smile as he began to put the pieces together. They had found the common link. Now to figure out who had the motive and the means to systematically kill the men who controlled this project. The placard proudly listed the names of Samuel Culver, chairman of the town library board, Thomas Jackson, chairman of the town council and Amos Peters, president of the Gorge Land and Construction Company. Mulder noted two names that, so far, had not shown up in the killer's repertoire: James Rowston, architect, and Larry Alverson, information specialist/cyberian.

Mulder watched Simon make a note then make a beeline for the police station. As much as he wanted to rush to Scully's side and break the news, Mulder wasn't about to interrupt her in the middle of an autopsy. He had not been kidding about his extreme distaste for autopsies now. She didn't want to know about the eerie aura that seeped out of the incisions until the body was surrounded by a swirling fog that gradually dissipated into the ether. If he had seen the fog when he was still alive, he might have been deluded into believing he was watching the soul leave a body. Now, knowing better, he was baffled and frightened. He had seen the remnants of that fog clinging to his own body and had fled in horror as it oozed in his direction.

Despite that memory, he had deliberately visited an autopsy while waiting for Scully to acknowledge his reappearance in her life. The results would have given Stephen King nightmares. There was probably some very sound scientific principle involved, but he neither cared nor wanted to know. It was enough that the fog existed. By now, Scully was probably hip deep in that fog and, short of a catastrophic emergency, he had no intention of barging in on her.

As a salve to his pride, Mulder decided he should allow Simon the honor of giving Scully the news that they now had a solid connection between the victims as well as a pretty good idea who the next victims might be. It certainly couldn't hurt for Scully to believe he was deliberately giving Simon a chance to prove himself, he thought as he followed him at a discrete distance. Besides, he was really interested to see how good Simon really was. Hopefully he wasn't going to turn out to be a crack profiler. That would be just a bit too much to swallow, but he didn't mind if Simon drew up a really good evidence report that would give him a springboard into the mind of the killer.

Chief Talbert was not in his office, but a deputy ushered Simon in with a promise to page the chief and to order Simon two of the local bakery's famous cherry danish. Mulder found a convenient corner stool to perch on while he watched Simon scribble notes to himself and pour through crime scene reports trying to make sense out of a jigsaw puzzle with too few pieces and no picture to guide them.

Mulder felt the warm tingle of Scully's approach about the same time he heard Talbert come in a back door. If his Scully-radar was accurate, she would be joining this little party in about five minutes, he estimated. Time to start pooling information and ideas, even though most of his would have to be filtered through Scully. Mulder smiled. Scully was going to find herself with a reputation for sharp intuitive reasoning. There really wasn't much she could do about it short of telling him to disappear and she was too much of a professional to do that. Hopefully Simon's curiosity and suspicions could be laid to rest before things became uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was place Scully in the awkward position of having to choose between partners.

Scully's entrance cut off Simon's attempt to pump Talbert for information about the library construction project. Both Simon and Talbert pulled up chairs around a makeshift work station and barely gave Scully time to get settled before drawing her into the discussion. Mulder drifted over to Scully.

"Hey, partner. Missed you. We're making progress. Simon isn't doing badly, for a novice," Mulder quipped lightly. He laid a cold hand briefly on the back of her shoulder before returning to his corner. Scully raised a hand to rub her neck and caressed his fingers along the way with a strange sad smile in her eyes. Simon had that baffled, intent look in his eyes Mulder had seen earlier when they nearly collided. Talbert was very still, almost sniffing at the air. Mulder retreated silently, content that Scully knew he was there. Time to flush a killer out of the random clues they had assembled.

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Talbert's Office

"OK, let's get started," Talbert said as he passed out coffee and put a plate of sandwiches on the table. "Now that you have had a chance to look over the evidence, why don't we pool our information and see what we can come up with?" He was obviously passing the buck to his experts and was prepared to listen to whatever they had to offer.

Scully caught the repressed excitement in Simon's eyes and barely kept from smiling. Obviously he had had a more productive morning than she had. Nodding at Simon to go ahead, she snagged a sandwich and leaned back to listen. If, in the back of her mind, she was hoping to feel the feather-light touch of Mulder's fingers again, she was disappointed. He just had to choose this time to be circumspect, she sighed. Still, considering her earlier warning about Simon growing suspicious, she should be grateful that he was exercising caution.

