The Cassy Series - The Collector's Edition
by
Rhondda Lake
<rhonilak@icontech.com>

Rating: NC-17

Category: X, R (Mulder/other then Mulder/Scully)

Summary: Empathic Cassandra Troy must confront her downstairs
neighbor about his nightmares. They are keeping her awake. But once
she becomes involved in the dark and alluring world of Fox Mulder
she might loose much more then her heart.

The following novel is a MUCH revised and rewritten edition of
an older work of mine. It's been so redone it is hardly recognizable 
compared to it's original form. 

Contains:
In Your Dreams
Bread and Circuses
Fear
The Boogie Man
Dealing With It

Special and abundant thanks are due to Chantal Kuhn. Editor
extraordinare. She is responsible for taking this old rock of a
story and making it into this polished gem. She even put quite
a few words in Mulder's mouth. :) I want to make it clear from             
the start that SHE wanted me to distribute the second 'book' through
the others. I think it most likely would have worked that way, and 
been a smoother ride. *I* decided against it, because I wanted to
keep the books at least vaguely resembling the way they were originally
written. Any roughness in the flow there is entirely my fault, and
not Chantal's.

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter
and 10/13 productions. I use them without permission. I am not
asking for money and this story may be distributed freely among
consenting adults.

Cassy I: IN YOUR DREAMS
by Rhondda Lake

He was enraged beyond words. How could that dickweed, Furguson,
have allowed this case to progress this far with such a closed mind? And
why, in God's name, did they wait to bring him in until there was no 
chance that the last victim was still alive?

Special Agent Fox Mulder slammed the box of files down on his
coffee table. The files on top spilled over the edge and flowed
over, onto the table and floor. 

Mulder bent to pick them up and found himself staring into the face of 
four year old Harold Connaly. The child had a soft, cherubic face. Brown 
hair, cut short, stuck up at odd angles, rebelling against the order a comb 
had tried to impose on it. At four the child's face was a blank pallet, only a
few indications to hint at the features he should have developed as a man. 
A man he would never become.

Mulder shoved the picture back into it's proper file. He'd never have
accepted being put on this case if it were not for the combined forces
of Donald Jenkins and Walter Skinner.

Skinner was enough of an ally that Mulder realized he did not want to
anger him without just cause AND that favors were owed. Not that
either man would ever call them favors, or directly speak of such things.
It was a silent agreement.

Donald Jenkins was one of the few friends Mulder had maintained 
from his Academy days. One of the few who understood his reasons
for leaving VC. And perhaps the only agent in the bureau who had
never called him 'Spooky'. On top of all that Don was a mean badminton
player, and despite his height disadvantage he had a wicked hoop shot.

Scully had agreed to take the case. Frankly he thought she was 
relieved to have something mundane to work on. He doubted she had
ever been involved in a long term case involving dead children. If she
had she wouldn't have been so quick to agree.

Mulder sank down into his sofa and pulled open a file. With a deep 
breath he immersed himself in a nightmare of missing and dead children.

                                          *

Cassandra turned over on Tammy's sofabed.  It was there
again, pounding at the bastion of her shields, shields she had
thought pretty damn strong.  

It, in this case, was a wave; a tempest driven sea. It was an contorted
impetus of terror, rage, helplessness, guilt, longing and love tied in such a 
knot it assaulted her fortifications like a battering ram. 

Yep, there it was... downstairs and further to the front of the building.  
At this rate she wasn't going to get any sleep unless she did something 
about it.  This was enough to make her think moving in with Tammy 
four days ago had been a mistake, no matter how badly she needed a 
place to stay and a roommate to share the rent.  She did NOT want 
to show up one week into her new job looking like a zombie.  She'd 
never be able to explain it.

"Uh... well you see, Mr. Simms, I'm an empath... I have a
really good hold on it and I can usually block out the entire
world with these shields I've put up.... but there's someone in
my  apartment building who is one majorly screwed up puppy 
and they're keeping me up half the night."  Cassandra muttered 
into the darkness. "Yah, right.  That would go over like a lead 
balloon."

She sighed and tried to make herself comfortable.  She
concentrated on her own breathing and slowly lowered her abused
defenses, peeling away layer after layer of carefully wrought
protection placed between her and the outside world. 

The muffling layers that wrapped her mind and nerves in cotton 
and liquid silk  buffered her from the mental bruising she'd receive if 
too often forced to feel the emotional emanations of others. If her 
mind stood too long, naked, to the hurricane maelstrom of other's loves, 
hates,  jealousies, joys and pains she'd go mad. Losing herself, her sense of 
what SHE felt. Till nothing but a husk remained, filled only with the insane
swirl of emotions filtered through her.

The mind downstairs was filled with too many emotions. A mixture so 
intense that, unfettered by sleep, they sent a constant attack against her
protections, slowly eroding them. They were wearing them down by the 
sharp, jagged edges of their nature. If she didn't intercede now, they'd 
slowly be worn down to nothing. 

Braced as she was, when she had half her shields down, the full brunt 
of the downstairs neighbor's emotions nearly overwhelmed her.  She 
fought to keep from screaming, to retain control of her breathing, which 
had sped up bringing her near hyperventilation. She refused to be swept 
away by it. This was from a SLEEPING mind?

Regaining control of herself,  she decided to try something she hadn't 
felt the need to do in years.  She allowed her conscious mind to follow 
the waves of emotion to its source, and at once she was lost in the dream...
*********************************

Paralyzing light, can't move, can't really breathe, a name shrieked in
terror, a desperate plea for salvation. Violent emotions threatening to 
tear her apart.  A child, a little dark-haired girl floating to the light. The 
child now a pretty red-haired woman, battered and bleeding. Such rage. 
So much guilt. Consuming terror. Rending heartbreak. Beleaguering 
helplessness and encompassing loss.

Cassandra fought her way free and asserted her own will on
this nightmare.  She was able to move then. Good, step
one.  Now step two. She forced the light to dim, then go away.
The images faded into nothingness, leaving only a whimpering
little boy on a bed behind her. She noticed him now, his eyes
wide with terror. He looked at her, focusing on her in this dream
world.

"Who are you?" The fear was dying now, the other terrible
emotions melting away with the rest of the nightmare.

"Someone who needs their sleep.  So do you I guess." She
sighed. It was a kid... a little boy, purely adolescent, suffering
like this?  Now she felt guilty about her own quick temper at the
situation. 

Hell, it really didn't matter who it was.  No one should have to 
face this kind of thing at night.  She went to the child's bed and 
sat on the edge.  The kid had a good imagination. His dream bed 
creaked under her weight.  She felt a surge of maternal affection 
and she reached out to brush a stray lock of dark hair off the boy's 
forehead.  The gentle gesture made tears well in the child's lovely 
hazel eyes.

"I lost them. It was my fault. I couldn't save them."

Cassandra sighed as she embraced the boy and let him cry on
her shoulder. Emotional release, even in dreams, could be
cathartic. "It's only a dream, kiddo.  It can't hurt you. Just
rest easy and let an easier sleep take you."
 
The boy shook his head but closed his eyes and began to
fade, indicating the end of the dream. "It's not a dream... it was
real."

************

Cassandra felt herself back on the sofabed.  The cool sheets
wrapped around her like a cocoon.  But the bruising assault from
downstairs was gone.  She'd managed to chase those dreams away
for him for at least tonight.  With a smile of contentment she
pulled her shields back around her and closed her eyes, pursuing
her own more peaceful dreams.

*********************

Mulder clutched at the file in his hands, feeling almost giddy. At last
they had an X-File to dive into. It would give him a break from the
child killer case he'd been focusing too much time on.

Most people failed to realize that FBI agents rarely worked on one case 
exclusively. Most had three to eight pressing, immediate cases and up to 
one hundred open and pending ones. 

In the ISU most profilers had an average caseload of one hundred to 
one hundred and thirty extremely violent cases showcasing the worst 
humanity had to offer. 

In the X-Files he and Scully handled just as many cases as any agent
in ISU, often just as violent. But every agent he'd ever known had
always allowed one or two cases to become their focus, their passion.
He was allowing this child killer case to become his. It frightened him.

It was drawing him away from his own goals. It was drowning him in
the horrors of tiny dead bodies. It was the type of case he had loathed 
when he was part of ISU. It was slowly eating away at his soul.

Give him a mutant or an alien any day. Give him something not human. 
Something he couldn't see in the faces of strangers on the street.
Something he couldn't see in his own face in the mirror every morning.

The truly confounding thing about this non-X-file case was that, for 
some unfathomable reason, it had not infested his nights with visions
of terror. He'd slept better, and longer in the last month than he had
in the past six years.

One more mystery to add to a lifetime of enigmas.

He shifted the small bag of purchases into the hand holding the 
x-file. He had to confirm his and Scully's flight data for Monday
morning yet. He dug out his key and poked at the lock. 

                                         *


It was late, and it was Cassy's turn to cook.  If Mr. Simms
hadn't insisted on getting the whole advertising spread done 
before tomorrow she would have been home a half hour ago.  
The damn deadline wasn't till next week anyway.  

The elevator was dead this morning,  making the day start off just 
wonderfully as well. She paid the cabby and took the stairs two at 
a time. Great. Fresh paint at the fourth floor. 'Use the other stairs', the 
note demanded. How much rent were they paying again? She pushed 
through the stairwell door then sped down the fourth floor hall.

She might just be able to get spaghetti started and done before
Tammy came home. She owed her best friend everything for
allowing her to move in two months ago, and despite the
shared rent Cassy thought it would be rude if she didn't have
dinner on time on her own nights to cook. She wouldn't even have
stayed, despite Mr. Simms, if she hadn't arrived five minutes late to work
this morning.

For the tenth time this month alone she'd had to calm down
the dreams of the kid downstairs. She never really saw him except
in the dream with the lights and the little girl... the other
times it was almost as if she was experiencing the dream on her
own, the things were happening to her, and the boys presence was
a thing felt rather than seen. 

Last night had been about ice, and pain. About a spike trying to kill 
and a man who changed shapes. Vicariously she experienced being 
trapped in a cage of chicken wire while oil slick slugs invaded her body. 
She'd felt the terror of being trapped in her own body; a puppet to 
someone else's deadly will.  She'd felt the blood freezing in her veins... 
it had almost made the recurrent dream of the first night seem innocent. 

She rationalized her involvement by telling herself it was out of
self preservation. Just to stop the battering at her mind so she could
sleep, nothing more. But there was a certain morbid fascination at 
work as well. She DID want to calm the child's fears, but part of her
wanted to see what new terrors would appear. The same instinct that
drew people to stare at the violent, bloody aftermath of a car crash drew
her to those nightmares.

She was speeding down the hall, so lost in her thoughts that
she never saw the poor guy trying to get his door open until she
rammed into him, sending her own bag of groceries flying, their
contents mixing with the stuff from the bag he had held and
spreading over the hall.  At least HE'D managed to keep on his
feet; she had gone flying with the bag upon running into the
unexpected solid weight.

She looked at the scattered debris and blushed before she
let her eyes travel up the length of the poor guy she'd smacked
into. Oh my! He was gorgeous. The movie star, male model kind of 
beautiful that made you thank God you were female and straight. The 
look of surprised amusement on his face made her blush even deeper.

"Oh God! I'm sorry!" Cassandra stammered as she got up as
far as her knees and began to gather up crash wreckage.  

Okay,  the frozen dinners and fish food weren't hers. She shoved them
into the ripped, but salvageable, bag she still held.  She noticed her
collision victim on one knee helping her. She handed him the
stuff that wasn't hers and he handed her the box of spaghetti and
jar of sauce.

"What? No romano?" The guy chuckled.

"The corner store was out and the meter was running." Cassy
realized she was babbling and snapped her mouth shut. She scooped
up a bag of salted sunflower seeds and handed them to him.
"Yours."

He took the bag and handed her the shaker of oregano.
"Yours." He echoed.

Cassy nodded and took it.

He helped her up. "Don't you know the principal frowns on
running in the halls?"

"But I'm awful late for home ec. class Mr. Hall Monitor. If
you don't write me up I promise never to do it again." She played
along as much out of growing amusement as from relief that he
wasn't angry at her.

"Alright... just this once. Next time it's detention though," he gave her
a lopsided grin. 

"Oh no. If you make me stay after class it'd ruin my social life."As she 
spoke Cassy found herself looking up into the most beautiful hazel 
eyes she had ever seen, yet... there was something  achingly familiar 
about those eyes. The owner of the eyes in question frowned, a look 
of puzzlement on his face.

"Have we met before?"

Cassandra blushed again. Nope, she'd have remembered meeting
HIM. Stunning. Tall, dark hair, a bit pale and his suit was 
worth more than anything in Cassandra's entire wardrobe. 
But those eyes...

"I don't think so. But we are neighbors of sorts. I'm living
upstairs with Tammy Phillips." Cassy juggled her now bagless
packages into one arm and proffered her hand."Cassandra Troy, and
if you laugh I'll kick your ass. My dad was a classics professor who
couldn't resist tormenting his children for life."

"I'm not laughing." He managed to look serious but there was
a twinkling of humor in his eyes as he shook her hand. "Fox
Mulder, and if you laugh I'll kick your ass."

"Uhggg... Hippies for parents are worse than Classics professors 
any day." Cassandra ventured in mock sympathy, while secretly 
she thought his name was definitely fitting. 

Fox. Wasn't that..  Her eyes widened and the memory of a small, 
terrified girl calling out the name haunted her smile. Powerful 
recognition permeated her consciousness, stilling her breath. Those 
damned hazel eyes. He wasn't a child after all. THIS was the
source of several nights of empathic torment.

"Actually they weren't hippies." He looked puzzled again, as
if trying to place her, or sensing the sudden shift in her demeanor. 
Time to beat a hasty retreat.

"I uh... gotta go. I'll be sure to WALK the rest of the way.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder."

She didn't run, but her walk was hurried as she cleared
the back end of the hall and made her way up the stairs.

*******************

Over dinner she asked Tammy about Fox Mulder. Tammy
shrugged, "I think he's with the FBI. Just try and stay clear of
him, ok? He has people pounding on his door at all hours, and his
apartment has been broken into more times than any other in the
building. Last time no one even bothered to call the police. No
respect for law enforcement anymore ya know." She sipped her soda
before continuing, "He's been known to act really weird. Good
looking, but bad news." Tammy finished her pasta and looked at
Cassy funny. "You weren't thinking about asking him out, were you?"

"No. I uh... literally ran into him earlier." She managed to
get Tammy to laugh as she told her about the earlier mishap in
the hall.

**************************

Not AGAIN! Cassandra drew a pillow up over her head in the
vain hope that it would help block out the emotional turmoil of
one Fox Mulder. It wasn't working. The nightmare he was having
was not going away either, or if it had, it had simply flowed into
another of equal intensity. Knowing the risk, but unable to block
out the man's distress she relaxed and lowered her shields.

It was the same nightmare as the first she encountered. That
was good. She didn't think she could take another elastic man
chasing her through someplace dark and narrow, or shadows that
ate people, not tonight. At least she knew how to handle this one
and with brusque efficiency, she scattered the dream to the four
winds. Good. Now they could both get some sleep. She suddenly
felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she was spun around... to
face the grown up  Fox Mulder. "I knew I'd recognized you from
somewhere..."

*************************

Cassandra sat up un the sofabed stifling a scream. She'd
snapped back to herself in order to escape.

OK, chances were he would forget the whole thing, or pass it
off as just another part of his over-active dream life. Nope.
Cassandra knew with cold certainty neither would happen.  Maybe
she had touched more than emotions and dreams, but she knew he'd
remember, and he'd want answers.

Cassy looked at the digital clock on the VCR and moaned.
3am. But tomorrow was Saturday, so she didn't have to face work.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on her terry robe over her
oversized t-shirt. Shoving her feet into her slippers she
readjusted her long, dark braid and headed for the door.  If she didn't
get this over with she'd loose all her nerve and run for the hills.

Downstairs she knocked on the door of apartment 42. Getting
no response she knocked harder.  There was a soft click and Mr.
Mulder opened the door. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, 
his hair was mussed and he did not look particularly happy
to have her banging on his door at 3am.  The fact that he had a
gun in his hand did nothing to ease Cassy's nerves.

She looked at the gun in near panic. "I... I thought we
needed to talk. But - I can come back in the morning."

"It is morning." He opened the door and led her into a
cluttered living room.  There was an insane order to the place
bordering somewhere between messy and neat that she hadn't quite
seen before. There was a pillow and a blanket in a lump on a
black leather couch. Mr. Mulder placed his gun on the cluttered
coffee table and motioned for her to take a chair. Cassy chewed
on her bottom lip as she did. She tried to avoid looking at him,
but the silence was killing her. She noticed the large fish tank
behind him.

"Nice fish," she offered weakly as she played with her
fingers.

"Nice trick. Mind telling me how you do it?" He hadn't sat
down and it was playing havoc on her already frayed nerves.

"Oh... that." She looked up at him sheepishly.

"Yah... that. The fact that you just HAPPENED to come
knocking at my door right after I had a dream with you in it does
not escape me. Nor does the fact that I've dreamed of you before,
and I must admit; when I dream of beautiful women it doesn't
usually involve them chasing my nightmares away." He didn't sound
pissed off. He sounded curious... excited even. Yes,
excited... it pushed its way past her nerve frazzled shields.

Cassandra blushed when what he said sank fully in. Nobody
had ever called her beautiful before, outside of her family who
didn't count.

"Yah well... you have some pretty nasty nightmares."

"Tell me about it." He ran a hand through his tousled hair
and she found herself staring.  She looked quickly away.  This
was hard enough without dragging her hormones into it.

"I... I'm an empath. Uh... that means..."

"You're able to psychically feel the emotional emanations
of others? Have you been tested?" The fact that he knew what an
empath was came as a shock, that he was growing more excited was
numbing.

Cassandra raised her hands in a defensive gesture. "Yes, I
was tested under a false name.  I covered my tracks pretty well
because I didn't want to end up some guinea pig.  You are taking
this a lot better than I thought. I... I sort of thought you'd
try to subdue me and call in the guys with the butterfly nets."

"Unbelievable... a genuine psychic in my own apartment
building." He mumbled while running a hand over his face. "I
believe you. I mean, you WERE in my dreams. I'm fascinated by
paranormal phenomenon. It goes with my work in a way, or I made
it go with my work."

Cassandra shuddered. "That might explain those dreams. Ever
think of becoming a nice, safe accountant?"

He smiled at her and her heart did a little flip flop. "Nah... I always 
hated paperwork."

"So you joined the FBI?" she asked incredulously. "You went
into a branch of government to escape paperwork? Did I miss
something?"

He laughed. "Yah, well they forgot to mention the files in
triplicate in their recruitment speech." He was suddenly serious
again. "The dreams... how?"

Cassy scuffed at the green nap carpet with a slippered toe.
"Well when my sister Helen- my dad's sick name thing again- when
she had nightmares about a monster in a closet as a kid I found I
could go into her dreams using her fear as a link, and make the
boogie man go away. We both slept better after that. Uh... your
nightmares were keeping me awake. They slammed against my
shielding making you hard to block out. I went into your dreams
as a last ditch desperation measure." She watched him for a
reaction.

It was his turn to look embarrassed; it brought to mind the
image of the little boy huddled on his bed and before she knew it
Cassandra was standing and brushing that stray lock of dark hair
off his forehead. She snatched her hand back with a start.

"Yah... well thanks." His voice had deepened a bit and he
looked away from her this time. "I've been sleeping better
because of you any way."

"We both have then.  With your permission then, when I feel
your nightmares getting out of control again... I...I'll chase
them away for you." Cassandra smiled slightly.

"If they don't give YOU nightmares... your welcome in my
dreams any time."

Cassy felt light headed.  Had he just meant what it sounded
like he meant? She licked her suddenly dry lips and saw him
watching the unconscious action.  

Her breath caught.  God, he was good looking.  How long had 
it been? Too long by the way her body was reacting to just his 
gaze. 

He leaned forward and tucked a loose tendril of her own dark hair 
behind her ear after it had escaped her night time braid.  Her body 
reacted with a jolt as he finger caressed the curve of her ear 
completely out of proportion to such an innocent gesture.  

It had  been too long, Cassy thought to herself as her own fingers 
moved to trace the line of his jaw to follow the slight cleft in his 
chin up to where it touched his bottom lip, making it seem pouty, 
and eminently kissable.

It was he who closed the distance between them, who
leaned down to brush Cassy's lips softly with his. Barely any
pressure at all, just a butterfly flutter of silk. She was the
one who leaned into the kiss, moving her hand from his jaw around
to the back of his head where her fingers laced in his hair and
pulled him closer, opening her mouth to lick at his lips just the
slightest bit.  

Then he was opening to her, allowing her tongue to explore, to 
taste him before his own twined with hers, following it back to 
run his own foray. The incredible sensation of it, the slick slightly 
rough texture on top of the wonderful erotic taste, Cassandra was 
having a hard time breathing.  

Part of her cried out that this was insane, she barely knew this man 
while the other part just as rationally answered that she had been in
his dreams, in his mind, what more did she really need?

His mouth left hers to trail kisses alternately soft and
hard down her jaw, he throat and she gasped as he found the spot
just below her ear that was most sensitive.

"This is crazy," he murmured against her throat.

"I agree." She whispered into his hair, "Do you always sleep
on the couch or do you have a bed?"

He laughed a bit and untied her robe, slipping it off her
arms. "I have a bed. But it's covered with books and papers I
have to file." He leaned back to look at her. "Nice sleep wear, by
the way."

"I only shop at the best places." Her plain grey t-shirt
was a match for his, even down to the pocket on the left breast.
"Must be fate."
 
Cassandra ran her hands under his t-shirt, marveling at
the feel of muscle beneath skin.  How the smooth skin of his
abdomen flowed to the sparsely haired angle of his chest, her
fingertips lightly brushing his nipples as she explored. She
delighted at the tiny shudder that went through him at that.

"Screw the papers, I can reorganize them later." He trapped
her face between his hands as he kissed her again, not breaking
the kiss as his hands moved down her neck, over her shoulders to
gently cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her hardened nipples
through the cotton of the shirt. She moaned into his mouth as
liquid fire spread from her breasts to lower places.

Cassandra tugged at his shirt and he released her enough to
pull it over his head and off, dropping it on the floor with her
robe. He just as deftly removed her shirt, pulling back a bit
more to look at her. Cassandra felt a nervous blush all the way
to her toes.

"You are beautiful," he breathed again.

"You're the first person who ever told me that. It's... it's
a nice thing to hear." She stepped out of her slippers so that
she stood  before him clad only in a pair of rather plain white
panties.

"You must hang out around the blind alot." He swept her up
then, and carried her into the bedroom. He was surprisingly
strong, or, she realized, just determined. At five foot eight and
a hundred and twenty five pounds she knew she was no easy burden.

He set her on her feet once inside the door as he swept the
comforter off the bed, sending papers flying to flutter to the
floor. He looked at her then, his sleepy lidded eyes  filled not
only with desire but... apprehension.

"Are you sure about this?" The question startled her. She
was standing all but naked in his bedroom with her knees going weak
and he had to ask THAT? Well in a way it was sweet, giving her a
chance to back out.

"Well since you already messed up all that dreaded
paperwork." She smiled and moved closer, kissing his neck,
sucking gently at the slightly salty skin, thrilling at the
goosebumps she felt on his arms as she ran her hands down them to
take his hands in her own.

She kissed her way down his chest, pausing to flick each of
his nipples with her tongue before moving on, lower, lower, until
she stopped just above the waist of his sweatpants. 

She looked up at his face with a wicked grin before tugging 
the offending garment down and off, revealing the extent of 
his own desire to her. She pressed a kiss to each of his thighs 
before reigning little kisses down the length of his arousal. He 
gasped and shuddered at her attentions.

"Protection?" She looked up at him sardonically. He took a
moment to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Top nightstand drawer."

It was only an arm length away so she opened the drawer and
found an unopened box. Slightly annoyed at the delay of having to
open the cardboard as well as the foil wrapper she held it away
when he moved to take it.

"Nope. Mine." She gave a particularly bedeviling grin
before putting the latex oval to her lips, sucking in the tip
slightly. She almost laughed when she saw his eyes go wide.

It didn't taste to great, but it was quite a stimulating
experience easing on the condom with lips, teeth and tongue. He
finally had to stop her, shoving her away a bit before she
completely undid him.

He pulled her up to kiss her again sliding his hands down
her sides to slide off her panties. Then he removed the band that
held her braid in place, his long fingers sweeping through her
heavy, black tresses to spread them over her shoulders and down
her back. 

He tugged at her hair gently, leading her to the bed. With another 
deep, incredible kiss he eased her back on it, stretching out beside 
her as his hands began a light exploration of her body. His touch 
was feather light, almost imagined as his hands traced her hips, her 
side, the curve of her breast, her shoulders, down her arms. 

Amid this voyage of discovery his mouth began to fall, the kisses 
random, here feather soft, there harder, and there a gentle nip. Her 
body thrummed with anticipation and growing urgency.  When his 
mouth finally fell on her breast, taking in the aching tip to suckle, 
gently scraping with teeth she cried out softly as a tiny orgasm caused 
her to shudder in his arms.

"Oh, Fox." She gasped his name as his mouth moved to give
equal attention to the other breast, his tongue tracing a wet
path between the budding peaks. He mumbled something that was
lost as she was rocked by another wave of pure sensation.

His lips moved upward again to claim her mouth.

"What...mmmmmm... what did you say?"

He smiled against her lips as one hand made it's lazy way to
tangle in the dark curls at the apex of her thighs eliciting
another gasp and shudder. "I said don't call me Fox. I hate that
name."

His knowing fingers teased and stroked and she arched up,
biting back another moan as one probing finger slipped inside
her.

"Wha...oh God...what... should... I... call you?" His hands,
his wonderful hands seemed to know just what to do, where to go.
She let her own hands flow over him, finding where he liked to be
touched.

"I think oh God's already taken."  He bit his lower lip as
Cassandra's hand found him and began to knead and stroke, forcing
his own hands to falter in their explorations. As if challenged
he slipped another finger inside her and smiled at her soft cry,
cutting it off with a kiss.

"Mulder." he whispered into her ear before suckling her ear
lobe. "Just call me Mulder."

Cassandra's reply was lost as her entire body convulsed
around the rhythm of his fingers, and she had to bite her lip to
keep from screaming.

Mulder moved slightly, teasing her thighs open.  Gathering
her scattered wits she managed to guide him into herself, his
penetration was tortuously slow. She wrapped her legs around him,
her heels on the back of his thighs she drew him in. She was able
to take all of him, for though he was slightly bigger then
average she found her own body eager to accommodate. He filled
her perfectly. She whimpered next to his ear when he began to
withdraw with the same painful slowness.

"Slowpoke." She nibbled along his jaw.

"Greedy," he shot back, meeting her lips.

He increased his pace, but not by much as the tension within her
coiled again.

Two could play at that game. With another wicked smile she
dropped her outer shields, pulling him in. 

Most people never realize how deeply emotions are involved 
in even the most casual sex. Anticipation, longing, lust, need, 
added to the intense physical proximity is a heady mixture. 
The emotional gamut ran so high that at times like this Cassandra 
was almost telepathic. Mulder froze mid stroke as he suddenly 
felt himself through her nerve endings as well as his own. The 
sensation was nearly his undoing and a look close to pain flickered 
across his face as he gritted his teeth to regain control.

"What the..."
 
Cassandra shifted her hips, taunting him as new sensation
flooded them both. "Just a little empathic trick I learned by
accident the first time. I think I almost killed him."

"I believe it. Give a guy some warning, why don't you?" But
he continued. The pace quickening as each stroke filled them both
with the sensation of themselves as well as the other. Both of
them drawing dangerously near the edge. As one they stiffened and
Cassandra's scream of triumph as their bodies were swept up in
the spasms of release was cut off by Mulder's mouth as he
swallowed the sound.

They lay there quietly for a while, neither saying a word,
just comfortable in each other's arms.

"Well, that was fun." Cassandra broke the silence at last.

"Fun?" Mulder looked  at her with a bemused expression. "It
was considerably more than fun."

"You're right, it was wonderful. I don't usually do this. I think 
you're the first guy I've ever slept with before knowing him
at least a month."

"But you've been in my dreams for more than a month." He
kissed her temple, his fingers toying with her hair.

"Ahhh... there is that. But it isn't quite the same now is
it."

"I want to see you again, Cassandra." He gestured to the bed,
"and not just for this."

"Cassy, and I should hope not. A guy should at least buy a
girl a dinner, ya know." She disentangled herself from him with
great reluctance, rising from the bed to search out her panties.

"I have to go. Tammy will have heart failure if I'm not
there when she gets up in the morning."

He sighed. "I have work in the morning."

"It's Saturday." Cassandra looked at him dumfounded.

"But the federal government never rests. I'll be done by
five. Can I take you to that dinner?"

Cassandra grinned then kissed him again, relishing the
taste. "I'll be ready by five thirty. Make it someplace nice... I
don't sleep with anyone just for pizza. See you in your dreams."

Cassandra slipped from the room and hunted down the rest of
her clothing. Dressing again she slipped back into her shared
apartment. Sliding into her own lonely sofa bed she wondered if
Fox Mulder was asleep yet. Nightmares weren't the only kind of
dreams he could have...
===============================


Cassy II: BREAD AND CIRCUSES
by Rhondda Lake

Cassandra held her breath a moment outside of the door, simply staring
blindly at the brass number 42 in front of her face. Was he home? Was he
busy? He had asked her to clear up tomorrow for him? That request had been
rather cryptic. She knew she could drop her shields and sense his presence 
and his mood, however she preferred not to. 

Not only because it felt like cheating, but because doing so left her 
open to more then just him. It left her mind open to the ebb and flow 
of emotions all around her. Threatening to drown her. It was better, 
safer, to save the empathic stuff for emergencies and more... interesting 
moments. Moments when physical contact allowed her to limit what she 
sensed to the one she touched.