"Your deputies are very good, Chief Talbert," Simon began warmly. "Unfortunately, there was nothing to find - just like all the other crime scenes. I'm at a loss to explain how our perp is carrying out the murders without leaving a trace, but that's just what he is doing." Simon actually looked irritated, as if the killer was taunting him by leaving no physical evidence behind.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Talbert responded. "You have no idea how hard I was praying that my men had somehow gotten sloppy. That I could deal with. Catching, much less convicting, a killer who doesn't leave any trace behind is not going to be easy. It's beginning to look like we'll have to catch him in the act."

"Chief, I did stumble across one common factor that links all of the dead men."

Talbert looked up from his intense scrutiny of his coffee to stare at Simon.

"You said each of the victims was prominent in local politics, one way or another, yet none of them served on the same local boards?" Simon asked.

Talbert nodded slowly, uncertain where Simon was heading but willing to follow.

"Well, I just saw a sign announcing the construction of a new library building and guess what? All the victims are involved with the project." Simon looked half triumphant half worried. He was suddenly afraid that his leap of assumption was going to land him face first in the mud.

Scully gave him an approving nod as she stared into space trying to see where this train of thought could carry her.

"Scully, Simon may just have stumbled on the key to this whole mess. I don't know why, but I'm sure this whole case hinges on that library project. I'm still missing something, but this feels right," Mulder said softly from his perch across the room.

Scully caught herself before she nodded a reply. Instead she turned to Talbert.

"Was there anything about this project to cause anyone to kill?" she asked.

"The new library was Toby Culver's grand vision for bringing Viderson's Gorge into the Twenty-first Century. He kept harping on it, kept plugging away at the notion that our town was going to be the center of a whole new electronic wave until finally the city council gave in. Yes, there were some hard feelings. Toby didn't take well to opposition and there were plenty of folks who grew up with our old library and didn't take kindly to the notion of having to battle a computer to find out where a book is kept," Talbert said with a smile.

"Enough hard feelings to kill?" Simon asked.

"Not that I was aware of. Miss Ellie was probably the person most affected, but she was more sad than mad."

"Miss Ellie?" Simon pressed for details.

"Ellie Tannerson. She's been the town librarian since Hector was a pup, as they like to say around here. Must be nearly 90, if she's a day, but as spry and as sharp as someone half her age. From what I understand, she had an instinct about books and people that was almost spooky. She must have known the reading habits of everyone who ever borrowed a book. She was an institution around here." Talbert paused for a moment, then sighed.

"Being old nowadays is hard. Used to be, elders were respected for their wisdom. Now, they're shunted aside as relics and forgotten."

"You sound almost bitter, Chief," Scully remarked candidly. She heard Mulder cut off a retort and hoped he would control his urge to leap to a friend's defense until this was over.

"No, just sorry to see a woman who's given her entire life to this town, shunted off into retirement with only an official thank you and a pension," Talbert replied. He looked at Scully and grinned.

"Sorry, I'm not in the habit of running around at night killing off our local politicians. If I were, I'd sooner go after the chairman of the committee that sets our budget," Talbert chuckled. "Now that's a scalp I'd like to collect." Talbert almost appeared to consider the prospect with a wistful sigh.

"But others could feel as you do. Maybe someone who already had a grudge?" Scully asked.

"Possible. Can't say that I can imagine any of them waving a cutlass around or hauling out an antique musket, but it beats the alternative," Talbert conceded. At Scully's puzzled expression he smiled. "Began to think I had a ghost on my hands. Now that would be a report to have to write up." Talbert laughed as he grabbed a sandwich.

Scully smiled and prayed that he would never learn how close to the truth he had just come. Simon's expression grew distant as he stared at the opposite wall in deep concentration. Scully started to say something, then stopped. Simon's intelligence and openness to extreme possibilities was beginning to get very uncomfortable.

In an effort to distract Simon, Scully threw in her morning's effort.