Cassy smiled thinking of the last three months. Whenever Mulder 
was in town, they would have dinner in these little out-of-the-way 
places, or just veg out in front of a rented movie. They would talk 
for hours about everything and nothing. He told her about his work, 
of his obsessions. She told him about her childhood, her job, her rather 
boring life. 

She knew he was working on a case that disturbed him. More by the fact 
that he steered conversation away from it then anything else. Well, the 
haunted look to his eyes was also a good indication. 

He seemed to grasp at their time together with a certain fierce urgency. 
A desperate determination to seek human contact. A savage need to relax 
that was, in itself, at cross purposes with what he hoped to accomplish.

It would be comical if it were not so heartbreaking. To add to her frustration
he held this distance, this wall between them, not allowing her to cross. The 
only compassion he would take from her was the mask of normalcy she offered. 
The only comforting he allowed was in the sweat-soaked confines of his bed.

They had been spending more time together recently. The more engrossed he
became in his work, in his cases, the more often he would demand to see her. To
seek his false escape into her mundane life. It seemed as though he were using 
her
to feel human again. She was his escape from madness. 

It scared her, sometimes, that she allowed him to do this. But her compassion 
drove her to try and help him. Her heart drove her to try and reach beyond
the walls, and to touch that man. The man and the shattered child he hid beneath 
the mask of cool indiference he offered to the world. 

So she continued to see him, much to the apprehension of her over protective 
roommate.

"The guy is trouble. He's away more then he's home. He's always got 
these weird friends tromping through at the oddest hours. Frankly I think 
he's a ensign short of an away team. You are gonna end up hurt Cassy." 
Tammy would rant.

Cassandra didn't really argue, just let the lectures roll off her. She 
considered 
Mulder more *troubled* than trouble, and he was, she had to admit, terrific 
in bed. Out of the three lovers she'd ever had he was definitely top ranking. 
Must be all those movies and magazines, she chuckled to herself.

She shook her head at her own foolishness and knocked. She was
surprised to hear a few high pitched yapping noises before the door
opened. Cassy felt her heart leap to her throat for the instant her eyes
met Mulder's, but then her attention fell on the four pounds of reddish
fluff sniffing at her ankles. She let out a laugh. 

"I always figured you for the Basset Hound type. Who is this?" She
shoved the boxes into his hands and scooped up the adorable bit of large
eyed dog and scratched it behind the ears.

"I'm the fish type, you don't have to take fish for walks. Watch it,
he's a man eater." Mulder moved aside to let her in, frowning at the boxes
he now held. 

"Yah right. One day he's gonna grow up to be a mastiff. So when did
you decide to get a dog?" Cassy moved into the living room and sat on the
couch still coddling the little dog, who seemed to adore the attention.

"I didn't. Queequeg is Scully's. She's in New York for a symposium on
Forensic Pathology and dumped him on me for three days. She seems to think
three years of feeding my fish when *I'm* away equals the humiliation of
walking around town with a glorified dust bunny on a leash."

"Aren't paybacks a bitch? But he's precious. Um... Queequeg?"

Mulder shrugged. "She has a Melville fetish. Believe me, naming the
little monster after a cannibal was eminently fitting."

"I bet he has a sweater, doesn't he?" Cassandra teased.

Mulder groaned. "Yeah.  But I am NOT dressing up a dog. Even I have 
more compassion than to embarrass him, and myself, like that." 

He set  the boxes down and began shoving the papers that had been 
spread across the table into a folder. He was not fast enough for Cassy 
to miss the pictures of several children's desiccated corpses. She swallowed 
hard and went back to concentrating on the dog. He hadn't noticed 
her reaction, at least.

"Paperwork never ceases, huh?" She pasted on a smile as he shoved the
file under a book of astrology.

"Uh... I just finished working on a profile for the VCS. Jenkins will
be by to pick it up later."

Cassy nodded. How could he stand getting getting into the minds of 
psychopaths and sickos? 

He had told her about his early days with the  FBI Violent Crimes Unit. 
She'd heard from him all about his quick ascension through the ranks, 
of how people had expected him to inherit the mantle of department head.  
He had been good at profiling. She knew that if he had been favored as 
future department head he had to be damn good. She wondered why 
that didn't upset her. 

Perhaps it was something they had in common. This  ability to get into 
other people's heads. Even if the gift was so vastly different.

"Well, *I* visited a craft show after work, and I got you something.
Every time you come back from a field assignment you look like shit, and I
just know you aren't sleeping. So..." Cassy set Queequeg down and handed
Mulder the smaller of the two boxes she had brought.

He looked at her suspiciously, but opened the top to look inside. He
smiled like a little boy at Christmas as he looped his finger through
a leather thong and drew out a decorated hoop, its center a webwork of
some sort of string, feathers and beads falling from three points at the
bottom. 

"A dreamcatcher." He watched the Native American charm turn in the
light of his table lamp.

"Yah. I saw them being sold by a woman named Mary Slyfox... and I
just couldn't resist." Cassy's eyes twinkled with amusement. "It was a
sign from above..." 

He gave her a slight smile, "Yah, it said Dreamcatchers for sale." He 
bent to kiss her cheek, "thank you. I'll pack it next to my ties every 
time I travel."

Cassy made a face. "Don't do that, the spirits will get offended.
Anyplace but next to the TIES. Oh, and the second box is dinner. If you
have already eaten it'll be just as good reheated."

He opened the box and frowned. "What is it?"

"It's Kibbe. Our neighbor was Lebanese when I was growing up, and we
learned how to make it. It's extra lean beef, cracked wheat, pine nuts,
onions and some other good stuff. Don't look at me like that! TRY it. It's
good, but if you don't like it I won't be offended I promise." 

Mulder shrugged. "OK I'll try it, but you have to eat it with me,
that way if this stuff kills me I'll at least take you with me."

Cassandra laughed and pushed herself up off the couch, heading for
his kitchen. "Fine. I'll see if I can salvage a salad or something out of
this wasteland you call a refrigerator." 

Cassy opened the appliance to be confronted by two pizza boxes and 
a plethora of half-finished Chinese food containers. Opening the salad 
crisper she wrinkled her nose. It was not great, but better than she 
expected. If she chucked the outer leaves of the wilted lettuce and grated 
those two carrots before they went limp she'd actually be doing them a 
service by using them before they fell to the demise of the trash compactor.

Mulder was surprised he actually liked the kibbe. Cassandra just gave
him a knowing grin as she ate her portion and passed on his offer of a
beer. 

"So what are these mysterious plans you have for us tomorrow?" She was
actually delighted to do whatever he wanted. He had that urgent edge again.
He needed the temporary escape whatever plans he had offered him.

When these moods hit she enjoyed the escape as well. It meant they would do 
something other then write a paper on her abilities or explore her family 
history 
in search of why she was able to do what she could.

Their relationship might be casual, but she was glad he had begun to view
her as a friend at least. He had even begun to tell her why he had the dreams 
that brought them together. 

It had been two weeks after they had first begun dating. He was questioning
her on her family history.

"Anyone else in your family ever show evidence of psychic events? Visions, 
psychokinesis, telepathy, anything like that?" He was scribbling notes on a 
yellow legal pad. 

"Why do I feel like I'm taking my SATs again? My grandmother was a twin
and it's said that she and her sister could talk without words. But I can't 
swear 
to that, as her sister died in a fire when she was fourteen. I've been answering 
questions all night. Now it's your turn." Cassy dropped the remains of her slice
of pizza back in the box and wiped her fingers on her jeans.

"Uh-oh, You're not going to ask me why I have the full collection of Star Wars
models in my closet, are you?" His tone was teasing, but she could see him 
shift uncomfortably. 

The grand inquisitor didn't much care to have the light shone in his own eyes.

"Why are you so interested in this? In paranormal phenomenon?"

He shifted again. "It's a long story."

"I have tomorrow off. I got all night." She crossed her arms, informing
him she wasn't going to drop the subject.

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "It started when I was twelve..."

As he related to her the story of his sister's disappearance she could see his 
discomfort. She didn't need to be an empath to pick up on his fear of rejection, 
of ridicule. He fidgeted, toyed with the corners of his legal pad. The tale was 
told in a flat voice. The story was incredible. She could see how others might 
react
badly to it.

"Calm down, Mulder. I'm an empath. If *I* can exist, then why not 
UFOs? Actually it's pretty egocentric of people to think earth was the 
only planet that produced intelligent life in the vastness of the universe."

He sat there, stunned for a moment, before giving her a huge grin. 
"Marry me." 

Cassy had laughed and tossed a pillow at his head.

Later she had learned how close he had come to losing his partner
and best friend in much the same manner. It helped her understand 
him better.

Cassandra snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Mulder's voice. 

"I got these." Mulder pushed an envelope across the table as Cassy
was sneaking a piece of kibbe to Queequeg. Cassy wiped her fingers on a
napkin and took the envelope while the dog gave his sitter a look of
annoyance at the interrupted indulgence.

"Tickets to the circus?" Cassandra grinned. "You are taking me to the
circus?" She looked up and met Mulder's incredible eyes. "Do you know I
have never in my life been to the circus... the closest I ever got was
watching the Cirque de Soleil on A&E."

"You are twenty five and you have NEVER been to the circus?" He
grabbed at his chest in feigned shock. "You have lived a sheltered life."

"So you are going to attempt to educate me?" Cassy began clearing the
plates. "Well, keep dragging me to circuses and amusement parks and I'll
get all spoiled."

"Oho, so now you want amusement parks!"

Cassy stuck out her tongue. "I was NOT fishing. Now... since you are
being generous and taking me to the circus I will spare your wounded
machismo and walk Queequeg for you. Maybe I'll rent a movie while 
I'm out. Have you ever seen EXCALIBER? The sword fighting scenes 
are awesome, and the music is divine."

"I'm beginning to detect a pattern here. Last three movies you rented were 
CONAN, LADYHAWKE and FIRST KNIGHT. Do you have a Xena
complex?"

"Some psychologist you are... it took you THIS long to see a
pattern?" She asked as she grabbed the leash that lay on the counter.

"Not really, I noticed when you got LADYHAWKE. So tell me, does this
fascination of yours have to do with the sword as a phallic symbol?"
Mulder gave her one of his sardonic smiles.

"This from a guy who collects porn and chose a career where he gets
to carry a gun? Give me a break. I bet you didn't know I was a member of
the SCA did you?" Cassandra clipped the leash on Clyde and led him to the
door enjoying the surprised look on Mulder's face. 

"Are you serious?" he called as she made it to the door.

"Completely. I'm Lady Elvina Malcom, and a handier lass with a
helbard or rapier you'll never be meetin." Cassy fell into a heavy Scots
accent. "Now ye be mullin that over as I git out and tend this bit o'
fluff and bring us back a wee bit o' entertainment."

When Cassy returned Clyde was given a full meal then they retired to
the couch to watch EXCALIBER. After HER choice of movie Mulder 
slipped one of his in with a chuckle at Cassy's groan. 

She waited a full ten minutes into this deep study of a pair of
blonde hookers and a parade of businessmen before she started. Mulder
laughed, because he knew he couldn't stop her and had even joined in the
last time he'd played one of his collection with her there.

"What? You mean, like, this isn't the stick shift?" She bounced her
head from shoulder to shoulder in her best dumb blonde imitation.

"This is a cheap hotel, not a car, now come here and try some of the
candy I put on the pillow." He took over to Cassandra's amusement.

"Hello... hello... testing one, two, three... is this thing on?"
Cassy snickered. "And now she will sing Great Balls of Fire into the magic
Karaoke machine. Watch out buddy, she could be the illegitimate child of
Hannibal Lector and Lorena Bobbit."

"Well, the Bobbit part's right..." Mulder grinned and shut Cassy up
the best way he knew how, covering her mouth with his own.

Cassandra's hand fumbled for the remote as she let her tongue dual
pleasantly with his. She turned off the tv with a click, breaking the
kiss. "You don't really need to watch that now, do you?" She twisted,
swinging one leg over so she sat astride his lap and facing him. "Now when
the real thing is right here in front of you." She kissed him deeply as he
hands tugged his tee shirt from his jeans and she slid her hands
underneath to rest them lightly on his ribs. His distraction was pressing 
against the seam of her jeans.

"But that's all part of my diabolical plan.  Every time I put on one
of my tapes we end up doing this, just so you can get them turned off." He
ran his hands up her back and she could feel the callouses on his hands as
they slid over her flesh.

"Aha... do you really think I would miss something that obvious? Turn
the movies off and turn you on, huh?" She slid her hands down to undo the
button of his jeans, easing the zipper down. "Are you turned on, Mulder?"
One hand slid down the front of his jeans. "Mmmmm... getting there fast."

She withdrew her hand and pulled off his shirt before she began
kissing his neck, the line of his shoulder, then the slightly puckered
scar of a gunshot wound on his shoulder, touching that reminder of
violence with her tongue before moving on. That was the one and only scar
she had ever asked about. He tried to make light of it but she could feel
the internal pain when he declared, "My partner shot me." Sensing the
mistake, especially so fresh into their tentative relationship she had
joked with him.

"Well next time a woman tells you she wants chocolate fudge swirl
don't try to substitute pistachio and you'll be safe." She was intensely
curious about the other scars, but never asked again. She'd seen his
nightmares.

In the here and now she felt him undoing her own jeans fastenings. 
"Be nice and we can go without the raincoat tonight." She whispered in his
ear, she licked the outer edge of his ear for emphasis.

"Ummmm..." She felt his hesitation. It was a big step, after all.

"You're clean. I'm clean. I have two years to go on my Norplant.
What's to stop us?"

He unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders, she wiggled a
bit letting it fall to the floor. His fingers caressed the tiny scar on
her upper arm before he kissed it. "Remind me to thank your OBGYN."

"Thank me. I'm too scatterbrained to remember breakfast some mornings
let alone a pill."

She smiled and sighed as he unhooked her bra, a caress following the
straps as they slid down her arms. He pressed his face between her
breasts, kissing her here and inhaling the scent of her skin mixed with
the  faint scent of her perfume.
  
She wiggled her hips pressing herself as close to his growing arousal
 as she could through two pair of jeans. "Are we going to give little
Queequeg a show?"

Mulder looked at where the dog was sitting on the chair across the
room, watching them with his head tilted to the side. "Watch and weep, ol'
buddy."

They wasted no time divesting themselves of the rest of their
clothing before Cassy pushed him back on the couch.  She straddled his
hips and began to nibble her way along his chest, pausing to suck and
tease each nipple before tracing the line of each rib with her tongue. 
Her body slid down as she went, the texture and friction of skin flowing
against skin. 

"Ummm... Mulder, brace yourself." That was all the warning
he got before she dropped her outer shields allowing an empathic link to
flow between them, binding them as they shared each other's sensations so
it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. It was a hell of
a rush, and gratifying to no end to know just how one affects one's
partner. Right now she could feel just how much she affected him, as if
the proof were not pressing rather uncomfortably against her ribs. She
slid down some more, nipping at the taught flesh of his abs before
descending further.

"Like, is this the stick shift?" One hand cupped him, she adored the
feel of the springy hair against her palms, of the soft velvet. She ran 
her tongue up his length and licked at the tip.  He groaned and she felt 
his hand in her hair, neither forcing her down nor drawing her away, 
just touching her, allowing her to choose. 

Feeling his reaction every bit as much as he did she felt a surge of 
dampness between her legs. They both shivered in delight as she took him 
into her mouth, smooth and hard, salty to the taste. She thumped
her tongue in a rhythm against the tip as she began to suckle while her
hand rubbed and kneaded, moving her mouth up and down. 

His grip in her hair became painful. There, just like that... she was so 
close, close enough to the brink now herself that she knew she had to 
stop.  She wanted this to last a while more. 

With a final kiss to the tip of his sex she moved on, kissing his thighs, 
then licking along the dangerous looking scar along his inner left thigh. 
Wasn't there a major artery there? How did he survive that one? 

He sat up and moved his hand from her hair to cup her head just above
her neck, dragging her up into a kiss.  He nibbled at her lips then ran his
tongue over them to soothe, before plunging deep to taste as much as he
could.  He managed to somehow shift and twist on the narrow confines 
of the couch so that she was under him. His mouth left hers to blaze a trail 
of fire down her throat. His lips touched her breasts, lathing each tight bud 
with his tongue before suckling gently. All to soon he was moving away 
to plant kisses on her stomach, to dip his tongue into her navel before he 
pressed a kiss lower still. 

Cassandra bit her lip as she felt his mouth on her, his hands moving
to cup her ass and tilt her up as his tongue ran over her every hidden
fold and crease, flicking, suckling. Cassy was going mad and she had to
fight against the rising orgasm because, linked together as they were she
knew if she gave in so would he. It was a heady mixture of pleasure and
the pain of fighting against release. She wanted him inside her.

"Stop!" She gasped as his tongue flicked inside her to taste the
sweetness of her own arousal and need. "Oh Lord. Mulder, stop. I want you
inside me."

He did stop and moved up her again, claiming her mouth in a kiss that
allowed her to taste herself on his tongue, a sweet saltiness. 

His hands spread her thighs and he entered her in one smooth thrust. 
She grinned and twisted, throwing them both off balance and off the 
couch to land with a crash on the floor between the couch and the coffee 
table. She barely noticed that she banged her arm on the table in that 
maneuver. She had the desired effect; she was on top. 

She began to  move before he could protest. His hands moved to her 
waist helping to guide the pace as she moved, impaling herself on him 
again and again; they were both to close for it to last long, though. 

In moments she arched her back and neck, throwing her head back, 
crying out as her body was  wracked with the first powerful convulsion, 
tightening around him in wracking spasms. She looked down at him to see 
the particular look of pleasure and pain on his face as he spilled into her. 

Exhausted she fell forward to rest her head against his chest even as
she pulled her shields back up, separating them even if they were still
physically joined.

She had stayed the night. Cassandra found that sharing a shower could
be fun as well, if not conducive to actually getting clean. She had to
return to her own apartment to change, however. The circus started at noon.

Tammy gave her an exasperated look when she came through the door. In
three months though she knew that words would mean nothing. At least Tammy
helped her pick out something to wear. A nice broom skirt and a green
sweater with ankle high black suede boots. Mulder knocked at the door at
eleven.

Tammy answered as Cassy was still finishing her make up.

Cassy came out to hear Tammy humming the theme to the Twilight Zone.
She smiled when she saw he was wearing a green sweater in the same shade
as hers.

"Shut up, Tammy. Great minds think alike.  Besides, we both have green
eyes and any fool know wearing green shows them up."

"And here I thought it meant you were horny." Her friend smiled at
her and dodged the playful slap aimed at her arm. "Now you kids remember
that if you get sick from eating too many candy apples and cotton candy,
Aunt Tammy is NOT going to hold you while you're sick."

*****************************

There wasn't a big top. The circus was inside a large armory building
with bleacher seats surrounding three brightly painted rings. Their seats
were close enough to the center and high enough up they had a pretty good
view of everything. 

Mulder bought her a headband made out of a twisted balloon and made
her wear it. 

She wore it because she was not only enjoying herself, she loved the way 
Mulder looked at that moment. The lines of care and tension were washed 
away leaving an innocent little boy face she usually only saw when he was 
sleeping dreamlessly. He was the most intriguing mix of troubled and sensitive 
adult and childlike charm. Now if only the darkness lurking in his eyes would 
go away as well... It belied the fact that he was trying so very hard.

They watched the parade and the trapeze, and she poked him in the
ribs at the speculative look in his eyes at the trained dog act.

"Don't even think it. If you kill the dog she'll shoot you again and
I have an attachment for the place most likely aimed for." Cassy stage
whispered to him over the applause of the crowd.

He only grinned and pointed to a group of clowns coming out to make
everyone laugh at their outrageous antics. They fed each other cotton
candy and awful hot dogs. It was wonderful. Cassy licked the last strands
of Mulder's fingers when she caught the look in his eye. Her own eyes grew
wide. 

"You can't be serious..." 

He just took her hand. The high wire act was on now, and everyone else was 
looking up, people barely even noticed the two of them leave the bleachers.

This was insane, unbelievable, he couldn't be serious. She felt her
hand enveloped in his as he pulled her along, taking her around and
leading her UNDERNEATH the bleacher seats, surrounded by paper 
waste and bits of popcorn. 

"Are you crazy? I am not going along with this." Cassy pulled her
hand away and crossed her arms. "An exhibitionist I'm not. This goes 
way beyond sane and rational."

"Don't you have any adventure in your soul?" He gave her a completely
bedeviling grin.

"Plenty, but this isn't adventure... this is... I COULDN'T!" 

He moved closer to her as she talked, until she backed up against a
bleacher support.
 
"Everyone is watching the high wire, and after that the lion tamer.
We are in the back of the building, no one walks by here." There it
was, that desperate, haunted look in his eyes. 

He wanted this. He wanted the risk, and the escape of it. He wanted this 
so he could, for this brief moment, become completely lost in her. The circus
itself wasn't working as well as he had hoped. 

She realized with a painful twisting of her heart, that he had been putting on
a show most of the time here. Painting on the mask of carefree delight and 
trying
to convince HIMSELF that it was real. She had been unable to sense it before 
now, 
due to the multitudes around them. 

"This is the CIRCUS, Mulder. We are surrounded by hundreds of people." She 
tried to rationalize even as she accepted that she would give in. She could not 
refuse him what he so craved.

He kissed her then, reaching under her sweater to cup her breast, his
thumb rubbing against her nipples through her lace bra. She felt herself
coming alive at his touch. She moaned into his mouth and leaned closer. 
 
He kissed her neck, gently sucking at the spot just below her ear.
She shivered.

"I... I can't drop shields here. All these people... it would burn me
out." She trembled as his hands gathered up her skirt to slide along her
hip. No pantyhose.

"So don't. Be yourself. It's nice, but not everything." His fingers
traced the outline of her panties, over her hip, down the front, cupping
her.

She writhed against him. "I can't believe I'm doing this." She kissed
him back then, reaching under his sweater to touch and stroke him. The
very fact that anyone could walk by behind the bleachers sent a wildly
wanton thrill through her. 

She undid the fly of his jeans, feeling that he was already hard, his
erection straining the fabric of his jeans. She tugged the jeans down a
bit, freeing him into her hand, heavy and ready. 

He grasped her waist and lifted her up, her back against the brace,
and she wrapped her legs around him, she didn't need any more foreplay and
he moved her panties aside before he lowered her onto himself. He was
holding her, supporting her against the wooden brace as he began to move. 

Cassandra bit her lip, not wanting to make a sound to draw the
attention of all the people above them. Not that she would. Wild applause
echoed through the building and she heard the distant roar of the great
cats.  

She buried her head against his neck, moving with him, taking all
of him as the pace quickened. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her
teeth clamped where his neck and shoulder met as she felt herself climbing
up, up... only to explode in a cacophony of light and wonder. He followed
her quickly. She whimpered, tasting blood she realized she had actually
bitten him. 

Applause surrounded them.

"Think that's for us?" He joked into her ear as he let her slide down
and helped her to clean up and arrange her clothes.

"It might as well be." She smiled. "You are a terrible influence on me,
Fox Mulder. A quickie at the circus is not my usual style."

He straightened up his jeans and grinned before kissing her again.
"But it becomes you. Come on, let's go watch the rest of the show."
 
"You want to go back out there? You are bleeding because I bit you."
She pulled out another tissue and dabbed at the spot. "A hickey is one
thing but that is ridiculous, it might get infected."

"It would be worth it." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "But my
sweater will cover it, and the horse show hasn't come out yet."

"You are insane. Alright, but I'm going to be convinced that
everyone will just be staring at us and KNOW what we just did."

"They won't. Come on." He tugged on her hand again.

"I already did" She giggled.
*****************************

They returned to the apartment complex late. They went for some
real food after the circus and just sat and talked about little things.
Silly things, like why he wore such God-awful ties to work, and why she
let her boss push her around too much. 

He took her back to her apartment, even though she had offered to
walk Queequeg again for him tonight.

"I better do it. Scully will kill me if she thinks I foisted him
off on someone." He kissed her goodnight and stayed in the hall until
she closed the door behind her. 

Tammy wasn't there. She had left a note on the fridge. 
 
            Gone out with Chuck. Be back by midnight. Did you enjoy      
       the circus?
                           Tammy

Cassy smiled to herself as she went to get a nice, hot bubble bath.
She would never look at the circus quite the same way again.

==============================================
PG-13

Cassy III: FEAR
by Rhondda Lake

Cassandra Troy sighed and shifted her purse on her shoulder.
The bank was crowded. It looked like she was not the only one who
rushed to cash their check during Friday lunch break.

With a resigned look she faced the file of people before her and 
marched in, toying with the end of her long braid. She did not 
notice the van out front, or the five men filing out of the vehicle 
wearing ski masks and carrying machine guns. Not until the 
screaming began.

The first scream alerted her, but as she was closest to the
door she was unfortunate enough to be grabbed by an arm around
the neck and something cold and hard was shoved against her
temple as a series of explosions rang through the building. No,
not explosions... gunfire. People panicked and most dropped to
the floor.

"Nobody moves and we might let you live. Now, be good little
boys and girls while we conduct our own little transaction." The
voice was right in Cassy's ear. Horror permeated her body forcing 
her knees to buckle.  Another masked thief had a eight year old boy
by the shoulder with an uzi pressed to the base of his skull.

The fear around her pounded against her carefully maintained 
protections. Muffled, it was still a pounding cacophony she found
impossible to ignore. 

Unable to just stand there and be the helpless victim she opted to 
try to gain some perspective from the armed men. Perhaps she could
sense what they would respond to. If she was lucky they only wanted 
the money and would go away when they had it. If not perhaps she
could talk them down, try to emanate soothing calm. It was better
than doing nothing.

Cassandra lowered the first two layers of her shields
steeling herself against the onslaught of terror pressing in on her
from all sides eminating from her fellow bank patrons. Trying, 
instead,  to focus on the man behind her through the link of his 
physical touch. 

The soul shaking fear hit her like a physical blow. She had to struggle not
to bend over from the impact. A blanket of blubbering, incoherent madness 
smothered her. She gritted her teeth and repeated her name within her mind. 
A mantra to remind her who she was. That what she felt was not her own 
emotions. 

Then she pressed her mind at the emotions of the man grasping her.

He was excited, even aroused, violence emanated from him. He craved
the orgasmic release that came only from carnage. She felt this sexual lust
for blood and death wash over her, and she fought to retain herself, to 
escape his madness. 

She fled back to her own mind and wrapped herself in the safe cocoon 
of  her mental walls. She felt bile burn her throat and her flesh felt covered 
in slime. For a moment she had been there, with him. She had felt the need 
for blood and death, craved the stink of it, just as much as he did.

It wasn't only the money... she had heard on CNN about a rash of cross 
country bank robberies in large cities. The banks cleaned out in less then
three minutes, and everyone inside slaughtered, the thieves
always took the surveillance tapes. 

These were the people. The man behind her was anticipating violence, 
craving it. 

Everyone in this bank was going to die.

*************************************

Scully finished the expense report she was working on. The
steady clicking of her computer keys ended as the low hum of the
printer started. She looked across the desk to see her partner
frowning as he viewed some grim crime scene photos. 

He was working on a series of profiles for a group of psychotic bank
robbers. They seemed to enjoy killing everyone in the banks they
hit as much as stealing the money. It wasn't an X-File, wasn't
even their case.

This was the second case they were currently working on with Agent
Jenkins, anyway. Throwing in one more profile wasn't going to overstrain
anything but Mulder's sanity. At least the bank murders didn't involve 
children exclusively, as the other, unsolved, case did.

Scully started at the knock at the door and turned as Jenkins walked in. He
looked happy for the first time in weeks.

"Mulder, sorry to have wasted your time... but we got them."

Mulder looked up with a frown. "Caught them how? Where?"

"Just fifteen minutes ago at the Third National right here
in DC. They are being processed but their lawyers are insisting they be
remanded into psychiatric custody. I'd say they were trying to
cop a plea... but the way they were caught... I'll tell ya
Mulder... you should look into this one. They all collapsed in
the middle of a robbery, they curled into the fetal position and
began screaming and crying. The bank was full of witnesses. It's 
just bizzare. Want to come along? I'm heading over there now. I'll 
list you as an observer."

Mulder grabbed his suitcoat off the back of his chair. "You
coming Scully?" He smiled at her.

She considered for a moment. "Sure why not. It'll rest my
eyes from computer glare for a while."

****************************************

The bank was indeed full, and no one was allowed in or out
other then the police and them, after flashing their badges.

A lot of people were still hysterical. 

Tellers were babbling their statements to the police patiently writing 
their words down. The  customers were all being asked for their names 
and addresses. Some  were getting belligerent, demanding they be released 
to return to their  jobs. Others were still in mild shock. One woman held 
her young son in a death grip hug, both shaking violently. 

Mulder's eyes took it all in, almost sliding over the huddled figure in the 
corner. But the familiarity of the seated form, shaking, arms rapped around 
herself finally snapped his attention back to her. He frowned and strode 
purposely over to the corner. He barely noticed Scully at his side.

"Cassy?" He crouched and touched the woman's shoulder.

Scully watched as the woman looked startled then fell
forward wrapping her arms around Mulder, her whole body wracked 
by sobs. She was pale and Scully was certain she was suffering shock. 
Then the name he'd used clicked. He'd mentioned his upstairs neighbor,
and she knew he was dating her. The name Cassy had been mentioned
enough. This must be the woman.This was not the intelligent, witty young 
woman Mulder had described.

He was stroking her hair and back, making shushing sounds in
her ear. There was a warmth and tenderness there that Scully had
only seen him display toward herself, and she squashed the tiny
tremor of jealousy.  THAT was absurd.

Scully herself crouched next to the woman, and shot Mulder a
questioning look when she heard the girl's shaking voice
pronounce, "I did it. Oh God, Mulder, I did it. What have I done?
I... I... I just reacted. I couldn't control it." She sobbed
between words.

"Mulder I think she's in shock. She needs to see a doctor or
at least some rest."