"Well, I can confirm that the cause of death listed for each of the previous victims was exactly what was stated. Culver died from a musket ball that shattered his heart. Jackson died from massive trauma to his neck and chest from a heavy sharp-bladed weapon. It would have taken a powerful man to have wielded that sword with such effect. Peters died from severe head injuries consistent with the fall. Unfortunately, no one sent in samples of Jackson's or Culver's blood for a tox screen." Scully tried not to sound critical.

Talbert shrugged his shoulders and looked apologetic as he tried to swallow the bite of sandwich he'd just taken.

"Sorry. No one thought about it until too late. We were dealing with an obvious cause of death in both cases. I admit I fell down on the job, but it didn't occur to me a tox screen was needed," Talbert replied without attempting to sidestep his mistake.

"They might not have been of much help, but it's always nice to have them and not need them, than need them too late," Scully advised. She gave Talbert a quick smile to let him know she was giving advice, not criticizing his lapse.

A sudden chill warned her that Mulder was up and probably pacing. She hoped that he would remember where he was. Talbert gave a brief shudder and Simon had that look in his eyes again. Please, Mulder, go pace somewhere else, she prayed silently as she tried to think of ways to end this session and retreat somewhere alone with Mulder to talk. The cold feeling receded and she thanked God or whatever that Mulder had heard her prayer. She didn't believe in telepathy, but she was beginning to believe Mulder could pick up on her thoughts. Better watch some of them, she reminded herself with a hint of a blush.

"Well, we now have a possible motive, vague as it might be. I'll get my deputies to checking out any problems with the land deal or if there were problems with the contract." Talbert thought for a moment.

"One of you might talk with Miss Ellie, see if anyone has come to her breathing fire. She lives alone, except for a nephew who comes around to keep her yard trimmed and take care of any repairs. Her home is always open to visitors. Of course, you might have to take a book home with you.," Talbert gave a rueful chuckle.

"The library board voted to get rid of most of the older books and Miss Ellie had Robbie truck them all over to her house. That was as close to mad as I've ever seen Miss Ellie. Said that was no way to treat old friends and if no one else appreciated them, she'd take them home with her," Talbert said with an openly approving smile.

"If Miss Ellie were thirty years younger, I wouldn't put it past her to horsewhip Culver and the others. Come to think of it, I might even have helped," Talbert said.

Simon raised an eyebrow and glanced at Scully. She acknowledged his question with a slight nod, giving him full permission to go off in search of Miss Ellie. Simon had just the right amount of boyish charm to appeal to a ninety-year-old lady, Scully thought. Simon excused himself and, after grabbing another sandwich, hurried out the door. Scully could hear him talking with one of the deputies about getting a ride out to Miss Ellie's place.

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"So, other than our obvious motive, Agent Scully, what do you think of this case?" Talbert asked with an intent look in his eyes. He took a long slow drink of coffee, watching her reaction over the cup. His smile relaxed his face, but never his eyes which remained fixed on Scully's face.

Suddenly wary, Mulder tried to sense any landmines in Talbert's question and found none. Guilty conscience, he admonished himself. Talbert was simply respecting Scully's expertise and reputation. Then why did he suddenly feel so vulnerable. Talbert was entirely too poised, too controlled. Talbert was after something, but Mulder was at a loss to know what. He had been very careful through the entire meeting to stay well away from both men. Except for that brief moment when he absently started pacing, but as soon as he noticed Scully's slight shiver, he had retreated immediately and stayed put in his corner.

"It is one of the more curious cases I've come across. I'm sure there is a simple explanation. Now that we have a motive, I think we'll be able to narrow down a list of suspects and find our perp before he kills again," Scully replied confidently.

"Now look, I know you aren't obligated to share every piece of information with me, but I might be able to help. Ross tells me you said you heard Peters yelling something about a dog chasing him. There isn't a dog in this entire county big enough to send Peters running off a cliff clutching a can of mace in his hand," Talbert said, watching Scully intently as he threw that tidbit into her lap.

"Damn!" Mulder swore as Talbert's words revealed the trap he was laying for Scully. He saw Scully's eyes widen and quickly blocked her from hearing his string of profanities. Great, we get Simon diverted and now Tonto has to get his hackles up, he grumbled. This playing ghostly partner to Scully was turning out to be more difficult that he anticipated. Scully was being squeezed in the middle and he had no way of helping her out of the trap that was closing around her.