"I'll take her home." Mulder stood, drawing the shaking
woman with him, supporting her as her knees seemed weak. "Tell
Jenkins her name is Cassandra Troy and she lives in my building.
Apartment 154. Tell him what you want. I'm taking her home."

Scully wanted to ask 'Your home or hers' but bit back the
question.

On the drive back to the apartment building Cassy had
stopped sobbing. Mulder looked over at her, not liking what he 
saw. She wasn't really looking at anything, and she was still 
shaking, her hands clasped around the tissue in her lap were 
white knuckled.

"Talk to me Cassy or I'm going to take you to the emergency
room."

She bit her lip, her face a mask of misery. Her eyes were
puffy from crying.

She had told him she did it. Not the robbery, he was aware
of that, but was whatever happened to the robbers her doing? It
was NOT outside of the realm of possibility, not by a long shot.
But he had never even heard of the SUGGESTION that an empathic
gift could be used offensively.

"Fine, I'll turn around here." He pulled over to a shopping
mall parking lot and felt her hand on top of his where it rested
on the steering wheel.

"Take me home Mulder. I'll... I'll tell you there. Just...
let me get a handle on this thing ok? I... I feel so out of
control, and I don't want you to be the next victim."

He hesitated a moment, the man in him warring with the
psychologist. She obviously needed help. He pulled back onto the
road and headed home. She was much more likely to open up to
someone she knew and trusted.

He took her to her own apartment. He figured she needed the
familiar surroundings to feel safe and secure.
 
She was walking on her own, but her motions were wooden,
they lacked her usual grace.

"Tammy will still be at work. Can I... can I take a shower
first? Please. I promise I won't run away." She managed an attempt
to smile at that, and he nodded, dropping his trenchcoat over the
back of one cream colored chair.

She moved into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later
dressed in a robe only to disappear into the bathroom.

He stared at the bathroom door, a muscle in his jaw
twitching. She felt she had to get clean it was a common reaction
in rape victims. But Cassy hadn't been raped.  

Somehow he thought Cassandra would be one of the last people to be
victimized. He knew the thought was stupid that EVERYONE could be
victimized but his first ever glimpse of her was in a dream. She was a
pillar of strength that chased away the nightmares and comforted
him. He supposed he had her on a kind of pedestal due to that. Now he
was finding out she was just as human, just as frail, as anyone else.

He'd even gone with her once to something called fighter
practice. He'd watched from the sidelines as she got encased in a
padded shirt and chain mail. Steal plates got strapped on her arms 
and legs and a helmet jammed on her head. She  went out onto a 
gymnasium floor to face off against other people, similarly attired. 
Some of them pretty big men. She swung around a rattan sword like
a vision of Xena. Ok, a more clothed Xena. 

She called it fun. It looked painful. She got hit during those bouts, 
and she hit back. A rule system was in effect as strict as any other 
sporting event he'd been to. It was odd, and like nothing he'd ever 
seen except in movies. But she was out there, loving it, practicing 
moves with other people.

Afterward she had a few bruises, but she was exhilarated and
laughing. She was strong and stable.

He did not recognize the woman he drove home. She was not strong or
stable. But, he'd be damned if he would just walk away or let it drop. 
She'd been there for him, even when he was nothing more then an
anonymous stranger. For once she needed HIM. The situation was bad, 
he didn't know what to make of it, but he wasn't about to let her down.

***************************************

In the shower Cassy scrubbed at her hair, she could still
smell his breath, it had to be stuck in her hair. She rinsed for
the third time. She scrubbed at her body, feeling the tears
falling again, and helpless to stop them. She was out of control.
She was a monster. She'd struck down five men, judge- jury- and
executioner. They were alive, yes, but would they ever recover?
Had Larry Norton?

Was she any better then the hapless madman she'd struck down?

She felt filthy, sullied by the mind she had touched. Mentally violated.
But who had initiated that violation? She had. She was as much to
blame as he was.

She sobbed and leaned her forehand against the cool tile of
the shower wall. Larry... he was still locked away somewhere,
still went into screaming fits that only drugging him into a
stupor would stop. She knew it. She had done it. 

She fell to her knees in the shower and vomited, heaved until 
nothing else would come up. She was only vaguely aware of the 
pounding on the bathroom door. But she felt the water stop, and 
the arms wrap around her, holding her.
 
Mulder got her out of the shower and pulled a towel around
her before making her sit on the toilet. He handed her a glass of
water and ordered her not to swallow, just rinse out her mouth.
She obeyed weakly.

He took her robe off the wall hook and folded it around
her, over the towel before taking the towel away and using it on
her hair gently.  He didn't say a word. Cassandra finally took
the towel from him and wrapped it around her head.

She walked out into the living room and fell onto the couch,
knowing he followed.

"When I was eighteen a guy I was dating wouldn't take no for
an answer." She spoke woodenly without tone or infliction. The
muscle twitched on Mulder's jaw again. Severely traumatized
people spoke that way. It didn't fit coming from Cassy's lips.

"I had recently broke up with my previous boyfriend. My
first... lover. Larry thought I was easy I guess. I fought with
him. I screamed. I pleaded." A single tear slid down her cheek
.
"He hit me. Knocked me close to unconscious... then he raped me."
She swallowed hard. "When the dizziness of his blow passed.... I
struck out. 

"I'm not even sure how. I... I pushed everything he made me feel 
into his mind, every emotion, the guilt and the revulsion, the rage 
and the feeling of helplessness, all of it, every little nuance. He 
collapsed under it."

"He started to scream, and wouldn't stop, because I'd made him 
KNOW that he had done that to me." She looked down at her hands. 

She was shaking again. "The last time I saw him they were hauling 
him off to the state psychiatric ward. I couldn't... I couldn't tell them what
happened. I couldn't face it. I went home and was sick. I think
more from what *I* had done then from what had been done to me."

Mulder sat beside her and held her. Guilt. It was stupid,
the bastard had deserved everything he got... and she knew it on
some level. But he was too very well aquainted with guilt, it
wasn't that easy to make go away. Sometimes it never did.

"Today." Cassy said against his chest. His shirt was wet
from holding her when she was in the shower but neither noticed.
"Today they came in, and they held a gun to my head. I could have
handled that, I could even have handled dying. But they also held
a little boy. So I let my shields down enough to try and judge
what they planned. Then I knew." 

He felt the tremors shake her, "They were going to kill everyone. 
I don't even remember how I did it... just like last time. I just... focused 
all the terror in that bank and pushed it on them. Locked it in them, somehow.
They knew how each of those people felt, tenfold. I did that. I
damned them to a mental institution for life. I don't know how to
UNDO what I did."

"So are you going to arrest me? I mean... you deal with
stuff like me all the time. I just attacked and destroyed five
people. I'm dangerous. I think you should arrest me."

Mulder tilted Cassy's chin up with his forefinger. "No court
would convict you, let alone take this thing you have seriously. 
It was self defense, pure and simple. Not only self defense but 
you saved the lives of everyone in that building. Trust me, I know. 
I was working on a profile for these guys. There wasn't a chance in 
hell of anyone in there leaving alive if you hadn't been there."

Cassy bit her lip again, meeting his eyes and quickly looking away. 
"Don't you dare tell me what it's like getting into their heads, Mulder. 
I was THERE. In his head. In his twisted, sick mind. I was HIM for a 
moment. Don't try to compare that with your nice, safe words on paper, 
your carefully distanced psychology. On your WORST day you never 
BECOME the people you profile." Cassy twisted the belt of her robe
in her hands.

"But that isn't the worst part. What I am capable of is. I can't CONTROL 
it. I'm as dangerous as those men. Who will be hurt next?"

"Damnit Cassy look at me." Surprised by the vehemence of his
tone Cassy obeyed, meeting his eyes. "You won't look into my eyes
because you will know I'm saying only the truth. You're afraid
of the truth right now. From what you just told me this kind of
thing only happens in self defense, when there is no other way
out. That's pretty controlled to me."

"But what if I perceive a threat that isn't there? If I strike out and 
hurt some innocent?"

"Deal with that IF it ever happens. I don't think it will.
You have the unique ability to completely assess a situation
emotionally and be dead on accurate. I do think... I think you
may need some help."

"Counseling you mean. Then I can share a nice little room
between Larry Norton and those five men. I can't talk to anyone
about this."

"I'll listen. I know what you can do. And I think I know a
good doctor who will believe you. He's listened to me on more
then one occasion."
 
Cassy inhaled and slowly exhaled. "OK." Se swallowed hard
again. "I'll be sure to talk about it. To you... or your doctor.
I promise. Just... I don't want to be alone right now. Can you
stay here till I can call Tammy home."

"Nope. I'll stay here. I have plenty of time racked up. I
usually end up using it on medical leave." He smiled gently at
her. "How much does Tammy know?"

"Everything. She knows all about me. Even... even about
Larry. She's the only one besides you." Cassy pulled the towel
off her hair and began twisting it in her lap.

"I'm honored." He kissed her softly on the forehead. "Just
let me call Scully and tell her I won't be back."

Cassy summoned up a smile for him. "I guess I didn't make
much of a first impression on her. And here I wanted to impress
her when we finally met."

"Hey, you impressed me. Don't worry. She understands
extenuating circumstances."

Mulder made a quick phone call and returned to sit on the
couch, pulling Cassy into his lap like a child, stroking her hair
and back, intimate, but not sexual. "Jenkins asked that you go to
the police and give your statement tomorrow. Can you handle
that?"

"You mean can I handle lying through my teeth?"

"No, tell the truth, at least the truth you think they can handle."

Cassandra sighed and nodded on his shoulder. "OK. I can do
that." She twined her arms around his neck. "Can... can I stay
with you tonight? I'd really like you to just... just hold me."

"Yah. We'll wait for Tammy to come home then pack up what
you'll need for the morning."

"Mulder."

"Mmmm?"

"Thank you. I have never been so afraid in my life. Thank
you for being here for me."

"Hey, anything for the girl of my dreams." He kissed the top
of her head.
==============================================



Cassy IV: THE BOOGIE MAN
by Rhondda Lake

Chapter 1
-------------

Dana Scully tied the surgical mask behind her head, over the scrub
hat. The action disguised the hard swallow she took as she crossed the
room to the table and the small form hidden beneath the green sheet. 

She tried to tell herself the clenching in her gut was a natural response 
to the powerful odor filling the room. The body had been exposed to 
the elements for over a month. The smell it exuded was sickly sweet 
and powerful, despite the air filters running at their highest setting. But 
even as she tried to convince herself she knew otherwise. She'd dealt with
worse odors with nothing more then a headache to show for it.

She hated when it was children. Babies who would never see their parents 
again or tease their playmates... those who never had a chance to live.

Scully looked absently towards the door, noticing the looming shadow.
Mulder was outside, waiting.

Cases involving children were almost too much. He was short-tempered 
and irritable, the telltale manifestations of his inner turmoil and heart-weary
grief for children and families he never knew. The families that could have 
been his twenty five years ago. The longer this case dragged on the worse 
he got. He was almost unbearable now.

With a deep breath and angry, hard eyes she folded down the sheet. Reaching 
for her scalpel she began working on the earthly remains of one Becca 
Martin. She would never see her seventh birthday.

                              *
 
Mulder looked up from the case file he had gone over at least twenty
times. It was unnecessary, as he could recall most of it at any time after
going over it once. His constant retracing of the words, the dates and
times, the list of sanitary and impersonal information that drained away
the humanity of the victims was not to memorize them. It was an attempt to
pry some missed smidgen of information. It also was an effort to make 
the children less real, just a list of names and ages.

There was a cold comfort in the distancing, however brief it may be.

He looked down at the profile beside him.. It was filled with what information 
he could glean. White male, between twenty five and thirty five years old. Neat 
and respectable appearance, but something about him that children didn't like. 
Intelligent, fast, with a working knowledge of high tech security systems. In 
good 
health. Probably good looking. Outsider as a child, most likely picked on by 
other children. 

It wasn't much. He left no fingerprints, not even a single dropped hair 
at the scenes of the abductions, no one has seen him. He never asks for 
ransom. He didn't even prefer any racial, gender, religious or economic 
group for his victims. They came from all walks of life. The only common 
thread was they were all under ten years old.

Scully cleared her throat to get his attention. He looked up at her.
She had removed her gloves and the mask hung loosely around her neck. She
took a seat next to him and pulled off the surgical cap.

"Apparent cardiac arrest. We'll have to wait for the lab work but I'd
lay odds we'll find massive amounts of adrenalin and epinephrine in her
system. About forty days since the time of death."
 
Mulder nodded and swallowed hard. "He kept her two weeks just like the others. 
Not a mark on her, was there?"

"No. No signs of physical or sexual abuse. That girl, like the
others, simply should not have died. There is no apparent cause of death."

"Sure there was, Scully, she was scared to death." Mulder tossed the
profile across the hall in a swift move that startled Scully. Separate
pages fluttered to the floor making rustling noises in the silence. "All
this and we still have nothing. Nothing at all."
 
He picked up a photocopied map of the US. Six blood red dots marked
where kidnaped victims found and positively identified. The blue
dots indicated where those bodies were found. 

There were also twelve yellow dots. Each marked the place where a child
under ten was abducted or was missing in a manner that matched the modus 
operandi of their UNSUB. Twelve little yellow dots spread over the past year 
and  a half in a wide swath from Texas to Virginia. 

Of the bodies they had recovered, three were found in dumpsters, two in 
woodland areas and one floating in a river. The killer never kept a child 
longer then two weeks before he somehow managed to give them all heart 
attacks. Each yellow dot meant a body not found. There were too many yellow 
dots. Too many families lost in the limbo of not knowing.

"He always strikes again two weeks after the death of his last
victim. Two-week cycles. Harold Connaly was taken three weeks and five
days ago. Meaning he is going to strike again in two days, somewhere over
here." He pointed to the wide area that covered Virginia, West Virginia,
Maryland and DC itself. 

"Our neck of the woods. He's working his way north and east. Why?"
She shook her head. He wasn't following any major highway or river, it was
almost random, only slowly making his way to some northeastern
destination."Can you be sure he isn't going to do this again?" She pointed
to two towns, one in Mississippi and one in Kentucky where he had doubled
back.

"No. Dammit, I don't know what made him do it those times. Nothing
ties the Goldman and Rodriguez families. If there was a personal
motivation against those specific families I haven't been able to pinpoint
it." He closed the folder and ran his thumb along side his nose. "I'm
missing something here, Scully. I can feel it. It's right in front of
me.... something so simple... and if I can't figure out my blind spot he's
going to get another kid in two days."
 
Six months ago they were called on this case. They were contacted 
only when it was almost certain that four year old Harold Connely was
dead. The previous agent in charge had been Ken Furguson, he had been
close to retirement. He had also thought Mulder was a distinct 
embarrassment to the Bureau, not to mention certifiable. Furguson had been 
convinced that these kidnapings and deaths were exactly the cut and dried 
case they  appeared to be on the surface. 

Ken Furguson had been found dead in his sleep of a heart attack seven weeks 
ago. An irony lost on no one and one that made his assigned partner for this 
case suspicious. Furguson had been an asshole, but he was an asshole in 
good shape. 

Rumors that the Furguson suffered cardiac arrest because he was forced
to work with Mulder were ignored, for the most part.
 
Luckily Furguson's partner for this particular case was Don Jenkins.
Agent Jenkins was one of the few friends Mulder had inside the 
bureau. Jenkins had convinced Assistant Director Skinner that there 
was enough strangeness in this case to qualify it as an X-File. 

As if her thoughts summoned him Special Agent Donald Jenkins walked
through the double doors to the morgue. He scanned the mess in the hall
and immediately gathered up the papers Mulder had thrown. Once they were
in order again he turned to the seated partners. "I take it this means we
don't have anything more on the Boogie Man?"

Chapter 2.
------------------------

The Boogie Man was the only other lead they had. Two of the victims,
one a year ago and one five months ago seemed agitated before their
disappearance. They had both reported seeing the Boogie Man. It seemed that
in some depraved cosmic irony, the Boogie Man really was after them.

Scully shook her head. "No, nothing new."

"Meaning we can't do a damned thing until he strikes again." Jenkins
smacked his leg, the sound deafening in the small, sterile hallway. "All
we know is that this kid will be ten or under. I hate this." He looked
rather sheepishly at Mulder's tight, emotionless face. "Hey, I'm not
blaming you. I'm just pissed off at this UNSUB. If you can't get into this
guy's head no one can."

"I'm missing something," Mulder replied flatly.

"Yah, motive and evidence. Anything resembling a pattern, oh and let's
not forget a real cause of death. Hell, should be a simple little thing."
Jenkins snorted. "You're only human. I know you're doing your best, so
does everyone else. Mulder, I don't mean to be harsh, man, but when 
was the last time you slept? You look like death warmed over. Exhaustion
will hardly help you think clearly. "

"Who can sleep? Another kid is gonna die if my best isn't good enough." Mulder
stood, gathered his files and walked out, without another word. 

Scully watched the doors swing behind him for a minute then turned to
Jenkins. 

Donald Jenkins was the perfect All-American poster boy. His buzz cut
blond hair and kindly, crystal blue eyes went with a hard angled, squarish
face. He had a compact body that would have put Stallone to shame. And if
the FBI hadn't dropped their height requirements they'd have lost out on a
fine agent. He barely topped Scully by two inches. And hated the nickname
"Shorty" as much as Mulder hated "Spooky".
 
The first time she had met him she had lamented that the good ones
were always gay or married. Don Jenkins definitely fell into the latter
catagory. 
 
Jenkins shook his head at Mulder's exit. "It looks like we all need
some rest. Right now I want to get home, wake up Kimberly, give her a big
hug and tell her that daddy loves her. I'm... I'm sending her to her
grandmother in Colorado for a while. She is flying out tomorrow
afternoon." Jenkins ran a hand over his spiky hair. "It's silly I know..."

"No, it isn't. Knowing this guy is going to strike in this area in
two days... if I had a child I'd probably do the same thing," Scully
reassured him. "It's only natural."
 
 Jenkins nodded and patted the hand she'd placed on his arm, "Thanks
Dana. Claire thinks I'm over reacting. But she hasn't had to face the
bodies... the families for these past six months."

"Go home, Don, give Kim that hug. I'll see you in the morning." 

                              *

Finding the names of those in charge of investigating him had been
easy. Both times. Furguson was so blind, tracking and eliminating him
was pathetically simple. The man's narrow mindedness made him that 
much more susceptible. 

What had been gathered on Jenkins was perfect, a sign of blessing even. 

After eliminating Furguson,  he had used the same information gathering
trick as before. Disguising himself as a reporter got him the names of the 
agents in charge with a few phone calls. 

It was surprising to find that Jenkins was not taking over as senior agent on 
the case, but was now serving under another. It was time for a bit more recon. 
When Becca had been found he used his reporter disguise to be there, camera 
in hand with a swarm of others. No one noticed he wasn't shooting the dumpster, 
or the body being carted away. His photos were of the agents. Sitting in his
car he looked at the photographs. 

So grim, so determined they all seemed. He liked to know his opponents, find 
their weaknesses, bring them down and savor their fear and pain. It was never 
near as satisfying as his fun with the children, but as he saw keeping them off 
balance as a necessary evil, he might as well enjoy it. 

He was snapped out of his reverie when he spotted his prime target
leave the building. The man's whole body was tense as a coiled spring.
Good. He was wound tight enough manipulation should be rather easy. He
watched the tall man unlock a blue Ford Taurus and get inside. When he
pulled away, his watcher sighed and leaned back in his own car's seat. To
tail him would be to tip him off. He'd most likely be spotted, these
people were trained for such things. But they could not expect or counter
his other method of surveillance. The watcher smiled as he relaxed and
fell into a trance, feeling completely superior to the ordinary mortals
around him.
  
                                               *

Cassandra Troy turned off the Tonight Show with a disgusted press of
a button. Jay was only mildly funny tonight, and something was itching at
her mind, making her restless. Tammy was asleep in her bedroom by now,
maybe it was time she followed suit. She began to take the cushions off
the sofa to pull out her bed when she realized what was bothering her.
Leaving the cushions where they fell she slipped on her sneakers and left
the apartment.

The problem with becoming too close to people when you are an empath,
she thought as she made her way down the stairs to the first floor, is the
closer you get the harder it is to block strong emotions. And man was he
not only pissed, but worried and frustrated all to hell.

She knocked softly on his door. It was opened in moments. He must
have just gotten home. His suit coat was off but he still had a garish
paisley tie hanging loose around his neck. He also had a beer in his hand.
 
"That won't help." She gestured to the beer bottle, " Want to talk
about it?"

"Sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass, Cassy. And I can't talk
about it. I'm not in the mood, goodnight." He almost closed the door on
her. Cassandra Troy did NOT get doors closed in her face by pissy men. She
threw her shoulder into the door and shoved before it closed. He wasn't
expecting that so she managed to fling the door open and get in.

"You do know this could be considered trespassing, and I have a gun,"
he snarled at her.

"So shoot me, yell at me, do SOMETHING other then sit down here stewing in
your own juices till you blow a gasket." She crossed her arms and glared.

"Cassy, I'm tired, I'm preoccupied and if I can't out think someone
in two days another child is going to die. I don't think a quick fuck is
going to make me feel any better." 

He didn't get the slap across his face he was half expecting. He got 
an impressive right cross that slammed his teeth together and knocked 
him off his feet. He must have forgotten that her idea of a fun past time 
was bashing people over the head with big sticks. So much for perfect recall.

She stood above where he lay sprawled, shaking out her hand. "Does
that feel better or do you want me to pound on you some more?" She smiled
over sweetly. "Don't insult me again, Mulder, I don't deserve it. And I
refuse to hit you again. That was the only reason you wanted to piss me
off, wasn't it?"

"Maybe to get into a nice rip roaring fight so you could let off some of 
that nicely compacted anger you've shoved inside somewhere. Well,
you don't deserve to get pounded on for whatever you think you did and if
you still want a fight and a beating take it to a biker bar." She shook her 
right hand, showing injury.

"That is the LAST time I'm rising to the bait. Now," she held out her hand 
and helped him to his feet, "if you really would rather burn yourself out 
then fine, but remember I'm here if you need me." Her face bespoke
her hurt. 

Mulder probed his sore jaw, but managed a grin. "Remind me never to
get into a ring with you."
 
Cassy threw up her arms in a 'why me' gesture before heading to
the kitchen. He followed her and watched her dig out some ice cubes before
folding them into a dish rag. He reached out for the ice pack only to have
it yanked away.

"Get your own. This one's mine." She sat at the table with the
dish rag in front of her before laying her right hand on it, knuckles
down. "I should have known you'd have a hard head."

"Yes, you should." He grabbed the remainder of the ice making his
own pack and holding it to his jaw. "You've seen it enough."

Cassy laughed. "Ok Mulder, but bad jokes do NOT a problem solve.
I'm your friend, at least I thought I was."
 
His eyes darkened. "You're more than that."

She smiled slightly. She wanted to be more then his friend, more then
an occasional lover. But he always held back something of himself 
when she linked to him to heighten the sex. Some emotional part was 
withdrawn and hidden away. To be honest it hurt more then a little. 
"Good, I certainly didn't want to think I was just a convenient lay."

Mulder looked stunned. His ice pack dropped to the floor. "That's
it... how could I have been so stupid... that's the pattern." He rushed
from the kitchen into his living room, pulling out books and flipping
through them to find the pages he remembered.

"Was it something I said?" Cassandra followed him, still holding
her own ice pack over her sore knuckles.

Chapter 3.
------------

Cassandra sat on the arm of his couch watching as he spread out the
books he'd gathered and put a photocopied map of the United States in the
middle of them. The map was covered with different colored dots. 

"If you're looking for the Illustrated Kama Sutra, you already showed
it to me." She removed the ice from her hand to examine her knuckles.
She'd be fine. He, however, looked like he was going to have a bruise. She
blushed. She really was not the abusive type. She wasn't going to excuse
herself with a convenient excuse of his anger leaking out to affect her.
No, she'd hit him on her own. Now she was beginning to feel guilty. 

He held up a book, looking from it to the map on the table and back
before he tore a piece of tracing paper from a pad he'd also taken from
the shelf and began drawing a pattern in yellow hilighter. "That's IT!
He's following this series of ley lines, taking those kids at certain
junctions, and leaving the bodies along the lines themselves. Here and
here, he doubled back to follow those shorter lines." He looked up,
something dangerous and exhilarating in his eyes. "Cassy, I could kiss
you." He lay the hilighter tracing over the map and it appeared like a mad
connect the dots game.
 
Something raised the hairs on the back of her neck, pushing at the edge of 
her awareness. She didn't know much about this case of his. He rarely spoke 
of any case he was currently involved in. He often withdrew from her 
and everyone when a case was especially difficult or personal. Lately a shelled 
turtle was more social than he was. But he'd mentioned kids. Oh Lord, anything 
involving kids, especially missing kids... no wonder he was on the verge of an 
emotional fall. 

Unbidden the memory of a cluster of crime scene photos on his coffee 
table sprang to mind. The bodies of children captured in horrific detail.
Had it been two months ago?

She licked her lips and forced a smile, a flippant air. "So it was
something I said. Then kiss me already and get to bed. Alone. You look
beat... and not only by me." She stood up and pressed her own ice pack to
his jaw. "Sorry about that. Really." She kissed him, allowing the kiss to
linger a bit, just touch on the sensual as she felt his hand caress her
breast before she drew back. "I'll be upstairs if you need any more
inspiration." She smiled coyly as she removed his hand.  She made as if to
leave then frowned.

There was something here... in the room. She moved back to his window
and tried to look outside. She could FEEL they were being watched. It was
dark out and the lights were on in here, she admonished herself as she
only saw her reflection against blackness. She tentatively lowered her
first shield, then a second, and was shocked to feel a moment of surprised
pleasure from outside herself then a moment of panic as she tried to grasp
at it. Then nothing. It was gone, and the sensation of being watched with
it.
 
"Now that was weird," she muttered to herself as she began to chew on
her bottom lip. 

Mulder looked up from the books. He had put his reading glasses on.
"What? Sorry, it's just this case..." He was sexy even in glasses, she
thought to herself then slapped down her hormones.
 
"I understand that. You often get bitchy when work is bothering you,
which is seven times out of ten." She smiled briefly, "This is just one of
your worst bouts. No... there was just something watching us."

He managed to stand from a cross legged position with amazing speed
as he pulled a small gun from an ankle holster. He moved to the window,
pulling her away and placing himself between her and the window as he
looked out. He was smart enough to turn off the desk lamp as he peered
outside. 

"I don't see anyone." He pulled the blinds closed and frowned at her.
 
"Neither did I. There was a presence in the room."

"A... presence? Cassy, are you telling me my apartment's haunted?" He
looked slightly amused as he reholstered the gun under his pant leg. 

"You are hopeless. No, not haunted, at least by anything more than the
ghosts of fishies past. There was someone here, in this room. I felt him.
I may not be a telepath, but something was making my skin crawl and it
left a residual emotional trace. It noticed that *I* noticed then bugged
out. I don't know what it was, I never felt anything like it before."

                              *

He opened his eyes and sat up in the driver's seat. He was still
parked in the same place. Things were certainly getting much more
interesting. 

That girl... lovely, beautiful thing with a spirit of fire. She was like him, 
she knew how to feel, how to take. He had never known there were any 
others. He was always the special one, the hunter. Always alone, above 
everyone - unique. He had a purpose.  

That girl... she was perfect. At long last there was someone he could share
with, someone else who could take the fear and pain and drink it in. She
was not as powerful, not as talented, but she had the spark. She too was a
gift, surely, another gift from the darkness. The Eve to his Adam.
With her he could create a new, a better, breed. The next step in the
evolutionary cycle. As far above man as man was above the animals.

If he was able to show her all that they were meant to be, to take her 
as his willing mate, it would further unbalance his adversary. This was
better than he ever dreamed. 

He smiled as he started the car and as he pulled out he decided that this
warranted moving early. Collect the next prize ahead of schedule so that
she could share this. He would share this gift with her so she could know
the power of it. Once she felt the power, the ecstasy, she would be his.
And through her he would topple his foe.

                              *

Claire smiled at her husband as he opened Kimberly's door.  The seven
year old looked like a perfect angel laying there. Her long golden hair
cascading around her pillow, her arm wrapped around Paddington Bear. She
was still sucking her thumb, though, and it leant even further innocence to
the scene. 

Don Jenkins smiled at his sleeping daughter and backed out of the
door, closing it behind him.

"Claire, would you mind if I woke her up early tomorrow? I want to
say goodbye before I head out for work."

"She'd be hurt if you didn't." Claire smiled and massaged Don's
shoulders. "She's very excited about her first solo plane ride, you know."
She pushed him as she massaged his stiff muscles, steering him to the
bedroom. "Relax, try to get some sleep, honey. I know you'll find this
person."

Don moved away from Claire and sat on the bed. "What if we don't?
Every body we find I keep thinking of Kimmy.  I don't know if I
can handle this much more. Yet, if I don't... who will?"

Clair sighed and sat on the edge of the bed next to her husband. "You
are good at what you do. But you have to do what you feel is best. You
know I'll support you whatever you choose. I can't help you make this
decision, Donnie."

                              *

It was really pathetically easy. Pick the lock and cross to
immediately punch in the number code to turn off the alarm before 
it engaged. The code was the child's birthdate. Too predicable. He 
might even have guessed it without mentally following the man, 
watching him punch it in.

Everyone was asleep.  Sometimes there were just no challenges
left in the world. He had really expected more from this family.

Chapter 4.
--------------

Cassandra tossed in her sleep. For once it was she who had the
nightmare, and she could not force herself to wakefulness.

::Can you see her, pretty lady?:: The voice slithered through her mind,
inescapable, forceful. Visions filled her. She was seeing through someone
elses' eyes. A darkened room. Outside light shining on a sleeping child. A
little girl hugging a teddy bear. ::So sweet, so sheltered. The sheltered
savor fear the most. The easiest to build on. What do you think she 
would do if when faced with a child-eating witch … la Hansel and Gretel 
or terrorized by a hockey-masked madman with a chainsaw, hmm? Come 
share this with me. See the beauty of it.::

She felt a frenzy of lust and need, sexual in nature. It filled her, leaving her 
longing for something...something part of her mind recognized and shrank 
from with dread.

The child opened her large blue eyes and her face froze in fear. She
opened her mouth to scream only to have a gloved hand encase the lower
half of her face. The fear washed over Cassy, through her. It filled her
and made her tremble. It was this, it was seduction and fulfillment in
one. She broke into a sweat, her stomach churning in rebellion. Cassy
shuddered from feeling it. ::Pull it in, this fear. Drink of it. Is it not 
wonderful?!::

Cassy wrenched herself awake with a force of will. Still grappling
with the vision she sat up in bed. A scream ripped through the apartment.

She was still shaking in terror when Tammy burst through the door to her 
bedroom, a baseball bat in one hand and Cassy's Derringer in the other. The 
sight of the small, slender girl with her short cap of mussed blond hair 
bursting in like Rambo snapped Cassy away from the last vestiges of the dream. 
 
"Dear God, Cassy, what's wrong?" Tammy managed to ask as soon as she'd
ascertained that there was no mad rapist or cat burglar in the apartment.

"I don't know... but I do know I have to wake up Mulder. Tammy... I
think there is another empath out there, with a gift that's twisted
somehow. Sick." Cassy managed to stop shivering in revulsion. "He's
hurting people."

Tammy put the bat down and set the gun on the lamp table before
sitting on the edge of the sofa bed. "Are you sure this isn't just some
bad dream? Some nightmare brought on by spending too much time with old
Moldy?"

Cassy shook her head. "I know dreams, Tam. I can control dreams, even
my own. No, this was from outside. It was real. I felt this presence
before. In Mulder's apartment, and I was wide awake. Tam, this guy just
took a kid. A little girl." Cassandra shoved her feet into her slippers
and didn't bother with her robe.

"Alright, I trust you. I'm coming with you." Tammy took up the bat
again but hid the gun in a kitchen drawer.

                              *

He hadn't been sleeping. He had the pattern now. He popped a few more
seeds in his mouth chewing them thoughtfully as he scribbled more notes.
Following the kidnappings at junctions of ley lines he was going to strike
in Annapolis or DC tomorrow night. Not much time. Mulder drank the last of
his cold coffee and started a list of streets that crossed the local ley
lines. 

The banging on his door brought Mulder's attention to the time. He
was tired, but too full of renewed energy and drive, not to mention
caffeine, to sleep. 

Checking through the peep hole first he saw Cassy's nervous face. 
 
"You know you are making a habit of  three am visits." He spoke through 
the door as he unlocked it and let her in. 

He was surprised to see Tammy right behind her, holding a Louisville
slugger in a two handed grip. He held up his hands. "I said I was sorry, I
was a real asshole. You don't have to kneecap me, Tammy, really."

"Shut up, Moldy. Cassy, talk to him. I have to use the bathroom." Tammy
pushed past Cassy and headed for the right door.

"Have I ever mentioned how much more appealing her little nickname
for me is when compared to Spooky?" He drawled, then sobered at the look
on Cassy's face. "What happened?"

Cassy went to the couch and sat down, relating to him her dream
vision, in as much detail as she could. "I'm not crazy, and I KNOW it
wasn't just a nightmare. It was real, Mulder, the same thing that was in
here before. He's an empath, maybe more. 

"I remembered you mentioned someone taking kids at ley lines. 
They aren't all smoke and mirrors, you know. I mean, I can sense things 
much more acutely at known junctions, and along the lines themselves 
my empathy is slightly improved as well. I think this is your guy." 

Cassy had regained her composure as she spoke. Now she was more 
angry than scared. "He may have known you were on this case, and tried to 
spy on you here, maybe see how close you were getting to him, and he 
sensed me. Another empath. He SPOKE to me, Mulder, in my head. He
was deliberately showing me how he took this little girl, he made me feel
her fear. He's... drinking it in somehow. It excites and arouses him. He
wanted me to feel the same way, I think."

Sometime as Cassy spoke Tammy had returned and perched in the chair
opposite her friend.
 
"He scares them to death," he murmured half to himself. "You are
describing a psychic vampire. There have been several suspected cases of
psychic vampirism throughout history. People who induce strong emotions in
others, seeming to gain in vitality as their victims become worn and
lethargic. Nothing has ever been proven before. If you are right... then
he's moved up the schedule. He shouldn't strike until tomorrow night. Why
change his pattern now?" Mulder pulled out two maps, one of DC and the
other of Annapolis. "Can you tell me where this happened?"
 
Cassy bit her lip. "No. Mulder, I am not Telepathic, I saw only what
he wanted me to see, felt what he directed to me. He's projective."
 
Mulder's phone ringing made all of them jump. He picked up. "Yah,
Mulder."

"It's Scully. Mulder, can you get out here? It's Jenkins. Kimberly is
missing. We think... Mulder, it might be our man." He could hear voices in
the background. Police, no doubt. Other agents,  too, as this was one of
their own. 

"I'm on it, Scully. I'm bringing someone along. Someone who might be
able to help." He didn't wait for her barrage of questions, he simply hung
up. "Cassy, hurry and get dressed. The daughter of the agent working with 
us on this case just was reported missing. I don't think it's coincidence."

Mulder rolled down his sleeves and shrugged on his shoulder holster
as Cassy ran into his bedroom to find the clothes she kept here for the
times she spent the night.  Mulder froze when he saw Tammy staring at him,
her dark eyes narrowed to slits as she sat on the chair, knees drawn up
before her, arms wrapped around her legs. She looked like a little sprite,
an illusion her pixi cut hair did nothing to dispel.

"If she's been dragged into this, Moldy, you better take care of her.
Or I'll do more than kneecap you, Buster." The look in her brown eyes was
dead serious. 

"Scouts honor." He held up three fingers then grabbed his jacket and
set about re-knotting his tie.
 
"Yah, like you were a Indian scout. Look, James Bond, she's one tough cookie,
but she isn't bullet proof. If this sicko really managed to touch her
dreams... he could be after her."

Mulder nodded at Tammy. "I am very well aware of that, Tink. I'll
protect her with my life. But this guy spoke to her for a reason. I don't
really think she'd be any safer here. At least with me she'll have Scully
and myself watching out for her. Now cheer up and think happy thoughts."
 
Mulder inwardly winced at his own words. Intellectually he knew he
was right. Not only could she be protected but she just might be able to
help them find Kimberly Jenkins before it was too late. But if Cassy HAD
been targeted by the kidnapper, it was because of her association with
him.

Why was it that everyone he got close to ended up in danger, or
worse? Maybe it was time. Time to back away from Cassy before she really
got hurt. If they managed to catch this guy, it was something he would
have to think about. Damnit, it was stupid and selfish but he didn't want
to shove her out of his life. 

He cared about her, a lot. He wanted to care more than that. But something 
held him back. Perhaps it was this. The fear of putting her in danger. 
The fear of loss. She could be used against him. 

"Do you think Cassy should bring her gun?" Tammy's voice broke his
downward spiraling thoughts. "I could go get it, and all the paperwork
that goes with it. It might help, if you've managed to teach her to shoot
straight." Tammy nibbled on a thumbnail.

"It should never come down to her needing it. And she's only licenced
to carry concealed in Virginia. But if worse comes to worse I'll make sure
she is armed." Mulder pulled on his trench coat.

Cassandra came out of the bedroom in a pair of faded jeans and deck
shoes, but she was wearing a brown sweater that was three sizes too big
with the arms pushed back to her elbows. Standing there, wearing his
sweater she looked much smaller than she was, more vulnerable.  Cassy
sniffed at the sweater's neck. "At least it's clean, and it doesn't smell
like Polo." She smiled slightly. "Sorry, all mine are in the hamper and I
never brought down a new one. I promise to wash it if I get it dirty."

"We have to go." He handed her his own leather coat to save the time
of her fetching her own from upstairs.

"Wait!" Tammy pressed the baseball bat into Cassy's hand. "I think
you'd be more dangerous with this than with a gun anyway. And..." Tammy
made a face at Mulder, "you don't need a licence to carry it."

"Thanks, Tam. Go home, try to get back to sleep." Cassy hugged the
smaller woman as they all left the apartment.

"Yah, right." Tammy huffed, watching them leave she wrapped her arms
around herself. "Like THAT's gonna happen."

Chapter 5.
-----------------

The house was full of people, uniformed and plain clothes cops,
federal agents and forensics. Mulder blinked as he led Cassy through the
press of people. Why was he not surprised that Skinner was here? Jenkins
reported to Skinner, too.

Claire Jenkins was sitting on the couch next to Scully. She stared intently at 
the glass of water she held, as though it might reveal some secret.  Her glazed, 
vapid eyes were an unmistakable manifestation of the sedative which coursed 
though her veins.

Don Jenkins looked at his wife with tired, concerned eyes. He was barely 
holding on to his sanity as he sat in an easy chair clenching and unclenching 
his fists.

Skinner was speaking with a plain clothes cop.  He shot Mulder a
questioning look as he nodded to him in acknowledgment. How WAS he going
to explain Cassy's presence? At least she had left the bat in the car.

Scully looked surprised to see Cassandra as well. She frowned a
little but nodded politely. 

"What happened?" Mulder stood next to Don.

"I should have sent her away sooner. Was it my gut telling me she'd
be next, Mulder? Some premonition of this?" Jenkins was close to losing
it. 
 
"Don, tell me what happened?" Mulder squatted next to the chair. Next 
to him a recorder and tracer was being hooked to the phone, stupid and 
useless. This guy never contacts the families.

Don worked his thick, blunt fingers into the arms of his chair, flexing 
and gripping, wishing for a throat to wrap around. "I came home and 
checked on her... she was fine. Sound asleep. About forty minutes ago 
I awoke from a restless sleep. I had to go, ya know. On the way back 
I looked in again, I had this need to reassure myself. She... she was gone. 
The front door was wide open. He knew how to get by the alarm system."

"She had a Paddington Bear, didn't she?" Cassandra asked softly, but
everyone's attention was suddenly riveted on her... including Skinner's.
He had just moved close enough to hear.

Claire made a mewling noise as she gripped her water glass tightly
and Don paled. "Who are you? How did you know that?"

Mulder put a hand on Don's shoulder. "Easy, Don. This is Cassandra
Troy. Cassy, this is Agent Donald Jenkins and Claire Jenkins, you've met
Scully."  Mulder looked up to meet Skinner's eyes challengingly. "Don,
Cassy had a dream tonight. She saw this happen."

Cassy spoke up quickly. "The kidnapper wanted me to see it. Mulder
thinks I might be able to help you find him. Mr. Jenkins... when he took
her, she wasn't hurt." 

"And how are we to know you are not in league with the kidnapper, Ms.
Troy?" It was, of course, Skinner who challenged her. 

Assistant Director Skinner's glare and wrath had made trained field
agents cower and cringe before. But Cassy walked right up to him and
answered his glare with one of her own. She had to look slightly up to
him, but she did not appear intimidated.

She wasn't. She knew the man before her was anxious, worried
and a little suspicious. Anger flickered beneath the surface, but not 
really directed at her. She was just a momentary convenient outlet 
for his frustrations. She almost smiled. He was handsome, grim, dark. 
Yet, there was a quiet strength here. He was someone to be relied upon.

"This sicko was in my head. It was vile. He dragged me into this
because we have something in common. I want to help save that little girl.
But if you'd rather slap me and cuffs and haul me away, FINE. Just know I
won't do you any good in a jail cell." 

"And why should we believe you? What do you have in common with this
man? Do you have any idea how insane you sound?" Skinner's tone did not
change, but that little vein in his head was throbbing.
 
Cassandra put on a smug look and reached out to touch Skinner's
temple.  She ignored the electric charge at the contact and pushed her 
emotions at him. 

Walter Skinner was suddenly flooded with a deep, personal fear topped with 
a fierce determination. He felt anger and annoyance mixed with exasperation. 
Yet, he KNEW none of these emotions were his own. 

He fell back a step, a look of shock on his face.

Cassy let her hand drop and smiled. "Was it good for you, too?"
 
Skinner regained his composure quickly. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me. It's how I knew about the kidnapper. Let's just say I got into 
his head, and he got into mine. I *saw* what happened here tonight. If he 
tried to pull that again, I may be able to pinpoint him," Cassandra closed 
her eyes and sighed. "or at least describe what I see."

Skinner took in the woman before him. Lovely, average height, olive skin, jet
black hair in a braid to the small of her back, and emerald eyes. The kind of
woman who managed to take men's breath away without even realizing it. The 
fact that she was wearing Agent Mulder's jacket was not lost on him. 

"Sir," Mulder drew Skinner's attention now. "I think this man was
watching us, all of us working on his case. He's trying to eliminate each
of us in different ways. I do not believe Agent Furguson's death was
natural."

"I think the kidnapper killed him the same way he killed all the
kids. I would stake my badge that a chemical analysis of Furguson's body
would show massive traces of adrenaline and epinephrine in his system. He
traced Don here and saw he had a daughter. That Don lived so close to a
specific target area made it a perfect way to remove Agent Jenkins from
the equation." 

Mulder held out the file he had brought, including the map
with the tracing paper pattern of ley lines in yellow hi-lighter. 

"What is this?" Skinner frowned at the map. 

"It's a map of the ley lines in the United States. Parapsychologists
believe that ley lines are a webwork of electromagnetic streams that
heighten psychic abilities and enhance paranormal phenomenon. Several
ancient stone monuments were found to be at the junctions or on the paths
of these ley lines. Stonehenge and the great pyramids being the most
famous cases." Mulder pointed to the file in Skinner's hands. "The
kidnaping sights couldn't possibly follow that pattern by accident."

Skinner took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why
is it I develop these headaches only when you're around, Agent Mulder?" He
sighed. 

"Sir, I would like Miss Troy on this case." Don Jenkins had risen from
his seat. "Please sir. If not officially... I'll hire her services. I know
families of kidnap victims sometime employ psychics in the hope of getting
any leads at all."

"I'm not that kind of psychic, Mr. Jenkins. If I could find your
daughter I would. I don't want you to have false hope, but I think I can
help if the kidnapper contacts me again." She hoped they could find the
little girl in time so she could try to undo whatever damage the man
caused.

"If Agent Mulder is willing to officially recommend you I'll agree to you 
joining this investigation as a civilian consultant. Would you agree to this?" 
Skinner closed the file and handed it back to Mulder. The fact that Miss 
Troy wanted her own limitations clear had impressed him. Hell, that two 
second emotional jolt IMPRESSED him..

Cassy's "Yes" was simultaneous with Mulder's "Yes sir."

"Since we are actually going to treat this seriously, Miss Troy, if you
would be so kind as to give a statement about your... dream." Skinner
guided her away from the others and to the kitchen table where she sat
with a very skeptical federal agent.

When they were out of ear shot Scully grabbed Mulder's arm. "Mulder,
do you really think Cassandra is going to be able to help?"

"Yes, I do. But more I want to keep her by us at all times. If this
person is sending dreams to her specifically she could be the next
target." 

Scully nodded with understanding in her eyes. She was uncomfortable
with Cassandra Troy. Genuine psychic abilities were still hard to accept,
but her personal demonstration was enough to soften her usual skepticism.
There was still that chance that her own mind just THOUGHT it felt what it
was expected to feel. Mental trickery on par with hypnosis.

Scully couldn't help but feel awkward around Ms. Troy. Cassy was sleeping 
with her partner and she was decidedly uncomfortable with her own reaction 
to that fact.. Anger, bitterness, not jealousy. That would be foolish. But 
Cassandra's presence was an irritant in a way Scully couldn't quite put her 
finger on. It was made worse by the fact that  under different  circumstances 
she was pretty sure she and Cassy could  have been friends.  The woman was 
disgustingly likeable.

"Jenkins is off the case, but you knew that. I promised to keep him
updated, though." Her abrupt change of subject did not go unnoticed. His
eyes thanked her silently.

"That would be best. You can't pussy-foot around him when it comes to
this guy. He also knows the time limit on us. Two weeks, Scully."

"Two weeks, but he has to stay along these ley line things, right? It
will narrow the field quite a bit." 

Chapter 6.
--------------

"There, there. We're all nice and cozy now." He stroked the pale hair
of the child lying unconscious in the back seat. "Honey, we're home. At
least for now." He lifted her out of the car and carried her into the
boarded-up shop. 

It had once been a deli. Up until three years ago it had done
moderate business. Now it was empty of everything but the meat case,
refrigerator and a broken table. Dust covered the floor and all visible
surfaces, and the lingering odor of garlic had not completely dissipated
over the years.

He placed her on the floor in the back store room and moved back
through the building to re-lock the door. He had made an impression of the
key after filching it from the real estate agent who showed him the
building a month before. By dropping the original key onto the floor of
the real estate man's car after the copy had been made there was no
suspicion.

The child in back stirred and he hurried to be with her. He wanted to
be the first thing she saw when she opened her lovely eyes. He opened
himself up to her, every nerve tuned to her very presence. 

She opened her eyes, saw him, and began to cry. 

"Where am I? What do you want?"

He smiled. "I want what only you can give me." There was no pity in
his black, dark eyes... only contempt and... hunger.

He opened his will, locking minds with her and he began to weave the
first nightmare. :: What do you fear most Kimberly? What do you fear
most?:: 

She'd seen a movie once. She'd snuck downstairs to watch it after her
parents went to bed. They said she couldn't see it. It had frightened her,
and she wasn't able to sleep well for a week. 

Kimberly whimpered as the poorly lit surroundings changed, she stood
in a long hallway with silver piping along the ceiling. There was black
grating under her feet. The man wasn't there anymore. She was alone.
Intermittent red lights flashed along the hall. She recognized this place
and trembled. 

"Who are you? How are you doing this to me?" She cried into the
hallway.

::I'm the Boogie Man, little girl. And I need your fear.::

She heard a slithering, clicking sound behind her, and a looming
shadow just around the corner. A hissing sound. No, it wasn't real... it
couldn't be real. It was just a movie. A silly movie. 

It moved and she saw the graceful black curve of its head as claw
like arms reached out for her. She screamed, and she began to run.
     
Chapter 7.
------------
     
Cassy gave her statement in a clear and calm manner. The man writing
it all down and operating his little tape recorder was giving her 'the
look'. 'The look' said, where do they find these wakos and why do they
send them to me. Both Cassy and the man with the recorder were relieved
when the interview was over.

She looked into the living room and saw Mulder speaking with his
partner. The Jenkins were in bad shape, and even shielded, their fear,
misery and anger pressed in on her. Unshielded, they would have had her
tearing her hair out by now. 

She shook her head sadly and started across the room. Out of nowhere
reality disappeared. She was in a dimly lit hall, piping running along the
ceiling and floors gave her an industrial feel, murky red lights
flickered. Dark metal grating was underfoot. Oddly out of place was the
smell, a musty odor mingling with garlic. 

She felt the fear. It was as if all her carefully wrought shields were as 
insubstantial as smoke, the emotion flowed over her. Worse than the 
fear, infinitely worse... it... felt... wonderful. 

It swept over her as a cleansing tide, revitalizing, energizing. The 
scintillating beauty of that terror crackled along her neural pathways, 
making her shake with the unadulterated pleasure of it. It aroused 
each particle of her consciousness with voluptuous sensation.
 
She saw the child, still wearing a powder blue nightgown. The little
girl was running and SOMETHING was chasing her.

::Magnificent isn't it? To feel this, to feel this is everything.
Accept this gift. The purity of a child's fear has no equal.::

Cassandra bit her lip against the exquisite agony of it, tasted her
own blood. Concentrated on the pain, the coppery, salty taste. That was
real, the rest... the rest was illusion. 
 
"Kimberly, it isn't real! Fight it!" Cassandra called even as the
child and the matinee horror came towards her. But the little girl gave no
indication of hearing her at all. 

::No! You are fighting it. Why fight it. Has anything in your life
felt this good? This complete?::

Cassandra sobbed and bit her tongue hard, tasting fresh blood. Think
of the pain, she told herself, only the pain, not the pleasure. He's wrong... 
there had to be something that felt as good... had to be.... seek it, feel that 
memory.

Then she was there, and she was fighting for her breath. There were
arms around her and voices shouting. She ignored the voices, focusing on
the feel of the strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, one voice
repeating her name in her ear. The emotions around her battering her
overwrought mind. Fear, anxiousness, worry, confusion, and there... she
clung to the warmth of what touched her as she fought to re-establish her
shields, snap them in place. Then the darkness consumed her.

----------------

Scully saw Cassandra crossing the room to them and noticed her go
pale. With no more warning the woman's knees buckled and she collapsed. 
Skinner, who was standing next to her, caught her before she hit the floor. 
His face held surprise and concern. 

"Medic!" He called out even as he lowered her limp form to the ground.

Mulder moved faster than she did, and he knelt on the floor, taking her 
shoulders from Skinner's grasp, holding her. Cassandra as she began to shake. 

Scully checked her eyes, they were rolled back into her head. 
 
"Mulder let her go, she's having an epileptic seizure. It has to be
allowed to run it's course." In full doctor mode now, Scully noted the time
on her watch.

Even as he was about to obey, her trembling ceased and she went limp.

"She's bleeding." He held her closer now that the shaking had
stopped. "Cassy, Cassy can you hear me?" He rocked her gently as he half
whispered into her ear.

Scully checked her watch. "Three minutes. Has she had these episodes
before?" She moved to check Cassandra's pulse.

Mulder shook his head. "No. She never mentioned anything like this."

Cassy moaned softly and stirred.

"She's coming around." No sooner had the words left Scully's mouth
then Cassandra's thick lashes lifted, and her eyes focused. "Feeling
better?" Scully smiled reassuringly at her.

"I bit my tongue." Cassy touched her mouth. It looked like she'd
gotten her lip as well. "That was... I don't ever want to go through that
again."

"What happened?" Mulder helped her up and guided her to the sink
where she spat blood from her mouth.

Skinner handed her a glass of water. She gave him a weak smile of thanks 
then worked on getting  the last of the taste clear. Her lip and tongue were 
still a bit sore. She sat down in a kitchen chair someone had been thoughtful 
enough to shove in their direction. 

"He was at it again. He's not physically harming her." Cassy saw Don
Jenkins among those gathered round her. "He's creating illusions.
Projective telepathy. He's making her afraid, and... he's feeding off the
fear." Cassy couldn't meet agent Jenkins' eyes. 

"And he got into your head." Mulder stated simply. It wasn't a
question.

"Do you have a history of epilepsy in your family Ms. Troy?" Scully
asked with a frown.

"No epilepsy. But yes, he was in my head. He's strong... frighteningly so. 
He managed to knock down all my shields. He... he wants me to be like 
him." She shivered again for a moment. "He forced me to feel what he felt."

"Alright! Everybody back to work. We have a child to find. MOVE IT!"
Skinner's tone sent people scrambling, and cleared the area around Cassy
so that only Mulder, Scully, Jenkins and himself were left.

"Miss Troy, what exactly did you see?" Skinner crouched before her, his
dark eyes locking with hers.

Cassy looked briefly at Jenkins. He had a right to know... but it
would hurt so much. Would it hurt less to be left to wonder? She felt
Mulder's hand on her shoulder, reassuring. She took a deep breath and
tried to ignore the pain in her mouth. 

"A scene from 'Aliens' I think. He was using a movie monster to feed
her fear." Cassy frowned slightly and replayed the whole horrible scene in
her mind. "Garlic." She said to herself.

"What?" That came from all four people around her at once.

"It was out of place. A movie nightmare, but the smell of garlic,
faint, but unmistakable." Cassy's eyes lit up as she looked up at Mulder.
"The olfactory sense is one of the most basic and instinctive we possess.
It links to our minds in the most amazing ways. I mean how many times have
you smelled something and it instantly brought to mind something else, or
a memory? I think that smell was not an intentional part of the illusion.
I think he simply couldn't block it out, or didn't think to."

Mulder's eyes darkened. "We need a city map. He's had..." he checked
his watch, "one hour and seventeen minutes since Don discovered Kimberly
missing. He's probably still along a ley line." 

A map was passed to him and he spread it out over the kitchen table. 
Scully brought over the case file with the tracing paper overlay. Mulder 
ran a finger in a straight line along the map, where the line would flow 
through the city. 

"He wouldn't speed, it would risk calling attention to himself. That will give
us about fifty miles in either direction. I need a list of all buildings
along this area from here to here that either are now or used to be
restaurants, take out pizza shops, delis, spice shops, anything that would
have garlic associated with it."

Chapter 8.
------------

Even as Mulder spoke action was taken. Opinion at the Bureau may be
that Mulder was a few bricks short of a load, but nine out of ten people
also knew he was one of the best. None of which mattered to Mulder
at the moment, only that calls were being made, and information gathered.

Cassy sat back and watched the well-oiled machine flurry around her. 
The chaos moved frantically but efficiently to her ceaseless amazement. 
She felt like a fifth wheel.

"Copy this list.  I want two teams working from here out, one taking
the southwest route, one taking the northeast. Look into every one of these
addresses."

Her full attention snapped back as Mulder was handed a paper.
Mulder's boss looked at it beside him. Cassandra couldn't help but
admire A.D. Skinner's air of calm command. If only because she 
had felt the chaotic tumult of emotions he now held hidden.

"Sir, we'd like to take the northeast." It was Scully who spoke, and
Cassy felt a tinge of jealousy for the wordless communication that passed
between this woman and Mulder. It was not telepathic, it was familiarity. 

Skinner knew what they were up to. It was the most likely direction
he would have taken. "Agreed." 

"Mr. Skinner if I go with them maybe the closer we get the more he'll
try to contact me. I don't look forward to it... but now that I know he
can get in my head while I'm awake I won't be as shocked, and I might be
able to trace him."

"Could further contact be a health risk?" Skinner's eyes bore into her
across the table. "Another seizure..."

"Can't be avoided if he really wants to get in. I'm pretty sure I
can't stop him if he is determined. I promise I'll go to the hospital once
you people get this guy, and I'll submit to every EEG and Cat scan you
want me to have."

His eyes bore into hers. She felt herself shiver. "This one is important to me, 
Miss  Troy."

She nodded, solemnly. "I know." 

"Alright, but if they find anything you stay in the car." His face was hard,
uncompromising. "I will not risk a civilian. The first sign of trouble you stay
down and out of sight."

She shook herself, then, and smiled giving him a small salute. "Aye, aye sir. 
But sir... can you make Mulder buy me a popsicle? My tongue still hurts." 

Cassy heard Scully laugh softly behind her.

Good. Jokes were good. They would keep Cassy from thinking about how
she saw the helpless Kimberly, relished the tasted fear and felt it
quicken her blood. But, oh, she wanted to feel that exquisite pleasure/pain
again. 

She resisted the urge to open herself and drink in the fear and anguish 
of everyone in the room. Cassy knew that was the entrance into the abyss.

                              *

The child had passed out. Stupid, useless when they were unconscious.
It was not going as well as he had hoped. 

Oh her fear was wonderful, delicious. The woman... her name rang in
his head, he'd gleaned it from her mind as she fought against him.
Cassandra. Lovely name. Sensuous, so like her. Yet she did fight him. She
did not accept his gift. He knew she felt it, he knew she was as
intoxicated with the fear as he was. Yet she had tried to STOP him. 

It was the man. A normal, untalented, ordinary human. She had tried
to focus on him as the pleasure of the girl's fear surrounded her. He was
holding her back, keeping her from her destiny. Like a submissive fool she
allowed him to restrain her. 

He looked at the pictures he had taken at the dumpster. One had been
gone over with red marker. An X over the blond man's face. 
 
A shaking hand lifted the second picture. This face was studiously
devoid of emotion except for the eyes. The eyes were haunted. What pain
lay there? The Boogie Man would find out. He didn't simply want this one
off the case. He would no longer be satisfied to elude this hunter. No. He
wanted to destroy him. Shred his mind, wring every drop of fear and pain
from his soul before the kill. And she would watch. She would taste the fear 
and understand where her destiny lay. Once tasted the addiction was such that
Heroine seemed harmless. It was only a matter of time.

He used a thumbtack to pin the picture to the wall. His research gave
him a name. Fox Mulder. A stupid name for a foolish hindrance. 

He picked up the last picture. The small red haired woman. Here was
where the pain could start. She was Mulder's assigned partner. He had
experience with law enforcement. Partners, at least long standing ones,
had special bonds. Bonds that could become their weakness. This will 
be interesting.

                              *

Cassy sat in the back seat, the dawn was approaching. She was
exhausted. An hour's worth of sleep isn't all it used to be.

She peered through the huge glass windows of the 24 hour quickmart to
see Mulder at the counter already.

She heard a chuckle from the front seat. Dana Scully was examining
the map and list of addresses in her lap, but she was shaking her head.

"Wanna let me in on it?" Cassy leaned forward a bit. 

"I just had a picture of you sending him out for scented feminine
hygiene products." 

Both women were laughing when Mulder got back into the car.

"What?" He held out three fudgecicles.

"Nothing." Cassy took the offered stick and peeled off the wrapper.
The cold felt wonderful against her still burning tongue.

"Nothing like a nice healthy breakfast." Scully looked askance at the
popsicle in her hand before giving up and eating it. "The first address is
six blocks from here on Calvert Street. It used to be a pizza shop,
deliveries only." 

Cassy pulled out her baseball bat and cradled it across her lap.
Scully gave her an odd look.

"I know." Cassy managed around her fudgecicle before removing it's
soothing coldness to speak more clearly., "I don't plan on getting out of
the car. But I feel better with it. I'm good at bashing people with
sticks. Ask Mulder."

Scully leaned over to peer at Mulder's faintly bruised jaw with a
raised eyebrow. "I was going to ask about that..."

Cassy blushed in the back seat and Mulder gave Scully his whipped
puppy look. "She beats on me, Mom."