Scully looked at Talbert with a relaxed, attentive expression that never faltered. Mulder admired her composure. She was being backed into a corner of his making and she wasn't batting an eye. It was too late now to regret he had ever suggested she tell the deputies about the dog. He had been so sure there would be evidence to back her up. This wasn't a ghost, he would swear to that. So what else could chase a man off a cliff and not leave a single track behind.

"Are you suggesting I didn't hear Peters correctly?" Scully asked calmly.

"Just noting one more curiosity one top of a case full of them," Talbert replied equally calmly. "Then, there is the case of why you didn't follow Peters off the side of the cliff."

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Whatever guardian spirits looked after well-meaning ghosts must be taking a vacation, he sighed. If he had had any idea that Tonto was behind this case, he'd have stayed in Washington and played with the pigeons. He had forgotten about Tonto's mind-bending skills at solving puzzles.

Scully didn't reply, but raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Mulder could see the wheels turning behind her eyes and knew she was trying to fathom where this minor inquisition was going and how to divert it from the truth. She knew she was being blindsided, she just didn't know by what.

"Ross is the best tracker in five counties. He searched that entire area inch by inch this morning and didn't come up with so much as a claw mark. However, he did come up with some excellent tracks that showed Peters running like hellfire and you following right behind at a dead run. Peters' tracks went right off the side of the cliff. Yours stop abruptly about three feet from the edge. Stop so sharply that your feet dug holes in the ground. Ross says it looked like someone, who by the way didn't oblige us by leaving any tracks in soft ground, blocked your path." Talbert settled back in his chair and waited for Scully to reply.

Mulder could see Scully was at a loss for words. The nervous little habit she had of wetting her lips and pursing them into a tight line betrayed her confusion. Her hands were clenched slightly in her lap. Lying just wasn't in her repertoire yet the truth was going to come out sounding insane. Mulder knew Scully was willing to lie to protect him; she just didn't do it very well. Talbert was an expert where lies were concerned. He was the only man Mulder knew who got away with a bald-faced lie to the Dean.

"Are you suggesting that I'm ... shielding someone?" Scully asked carefully. Ask a question to answer a question, a good interrogation technique, Mulder noted, but Talbert had the scent now and he wasn't going to be diverted so quickly.

"Are you?" Talbert asked softly.

"What are you implying, Chief Talbert?" Scully replied going on the offensive.

"Go, partner," Mulder muttered softly, but loud enough for her to hear.

Scully's eyes flashed icily for a second in the direction of his voice and Mulder knew he'd just been told to 'shut up.'

"Implying? Nothing. Curious? Very much so. I won't push you for an answer Agent Scully as long as you can give me your word that whatever is going on has absolutely nothing to do with this case." Talbert caught her eyes with his and bore down with all of his will. Something was going on here and he was determined to find out what it was. He had enough problems with his damn murder investigation without having to worry about what these two FBI agents were up to.

"Shit," Mulder whispered. Scully remained calm, but Mulder could sense her trying to pick through Talbert's words to find a way to lie without lying. An infinitesimal moment passed and Mulder saw Talbert's eyes narrow and felt his soft sigh. Whatever Scully said now, would not be enough. Talbert knew something was up and that Scully was hiding something.

"Sorry Scully. I underestimated Talbert. Forgot he was like a terrier with a rat when it came to puzzles." Mulder walked over to stand behind Scully and put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "We're going to have to trust him, Scully."

"No," Scully said, answering both men with a single word. She was holding herself rigid in an effort to control the shivers, but her voice was firm and sure.

"Not your call, Scully. I'm not having your reputation called into question because I can't figure out how to be a quiet ghost," Mulder responded with the barest hint of humor in his voice. "Hold on to your hat, here I come," he added with a slight melodramatic lilt. He tried to ignore the soft whisper that sounded suspiciously like Scully calling him an impulsive SOB.

Whispering his own small prayer to the patron saint of ghosts, Mulder began to solidify slowly. He didn't want to alarm Talbert any more than he had to. As he became visible, Mulder realized he was going to settle one of his burning questions. Did he have to actually intend another person to see him or was manifesting simply enough?