"That was my fist, not a stick. I have yet to whack you with a
stick." Cassy defended.

"You HIT him?" Cassy found herself pinned by an angry glare. It
looked like Mulder wasn't the only protective one around here.

"She just couldn't control herself in the throws of passion. Come on
Scully, you never hit your chin in the headboard during sex?" He quirked 
an eyebrow at her.

Scully flushed and looked away. She looked VERY uncomfortable all
of a sudden.

Cassy flashed Mulder a glare but kept her mouth shut by sticking the
fudgcicle back in it. If he didn't want Scully to know what really happened
that was his business. She didn't have to like it though.

They pulled up to the closed shack that had been their destination.
Cassy braced herself and dropped her outer shields, feeling the emotions
of the people in the city around them pressing in. She tried to focus on
the building in front of them, but was unable to get anything at all. That
could just mean he was better at hiding than she was however.

"Be careful ok? I don't feel anything out of the ordinary, but that
will not make me feel better if either one of you get shot." Cassy settled
into the back seat as the two got out to check the building.

Chapter 9.
--------------

They were gone for ten minutes. It seemed longer because Cassy's hands
sweated against the bat she held in a death grip. But all her anxiety was
wasted. They both were shaking their heads as they returned to the
car.

"Nothing. No one's been in there for months, unless you count the
rats." Scully offered as Mulder started the car.

The second place on their list was a specialty spice store, still in
operation. It had vacant apartments above it.

Again Cassy stayed in the car. The town was waking up, and she
watched many different people heading to jobs, school, ordinary lives. It
suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't called in to work, and she hoped
Tammy would remember that little detail. 

They were gone for longer this time. They had to contact the 
building manager and get permission to search the empty rooms, 
and she gathered when fifteen minutes passed that they either got 
permission or were phoning for a warrant. 

She was feeling useless again. Sitting in a car, doing nothing was
not helping anyone. But how could she help? The town and surrounding
communities created enough emotional 'noise' she'd never be able to use
her gift to track them, unless HE decided to go after her again. 

Cassy shuddered. What he was doing was inhuman, vile, and incredibly 
seductive. What kind of person was she to feel such raw pleasure as the force 
fed
fear flowed through her? She pressed her forehead against the cool glass
of the car window. 

She was a good person. She silently echoed the words of
her counselor Dr. Verber. It's our actions and ability to tell right from
wrong that make us moral. What this man was doing was WRONG,
no matter how good it felt. He was no different than a drug addict. That
he was forcing some of his high on her didn't make her bad either. She
knew it was wrong and wanted no part of it. Didn't she?

Her head was hurting again when Mulder and Scully returned to the car
once again.

"No luck." She sighed and looked over Scully's shoulder at the map
and list. "Now where?"

"Pitt Street. An Italian restaurant up until a month ago. It's been
purchased by a new owner but no reopened yet." Scully folded the map and
Mulder pulled out. 

"Are you alright back there?" Mulder asked over his shoulder.

"Tossed between a nervous breakdown and terminal boredom but doing
fine." Cassy swung her legs up so she sat across the whole back seat.
"I've got an idea. You said this guy was a psychic vampire right? I mean
it fits with what I've felt. I might not be able to drown out an ocean of
emotion around me... but I should be able to notice a whirlpool."

Mulder frowned, "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, he drains emotions. It's what he's good at. He's lazy about
it though. Look at him, he takes kids mostly because he won't have to work
very hard to make them afraid. He works along ley lines and junctions so
they will augment his powers and so he won't have to push himself. He's
lazy.

" We're currently following the line he's most likely on. Meaning
*I'M* more sensitive too. If I don't focus on any particular set of
emotions I just might be able to 'feel' the 'tides'. All this background
noise is very much like being in a river or ocean. A person who sucks up
emotion should make a difference in the currents... shouldn't they?"

"Don't you risk getting his attention going out looking for him like
that?" Mulder's concern was valid. She had to nod admission.
 
"Yes. But if he gets into my head again I'll be ready and I'd STILL
be better able to pinpoint him. Look at this rate, he could leave town.
He has to know we're looking for him. He may start acting against his
established patterns, like he did with the kidnaping itself, just to
throw you off."
 
"She has a point Mulder. He may even kill Kimberly at any time and go
after other game." Scully turned in her seat. "Can you do that while we
move?"

"Hey! She isn't doing anything. I don't think it's worth the risks..."

Cassandra smiled slightly as she closed her eyes and lost the rest of
Mulder's tirade. She was feeling all the emotion around her, dulling it to
a white noise roar. It took a lot of concentration to NOT focus on what
was around her, especially with Mulder's agitation and anger so close.
Felt like he realized she wasn't listening. Oh well...

The tides did flow around her, ebbing and flowing. Serene and
peaceful, so easy to loose herself in and never return. No! Focus. She
felt an odd current. Faint, moving against the rest of the currents. 
 
Vocalize it. Force the mouth to form the words as the mind was
elsewhere. 

"East. A current is wrong, running east." 
 
She didn't hear or feel response as she flowed with the current. Out 
of nowhere vicious claws grasped her, cruelly. 

                              *
Mulder kept checking the rear view mirror. Cassy appeared relaxed,
her eyes closed and her breathing regular. Damn her. She was putting
herself at unnecessary risk. 

Scully was turned in her seat watching Cassy more closely. Mulder had
to try to divide his attention between the road and the mirror, and the
sound of a blaring horn outside made him realize it just wasn't going to
work and he had to watch the road.

He pulled completely over when he heard Cassy gasp.

He brought the car to a stop and unbuckled as he swung around to look
into the back seat. She was shaking again.

"Damn! Cassy!" He reached for her only to have Scully stop him. 

"No Mulder, any restraint and you'll risk hurting her. You have to
allow the seizure to run it's course."

"This isn't a seizure Scully, he has her, and you know it."

                              *

The child had just come around when he started to play a new version
of the game. He started with Hansel and Gretel, just as he'd mentioned to
Cassandra. Kimberly came fully awake locked in a cage. Outside the cage a
cackling crone opened an oven and used a wooden board to pull out a lump
of something. The blackened corpse of a child popped and sizzled on the
end of the paddle. Kimberly whimpered, her eyes wide as she peed herself.

He was about to move up the illusion when he felt a tug. Faint, but
moving closer. He mentally reached out and grasped Cassandra.

::I knew you'd come to me. You cannot resist what I can offer you.::

Cassandra struggled in his mental grasp. She then did something
totally unexpected. She let loose a wave of love and comfort, acceptance
and hope. 

It washed over him in a blinding light. Making him shrink in on
himself for a moment. The emotions were pure, almost as wonderful as a
child's fear. 

But while he drank them in... they were not aimed at him. They were 
aimed at the child who had ceased her whimpering. Her fear did
not go away, but instead lightened, a glimmer of hope came to her heart.

Chapter 10.
-------------

It took him nearly a full minute to realize Cassandra was using HIM.
She could not project her emotions without physical contact. She was using
the fact that he was 'feeding' from both her and the child, making him a
conduit to give the girl hope. With a mental slam he ceased his contact
with the child and reached into Cassandra's mind. He felt her rising panic
as he touched her thoughts. Grabbing what he needed he released her.

He leaned against the wall and looked at the huddled form of Kimberly
Jenkins as she lay in a fetal position clutching at her head.

"Don't feel false hope Kimmy. It was no angel, and I can hurt her
too." 

He felt her begin to dispair again and smiled to himself. Cassandra
had tried to oppose him, but in doing so she gave him all he needed. 

He reached out and grabbed Kimberly's small wrists in one hand. He
produced a roll of duct tape from a pocket and began taping her wrists
together, careful not to cut off circulation, yet keep the binding tight
enough to prevent escape. No, to hurt her body too much would allow her a
way to escape his illusions. He'd learned that the first time. 

She whimpered as he stuffed a rag into her mouth and taped over it
before shoving her small form into a cupboard door. She'd be able to
breathe in there. He braced the door closed with a chair under the knob. 

His captive secured, he left the building, carefully locking it
behind him. He had plans. Glorious plans. And Cassandra Troy had given him
the means to complete them.

                              *

Cassy came around with a gasp, her body drawing her into an upright
position. Her eyes focused on the frightened and concerned faces before
her. Her shields were down again, and she felt another bruising assault
first from the world at large but more keenly from the the two in the front 
seat. Fear for her safety, relief at her return to the here and now, anger at 
her carelessness, concern for her health were a jumble directed at her from 
BOTH agents

She closed her eyes and drew her shields up again. The onion layers
separating herself from all around her, allowing her to feel for herself.
The last layer up she again opened her eyes. Her headache had erupted into
real pain now, she hadn't suffered a migraine like this in a long time.
 
"Just what the Hell did you think you were doing?" She should have
expected the angry words. She had to force herself to remember that he was
angry because he cared. Otherwise she'd have bitten his head off in
return.

"He's to the east a bit, further north, none of the addresses along
the western edge of the line are viable." Cassy offered as an answer as
she clutched her head in shaking hands.

"Cassy what happened?" Mulder's voice was softer now. He had noticed
the tears sliding down her cheeks.

"I tracked him part way. I was doing the right thing. But he must
have sensed me somehow. He grabbed me. But he was still connected to
Kimberly when he did. I thought fast and used him as a link to Kimberly,
sending her some affection and care, trying to give her hope. He caught on
to what I was doing and cut us both off. It hurt."

"Scully how far is Mercy? Cassy, we're getting you to a hospital right now."
 
"Screw you, Mulder. He knows what I was doing. I have a migraine, but
nothing I haven't had before. AFTER you get this guy I get myself checked
out. THAT was the deal." 

Scully shook her head with a small smile. "I have no more worries
Mulder. She's perfect for you." 
 
Mulder was scowling. 

"Look, other than put her on medication nothing can be done for the
seizure aspect of these attacks. I'm not even sure that would work
considering the cause of these episodes. The best way to stop these
attacks and minimize the health risk to Cassy would be to stop this man."
Scully reasoned calmly.

Cassandra almost cheered despite her headache. Almost. When this was
over she was going to have to see about being a bit more friendly to
Mulder's partner. She had to admit she had been less than
friendly to Dana Scully. She was jealous..

Cassy knew no matter what happened between herself and Mulder, 
Dana Scully would always be closer to Fox. She would always be his 
best friend, the one he'd turn to first. And that hurt. But it couldn't 
be helped... indeed, it was even understandable. 

So Cassy shoved her pettiness away and accepted the olive branch she
sensed Dana Scully extended.

Knowing he had been outvoted by two very stubborn women, Mulder was
silent as he drove to the next place on their list. Cassandra HAD
eliminated ten places with her little stunt. This might give them the couple 
hours they needed to save that little girl.

"Ok the next address to the east of this line is?" Cassy offered.

"A failed Subway. Let's go Mulder."

                              *

The building was in a shopping plaza that only managed to keep half
its shops open. The rest of the glass fronted establishments had windows
either been soaped over or covered with cardboard from the inside, shielding
them from prying public eyes.

They had called ahead ten minutes ago. The realtor handling the sale
of the shops had agreed to meet them there and have the places open. He
was waiting in the parking lot.

"You those FBI folks?" He asked shakily. His eyes darting to the
empty storefronts nervously. He was obviously uncomfortable with the
thought that one of them might hide a kidnapper and his victim.

Scully and Mulder showed their badges and the fortyish man in the
gold jacket looked at them carefully, matching faces to the pictures.

"I didn't open 'em yet. I figured if he's here... maybe someone with
a gun better be close by." He shrugged a bit.

Mulder managed a tight smile. "Good idea Mr. Niles."

He jingled the ring of keys. "I'll go in with you though, and make
sure things are locked up behind you. I can't imagine anyone using any of
these stores to hide a kidnaped kid."
 
Mulder sighed. "Open the doors and stay outside. I'd rather you
stayed out of the way if there is any reason for things to get dicey."

"Whatever you say sir." Mr. Niles led them to the first door. 

Chapter 11.
---------------

Cassandra watched from the car as Mr. Niles opened the door and
Mulder and Scully entered with their guns drawn. They came out in five
minutes and moved to the shop next door to the defunct Subway.

Something was nagging at Cassy, but with her raging headache she just
shoved whatever it was aside. She lay down in the back seat, closing her
eyes to seek some relief from the pain.

                              *

Mulder cursed softly when he saw that this store had once been a
pharmacy. It was filled with empty shelving, but still had numerous
hiding places.

The only light was the pale, thin illumination from the soaped over front 
windows. The only sounds their combined breathing and the whisper of 
fabric as they moved, it sound of their own footfalls as the walked as silently 
as they could.

Out on nowhere a heavy hand fell on Mulder's shoulder. He managed not to
jump as Mr. Niles voice fell near his ear. "There is a lock on the door to the 
back storeroom." 

Mulder nodded to him. "Scully, go with him and check it out." He eyed
the pharmacist's area in back. Another good hiding place.

Scully moved along the side wall, Mr. Niles following nervously
behind. He saw the real estate man fumble with the lock and finally open
the back storeroom before following Scully inside. 

Mulder moved across the isles, making sure it was all clear before
proceeding to the pharmacist's counter
.
                                   *

Scully felt Mr. Niles behind her as she swung, Sig ready, around the
first storage shelf. Nothing. She began to turn to tell the man it might
be better if he left when she felt something press into her side, and a
jolt of electricity tore through her. She fell limply to the floor.

The man behind her re-pocketed his stun gun and removed the gold
jacket, letting it drop to the dusty ground before he hefted the
unconscious woman up and over his shoulder. Good thing she was small, he
thought to himself. He kicked her dropped gun at the door. She wouldn't be
needing that, and it would be one more thing to distract her partner.
 
He used the keys he'd taken from the man who now occupied the trunk
of the car in the parking lot to open the back exit. His own car was
waiting right outside.

                              *

"Scully it's clear." Mulder called as he made his way to the door of
the store room. What was taking her so long? He hadn't heard anything.

He paused at the door. "Scully?"

Pushing the door open the first thing he noticed was the gun the door
pushed before it cleared. Then the jacket lying in the dust.

"SCULLY!" He searched the room frantically. She was gone. The rear
exit was open. 

He brought out his cellphone and dialed a number he had filed in his
memory.

"It's Mulder. I'm at the Oakcrest plaza on Hanover. I saw our man,
and I think he has Scully." His voice held the tight edge of rising panic.
He didn't hear Skinner's response over the phone as he cursed and ran out
to the front of the store. Bursting through the door he looked at the blue
Ford Taurus to see no one in the back seat.

"NO!" He ran to the car just as Cassy's head popped up from the back.

The relief was brief. Scully was still missing.

                              *

Cassy saw Mulder's pale face, and noted at once that there was no
sign of Scully or the real estate guy. She opened the door and climbed out
of the back seat, bat still in her hands.

"Mulder what is it?"

"He was no real estate agent. He took Scully."

Cassy's eyes flew wide. "How? I mean she was armed..."

"I don't know. He went into the storeroom with her and when I checked
on him two minutes later he was gone, out the back door. How did he know
where we'd be?"

Cassy felt a wave of nausea flow through her. Her eyes grew wide with 
comprehension and she struggled for breath. She leaned heavily against 
the car. Her knees went weak and she slid down the car to sit on the asphalt.

He was a telepath. When she had sought him out he had caught her. It was
entirely possible he had managed to get the list they were checking directly
from her mind. It was HER fault that he'd gotten a step ahead. Her actions 
which had led to Scully's disappearance. 

Her throat burned with bile at the thought.

"It's my fault. That was our telepath. He must have taken the list we were 
checking from my mind. I led him right to us." Her voice shook and the 
eyes she turned on him were filled with regret and unshed tears.

"You couldn't have anticipated this." His voice was soft. He wasn't blaming 
her. No, he was blaming himself. He was the one who profiled this animal. 
He was the one whose job it was to out-think this kind of person. He 
specialized in such leaps in logic. Yet he had missed this. 

He heard the distant sounds of sirens. He remembered the phone in his 
hand and held it to his ear. It wasn't a dial tone, just Skinner's voice issuing 
orders.

"Sir?"

"Glad you could rejoin us Agent Mulder." The sharp words bit over the
phone. "Police are on their way, as are a forensic's team. Mind telling me
just what happened?"

Mulder slid down the car to sit next to Cassy as he repeated the
whole story. 

Cassy fought back her own sense of guilt and raging headache as she
felt Mulder's panic pull at her. 

Mulder cursed himself. He'd lost her again.. It was only pure luck that had 
allowed her recovery on three other occasions. He noticed Cassy take his hand, 
and he pulled away. He didn't deserve the comfort.
.
Cassy saw him withdrawing again, and she couldn't let that happen. He couldn't
find Scully if he encased himself in his own misery. 

"Mulder. Listen to me, he's an expert on these games. He's eliminating 
everyone tracking him, and that means you too. Killing outright is not his 
style. Not yet anyway. But if he pulled where we were going from my head 
he may well have found out what might drive you crazy. So he took her. 
But he made a mistake Mulder..." 

It was only rage holding him together right now. "Mulder, we may 
not be the best of friends... but I may have spent enough time around Scully 
to track her emotions. He may have just given us a tracking device."

"If she's alive. And conscious." He spit out.

"She's alive. I'd feel it if she died violently this close to me. And
if he wants to play with her head he needs her conscious. We'll find her."
Cassy pressed reassurance on him as she touched his arm.

Chapter 12.
-------------

It seemed to take forever after the police and forensics teams
arrived for them to both give a detailed description of the suspect. Both
Mulder and Cassy wanted to get moving, and they were not allowed until
full statements were given and an APB put out on the man who had posed as
Mr. Niles.

The real Mr. Niles was found soon enough. He had been shoved into the
trunk of the car the imposter had been waiting near. He was quite dead.

Cassandra downed a handful of aspirin with a small bottle of juice
then waited in the passenger seat of the Taurus. Forty five agonizing
minutes after Scully had disappeared Mulder finally slipped back into the
driver's seat.

"Well?" He looked at her expectantly. 

Cassy raised an eyebrow at him. Just an hour ago he'd had a fit about her
reaching out with her gift. My, how situations change. She fought the surge
of jealousy rising like bile in her throat. 

He valued Dana Scully's life over her safety. It did no good. She closed her
eyes agaist the burning pain in her chest. If she was going to continue to be
involved with Mulder she was going to have to face this. She was going to
come second, always. Not to his work, but to this woman. His partner.

She sighed and thought of the emotional signature of Agent Scully.
It was a psychic scent. Over time this identifying group of feelings would
change, but it had been about an hour since Cassy had felt Dana Scully's
sentiments thrust on her. Like any good bloodhound she sought for a whiff
of that particular tang.

Was he even aware of his decision? No. Cassandra knew his emotions and
couldn't deny the ties to Scully were ironclad; stronger then either agent
realized. Could she live with that? Second best. An unwitting substitute.
She wanted to weep.

But that didn't matter now. Dana and and innocent child needed her. All else
would have to be dealt with later.

                                   *

Scully awoke in a room filled with light. Something buzzed in her
head for a while, and she quickly realized that she was on her back,
strapped to a hard table. It was eerily familiar, and her heart rate sped
up in response to the first wave of panic that hit her.
 
Two faces loomed into view, faces from a nightmare, or from Hell. 

"No... no... you're dead." She struggled in the restraints.

"Yes... your friend got a little too close for comfort." The oriental
man smiled without humor. "And so Dr. Ishimaru had to die. But my work
continues. Dying is very liberating Miss Scully. It allows certain
freedoms." He held up a hypodermic, watching some clear fluid bead at the
tip.

She fought against the rising hysteria, her body trembled in terror.
No! The second man... he was in prison. Well and truly locked away. 
Safe behind bars. If he'd have escaped she and Mulder would have 
been the first to know.

"No, damnit. YOU are not here." She twisted, feeling the restraints bite
into her. "You were no part of THIS. You were nothing more then a warped,
delusional, psychotic. This isn't real."

Donnie Pfaster just gave her a tight lipped smile. "I brought you
here Dana. I get to play with you when they're done." She felt his hand
stroke her hair and she fought the rising urge to vomit. "Such lovely
hair." He purred. "Such a vibrant red."

"Later. First there are a few more tests." Dr. Ishimaru pushed
Pfaster away as he lowered the needle to Scully's arm.

Her mind screamed out in denial. This was utterly impossible. Not
real. Not real at all. It couldn't be. 

A thought struck her. A picture of Cassandra Troy with a popsicle.
Scully bit the inside of her cheek, hard. The pain was immediate and tears
welled in her eyes. She focused on it, probed at the soreness with her
tongue while telling herself this wasn't real.

The room faded, and her head was filled with a roaring noise before
intense pain in her skull nearly blinded her. 

"Damn. Now you see why I prefer to work with children." She heard the
voice before her. She looked up to see the man whom she had thought to be
a real estate agent. She had thought him to be in his forties in the
parking lot, but his now wet hair had lost it's grey, and some of the
lines on his face were gone. He'd used makeup to age himself. 

"Regain your strength Agent Scully, we'll play again soon enough. I
imagine your partner is quite frantic by now." There was a sick enjoyment
in his eyes. "But now I have to go keep Kimmy company. I don't want her to
feel too neglected."

He had been standing in a doorway and the door now closed. "No! No,
you son of a bitch! Come back here. Leave her alone!"

She swung her feet but couldn't reach the door. She surveyed her
surroundings desperately seeking a means to escape. A bare lightbulb
provided illumination. 

She felt the pain in her shoulders, drawing her awareness to her hands, 
tied together with duct tape and looped over a meat hook so that her feet 
barely touched the floor. 

She was in an empty freezer unit. It was not cold, so the unit had been 
turned off for some time. She looked to the closed door with renewed 
fear. If it had a good seal... she could suffocate in here.

Scully forced her breathing to slow. This could be an illusion as
well. She probed at her sore cheek, but it didn't fade. Ok, so maybe this
part was real. And he was outside that door somewhere... mentally
torturing Kimberly Jenkins.

Scully started to saw her bound wrists against the dull meat hook.

                              *

Cassandra's brow furrowed. Mulder watched her carefully for the first
sign that she was again in the Boogie Man's grasp. It took about five
minutes before she opened her eyes.

"Fifteen miles northeast. I'm leaving some shields down. The closer
we get the better I'll feel her."

"You found her?" He started the car and pulled out onto the main
road.

"Oh ye of little faith," her smile was small and rueful, "Yah, but it's gonna 
be a game of hot and cold till we are on top of the place. The bad news 
is... she was scared shitless Mulder. I think he might be playing his head 
games with her." Cassandra didn't WANT to tell him that, but he had to know. 

"Are you going to call for backup or what?" Cassy looked at him
strangely.

"Not until we get there. Look Cassy, we're lucky Skinner's taking you
as seriously as he is... but he'd never pull other search units away to
play a game of hot and cold follow the leader. No, we wait until you say
we're right on top of the place... THEN we call for back up."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. She was shaking a bit as she left
her mind open enough. A hint of anger mixed with fear, helplessness 
tinged by determination marked the trail now.

"Go right here." She pointed to the next intersection. They
couldn't, it was a one way street. "Shit." 

Mulder kept going to the next street over. There they could make the
right. "Which way back or forward?"

"Ahead." Cassy's mouth twitched a little at what she felt. "You
know... she's pissed off more then she's afraid." 

Mulder managed a tight little grin. That was his Scully.

Cassy's eyes darted to all the side roads. "Left here. Oh please 
not another one way street..."

It wasn't. They made the turn easily.

Chapter 13.
---------------

He watched the child writhe in terror.

                              *


In her mind Kimmy couldn't see. She was somewhere cold and dark, and
she was standing in some slimy cold stuff up to her knees. Every once in a
while something in the slime would brush her leg. Or she'd hear a gurgling
sound. She was crying freely now. 

She wanted her mommy. She wanted her daddy who had always made the
bad guys go away before. But they weren't here. Only the dark, and the
thing in the slime.

It grabbed her ankle and she fell, screaming. Something awful filled
her mouth, and she spat the slimy liquid out even as she was dragged
forward by her ankle. 

Her screams echoed back at her. No one answered them. No one ever did. 
She couldn't get a hold of anything as she was pulled. Nothing at all. Then 
the thing let go, only to wrap around her body. 

Dim light filled the tunnel she was in now, allowing her to see at last. It was 
a 
tongue. It was dragging her to a wide open mouth with rows of sharp teeth.

She renewed her screams.

                              *

The waves of panic washed over him. It swept away the mild headache
dealing with the woman had given him. It filled him with its power. Yes.
Yes. YES! 

His body rocked slightly as he sat before the child, his breath coming 
in short little gasps. She had slipped into the comforting arms of 
oblivion for a while. He stroked her pale cheek with something akin to 
reverence. Soon enough she'd be ready to feed him again.

He looked at the closed door of the refrigeration unit. It was
probably time to give her some air anyway.

He opened the door to see the agent hanging limply from the meat hook. A
trickle of blood seeped from underneath the tape holding her wrists. She
glared at him with loathing and hatred.

"Now see, you went and hurt yourself. I could have told you this
wasn't sharp enough to cut through the tape, and you aren't heavy enough
to break the tape as many times as I have it wrapped." He smiled at her.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" The woman's anger flowed from 
her, lovely in it's strength.

"I'm the Boogie Man. That's what you call me anyway." A cold, callous smile 
slithered over his face He moved to the side so she could see the child crumpled 
on the floor just in her line of sight. 

"Bastard." She spat. "It takes a fucking big man to pick on little kids!  You're 
nothing but a overblown bully. Getting off on doing something any 
twelve year old with a stick can do. You're a disgusting little toad." Her eyes 
blazed.

"You cannot begin to fathom what I am. Your words cannot anger me. 
You're nothing more then a yapping little dog. No threat and just as far 
beneath me."

"Why are you doing this? Why children?" She twisted in her bonds again,
feeling her shoulders wrench.

"Because the fear of children is not only the strongest emotion, it's
 the easiest to induce. It's what I was born to do. Do these answers
enlighten you at all? I didn't think so. You can't comprehend how
high on the evolutionary scale I am. I'm the step above you on the food
chain." His grin was malicious.

"Right up there with the buzzards and maggots, " she sneered.

He sighed, but made no move to get any closer to her. He knew she'd 
strike out with her feet if he came in range. If he tried to retape her wrists 
she'd fight as well. So she would have to suffer the discomfort.

"You're arms must hurt something awful, and your wrists are probably 
burning. I suppose I can't play with you anymore can I?"

She felt her arms quiver and spasm, each individual strand of muscle 
screamed in agony. Her shoulders were threatening to pull from 
their sockets.

"What a shame.  You're a lot of fun. Your terror, when it is properly 
aroused, runs quite  deep. You're nightmares are delicious. You could 
keep me fed for weeks."

"I hope I gave you indigestion." She spat pulling once more at her
wrists despite the pain.

He chuckled. "You have a refreshing sense of humor, Dana. Your anger
is refreshing as well. I am not limited to fear you know. I can take in
just about any emotion. It is just that fear is the most... delicious." 

He stepped back through the door. "I have to go now. My guests will
be arriving soon. I really think I should be ready for them don't you?
It seems fitting that your partner will be giving my bride to me, doesn't it?
You'll have enough air to breathe for a while more anyway. After that...
it probably won't matter any more." As he swung the door closed again she
could swear she heard him humming "Here Comes the Bride".

                              *

"Ahead! It's just ahead!" Cassy pointed slightly to the left.
"There!" She closed her eyes. Yes. Dana Scully was here. In that building.

It was a boarded up corner store. The letters DE and I still hung
above the door. 
 
Mulder pulled into an old parking lot and reached for his phone. He
froze mid movement. 

Cassy frowned. "Mulder, what's wrong?" 

She saw him slump over at the same moment she felt the anger and terror
flow from him. 

"NO!" She shook his shoulder. That son-of-a-bitch got him. 

"Not if I can help it." She closed her eyes and thrust herself into
Mulder's dreams. It wasn't the cautious, controlled entry she had always
taken with him before on the numerous times she had either banished his
nightmares or created more interesting and pleasurable dream settings.
This was the violent jolt of panic.

                              *

She almost didn't notice that she had succeeded because she was still in the
car, still parked outside the deli. But the scent of garlic was stronger
here, and Mulder was NOT in the car. Of course, the best illusion was one
based on fact. Mulder may not even realize this wasn't real.

She opened the car door and hefted the baseball bat in her hands. 

She scanned the entrance of the derelect building. All was still. She ran 
into the ajar side door of the building. "So far so good," Cassy murmured 
warily.

She didn't know the extent of this guy's power. Maybe he couldn't really 
concentrate on more then one adult mind at a time. She certainly hoped not.

She ran to the side door of the building. It was slightly ajar.

"Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly." She whispered as she 
opened it and stepped inside.

                              *

Mulder heard a child whimpering up ahead. He tried to make as little
sound as he could as he moved through the empty shop area. The sound was
coming from the back. He strained his hearing. No sign yet of the backup
he'd called. 

Suddenly blinding light struck him from the door way. He
instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes. Then he heard Scully
scream.

With no further thought he ran into the light, his gun ready. At once
he was unable to move, unable to speak, almost unable to breathe. 

::It's come full circle at last.:: the voice in his head was
terrifyingly familiar.  ::Don't worry, she'll be all right.::

He couldn't even scream.

Chapter 14.
----------------
    
Cassandra moved through a dimly illuminated hall. The only source of
light was a blinding glow at the end. By now she felt the fear battling
with rage coming from Mulder. She suspected what she might find when she
reached the light.

She had no sooner entered the room of light than the light itself
faded. She saw Mulder, he'd been standing just inside a door on her left.
He fell, his knees giving out from under him.

"Mulder... Fox this isn't..." Her words were drown in a rush of air
and a roar. She felt incredible heat at her back, searing. She smelled
burnt hair and immediately dropped and rolled. Flames filled the hall
she'd just come from, and the door behind Mulder. She checked, and sure
enough the ends of her hair had been aflame, indeed she might have gone up
if she hadn't rolled.

Mulder was trying to push himself up off the floor, blind panic in his
eyes, rolling over her. The heat was intense. Smoke filled the room and
she scrambled on hands and knees to his side.

She looked around, by now the flames covered all the walls and were
starting on the ceiling. Debris began to fall as  flaming cardboard
ceiling tiles dropped randomly.

She touched Mulder's arm. He was shaking. Fire. What had made the
mysterious Boogie Man choose this illusion? Was Mulder afraid of fire?
He'd never confessed such a fear to her.

"Cassy." She looked into his eyes, seeing a naked terror there. "We
have to find Kimberly, quickly. They took Scully." He tried to get up
again. "I can barely stand."

Cassy gripped his shoulders. "It's not real. Mulder listen to me, you
are still in the car. You were overcome before you could even call for
backup." 

She saw his eyes gaze at the flames, felt the panic rising to drive
her mad, along with him.

"Mulder, do you trust me? I know you don't trust easily... but do you
trust ME?"

He took a shuddering breath, the air scalded his lungs, and the smoke
added to the burning. He coughed, but nodded.

Cassy fought against the fear. She knew HE was here somewhere,
feeding off it. Feeding off Mulder, enjoying this twisted game. She felt
the fear become lost in the anger that flowed over her, a red haze of
rage. She felt her mind reach out... Only to snatch it back with an effort
of sheer will that almost tore her apart. NO, she would not do that again.
Never again. But if it was the only way to save Mulder...
 
She shook her head. No, he wasn't in PHYSICAL danger. Not yet anyway.
And to allow her mind to strike out would only feed this adversary more,
not drive him mad with guilt, fear and pain.

"Come on." She helped haul Mulder to his feet. "You and me, together.
We walk right into it. Face the fear." She took his arm.

She saw the raw terror as much as felt it, the doubt in his eyes. 

"TRUST me." She took his hand. He looked at her and nodded. The roar
of the flames, the intense heat sucking away every drop of moisture in
their bodies drained him of the ability to speak.

His grip on her hand was painful, she could almost feel the bones
grind together as she ran with him at the flames, rushing headlong into
the fire. She felt it then... an outpouring of pure love, it came from
within herself and bathed him in it's protective embrace. He was nearly
gibbering mad with terror, yet he was willing to run to the heart of that
fear for no other reason than her word.

She gasped, opening her eyes to see that she was still in the car.
She turned to Mulder. "See, I told you so."

He hadn't moved. He was still slumped against the door.

Cassy considered her options. If she went back in then she could very
well be thrown out again. That is what must have happened, for she would
never have exited the illusion without him of her own volition. 

Physical stimuli, it had helped her fight it before. She leaned over
and kissed Mulder's lips. No response. Oh well there was a first time for
everything. She bit her lip. Ok, so pain it was. She pinched his thigh,
hard. Nothing. What? She slapped his face. Once, twice, to no response.

She pulled the phone from his limp fingers. It didn't have a speed
dial option. Should she call 911? No, it would take to long to explain. The
answer came to her at once. There was an automatic redial. She jabbed the
button and heard the pulse tones  then a single ring.

"Talk to me." The words barked into her ear.

"We're at the corner of King George and East. Ms. Scully is inside,
and the Boogie Man is inside Mulder's head. Get your people out here now
Mr. Skinner. He's doing things to their minds, and I can't just sit by and
let it happen."

"Yes you will, Ms. Troy, you sit in that goddamn car until trained
officers arrive. Do you hear me?"

"Sorry... I think this is a bad connection. Your breaking up. Come 
again?"She hung up with only a twinge of regret.  She didn't want to 
think of how pissed off he was going to be when he got here.

Feeling a sense of deja vu she slipped from the front seat of the
car, the baseball bat in hand. No need for side doors. The bastard knew
she was coming. 

She heard the cellphone in the car ringing urgently and ignored it.

                              *

It was pitch black, and cold. The only sound was that of his own
breathing. 

"Cassy?" He didn't like the way his voice cracked. She had been by
his side in the middle of Hell, he'd trusted her and she brought him...
here. No where. Nothing, not even the sound of her breathing. 

Alright, once they leapt through the flames they should have either
burnt to a crisp, or somehow gotten clear, OR he should have snapped out
of it, if she was right, and it looked like she was, then everything
around him was the invention of the Boogie Man. All illusion. And he was
in the car. Great. So how do you get out, he thought to himself. He HAD to
get out. Scully needed him, Kimberly Jenkins needed him, even Cassandra
needed him. 

Oh God, Cassandra. He rubbed at his face in the darkness. He'd been
holding her hand, and at the moment the thought of actually jumping into
the fire had been enough to occupy his mind and turn his bones to jelly
while twisting his guts. 

But now... now he remembered the emotions that swept over him as they had 
made the jump. A warm cocoon of comfort and completeness. Love. It had 
come from Cassandra, of that there was no doubt. 

It terrified him. He was suddenly aware that his commitment to her
paled in comparison to her love for him. Although she was brave, selfless,
giving, and beautiful, he would never love her enough to place her before
his quest. Not like he could...

He shook his head. He'd have to deal with the ramifications of THAT
later. Right now he had to get out of this place. This darkness that only
existed in the mind of a madman.

Chapter 15.
---------------

Cassandra held the bat carefully, not too tight not too loose. She
moved through the empty store front.

"Ok, I'm here you son-of-a-bitch. Come out and face me!" Her shout
echoed in the eerie emptiness.

There was no answer. She saw the open door to the back room and moved
to it cautiously, listening for the slightest sound. There was breathing,
coming from the other side of a butcher block counter in the center of the
room.

She moved through the door with a quick look to either side, ready to
smash in the head of anyone lurking there. Nothing.

She rounded the counter with her bat raised to strike. It was
Kimberly Jenkins, curled into a ball. Her wrists and mouth covered with
duct tape. 

Cassy dropped to one knee and checked the girl's pulse. Erratic, but strong. 
Her eyes were closed, so she had to assume the child was out cold.

Cassy stood again, scanning the room, her outer shields down.
Fear mixed with rage and frustration emanated from the door of the 
walk-in freezer unit. 

Scully? Yes, the woman was in there, and conscious.

Cassy couldn't see a single sign of the self proclaimed Boogie Man.
She opened the freezer door with one hand, the other still clutching the
bat. Dana Scully was against the far wall. Her hands over her head. She
too had been bound with duct tape.

Cassy took a step toward the other woman, but Scully's eyes went
wide. "Behind you!" 

The words hadn't even completely left Scully's mouth before Cassandra
felt a shove from behind. Then the door slammed closed.

"Oh shit." Cassy turned to shove against the door. It didn't budge.
There was no handle on the inside. 

Damn... Mulder was out there, completely helpless. What had she done?

                              *

He'd felt her enter the building, her light shining like a beacon he
could not ignore. But she had managed to interfere with his games. Just
moments before, she'd started putting together the keys of how to escape
his illusions. And she'd used that knowledge to help the man. 

The resistance was painful. If he had not fed so well from the child
it might have been debilitating. But he had been able to separate her
consciousness from Agent Mulder's and to lock the single most annoying
person in his life into a tight little place in his mind. 

Concentrating on the physical and the etherial worlds simultaneously was 
straining. She was here, so close to his trap, he had to divert some of his 
attention, enough to watch from his hiding place on top of the freezer unit as 
she walked into the room, checking on the child before heading for the door 
beneath him.
 
When she walked through the door he lost more concentration as he
swung down, dropping behind her to shove her further inside. For the
moment she could share the prison with Agent Scully.

That done, he could now focus his full attention on destroying the
man.

                              *

For a moment the darkness seemed less oppressive, and the silence was
not as engulfing. Mulder was suddenly aware of an ache in his leg, and a
faint stinging in his cheeks. The very fact that those feelings were so
out of place forced him to focus on them. 

With a jolt he was back in the car. His head hurt. That was an
understatement. It felt like a whisky hangover minus the nausea. His
cellphone was on the seat beside him. Cassandra was not. 

With a curse at the stubbornness and downright foolishness of women
in general, and one in particular he got out of the car. The cellphone
rang. He picked it up in irritation.

"Mulder." He winced at the ache just speaking sent through his head.

"Mulder, backup in on the way. Please tell me Ms. Troy is with you."
The sound of a car horn over the phone told Mulder Skinner was on the road
himself.

"No sir, she's not. I don't have any choice sir. I'm going in. Get
that backup here as fast as possible." Mulder hung up before Skinner had a
chance to order him to stay put. He switched off the phone for good
measure. 

He checked the front door. It was open.

"You know Agent Mulder, a wasted mind is a terrible thing. Why don't
you just let me put you out of my misery?" The voice came from 
everywhere, and the pain slicing through his head gave Mulder an 
idea why. 

He was a projective telepath as well as a psychic vampire. He not only 
spoke the words, but forced them into Mulder's mind. The speaker, 
however was no where to be seen. 

"I'm sorry I allowed myself to get distracted by your lady friends.
If you'd stayed where you were, you and I could have played for such 
a long time."

"What have you done with them?" Mulder searched every corner of the
store front for some sign of the man to no avail.

"Oh what a pair they are. You realize your little red haired friend
is quite expendable. She has such rich fear though. She is quite exquisite
in her own way. Do you have any idea how much most women fear rape Agent
Mulder? How wonderful that fear can be?"

Mulder felt the rage boil up within him. Turning the edges of his vision red.

"But Cassandra..." There was a chuckle coming from everywhere at
once. "once I teach her all we are meant to be... what a wonderful bride
she will make. I haven't yet had the pleasure Agent Mulder... is she any
good? Does she scream? I think she likes it rough. Are you ever rough? Is
she twice as lovely when you make her come?"
 
Mulder ground his teeth. This guy was baiting him, and he was being
none to subtle about it. He wanted Mulder to get angry, careless. Well the
anger was there, but he wasn't about to let it make him insipiant.

The door to the back room was open. He had to be in there, on the
other side. Now, how was he armed, and where were the hostages?

                              *

Cassandra fished her miniature pocket knife from her front jeans
pocket. It took a bit of sawing, but she finally managed to cut Scully
down. Dana winced as she slowly lowered her arms. Pain stabbed 
through her shoulders as over strained muscles repositioned themselves.
 
"Are you okay?" Cassy carefully removed the tape from Scully's
bleeding wrists.

"I've been better. What the Hell are you doing in here? Where's
Mulder?"

Tears blurred Cassy's vision. "The Boogie Man got into his head. My
God Dana, he's helpless ..."

Chapter 16.
--------------

"Think we can bust it open?" Scully motioned to the door. 

Cassy looked around the freezer thoughtfully, and stood on tip toe to 
bring down the meat hook Scully so recently adorned.

"Let's hope the seal is dry rotted." 

Scully nodded and both women checked along the door for the best
place to begin prying. Scully found a spot a bit wider than the rest and
Cassy applied the hook, pushing on the seal. It didn't budge. 

"Feel up to lending a hand?" Cassy managed through gritted teeth. 

Scully tested her aching shoulders'.  Alright, but she couldn't get
her hands on the hook, not in any position that would give them leverage. 

"My legs. I'll put my back against yours and brace my feet on the
wall. I'll push against you. Do you think your arms and ribs can take it?"
At Cassy's nod she continued. " If this works, prepare to fall."

Cassy braced her palms against the hook and bent forward a little,
feeling Scully press her back against her. The force increased on her back
and Cassy pressed on the hook, her hands trapped between her ribs and the
metal. 
 
"One, two, three... HEAVE." Both women gave everything they had at
the end of Scully's count. There was a satisfying hiss just as the hook
gave and both women fell. Cassy on her stomach and Scully on her back on
top of her.

"Cassy are you alright?" Scully spoke softly as she quickly rolled
off. 

"No problem. I didn't need those ribs anyway." She got to her knees
and pushed against the door. It gave an inch then stopped. "It's got a
padlock."

"The sides of this freezer are aluminum. It can't be that strong.
Let's put our shoulders to it." Both women stood and got into position.

"You know this guy's problem?" Cassy said as she readied to rush the
door. 

"He's a psychopathic megalomaniac?" Scully quirked an eyebrow at her.
 
"He's a psychopathic megalomaniac with no IMAGINATION. He uses movie
ideas on the kids, I don't know what he did with you, but unless Mulder's
fear of fire is a NEW thing he was playing on old fears with him. Nothing
at all original."

Scully shook her head. "So how does that help us?"

"No matter how smart you are, if you have no imagination someone is
bound to out-think you. Ready?"

                              *

Mulder kept his eyes on the open doorway. Two could play this
game.

"I doubt you'd be able to handle the job. Cassy doesn't like passive
men. You have to put a little effort into it. Cassandra's definitely high
maintenance."

"So, you think I am unable to be aggressive?" The voice around him
chuckled.

"Only with people who can't fight back. And really, where is your
sense of originality? You need to be a bit more inventive."

He couldn't tell if he'd managed to piss the guy off, but the silence
may have been telling.

There was a groaning sound from the back, not human, the sound of
straining metal.

"Fuck." That was the Boogie Man. He was distracted. There was a
crashing noise, then another. It was now or never.

Mulder moved through the door, sweeping the room. Nothing. All of a
sudden the door of the freezer burst open, and Scully and Cassy spilled
out.

Where was the suspect, and where was Kimberly Jenkins?

                              *

The first shove moved the door a bit. Scully and Cassy met each
other's eyes and nodded. "One, two, THREE!" The padlock gave and they
spilled out. Cassy landed on her side, but Scully managed a controlled
roll that brought her to a one kneed crouch between one breath and the
next.

"Ooo, throw in some jell-o and I know I've had this dream before."

Cassy managed to get up and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw
Mulder standing in the door, gun out and ready. But where was the Boogie
Man?

                              *


"Hello!" He stood up from the other side of the counter, one arm
wrapped around Kimberly Jenkins' neck, the other hand held a gun to her
head. "I know, not terribly original yet again. But hey, I'm under
pressure." 

The child was awake, and her eyes were large with fear. Her mouth and
wrists were still taped. 

"Now if you'll excuse me... we can continue this at another time." He
backed toward the door, his eyes darting back and forth between the three
people facing him. Only Mulder had a gun. Cassy spied the baseball bat
laying inside the freezer.

"Don't even think it, honey. I can blow her brains all over that wall
before you managed to even pick it up."

"Then take me." Cassy edged a bit closer."It's me you want anyway,
isn't it? Not the kid, you can pick up another kid anywhere, but where can
you find another empath? Do you think I want to face life never feeling
that rush again? Take me. They won't shoot you as long as you have me with
you."
 
"Oh how touching," he sneered. "But I somehow doubt you plan on being
a willing hostage."

He took another backwards step towards the door.

"You are not leaving here." Mulder's voice was steady.

"I don't think you can stop me."As he smirked, pain lanced through
Mulder's head, on top of the previous headache his vision swam. His skull
was about to burst.


Chapter 17.
--------------

Three things happened at once.

                              *

Kimberly Jenkins saw the Boogie Man hurting Mr. Mulder. She knew Mr.
Mulder and Ms. Scully, because they'd been to her house before. They 
were her daddy's friends. Trying to remember the things she had seen on 
TV she arched her back and slammed the back of her head into the Boogie 
Man's face. It hurt, a lot. But she heard him scream, and it felt good. He made
her scream enough. It was payback time.

                              *

Cassy saw Mulder clasp at his head and she saw Kimberly strike.
Without thought she rushed forward and grabbed the Boogie Man's gun hand,
drawing it upwards. A gunshot tore through the air.

                              *

Dana Scully dove for the baseball bat inside the freezer as the shot
rang out. The Boogie man had dropped Kimberly and was wrestling with
Cassy. She had both hands wrapped around his gun wrist, and he had grabbed
a fist full of her hair, yanking her head back. Blood poured from his nose.
Kimberly had managed to break it.

"You bitch!" He snarled into her face.

Cassandra Troy smiled at him, despite the pain. Then she was in. Her 
hands around his wrist were the contact she needed. 

She pushed into his head and swam in pure emotion. She punished him
with an onslaught of disgust, loathing, hatred, and fury. This was not a
loss of control he could feed on, because the initial thrust of her attack
caught him off gaurd. For a moment he was stunned but then he began to
drink her in, draining her.

                              *

The pain of his attack faded the moment Kimberly had smashed the
Boogie Man's nose with the back of her head. He heard the gunshot and
focused, seeing Cassandra wrestling the man for his gun. Kimberly was
scrambling on her knees to get away, crawling awkwardly toward Mulder. He
tried to get a clear shot but Cassandra and his target kept twisting, if
he fired he could hit her.

"Cassandra, drop!"

She didn't. Instead both figures stiffened. They froze, and a
heartbeat later Cassandra began to shake, the same tiny convulsions she
had had at the Jenkins' and in the car. He aimed for the self styled
Boogie Man's head. Before he could fire a resounding CRACK filled the
room. Both Cassandra and the Boogie man fell, revealing Scully behind
them, with the baseball bat. She'd clobbered him in the back of the head.

Kimberly's crying was the only sound in the room until the distant
wail of police sirens filtered through the shop's walls.

Cassandra moaned from under the suspect's bulk. She opened her eyes
and started to push him off. At that moment his grip on her hair tightened
and his gun pressed under her chin. 

"You were supposed to understand." His pain filled eyes bore into
hers, and they were empty of anything human. "You're going to hell with 
me, bitch."

                              *

Skinner was the third to pull into the parking lot, throwing his car
into park he saw Mulder's Taurus, and the other officers scrambling out
of their cars, weapons out as they moved to surround the building.

They all heard the single gunshot from within.

                              *

Kimberly held on to her father for dear life. She had never seen her
daddy cry before. She didn't know daddies could cry. But Mommy's tears
came as no surprise. She looked back at the car she had come home in. Nice
Mr. Skinner sat in the front seat, looking into the back seat where Mr.
Mulder sat looking really funny. Like he couldn't breath right. Ms. Scully
kept touching his arm. She would make him feel better. Kimberly knew it. 

Kimberly was fine. She knew the Boogie Man had been inside her head, and 
none of it was real. She knew she'd have nightmares for a while, and she 
would have to talk with someone who would explain it all to her, to make HER 
feel better. But for now she was home. Mommy and Daddy loved her. That 
was all that mattered.

                              *

Skinner smiled briefly at the sight of the family's reunion. But that
smile disappeared as he looked into the back seat. Right now lectures on
proper procedures and following orders, not to mention hanging up on their
superiors were NOT what those two needed, especially not Agent Mulder.

"I want you to see the department therapist first thing tomorrow
agent Mulder, no ifs, ands or buts. That much at least will be by the
book." He had a hard time maintaining his glare into the rear view mirror.

"But for now I'll take you to Mercy. You are going to be impossible to
handle until you see for yourself that she's fine. And Agent Scully, I want 
you checked out there as well. You've been through a lot."

Walter Skinner didn't want to acknowledge just how much HE wanted to
assure himself of Miss Troy's safety as well.

                                *

Mulder stood in the waiting room, too tired to pace, too anxious to
sit. When Cassy was wheeled through the door he managed to smile. They
hadn't bothered washing the blood away and she was pitifully pale. The
smile turned into a grimace.

"Yah, I bet I look bad. With the stuff they gave me for my head I
could care less though." She smiled, there was a glassy look to her eyes.
"They should sell this stuff on the street."

"Then we'd have to arrest you." Scully's smile was tight.

Mulder  hugged Cassy  gently. "We have to talk..."

"You know I'd usually be the last one to stop you when you are
feeling comunica... comun... when you want to talk. But right now I'm so
high I can probably see the rooftops, and I'm still a bit shaky."

"It isn't every day I get a man's head blown off in front of my face. It's not a
very nice experience." She reached up to touch her hair. "If I don't go
home and get his blood and grey matter out of my hair I'm going to have a
very unbecoming fit of hysterics. I think the lovely drugs have held them
off this long." 

He nodded, understanding. "Don't worry too much, Mulder. I'm sure I'll
get over it. I saw you out of the corner of my eye, and I managed to wrap
myself in as tight a shield as I could manage. His death was painful...
but more manageable than it would have been if I were unprepared." She
smiled a bit, weakly. "Take me home, and come see me tomorrow. We do have
a lot to talk about."

Cassy's head hurt even contemplating the coming conversation. She'd
seen his fears before. Seen his nightmares, but never had she seen him as
close to losing it as he had been tonight. And now he knew... He knew
that she loved him. And he didn't love her. Not the same way. No, he 
loved the woman beside him. He just didn't know it yet. She wasn't 
looking forward to tomorrow.

But all she wanted to do now was sleep. Sleep, without nightmares.

*****************************
CASSY V: DEALING WITH IT
By Rhondda Lake

Chapter 1.
-------------


Tammy woke to the incessant ringing of the phone by her bed. 

"Hello?" She rubbed a hand down her face and peered at the clock.
9am. 
 
Then she realized she wasn't alone in the bed and yesterday came
crashing back in on her. Tammy looked down at her sleeping friend.

She remembered last evening all too well.

                              *

Tammy had been trying to finish inking in the panels she had brought
home, but had to give up. Her nerves were affecting her and nobody wanted
a sloppily inked comic book. 

She had given up and switched on the TV, hoping for some mindless 
entertainment to take her thoughts away from her best friend. Her best friend 
who had gone off at three the previous night with her gun toting, severely 
strange boyfriend to track down a real life Freddy Krueger. 

While channel surfing she saw the news. A shoot out in a deli in Annapolis, 
one dead. Tammy had recognized Mulder's car pool car right next to the front 
door. The world narrowed to that picture. One dead... one dead... please God, 
I haven't been to church in a long time... but please not Cassy. 

She had begun to call the hospitals when the front door opened, and
Cassy came in, supported between Mulder and a woman Tammy's size. She
dropped the phone and ran to her friend. The borrowed sweater she had worn
out the previous night was heavily crusted with blood, her hair was stiff
with it, There was a dark bruise on her chin just behind her jaw. Her eyes
were glassy. She had never looked better. She was alive.

"What happened?" Tammy guided them to bring Cassy to the bathroom,
she obviously needed a bath.

"He's dead." Mulder had told her flatly. No need to ask who. 

Tammy looked to the redhead she had never met, but whom she assumed
was Mulder's partner. "So why is she like this?"

"There was a struggle. I think she tried to attack him emotionally
while she was wrestling for his gun. He had his gun under her chin, he was
going to kill her..."

"And I blew his fucking head off. Anything else you need to know?"
Mulder finished for his partner.

Oh God, he'd killed a man, violently, so close to Cassy. Her poor
mind... The blood on her wasn't hers, it was the madman's. Was it only
blood? Tammy swallowed hard. 

"It's mostly medication." The redhead assured her. "She was suffering
a massive headache, enough that the doctors actually gave her Demarol."

"I'm ok Tammy. Really." Cassy's words sounded like they were forced
through cotton. 

"Was it only a reaction headache?" Tammy stood before her doped
friend in the bathroom. "Give me a hand you two. Mulder, I think this
sweater should be burnt." 

Tammy unceremoniously pulled the stiff garment off Cassandra, her
friend's hair stuck to it in places. Tammy winced.

"You want us to help you clean her up?" Scully, yah that was the name
of Mulder's partner if her memory wasn't pulling tricks on her, said.

"I need help getting her out of these clothes and into the tub. I can take it 
from there."

"I can do it m'self." Cassy tried to unbutton her jeans, but the
button seemed to elude her fingers.  Maybe because they were not doing
what she told them to do.

"Umm hmmm. Looks like it." Tammy passed the ruined sweater to Mulder.
He looked at it strangely, as if it were some Rosetta Stone. He stared at
the dried blood patterns trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

"Wake up, Moldy. If you don't want to help in here go into the kitchen
and put some water on to boil. She can probably use some hot tea in her
stomach."

Tammy noticed that Scully was very efficient at undressing a mostly
inert body. The redhead's blue eyes met Tammy's briefly. "I'm a doctor." A
faint smile teased the corners of her mouth before a frown of
concentration replaced it.

Mulder was gone from the doorway by the time Tammy and Scully had
managed to get Cassy into the tub. Cassy herself was of little help, she
had managed to fall asleep. 

"He looks shaken up too. Must be if he moved away from this
spectacle. I bet he's always wanted to see two women undressing another."
Tammy winced at the pink color the hot water had taken on as she poured
water from a cup over Cassy's head.

"We're all pretty shaken. It was not a good night."

"Did you manage to find the kid?" Tammy had been half afraid to ask
that question. 

"Yah, she's safe, at home with her parents." Scully sat on the toilet
bowl, watching Tammy gently wash Cassy with clinical efficiency. "You've
done this before." 

"Yep, and that's why I knew I'd need help undressing her, and lifting
her out of here when we're done. Last time though she was in a drunken 
stupor and had puked down her front. Ahhh, college days." 

Cassy had roused enough to help them get her out of the tub. Tammy
ran the shower over her, making sure there were no traces of violence left
on her friend. The bruise she could not help.

Once wrapped in a robe Tammy and Scully managed to herd Cassandra out
to the living room, where Mulder waited. There was a garbage bag by the
door, and Tammy assumed the vile sweater was inside it. 

"I'll finish the tea, Mulder." She used his real name mostly because
she could see that he was upset as well. He was busy wrestling with his 
own demons. How close had it come tonight? Had he ever killed anyone 
before? Tammy didn't know the answer to either question for sure. 
"Would you please get the rest of her clothes out of the bathroom and put 
them with that sweater? They're hopeless."

Mulder had looked at her oddly for a moment. Maybe it was the shock
of her politeness. But he nodded and gathered the blood soaked garments
into the bag.

Chapter 2.
------------

"So how do you handle this sort of thing on a regular basis?" Tammy
had asked Scully.

"Training, good support, maybe a bit of numbness... and a healthy
dose of nightmares." As Scully plopped a tea bag into the mug of water on
the table Tammy noticed her bandaged wrists.

"And what happened to you?" 

"Bad run-in with some duct tape." She sat down and pressed the mug of
tea into Cassy's hand. Cassy took it, but she wasn't really with it.

Wherever the Demarol had her mind... it wasn't on this planet right now.
"I'm Dana Scully by the way." When she was sure Cassy wasn't going to drop
the cup she held out her hand to Tammy.

Tammy smiled a took it. "Tamara Phillips. But you can call me Tammy.
Every one else does."

Mulder rejoined them and sat with his head in his hands."They did some tests 
at Mercy Hospital. Cassy suffered three instances of epileptic seizures today. 
They think there may be... damage. The seizures coincided with suspected 
psychic attacks."

"There may be... damage. I don't know. The doctors did EEGs  and CAT scans
, an MRI, anything that would detect brain damage." He took a  bottle out of 
his pocket. "They did put her on phenobarbital though. One a day."

Tammy took the bottle. Cassy had sipped some tea and had gone back to
sleep on the couch.

"This isn't your fault ya know." Tammy mumbled. She wasn't empathic,
but the whipped dog look on Mulder's face told her all she needed to know.
"When she was going through puberty she had two seizures. Only two, and no
medication was ever needed. Of course she had the annoying habit of
picking up what people were feeling right after those seizures. Until she
learned how to shield herself she thought she was going to go crazy."

"I put her into this danger. If these seizures... if her gift is lost..."

Tammy put a hand on his shoulder. "Then life will go on, and she'll
be a mere mortal like the rest of us. She may even thank God. I don't
imagine being an empath is easy."

"But I still did this to her.If she weren't involved with me she would 
never have been anywhere near that sicko." Mulder swallowed hard 
and looked at the sleeping woman on the couch.

"Is he always this egotistical, Dana?" The woman in question sighed
and nodded.

"Yes he is. The world is his responsibility. But that is enough of it
for tonight. Come on Mulder. You need sleep too. We all do. Leave Cassy
rest."

Dana Scully stood and pulled Mulder along with her. At the door she
turned. "It was nice meeting you Tammy. You don't seem at all like a pain
in the ass."

"Tell Cassy we'll have that talk whenever she's ready," he'd said in parting, 
his voice flat and lifeless.

                                                 * 

Cassandra had roused herself by eight pm and cried. She shook as she
told Tammy about what she'd seen. Not with grief, but with rage. 

The Boogie Man had enraged her more then any person had before.
Tammy supposed that that was a good thing. 

Feeling him die in front of her was less of a blow. Cassy claimed she had 
closed her eyes. She didn't see him die. She saw Mulder aim, and knew 
the next heartbeat would mean either her death or that of the man on top 
of her. 

She had heard the roar of thunder in her ears and felt her face, chest and 
hair splattered with something warm and wet. 

She told Tammy she could not  force her eyes open, the wetness just spread, 
and she heard Mulder calling her name. 

She'd passed out. Thank God, she had passed out. She did not have to deal 
with a visual reference. 

Cassy did not want to be alone. So Tammy let her sleep in her room.
Both women in pajamas, she held Cassy as she drifted off to sleep
again. 

Cassy would always be the sister that nature had denied her. Tammy
had lost her own twin at birth, and when she was six fate or God or Karma
had thrust five year old Cassandra Troy into her life. 
 
They had climbed the same trees, shared dolls, agonized over their
first periods, discovered boys all that and more together. And they were
always, ALWAYS there for each other when the other fell. 

                              *

The voice on the phone jarred her back to the present.  "Am I-
speaking to Miss Cassandra Troy?" The voice was one she didn't know.
Older, male.

"Ummm, No this is her roommate. Can I take a message?"

"This is Doctor Killian, the head neurologist here at Mercy Hospital. I
have Ms. Troy's test results back and would like to see her as soon as
possible. Can she come in by ten thirty?"

Tammy swallowed hard, forcing saliva past the burning lump that had
lodged in her throat. 

"Yah..." Her voice was rough and cracked. "I'll make sure she's
there."

"Thank you." He hung up. Tammy stared dumbly at the phone for a
moment. The HEAD of the Neurology Department? That did not bode well at
all. She hung up her end of the phone and looked down at Cassy, tears
welling in her eyes.
************************

Tammy shook her friend's shoulder. "Cassy. Cassy get up."

Cassy opened her eyes. Their green at first pale, then darkening as
the events of the previous day rushed back into her memory. 