"My God!" Talbert croaked as he sat bolt upright. Mulder was less than half manifested, appearing as a pale shadowy form coalescing behind Scully. A blast of cold air swept out from the apparition. Scully was biting her lip to keep her teeth from chattering while she was openly shivering. Talbert gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to stop his own shudders. Every instinct screamed at him to bolt for safety, but he grimly stayed put. Agent Scully, while looking cold and resigned, did not appear to be frightened by whatever was appearing behind her. In fact, she was actually raising one hand to lay on top of one of the apparition's hands resting on her shoulder. Talbert wondered why he ever began this line of questioning and whether his need to pick a puzzle apart was really worth this kind of disruption to his ordered view of the universe.

Well, that answers that question, Mulder thought. Now I have to figure out whether I can actually manifest and have people not see me. However, right now was not the time to experiment, he conceded Scully was radiating disapproval and Talbert looked ... well, he looked as if he was seeing a ghost, Mulder acknowledged with a wry grin.

"Hi, Tonto."

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Confronted by the semi-transparent apparition of a man he had been told was dead, Talbert blanched and moved back as far as his chair would allow.

Mulder heard Scully sigh and then felt the reassuring squeeze of her hand on his. Concentrating slightly, he materialized further until he could return the squeeze. The horror on his friend's face was an all too powerful reminder of his changed state.

"Yes, Tonto, it's me," Mulder said sadly, trying for a smile. "I wasn't planning on making an appearance, but you just had to get curious." Mulder managed to sound slightly aggrieved and was pleased to note Talbert reacting to his tone. He was slowly regaining his color, but his expression was still shell-shocked.

"Chief Talbert, I'm sorry," Scully apologized as she gave Mulder an affectionately reproving stare. "This does take some getting used to."

"Mulder, they ... are you ... ?" Talbert paused to take a deep steadying breath. "What happened?"

Mulder shrugged. "I ran into a baseball. Next thing I know I'm dead." Mulder looked a bit forlorn then gave a sad chuckle. "You know me, Tonto, always finding the hard way to do things. Turns out I wasn't supposed to be dead so I'm stuck being a ghost."

Talbert gave his friend a strained attempt at a smile that began to relax into a reminiscent smile as he thought back to their days at Oxford. "Mulder ... "

"It's OK, Tonto. I'm getting used to the idea, with Scully's help." Mulder smiled at her and was delighted when she smiled back. Before he could lose himself in that smile, he turned back to Tonto.

"You're what I've been sensing. I knew something was upsetting the spirits, but thought maybe it was the murders," Talbert said accusingly.

Mulder shrugged an apology. "Sorry. I'm still new at this ghost business. I never intended to be noticed, but I had no choice."

Talbert saw pain, stubbornness and a melancholy tenderness in his friend's eyes as he glanced down at his erstwhile partner following his confession. Whatever these two shared, death had not been able to diminish it.

"No, I don't suppose you could, Mulder. May I also assume that you are the source of the dog theory?"

"Guilty. It seemed like a good idea at the time." Mulder confessed with a sly grin that provoked a chuckle from Talbert and a quizzical look from Scully.

"An old college story, Scully. I'll tell you later," Mulder said as he muffled a laugh at old memories.

"Did you see a dog, Mulder?" Talbert asked brusquely, returning to a quasi-official tone.

"No, not really. I mean I saw something but it just looked like a shadow that flickered for a moment and was gone. Peters was the one ranting about a dog." Mulder mentally counted the seconds as he watched that comment sink in. Talbert closed his eyes and muttered something in a strange language before taking another deep breath. He did not look happy with this latest revelation.

"Mulder..." Scully chided as she warily watched Talbert trying to come to grips with Mulder's casual reference to yet another ghost.

"OK, Mulder. Why don't you tell me exactly what is going on here?" Talbert said through a resigned sigh. His eyes narrowed and his expression left no doubt he wanted the whole story with no further frills. "Am I really dealing with a murderous ghost?"

"Tonto, as your resident expert on ghosts, I can assure you that your perp is not a ghost," Mulder replied calmly. "Peter's spirit only hung around for a couple of minutes. He stormed about, complaining about the dog and threatening to sue the owners. He sounded like a very vindictive man," Mulder added in a mildly resentful tone.

Scully reached over and laid her hand on his arm. Her eyes t