"Have you come out of orbit yet?" Tammy asked lightly.
 
"Oh yah, the Eagle has landed." Cassy sat up and rubbed at her
temple. "But my headache is almost gone."

"Well the neurologist at Mercy just called. He wants to see you by
10:30. I've called us both off of work. Get dressed."

Cassandra winced. "My headache's coming back..."

"Mulder told me to remind you that you two are supposed to talk tonight.
Sounds ominous."

Cassandra nodded. "It's definitely back. Tammy, I don't want Mulder
to know one way or the other what this doctor tells me this morning. He
found out... well I realized yesterday... I'm in love with him Tammy." 

She slipped out of the bed and rooted around for some clothes. "The feeling 
isn't mutual. Not to the degree it should be. He doesn't know it yet but... he's
in love with his partner." 

She wiped away a stray tear. "And it's real and  deep, and not something I 
should come between. He'd end up hating me, and I'd resent him."

"What!?" Tammy stood, hands on hips. "You mean to tell me he's
comfortable of having you as his sexual plaything, while he's wanting 
to screw his partner?"

"Can it Tammy. You don't know what he's been through. Even I don't
know all of it. I don't think he'll ever share all of it with me. It's over, 
Tammy. And it hurts like hell. I don't want our talk tonight tinged
with pity. Or on his misplaced feelings of guilt."

"Cassandra..." Tammy shook her head in disbelief, "He doesn't deserve
you. Not if he can't appreciate you."

"You're right. He doesn't." The smile was weak. "But I still love him."

Tammy held her while she cried.
    
Chapter 3.
-------------------------

Dana looked across the desk at her partner. He'd come back from his
scheduled meeting with the departmental counselor and set to work filling
out reports on his computer, silently.

She had no doubt that he had played a wonderful game of word tag
with the counselor, in all probability confusing the man completely. Much 
to her concern, he had not commented on it. What set off every alarm in 
her system was his silence. Usually he relishes having a battle of wits with 
an unarmed opponent.

She shoved aside her own report and folded her hands on her desk. "Okay,
Mulder, spill."

"What do you do when you trip while holding a drink? I'll take English 
Literature for 200, Alex."

"How about Silent Partners for 500?" She sighed.  "Look you're usually 
only this quiet when you're obsessing over a new case or engrossed in 
one of those tapes behind door number two."

"There just isn't too much to talk about, and I took all the tapes behind
door number two home last week."

Cassandra Troy was bothering him. That much was obvious. 
It was also obvious he wasn't about to talk about his problem 
with some government shrink. 

"I'm sure she'll be fine Mulder." Scully found herself tapping a
pencil against her desk. "She's a strong woman."

"I'm not worried about it." He picked through some receipts,
apparently looking for something not there. 

"You've never lied to me before." She stood up, scowling at him.

"I don't lie..."

"Well I don't deserve a campaign of disinformation either. I'm your 
friend. I'm concerned." Her hand fell lightly on his shoulder.

"It's just my problem Scully, stay out of this one." Mulder couldn't meet
her eyes. He wasn't about to tell her she was the center of this.

Scully shook her head. "Not this time. Come on. It's late, but I'll
take you to lunch."

He took a deep breath and held it a few seconds before releasing it."Ahh 
bribery. I'm insulted. I thought my deep, dark, secrets would be worth more 
then a burger and fries." He looked up at her. His eyes pleading her to let 
it drop.

She managed not to smile with an effort. At least he was throwing up
his humor defenses. But he wasn't getting out of this with a whupped puppy
look.

Lunch wasn't hamburgers, but hotdogs from a vendor in the park. They
sat on a bench eating in silence for a while. 

"So what is it now Mulder? You've killed men before, and Carl Thies
left you no choice. So I really doubt that's it." She looked at her
partner's profile as he looked out across the park as if in deep study of
the architecture of the Museum of Natural History.

"It's Cassy." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh. Has she developed a third eye... nope, she already had one in a
manner of speaking. Does she suddenly repulse you? Smell bad?"

"She loves me." He made the statement as if it were some damning
confession.

"Oh then I see the problem. After all having a lovely, intelligent
person love you is one of the worst curses in the universe. Do you love
her?" She tucked in her chin, thinking her own thoughts.

Mulder winced. There was nothing wrong with having a beautiful, 
intellegent woman love you. But in this case it was the wrong one.

He chose to avoid that part of it. "I know when I saw that guy struggling 
with her my insides twisted, when he shoved that gun under her chin... 
My world narrowed down to that one scene. I still can't get it out of my 
head. The only thing that frightened me as much that night was the thought 
of losing you again. Not the fire, not anything."

"When I care about people,  it's like painting this big target on their back. 
There's this neon sign over their heads saying, 'This one here, rip this one 
out of his life.' Look at my  track record. Sam, YOU, Kristen." 

Scully winced at the third name. This whole conversation shredded at her 
insides,
but if he loved Cassandra, then he deserved that happiness. At least Cassy was
likeable.

"But I'm still here, and we WILL find Sam again." She touched his
hand to lend strength to that assurance. "When you look to the future, do
you want to see Cassy in it?" 

This relationship was the first she knew of that had any effect on Mulder's 
work, at least while she was around. From what she had pried out of him about 
Kristen Kilar that short relationship managed to completely erode his 
professionalism. 

Even this one had not affected his job until yesterday. And she was the one to 
keep pushing him to 'get a life.' How was she to know she would regret that?

"No. I want to. I try. But... she's not who I see in my future.  She has no idea
what being involved with me would put her up against. And I don't think she 
can handle it. I'm not sure I want her to."

Scully swallowed the last bit of her lunch and looked at him with
heartfelt understanding. Hadn't she had the same thoughts? Weren't those
same fears partially responsible for the fact that she HADN'T had any kind
of real relationship in three years? 

But this wasn't her, it was Mulder. And right now he needed her support. 
She managed to bring up a smile. His words, while round about, had given 
her the answer she sought.

"Look Mulder, if we allow these people to completely shut us off from
everyone around us then we are letting them win. We are letting them run
our lives. You deserve a little bit of happiness. We both do. I can't tell you
what to do, but don't let this job come between you and Cassy. She's a brave 
woman."

Mulder managed a smile at that. "But she's the wrong woman." He 
refused to look at her. "What if I'm... involved with someone else?"

Scully swallowed hard and tried to still her rapid heartbeat. "Then
Cassy deserves to know that, as well. So... are you going to talk to Cassy?"

"Yah, tonight. Wish me luck."

"Good luck. Well, do you think you can face the office for a few 
more hours?"

Mulder gave her a lopsided grin. "I have to. Do you think you can
face a few more hours of me like this?"

"I have to put up with you for longer then that." With a sly grin she stood 
to deposit their garbage in the wire wastebasket.

Chapter 4.
----------------

Tammy looked up from her current project to see Cassandra carefully
looping bits of chainmail together. She'd measure each link, clip it with
wire cutters, loop it around the cylinder to make each circle a uniform
size then pinch it closed. It was a tedious, mindless task and Tammy knew
she was only doing it because it occupied her hands, and allowed her mind
to go carefully blank. She'd put off those repairs for months before.

Tammy looked back to her story board. Her own efforts were not her
usual best. The comic book heroine she was inking almost ended up lopsided
twice. At least her supervisor allowed her to do some of this at home.
She'd still be making money today. The past two days were bound to put a
crimp in Cassy's budget.

"What time are you going downstairs?" Tammy capped her pens and began
returning them to their designated places in her art box.

"Eight o'clock would be best. Unless he calls or comes here first."
Clip, bend, loop, pinch. "I figure I should give him time to get unwound
from work, and time to eat." Measure, clip, bend, loop, pinch.

"You are hiding. I've known you long enough to see how upset you are.
Come on Cassy, why can't you just admit that you're afraid?" Tammy slid
the storyboard into it's protective case and carried her supplies to the
wooden cabinet that stored those tools and others.

"I'm scared shitless Tammy." Loop, pinch, measure, clip. "I've never
felt this way before. The few times I thought I had paled beside this."

"But  I also know I'm wrong for him. I know after tonight it's over. So yes 
I am afraid. I am angry. What else do you want me to say?"

"Remember the Serenity Prayer? I've been chanting it in my head like a 
mantra since we walked into Dr. Killian's office this morning. So far it isn't 
helping
much." She lay aside the wire cutters and the pliers then smoothed over
the chainmail shirt with her hand, making sure the repaired area fell
right. "Not emotionally anyway. However intellectually I know it is the
best course of action."

"So..." Tammy took her slender dress sword out of the closet, pulling
it free of the scabbard. "Do you want me to go down there and carve him up
some for you if you come back here tonight in tears?"

Cassandra smiled and shook her head. "No thanks. I can do my own
carving, thank you very much. Besides I believe that 'assault on a Federal
Officer' carries a pretty hefty sentence."

"You should have remembered that one before you punched him." Tammy
winked as she slid her sword home in it's black scabbard.

Cassandra felt herself blush again. "I feel bad enough about that
Tam. I usually work out my aggressions on the practice field."

Tammy nodded. "I noticed you do seem to be handling having Mulder
kill a man right in front of you a lot better then I thought."

"I'm not an idealistic moron Tam, it was him or me. I know that. I'm
damn glad *I'M* still alive. That man was a monster. I can't make myself
feel bad about it. Although the sensation of the incident may well haunt
my nightmares for a while."
 
"Well if you are going to wait until eight, we might as well start on
dinner. How about Chicken Kiev, potatoes au gratin and a Caeser salad?"
 
Cassandra shrugged. "I doubt I'll be very hungry so whatever you
want." She hung the mail shirt on a heavy hanger in the closet. 

"You have to eat. To look devistatingly gorgeous for the next lucky man
to come along, so Mulder can eat his heart out." Tammy dodged the decorative 
pillow thrown in her direction. She laughed then quickly became serious. 

"You should tell him about our trip to the hospital today Cassy.  He
was really worried about this. I think he has a right to know."

"Yeah. I don't want him thinking I blame him for anything more then
my broken heart."

Chapter 5.
---------------------------------------------


Mulder tossed his suit coat and tie over the back of the closest
chair before grabbing a bottle of aspirin from the surprisingly well
stocked medicine cabinet in his bathroom. It was positioned right between
the box of disposable bic blades and the prescriptions for antibiotics and
pain killers he seemed to always have on the ready.

In his kitchen he forced himself to nuke a leftover piece of pizza.
He decided against a beer. He needed a clear head tonight, or as clear a
head as he could manage. The only other thing in the fridge was three cans
of Coke.

He ate the pizza without really tasting it, then downed three aspirin
with a full can of Coke.

His apartment had been 'debugged' last week. A service The Lone Gunman
provided based partly on friendship, partly for their own security, and
partly because he allowed Frohike to borrow whatever tape he wanted after
the service was done. 

The fact that they had found bugs on several occasions only assured him 
that his intense paranoia was well grounded.

Tonight he set a small box about the size of a walkman on the table by his
window. He'd borrowed this little piece of security for tonight only. It
was able to detect an outside listening device aimed at the apartment. The
light on top remained green. Good. He wanted privacy for whatever was said
tonight.

He debated going upstairs and getting this whole evening over with,
but ended up staring blankly at the TV eating seeds more out of reflex
then desire, and washing them down with the second can of cola.

                              *

Cassandra hadn't felt this nervous outside of his door since that
night almost eight months ago when she had come down here to talk to him
about how she entered his dreams. It took every ounce of her will to rap
on the wood.

The door opened to reveal Mulder. He had his suit coat and tie off,
but he was still dressed in one of his dress shirts and suit pants.

"Come on in." He moved back into his apartment, leaving her to close
the door. 

She followed him into his living room. but did not sit down. "Mulder,
why are you afraid of me?"

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Because you managed to
throw me for quite a loop yesterday."

"And because you don't feel the same."

"I wish you'd stop that. Empathy gives you a very unfair advantage."
He glared at her.

"I was always taught to press any advantage." She shrugged, angered
by his glare. He was being defensive. "But I don't need to read you to 
know how you feel about... her." 

Cassy raised her hand to silence him. "I'm not a fool. I can't compete, 
and I really don't think I should try to. I love you, yes," she heard the 
tremor in her own voice, "but that isn't enough. I can't love enough for 
both of us. I... I deserve better. I deserve someone who can return the 
feeling."

Mulder nodded, sadly. His face wore that lost puppy look that so 
captivated  her. "I know you do. Cassy... You are a wonderful, beautiful 
young woman.  And you do, you deserve a relationship where you 
come first. I just can't..."

"I know." Cassy reached out and took his hand. "But do me a big favor 
here, Mulder. Don't make my walking away from you for nothing. 
Tell her. I know how much you value honesty. It's time you be honest 
as well. Because... you deserve happiness too. You're a good man, 
Fox Mulder. And I want to know  that you're going to be all right. 
You need looking after." She squeezed his hand and smiled through 
the tears. "I think Dana is up to the job. And she might surprise you. 
I'm an empath. I catch these things." 

She released his hand. "I still am, you know. An empath. The doctor 
called this morning. My brain waves are still off the scale. I tested myself
on Tammy. Nothing irreparable."

He hugged her then and she squeezed back. Caught in the closeness.
Breathing in his scent, memorizing the feel of him against her. Then, 
she let go.

"I'm not letting you chase me out of my apartment, Mulder. I'll be right
upstairs if you need me. As a friend. You don't have many, and I think 
you need all the friends you can get." 

With that she slipped out the door.

                                                      *

Mulder looked at the door for a long moment. Something within his chest
ached. He was surprised to feel wetness on his cheek. He swiped at the
offensive dampness and moved back to sit on his couch. 

He reached for the phone and dialed quickly.

"It's me. I think we need to talk."

**********************************

Cassandra slipped in the door and saw Tammy's pitying look. It made
her feel sick.

"It's ok. I'll live. Broken hearts do heal, you know."

Tammy nodded and gave her a hug. "I'll refrain from the 'I told you so'
speech. Why don't you go take a long hot soak in the tub. I'll make us 
some tea. Tomorrow we'll go have some fighter practice and I'll
let you beat the crap out of me."

"Gee, thanks." Cassy wiped at her eyes. "The bath sounds good, though."

The phone rang just as Cassy passed the table on the way to the bathroom.

"Hello."

"Miss. Troy. This is Assistant Director Skinner. I'm calling to thank you
for your help yesterday and see how you're recovering? I hope Mulder 
isn't pushing you too hard." His voice sounded terse. Cassy wondered if he 
ever unclenched his teeth.

"I'm fine. I've managed to retain all my faculties. And Mulder isn't... we 
decided things just weren't working out. So you don't have to worry 
about him dragging me to work with him or anything. Thank you for your
concern."

"I'm glad to hear you won't be suffering any lasting damage on the Bureau's
behalf. And Miss Troy... Mulder is a fool." The soft click was all the 
good bye she got. 

She smied softly to herself and hung up the phone. 

A hot bath awaited.

The End.

Title: The Ganzfeld League
Author: Rhondda Lake
Archive: anywhere
Rating: R
Category: X,R,T,A
Key words: MSR, Skinner/Other
Summary: When the group of psychics Cassandra Troy was tested 
with thirteen years ago start to vanish, she turns to the only people 
she can trust for help. However, since Mulder and Scully are out of 
town on a case, who can she turn to?

Disclaimer: Yep, all X-files shtuff belongs to Chris Carter and co. 
I borrowed them without permission. Everyone who never showed 
up on the show is mine.

Special Authors Note: The Parapsychology Developmental 
Laboratories in Princeton, New Jersey are indeed drawn from the 
Psychophysical Research Laboratories of the same place. The 
name was changed because this is a fiction. None of the participants 
or the doctors in this story exist, nor should  the good work of the 
PRL be impinged by anything I write.

Ganzfeld League
by Rhondda Lake
(part 1/?)

THE PARAPSYCHOLOGY DEVELOPMENTAL LABORATORY
PRINCETON, NJ
***1985***

A mahogany pencil box shattered the window. It sailed through 
the splintered glass with effortless ease, not really slowing until it 
hit the side of the building  across the way. The group watching 
from the relative safety of the hall jumped at the sound.

Chunks of glass joined the detritus of the clinic room; flying about 
madly. There was no order to the tumbling, spinning, vicious banging 
of objects spinning through the room. It was a scene from the 
weightless depths of space, only more violent. Things tumbled, 
viciously smashed together and broke into smaller bits. The pieces 
of glass, now added to the mix, slashed through the air.

The group at the doorway stood in numb horror,  as they watched 
the violent flotsam collide into the pale man laying senselessly on 
the bed, as it spun around, a good foot off the floor. Any moment 
the deadly glass would cut him to ribbons.

An accident this morning had sent Roger over the boardwalk 
walkway unto the concrete twenty feet below. The blow to his 
head had caused a concussion and unconsciousness, but nothing 
worse, medically. However, when dealing with a psychically 
gifted young man, physicality had little to do with anything.

Roger, who lay unconscious on the clinic bed, could move objects 
with the force of his mind. He was gifted solely in the area of 
psychokinesis. For now that gift was out of control. He was 
endangering himself and anyone foolish enough to go into that 
room.

A chair flew past the door and one of the onlookers involuntarily 
stumbled back. Nora bit her lip hard, drawing blood. She knew 
Roger had a self-destructive streak that evidently manifested itself 
as this madness. She knew he would eventually pummel or slash 
himself to death with whatever was in that room. She winced as a 
plastic chair slammed into his side.

"I'm open to suggestions," the eldest of the group offered up, lamely. 
He was a stooped, grey haired figure whose lined face bore the weight 
of this strain. The group were his students, Volunteers for his psi 
research project. The boy in the room was his responsibility. Even now 
the young man's parents were flying here to confront this man over 
this injury to their son.

Only Nora noticed the tall, frail-looking fifteen year old girl step 
past the doorway and into the maelstrom. "NO!" She reached out 
to stop her friend, only to be restrained by Mike and the others. 
Now everyone was calling the woman-child's name, urging her to 
come back to the relative safety of the hall.

"Get back here this instant!" Mike's authoritative attempt was 
marred by the tremor of fear in his voice.

The girl cried out once, as the tray table hit her in the hip. The 
bruises offered up by other hurtling objects were met with silence. 
She made no sound even when a shard of glass cut across her upper 
arm, adding droplets of her blood to the mad whirl of flying debris.

She approached the floating bed as if in a semi-trance, focusing 
entirely on the boy. Her long black hair whipped around her head 
in a thousand medusa coils, the energies in the room making them 
dance to some elemental tune.

"Roger." The child reached out and took hold of the boy's limp 
hand. "Roger, come back."

A loud crash reverberated throughout the room as the mad whirl 
of  debris fell to the floor. The bed dropped heavily. The girl 
stood stiffly,  staring off into space, her green eyes wide with fear.

"NO!" Nora pulled free of confining hands and rushed to the girl's 
side. Taking her friend's thin shoulder she shook her gently. "What 
happened?"

The affected green eyes pondered the windows. "We are together. 
Nora... help us. We are one..."

Nora bit back a cry as her own psychometric gift flared. She 
touched her friend and knew she was not alone. Somehow she 
and Roger existed in one being. And they had no idea how to 
separate.

     XXXXXXXXXXXXX

13 YEARS LATER
CLEVELAND, OHIO
10:13 AM

Her desk was her one indulgence. Mahogany. She kept it completely 
ordered, mostly to show off the fine wood grain. Right now that 
desk bore the weight of her own private albatross, the potential of 
her worst fears wrapped into one. An innocuous-looking Federal 
Express envelope bulging at the seams was perched at the very center 
of the green felt ink blotter.

It lay before the lone framed photograph adorning the desk. The 
photo, matted in a fading mauve cardboard, was of a group shot taken 
in Princeton, New Jersey. They were ten rather ordinary-looking 
people arranged in three rows. The two youngest of the group were 
front and center. They were two girls.

She saw herself at seventeen with muddy brown hair and pale brown 
eyes hidden behind glasses, her arm draped protectively over the 
shoulder of the youngest. The youngest was Cassandra Troy, just 
getting her woman's curves. In the picture, her ebony hair was 
stirring  in the gentle breeze and her green eyes were laughing into 
the camera.

The others ranged in age from twenty to thirty, their expressions 
happy and carefree. The picture had been taken three months 
before all Hell broke loose with the project. When all of them 
still viewed the tests and experiments centering on their unique 
psychic abilities as games, or a grand new adventure to further 
mankind. When they all, including the scientists running the 
program, were naive and hopeful...all except her.

Nora looked into her own eyes thirteen years ago and saw the 
wariness then. She felt as if she were never young and innocent. 
Even then she had some hint of what her own father was involved 
in, of the troubles lurking ahead. She did not need Becky's 
Precognitive gift to see the future.

Nora reached out to touch the picture, a moment frozen in time. 
Her finger traced the face of her friend. That particular young 
woman had sent her more recent photos, including one of her 
dressed up in Elizabethan garb, looking like she just walked out 
of a Shakespearean play. But this was the picture that adorned 
her desk. To remember them all, fondly. To keep the good times
captive behind glass.

She touched the face of one of the men. In this static reflection 
of thirteen years ago, he was eternally twenty, fresh, and young. 
His long blond hair was touched by the sunlight and his face was 
innocent, with only, the faintest hint of pain in his eyes. She had 
seen him last summer. That hairline had receded,  and those blond 
locks had been shorn into a banker's buzzcut, his athletic build 
had softened into a beer gut. From rock and roll rebel to yuppy 
bank executive.

With a shudder she pulled her hand back and tore open the 
Fed-Ex package. A Green and White EAGLES football jersey 
spilled out. She looked at the back of the brass nameplate that sat 
next to the framed picture, the lettering turned so her clients could 
read it proclaiming 'Nora Lucke - Licensed Private Investigator'. 
Mike had sent her that when she had informed him she had passed 
the exams and planned on going into business.

Mike. She looked again at the jersey, her hand hovering above it. 
She braced herself, then, with a superhuman effort lay her hand 
on the garment, and concentrated on its owner.

It was dark, and his arms were held, confined. Cold metal biting 
into his wrists. There was a vague feeling of panic. His thoughts 
were unclear, scattered, and there was a recollection of a needle, 
of men in white forcing him down and of injections given.

No matter how hard she tried that was all she could get. The shirt 
had not been worn recently.

With a sob of frustration and fear she pulled away from the shirt. 
It was time to track down the others. Mike Dodd was alive and 
drugged somewhere. Only one thing came to Nora's mind; their 
worst fear come true at last.

          *

ALEXANDRIA, VA
10:45PM THE FOLLOWING DAY

Cassandra Troy finally managed to get out of the confining bands 
of her corset. She lay the offending garment on the couch with a 
sigh of relief. The things she did for historical accuracy.

It was worse attending feasts like the one tonight. The food was 
just too good, and she had to admit she tended to over indulge, 
only to work it off in the court dancing afterwards. She had spent 
the hours dedicated to eating an excellently re-created medieval 
feast, conversing with an eleventh century knight and a fifteenth 
century Spanish priest, discussing the changes in European religion 
over the six centuries between them.

Tonight she had the apartment to herself. Tammy, her best friend 
and roommate had gone home with Chuck, her longtime boyfriend. 
They had left the feast two hours before Cassy had, cheerfully 
informing her that she had the place to herself tonight.

She padded across the living room dressed only in her full length 
chemise. Ignoring the blinking light on the answering machine and
sat down at her computer with a small smile. The irony of returning 
home from a medieval feast to plop down in front of the romantic 
glow of the computer monitor was not lost on her.

She checked her e-mail. As usual there was one letter waiting from 
her friend Nora. She clicked on it at once.

     FROM: LTTLDICK@mis.com
     TO: ORACLE@time.bus.com
     SUBJECT: THE LEAGUE

     Cassy,

     Where have you been? I've been calling for hours. Check your
     answering machine once in a while.

     No jokes today. There is a problem. Katie called me and 
     hired me to find Mike yesterday. He disappeared without 
     a trace four days ago. We both know how unlike him that 
     is. She Fed-Exed me his favorite football jersey. All I got 
     from it was the feeling that he was drugged. Muddied 
     thoughts and a sense of confinement.

     It scared me and the call to Katie was not fun. I did some more
     digging. God, Cassy, Mike isn't the only person we know who 
     has a missing person report on them. Linda, Penny and Roger 
     are all MISSING. I'm writing Jen, Carl, Fred and Becky as well 
     as you. I'm also looking into who else in any way connected with 
     our time in NJ may be missing.

     Watch your back, kiddo. We were all afraid of the gov. getting 
     too interested in us. None of us had our real names on any 
     paperwork. But the chances of four members of a group of ten 
     turning up missing in such a short time span does not bode well. 
     You have written me all these letters about that G-Man you had 
     been dating. What have you told him? Could he have been a set 
     up? Maybe even shadowing you until he can make a safe grab? 
     Shit, Cassy, I'm scared, and I had all these classes in defense and 
     staying hidden.

     Nora

Cassandra stared at the screen for a long time. This had to be a joke, 
didn't it? She chewed on her bottom lip, her hands hovering over her 
keyboard.

Six months ago Cassandra had been in a somewhat one-sided 
relationship with an FBI agent named Fox Mulder. They got 
along well, they helped each other out, and the sex was great. 
But Mulder had always been somewhat emotionally withdrawn. 
And when dating an empath that can be a point of contention. He 
valued her friendship and even genuinely liked her as a person, 
but in the end, he had not loved her. His heart belonged to someone 
else. His partner.

Cassandra, who had foolishly fallen in love with the big jerk, pushed 
him in the direction he was meant to go. She knew his partner, even 
liked her. She knew the sentiment was returned between them as it 
never would be with her. She cared enough about Fox Mulder to let 
him go.

The [truly] amazing part of all this was, she had somehow remained 
friends with both Mulder and his partner, Dana Scully. She knew  
things about the two of them that would turn anyone's hair white. 
Cassandra was not only an empath, but a dreamweaver. She had 
been inside Mulder's nightmares, and the horrors were not very far 
from his reality.

First off she knew Nora's worries about Mulder were unfounded. 
She had never really told him about the Ganzfeld League, only a  
passing mention that she had been Psi tested, not when or where 
or with whom. So he had no idea of that part of her life.

He had written up a paper on her, on her family history, though. 
Digging into what she could do had seemed to be his second favorite 
pastime when they were together. Could there have been other 
reasons? No, damnit. He looked into crap like this, he did not take 
part in it. There had been no taint of dishonesty or evasiveness to 
THAT part of their relationship. He was not the enemy.

Four were people missing. She tried to recall them. Of the League 
she had only kept in constant contact with Nora, Jen, Penny and 
Fred. The odd letter and Christmas Cards were her only contact 
with the others.

     FROM: ORACLE@time.bus.com
     TO: LTTLDICK@mis.com

     M is clean, Nora. I'm positive of that much. Tell me what you 
     dig up.I will watch my back, never fear.

     Thanks for the warning. You know I think I had better tell M 
     about this. He might be able to figure it out. He has resources 
     you don't. Just because we are no longer a 'item' doesn't mean 
     we aren't friends.

     Cass

Cassandra sent the note out and turned off the computer. She was 
suddenly very cold. She now wished Tammy were here and not with 
Chuck.

Mulder was in sunny California right now. With Scully. Cassy 
closed her eyes and refused the pain.

SHE was the one to urge him to talk with Scully. How was she to 
know she would feel them make love? That she would lay awake, 
feeling the echoes of their union and remember craving his touch. 
She was considering moving out despite her insistence that he would 
not chase her out of her own home.

Maybe she should call and talk to Dana. They had become good 
friends since that damn case involving Carl Thies a.k.a. the Boogie 
Man. It was difficult to be friends with the love of Mulder's life.

But it was not Dana's fault. It was not anyone's fault. It might have 
been easier if there was someone to blame, but Dana is a good 
person and it would be easier to call Dana for advice.

What time was it in California anyway? She looked at her watch; 
eleven pm, that would make it eight in California. Cassy sat looking 
at her phone, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

end part 1

Disclaimers attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake and
(Part 2/?)

ALEXANDRIA, VA
11:05pm

Cassandra double checked her doors and pulled out her bed, 
carefully placing her handgun, with the safety on, under the 
pillow. Then she went about trying to pass the evening as  
normally as possible. She put away her medieval garb and 
feasting gear, and changed into her oversized tee shirt.

Her eyes kept straying to the night time mirror image of the 
apartment window. Someone could be watching her right now. 
She turned off all the lights with a shaking hand and crawled into 
her bed. So much for normality.

Grabbing the phone she dialed Dana's number, hanging up at the 
busy signal. Okay, it was a stupid idea anyway. Why should Dana 
field her calls, and just what made her want to go running to Mulder 
right now, anyway? A little voice inside answered her, you're 
scared  kid. She told it to shut the hell up and leave her alone.

She lay back and tried to get to sleep. She lay there rationalizing 
every  sound. The infrequent traffic outside, the hiss of the heater 
kicking in. Little noises she never really noticed before. It took 
two hours before exhaustion outdid her nerves and sleep took her.

CRYSTAL CITY, MD
11:30 PM

Assistant Director Walter Skinner poured himself a single shot of 
whisky and downed it quickly. The burn flowing down his throat 
felt good. It got rid of the remnants of the cloying air he had been 
breathing all night.

He did not particularly enjoy the 'informal' gatherings he attended, 
such as the one tonight. It was a chance to rub elbows with those 
who held more political power. Contacts were made, favors traded, 
and ones position held assured. It was a dance of politics and 
kissing ass, where everyone wore masks of perfect politeness even 
when throwing jabs meant to slice an opponent to the bone.

The food at these things ranged from abysmally bad to incredibly 
good. The only good part about tonight had been the meal. He had 
ended up discussing crime and punishment with the Director and 
Janet Reno, and their viewpoints rarely matched up. He had learned 
to keep his mouth shut ages ago, so he had salvaged the evening by 
watching and listening. He commented only when asked something 
directly. He was too cautious now, too much was riding on keeping 
his contacts to be outspoken enough to risk offending.

Reigning in his opinion was political, but it did not sit well with him. 
He set his shot glass in the sink and put away the whisky. One shot 
was all he would allow himself. Drink would not drown troubles. 
Troubles tended to know how to swim.

If he didn't know that before, he would after tonight. One of the 
Director's aides had sampled one drink too many and had cornered 
Skinner. What had been interesting was what the man had been 
asking about.

Had he ever heard of the Nostradamus Project? It had something 
to do with research secretly backed by the government fifteen 
years ago. Research that centered on psychics.

Now, everyone knew the good old US Government experimented 
with psychics during the second world war, but was it still going on?

Skinner didn't know if that man thought he had some inside 
information by virtue of being the infamous Fox 'Spooky' Mulder's 
superior, or not. But the man was quickly hushed by the Director 
and escorted from the room with a sheepish smile and a couple 
of jokes.

Walter toed off his shoes and unfastened his tie, collecting both 
as he made his way upstairs where a hot shower would erase the 
stink of cigarettes. The odor of the burnt tobacco made him want 
to gag and, political correctness  aside, one did not tell the people 
he had dined with tonight that they should  not smoke in a public 
building.

As he forced himself to relax under the hot spray of water he could 
not shake the feeling that that aide had let something slip or had been 
deliberately sent to let something slip. The more he thought about it 
the more the young man's eyes seemed too clear for the level of 
drunkenness presumed.

Something was going on. Skinner decided to look into the matter 
privately come morning.

          XXXXXXX

THE PARAPSYCHOLOGY DEVELOPMENTAL LABORATORY
PRINCETON, NJ
**May 1st, 1985**
----

The door burst open and a whirlwind of excited energy spilled 
into the comfortable-looking, sun-filled dorm room. The source 
of disruption was loud enough that the teenager on the bed heard 
the constant flow of indistinguishable babble over the strains of 
DURAN DURAN's 'Union of the Snake' playing through the 
earphones of her walkman.

\\Elegant force and gritty, I knew this was a big mistake.\\

"Can you believe it? I just held it in my hand and I could see the 
whole thing. I mean it was only a hunting knife but it was so OLD, 
Cassy." The slightly older girl spun into the sunlight streaming 
through the windows, making the tiny dust motes dance madly 
around her.

\\There's a fine line drawing our senses together and I think it's 
about to break.\\

"It was just woods, and the guy was using this knife to gut a deer. 
He was young, but desperate. Food was scarce." She gestured with 
her hands, causing the motes to weave about her fingers and arms, 
caught in her spell.

\\If our mission goes I can hear them singers ohhh, ohh, ohh\\

"I mean this guy was nothing special, and the impressions I got off 
him were faint. But I picked them up. This is the first time ever I 
held an archeological artifact, and I was STILL able to pick up a 
trace that old." She hugged herself, enraptured by the experience 
she was relating.

\\Voices in your body comin through on the radio-oooo-oooh\\

"I mean yah, I was able to describe the museum curator to a tee. 
and I could tell them what the kid who found the knife was wearing, 
but that psychometric trace must have been seven hundred years old 
Cassy. Cassy! Are you listening to a word I said?" She frowned a 
bit at her friend.

\\The Union of the snake is on the climb, movin up, gonna race, 
gonna break to the border line.\\

The teenager tossed her thick mane of ebony hair over one shoulder 
as she nodded her head to the music. "Yah, yah, you held an old 
knife and you picked up some stuff from it. Nora, that's what you 
DO. That's what your here for right?"

\\Nightshades are a warning, give me strength at least give me a 
light.\\

"I've never handled something this old. They said I had one of the 
most powerful psychometric gifts they ever recorded."

\\Where anything keeping sympathy there's a chance you could be 
right.\\

"So basically you are now on the top of the good girl list and those 
people who keep track of psychics you keep ranting at me about 
will be all the more interested in you." Cassy raised an eyebrow at 
the girl who was two years her senior.

Nora was plain, there was no other word for it. She had chosen the 
alias of Nadine to be used on all the project paperwork because she 
thought it was prettier than her real name.

The one thing that made Nora stand out was the psychometry that 
seemed to appear with her first period.

Nora was CONVINCED that there were people who wanted 
psychics of any kind to do shadowy, underhanded things for the 
government. She claimed they had tried to recruit her when she 
was thirteen, but she hit the panic button after shaking the 'recruiter's 
hand. She also claimed they watched her because of her father.

She rarely spoke about her father, but when she did it was with a 
trapped animal wildness in her eyes. Nora's paranoia made Cassy 
wonder why Nora had joined the group of inhouse testees at the 
Parapsychological Developmental Laboratories in the first place.

The older girl's face froze, her bliss dissolving in an instant. "Oh 
SHIT!" Nora moved to her own bed in their shared the dorm room 
and dug out her hidden cache of cigarettes. Lighting one up she 
took a drag. Nora's leg was doing that jumpy twitchy thing it did 
when she was nervous. "I was so excited I forgot about that. I'm 
gonna have to fake some bad tests to have any chance of moving 
down the list after today. God, I can be so stupid sometimes."

Cassy smiled in amusement. "You're the only person I ever met 
who cheats to look bad. Tell me again why you're here?"

"Cause I found out about dad cheating on mom by picking up his 
briefcase. This is my punishment, as if the divorce weren't enough."

Cassy pulled the tape out of her walkman and slapped it into the 
little stereo the girls shared. "Come on, dance with me, take your 
mind off it. I have to go to 'the room' in a half hour. I wanna relax 
a bit before I get there."

The strains of saxophone music played over the speakers, drowning 
out the faint birdsong outside, before Simon LeBon's voice crooned 
out as the girls jerked around in a wild dance without form, if not 
without grace. Sometimes moving together as easily as if they had 
practiced. Their ability to fall so into step with one another is why 
they clung together here at the labs.

To the girls it only meant that they trusted one another, even over 
the doctors and their fellow testees.

               *

A half hour found Cassandra Troy reclining in a chair with a set of 
earphones back on her head. This time the sounds of ocean waves 
teased her ears, not music. A ping pong ball, cut in half and sanded 
smooth was taped over the cotton placed on her closed eyes.

Not that there was anything to see in the small grey walled room 
anyway. Nothing but the chair, the florescent lights overhead, and 
the subject trying to relax.

The electrodes from the EEG were gummed on her forehead and 
into her hair. When the technician left her alone in the room she 
tried to blank her mind. After all, achieving a perfect trance state 
was the purpose behind the whole Ganzfeld chamber. She thought 
about the subject watching a movie in the other room. What did the 
movie make him or her feel?

He was afraid. It had to be a horror movie, but no, it was not the 
pleasant thrill of safely watching a movie.

He was afraid and confined, and they were coming after her next. 
She felt clamps trap her wrists to the chair, cold metal. The 
electrodes seemed not some passive way of reading brainwaves, 
but suddenly they held her head down, denying her the freedom 
to sit up, or even shake her head in denial.

Just as suddenly her ankles were clasped, and she was a prisoner in 
the chair, in the room, and no one knew where she was or even that 
she was in trouble. Her struggles were futile as she tried to free 
herself.  Blind, deaf, confined and terrified, she was their pawn now.

She tried to struggle against the confines, feeling the clamps cut 
into her. She screamed her fear and pain at the top of her lungs.

NOooooo! It's a nightmare, wake up, wake up, WAKEUP!

               XXXXXXX

ALEXANDRIA, VA
5:58 am
PRESENT DAY

Cassy sat up in her bed, confused for a moment. She had dreamt 
memories. Not too uncommon for her, but just before she woke 
up her dream twisted those memories into something nasty.

She reached for the phone. Mulder and Scully were still too far 
away to do anything. Tammy was an artist, what could she do 
besides worry? Who did that leave that Cassy could trust?

She reached into the nightstand drawer for the little white card 
she'd been given after the Boogie Man incident six months ago. 
She was told to call it and let him know if she was well, or if the 
hospital gave her any trouble over insurance issues.

Her hand shook as she looked at the simple black lettering and the 
gold foil FBI seal.

She didn't know why she'd kept this. Perhaps because the man had 
been kind. No, she had to be honest with herself, she kept it because 
he had called to check up on her. Because there was just something 
about the man that had left an impression on her after a twenty minute 
meeting with him six months ago.

It had been during one of her ex-boyfriend's cases. She had been 
psychically contacted to a serial killer of children and was thus a 
valuable asset to the case when another child turned up missing. 
The man who had given her this card at first doubted her, then 
accepted her, after a small demonstration of what an empathic 
link could do.

That brief link between them had shocked her more then she had 
let on at the time. There was something there, something she could 
not identify, but did not wish to lose either. So she had kept the card. 
Kept it, but never used it.

Cassy dialed the number quickly. It was early, it was Saturday, he 
probably wouldn't be there anyway.

One ring. Two. Then a click.

"Skinner."

Cassy hung up without saying a word. What was she thinking? One 
does not go running to the Assistant Director of the FBI because of 
an e-mail warning and a nightmare.

She got out of bed and started dressing for a workout. Perhaps if she 
did a few laps at the pool and then stopped in at the office she would 
feel better.

A couple hours of afternoon overtime would help her pocketbook 
and surround her with familiar people for a while.

Throughout the morning ritual she could NOT shake the feeling that 
the dream was some sort of warning.

               *

J. EDGER HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
6:00 am

Walter Skinner stared at his phone. What stupid game was being 
played here? Who knew he was going to be in and working this 
early on a Saturday?

He drummed his fingers on the report in front of him. There was 
little on paper, but what he could dig up over the computer were 
about ten references to this mysterious Nostradamus Project. It 
seemed completely into Agent Mulder's territory. More, it had no 
bearings on anything he could think of going on today.

The phone call, however, nagged at him. He picked up the receiver 
again and punched in the number for the switchboard.

"It's Skinner. Can you trace the last number to call into this phone? 
I'll wait."

A few moments later a phone number was repeated to him. He 
wrote it down.

"Thanks." He hung up and stared at the numbers. It was familiar 
in a vague way. He had the distinct impression he knew it.

He picked the phone up again and dialed the number.

At the fourth ring he was about to hang up when he heard the line 
connect and the grainy whir of a tape.

"Hi, you've reached Tamara Phillips and Cassandra Troy. We're 
unable to come to the phone right now. You know the drill. Unless 
you're trying to sell us siding or windows, do the beep thing."

Skinner hung up before he heard a beep.

Cassandra Troy. He remembered her almost too well. A lovely 
young woman possessed of a unique paranormal ability and an 
infuriating stubborn streak. Last he'd seen her was laying 
semi-conscious in an emergency room.

He doubted she had been aware of his presence, between the drugs 
and the shock. But he'd been assured she would make a full recovery. 
He had left her his card anyway.

He was not sure what impulse had spurred that action. He had given 
the reasonable excuse that she was to call if she had any problems 
over insurance or her employment due to her involvement in a federal 
case.

He had called her once. Only once. To see that she was, indeed, 
recovering. He'd inadvertently learned she had broken off her 
relationship with Fox Mulder during that call.

So why would she call him this early on a Saturday and then not 
say anything? Why would she call him at all?

He did not care for mysteries. He liked to solve them. Which was 
why he had joined the FBI in the first place. A few years behind a 
desk had not blunted that need or his investigative edge.

He stood, crossed his office and entered his secretary's reception 
room. He perused the books on top of one filing cabinet and pulled 
the one he was looking for. The Alexandria, Virginia telephone 
directory. He needed an address.

end part 2.

Disclaimers attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake
(Part 3/?)

OFFICE OF SENATOR CARSON
WASHINGTON, D.C.
8:30 am

Senator Dan Carson looked over the budget proposal before him. 
It was too early for number crunching. He never thought well on 
an empty stomach, anyway. That was all right, Rich was joining 
him for an in-office breakfast. They would pretend it was to discuss 
the budget proposal but mostly they would end up discussing 
tomorrow's golf game.

Dan straightened his tie and looked up when Susan, his assistant, 
knocked and peeked her head inside the office door.

"Senator Matheson called to say he'd be a little late. Will you be 
needing me past noon, sir? Billy has a little league game..."

"No problem, Susan. It's Saturday, after all. Why don't you go 
home right after Rich comes in? Just leave the notes from the 
Jamesfield meeting on your desk."

The petite brunette smiled thankfully. "Yes, sir. I'll leave the final 
edit of your proposed speech with it."

Carson nodded watched her close the door, leaving him alone.

*It's so tiring. Don't you feel tired?* He shook his head at the 
thought.

Sure he was tired. He had spent a late night kissing the right asses 
in the hope that his full disclosure proposal would make it through 
Monday's voting session. However, he had had later nights.

*You know the proposal won't pass. Too many people with too 
many secrets. Even Matheson warned you about pushing too hard. 
All the work for nothing. Look back on your life? How much good 
have you really done? Haven't you become just one more of those 
bureaucratic blood suckers you always hated?* Carson frowned; 
where did that come from? He never had thoughts like that before.

He stood and went into the adjoining bathroom. The tasteful decor 
only hammering home the disturbing ideas he'd had only seconds 
before.

He ran some water and splashed it on his face with shaking hands. 
He looked into the mirror and saw a dark-haired man with the grey 
starting to over run his temples. There were lines deeply etched into 
his face from too many cares.

Distinguished looking, his wife insisted.

*Old, old and tired of playing mind games and politics with people 
who have either no understanding of what's really going on, or know 
full well and allow themselves to be manipulated.*

He blinked, and saw that he was back in his office, the gun he kept 
in the locked desk drawer was on the desk in front of him. How did 
he get here? What the hell?

He saw his hand reach for the gun. It didn't seem to be a part of 
him any more. It was another man's hand, another gun.

*Rest. You need rest.* He barely felt the cold barrel press to his 
temple.

               *

Susan smiled a greeting at Senator Matheson. "He's waiting for 
you, sir. Your breakfasts have been ordered. I'll be out of your 
hair in a few moments." She fingered through the elegant wooden 
filing cabinet for the materials Senator Carson had requested.

"I'll see myself in, Susan, thanks." Both Matheson and Susan 
jumped when they heard the crack of a gun from the next room.

They looked at each other with shock widened eyes for a second, 
then both rushed for the door to the inner office.

Susan yanked open the door and began to scream.

               *

THE PARAPSYCHOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTAL CENTER
PRINCETON, NJ
** MAY, 1985 **
----

The girl looked bored.

She pushed the far right of the four buttons arranged before the 
four colored light bulbs adorning the black box in front of her. A 
lightbulb lit in front of the far left button instead.

The random number generator would make the lights flash on in 
a completely unpredictable pattern. It was a test for precognition.

So far Cassandra Troy scored considerably below the odds for 
random luck. She didn't like the tests she was no good at. They 
were a waste of time. She also did not like the theory that she 
was subconsciously sabotaging herself. That she COULD predict 
the next light and deliberately chose another without realizing it.

The featureless rooms where they were tested were no treat, either. 
Bare walls, card tables and folding chairs along with the EEG and 
any testing equipment.

"Cassy, you are not concentrating." Dr. Carrone sat across from her. 
The burly grey-haired psychiatrist really tried not to be patronizing 
to his youngest subjects. However, he was grandfatherly enough so 
that he always came across as a mix of understanding and slightly 
daunting.

"Doctor, you know I'm no good at this. Why can't I go back to the 
Ganzfeld chamber, or let me sit in the room with some people and 
tell you what they feel? I'm no precog. Only Becky has any talent 
for this." The teenager pushed the box away and crossed her arms 
over her breasts.

Dr. Carrone suppressed the urge to smile at the gesture. It was not 
only a sign of stubbornness, but Cassy was a late bloomer, and her 
newly acquired figure made her uncomfortable at times, prompting 
such defensive gestures as much as wearing baggy jeans.

He suspected the girl's clingy tank top was more the idea of her 
roommate than her own.

"We have to repeatedly test all of you in each form of Psi. Most 
of you have a secondary latent ability you are unaware of. A few 
of you even have a third or forth talent, hidden beneath your major 
power. With you, your secondary talent is telepathic in nature."

Cassy chewed her lip. No matter how hard she tried she barely 
averaged 55 hits when tested with the Zener deck of 250 cards. 
True, she rarely dropped below, but it was entirely possible that 
it was chance or luck.

Unlike Mike, Linda or Penny, the three golden subjects, she 
couldn't read thoughts, or transmit her own thoughts to others. 
Silent communication was beyond her, at least in the way of 
imagery or words to the conscious mind. Emotions was where 
she was comfortable.

"I'm encouraged by the dream research we've been doing. Cassy, 
the ability to project into a subject's subconscious dreams is not an 
empathic ability. It is the projection of your will, and the ability to 
transmit images. THAT is telepathy. But on such a level that you 
only seem to be able to work with a sleeping, unguarded mind."

Cassy squirmed in her seat. She was uncomfortable with that part 
of her talent, but Dr. Carrone and others were gently prompting 
her into exploring it further.

"But they have to already be dreaming, and I have to be able to 
follow emotional emanations in. It isn't telepathy alone."

The doctor smiled, a small triumph had been made. She was willing to
acknowledge her latent telepathic abilities. "No, not alone, but it is 
present. You have been able to project words into the dreams the past 
three tests. You are deliberately limiting yourself. These tests are to 
help you expand on all the facets of your abilities." 

Cassy eyed the offending box. "You tryin' to tell me I might be a 
precog?" She squirmed some more. She was obviously distressed 
by the thought. Such a mood would be detrimental to the tests.

"No, just that we HAVE to check for the possibility. If you are that
uncomfortable we'll quit for today. Would you like to watch Nora's 
test from the observation area?"

Cassandra smiled up at the doctor when he stood. "Sure. I love to 
see what she can do. Don't tell her, though. I don't need her getting 
an ego or anything."

The doctor led Cassy through the institutional halls to a door like 
most in the building. Only the little plate set to the side to proclaim
 it 'observation room 4'.

Six worn wooden chairs waited inside facing the viewing side of a 
one way mirror. All the testees knew the mirrors led to observation 
areas, and sometimes a test was even to determine how many 
observers they had.

There was currently only one occupant when they entered. Fred 
nodded to them. He stood in the corner, watching the testing in the 
other room with little real interest.

"Hey, Gypsy, how's it goin today?" He winked at Cassy.

Fred was the common jock type, his dark good looks turning all the 
female test subjects to butter. Hard to believe he was actually an 
accountant of some kind.He was thirty five and every aspect of the 
project and testing fascinated him, making him seem like a kid again.

He was a projective Telepath. The funny thing was, no matter how 
hard he tried the poor guy couldn't receive worth shit.

Cassy moved closer to him. He liked to play older brother to her 
and Nora while they were here. If they had any problems, or felt 
they were being pushed too hard, they went to Fred.

He was hard for Cassy to read sometimes, but he seemed to 
genuinely like the whole testing process.

"Ick. RNG precog test. Dr. Frankenstein here wants us tested 
on the full range, even when we obviously have no talent in 
some areas." Cassy grinned mischievously at Dr. Carrone.

"And I know how you just LOVE failing tests. Hey, some of 
the guys are having a picnic lunch in the park. You got invited, 
or rather I was told to pass the word along if I saw you." Fred 
clapped her thin shoulder lightly before looking back through 
the one-way mirror.

In the well lit lab room Nora sat at a table with a series of sealed 
envelopes before her. She looked as bored as Cassy had been 
when set to her previous test, but for different reasons.

Cassy watched Nora place her hand on each envelope, concentrate, 
then relay what photos were inside. Cassandra could FEEL the 
boredom mixed with anxiety and a hint of insincerity. Nora was 
deliberately giving wrong answers fully half the time. Cassy winced. 
Trying to make up for the knife debacle she figured.

"Ugh, as bad as mine. Can I go to the park for that picnic, 
Dr.Carrone?"

Dr. Carrone, having no insight into Nora's suddenly reduced 
test scores looked perturbed, and waved Cassy out distractedly.

The young woman hurried through the dull halls, happy for any 
chance to escape the uncomfortable lens of scrutiny. Any chance 
to escape the dull institution was to be taken immediately. The 
group were not often allowed to wander the 'world-at-large'.

The park, a half-mile from the lab, held an informal picnic 
gathering of five other test subjects. She had run the short 
way and collapsed, in a tangle of long limbs, next to the spread 
blanket.

"Ahhh, another escapee." Penny giggled and passed Cassy a 
plate of fried chicken and pasta salad. She looked at Linda, 
who nodded as waves of silent communication passed between 
the two women. Linda laughed at some unspoken joke and 
passed Cassy a 7UP.

"I wish you two would quit that, or at least let the rest of us poor 
untelepathic folks in on the joke." Cassy griped as she bit into 
the cold chicken.

"I just told Linda we need to work on your wardrobe, kiddo. For 
a pretty young girl you dress like such a frump [sometimes]." Penny 
shook her head disapprovingly. "What do you say the three of us do 
some shopping after lunch, make this a full-scale jailbreak?"

"Out of the lab sounds good, but letting you two pick my clothes? 
I don't know..." Cassy looked sceptical.

"We ain't your momma, Cassy. I think a nice pair of leather pants, 
maybe a cool jacket. It's the eighties, kid, not the sixties. I'll even 
put it on my card." Penny coaxed.

"Great, I get to play dress-up doll or child substitute?" Cassy groaned 
by way of acceptance.

"You're too big for a baby, kiddo. I'll stick with the Barbie doll 
analogy." Linda laughed.

Handsome, rangy, blond Mike smiled at her. "Tested you into 
insanity this morning, huh? You could use the break as much as 
they could."

His grin was infectious one minute, and faded the next. His face 
seeming to age thirteen years, becoming sad and frightened. His 
long hair disappeared and the hairline receded. "Better watch out 
for Nora." He warned, "she's digging into things she can't handle."


               XXXXX

YMCA
ALEXANDRIA, VA CHAPTER
8:37 am
PRESENT DAY

Cassandra tried to sit upright in a startle response and went under 
the water. She kicked her legs and broke the surface, sputtering.

What the hell? The pool had acted as sensory deprivation, and 
she's allowed her mind to float back to memories.

Yet again, however, the end of the memory did not belong.

Mike, Mike Dodd. Not only was he the one Nora was looking for, 
he was one of the top three Telepaths in the League.

Cassandra ripped through the water with the will to wring every 
last bit of excess energy from her body. Each stroke of her arms 
and kick of her legs were as much a strike against the unknown 
as a means of propulsion.

Having done over a mile already her limbs were beginning to feel 
the delicious heaviness of exertion. She let her mind go numb as 
she rolled over to simply float in the heated pool of the Y.

Her silver one-piece swimsuit seeming to blend with the water so 
that only the heavy cloud of black spreading under her gave her 
definition. The ebon mass rippled and writhed as a living thing 
with the little eddies and swirls of the liquid around her.


2630 HEGAL PLACE
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
12:18 pm

The address had been a surprise, however; it did make it easy to 
find.

Walter Skinner parked across the street and paused. Three spots 
ahead of him there was a sight that set off his own internal alarms. 
The car was parked, the man in the driver's seat laid back and 
relaxed. A coffee cup sat on the dash, a small box beside it. It 
screamed surveillance.

What the hell had Mulder gotten into this time?

He got out of the car and didn't look at the car again. No need to 
let them know they'd been spotted. Mulder wasn't even home, so 
let the idiot sit out there bored senseless.

He stepped off the elevator at the fifth floor and approached 
apartment 57. There had been no answer to his repeated phone 
calls all morning. An hour ago the answering machine had ceased 
picking up. 

Gut instinct was telling him something was wrong. Very wrong. 
If time had taught him nothing else it was to follow his gut. Using 
that survival tool is what often separated the dead from the living 
in the jungles of Hell. It separated the good investigators from the 
excellent ones. 

The phone call he received this morning was not an accident. As 
the day wore on he was becoming more and more discomforted.

Now that he was here he was not quite sure what he would say 
to the woman if she happened to be home and everything was fine.

He froze. The apartment door was slightly ajar.

He drew his weapon and approached close to the wall. There was 
no sound emanating from inside.

He pushed the door open and kept his body clear. Crouching, 
so his head would not be in the expected place, he peered inside.

The apartment was a mess. Furniture overturned, planters 
smashed, a computer laying in bits on the floor. Now, where 
had he seen this kind of work before?

Cautiously he moved through the apartment, all senses alert 
for any sign that he had interrupted the sweep crew at work. 
Nothing. They had been through and left a while ago.

His heart pounded in his ears. Was anyone home when this 
happened? There was no sign of blood, but in the mess any 
signs of struggle would have to be detected by a forensics team.

He stood in the single bedroom, pulled out his own phone and 
calmly informed the police of the break in. He'd touched nothing, 
but he doubted there would be evidence to disturb.

As he waited for the local PD to arrive, his eyes took in the 
apartment. It had once been neat and well kept. Light colors 
everywhere. Lots of plants. Was that a SWORD on the floor?

He crouched. Yes it was. Some sort of rapier with a swept hilt. 
It looked valuable. Valuable enough to rule out simple robbery.

A torn tapestry half hung from the wall depicting a woman with 
a unicorn and a lion. Interesting decorating choice.

A photo in a smashed frame lay next to his foot. He bent to examine 
it. Two women, a small blonde with spiky-short hair and Miss Troy. 
Both were... were they dressed in armor? He frowned. Yes, 
chainmail and metal breastplates. Each held a sword. In the 
photograph, Miss Troy held the sword currently on the floor. Both 
women wore huge, careless smiles.

The sound of knocking out in the living room announced the arrival 
of the police. He drew out his badge as he stood. There was some 
explaining to do.

               *

BRESTOR-SIMMS ADVERTISING AGENCY
WASHINGTON, D.C.
3:46 p.m.

Cassy rotated her neck to relieve the crick that had formed there. 
She hated being hunched over a computer. While the effects one 
could achieve digitally were impressive, it wasn't as visceral an 
experience as painting or drawing.

She finally had the real horse convincingly merged with the 
carousel horse, so it appeared to be leaping away from the ride. 
The model on horseback was reaching for a brass ring, from 
which a car key dangled.

This Mustang ad was her first major client. She'd put in long 
hours to make sure everything was perfect. Monday she would 
present it to Mr. Simms, and he would set up a meeting with the 
execs from the Ford company.

She clicked save and looked around. Her little cubicle was neat, 
yet the walls were covered with clipped photos and ads. Two 
awards hung, framed, over her desk.

Turning off her computer she stood and eased the ache from her 
lower back. She looked around. She could see five other heads, 
other poor shleps putting in overtime for the good of their careers 
or wallets.

The elevator doors dinged and opened. She glanced that way as 
she grabbed her coat. Maybe she could ask them to hold it.

Two men in dark suits got out. One flashed a familiar looking 
badge at Tony, one of the copy editors. Tony nodded and 
pointed at her.

Cassy felt her stomach flip-flop. Get out, get out, getoutgetoutgetout! 
Her mind was screaming. Fear laced adrenaline shot through her. 
The grim faced men started to walk towards her.

She took off like a shot. She rounded partitioned cubicles and 
slammed full force into the stairwell doors. She could hear the 
pounding of the men's feet behind her as she began taking the 
stairs down two and three at a time, risking a broken ankle or a 
neck-breaking fall.

"Freeze, FBI!" The man's voice filled the narrow stairwell.

That meant they had their guns out and ready. Cassandra knew 
she had committed no crime. Nora's e-mail warning flashed in her 
minds eye and she felt like vomiting.

She could hear them above her, pounding down the stairs. There 
was a hiss, and a dart stuck into the wall behind her.

She refused to scream.

Dart guns were NOT FBI standard issue. She knew. She'd dated 
an FBI agent for six months. Shooting at the backs of unarmed 
civilians wasn't S.O.P. either.

She flung herself at the parking garage door and stumbled out 
onto the pavement. She ducked behind two cars and scampered 
in a crouch, hiding between vehicles as she made her way to her 
little green Lumina.

She had her keys in her hand. As she heard the door pound open 
somewhere behind her she had managed to lace her keys so one 
stood out between each finger in her fist. She made as little noise 
as possible as she opened her car door. Sliding in she kept down. 
She refused to look back.

Keep low, Cassy, she told herself, keep out of sight.

The minute the engine turned over she knew they would be 
closing in. She sat up, cranked the car into reverse and backed up, 
wildly.

In the rear-view mirror she could see one man raising his gun. 
The other pushed his arm down as she sped out of the garage, 
burning rubber.

Out in the streets she felt vulnerable and exposed. Her breath 
was coming in short, hiccuping gasps. Those had NOT been FBI 
agents. But what if they were? If they were had she just resisted 
arrest for something? How much trouble would THAT put her in?

Face it, kiddo, either way you are so screwed. The voice in her head 
had Nora's tone. Whenever she scolded herself it tended to sound 
like Nora.

She realized, suddenly, she couldn't go home. Whoever those 
goons were, they would know where she lived. Oh God, Tammy! 
Please let Tammy have spent the whole day with that idiot boyfriend 
of hers...

Shit, shit, shit! Why didn't she have a cell phone like every other 
yuppie idiot in DC?

She turned down side streets, doubling back on herself, her eyes 
nervously flashing into her rear-view mirror every ten seconds. 
She had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. She was going to end 
up a statistic. Another face on the mall bulletin bored with a "Have 
you seen..." underneath.

She furiously wiped the cold wetness from beneath her eyes. Tears 
were not constructive right now. She had to think. She had to get 
help. Where? No one she knew could handle this. Going to her 
friends would just end up getting them hurt. Those guys with the 
dart gun had looked damn serious.

Then it hit her. She'd only been in the car with Mulder twice when 
he'd stopped by the place, but she remembered the way.

<<"He's up, light's are on." Mulder had pulled a thick stack of files 
from the seat between them.

"Where?" Cassy frowned, peering through the windshield.

"Seventeenth floor, corner balcony. Sit tight, this'll only take a 
minute.">>

Those nebulous directions were going to have to do. She turned 
her car for Crystal City.

end part 3.

Disclaimer attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake
(Part 4/?)

SOMEWHERE OVER THE MIDWEST
4:30 PM.

The case in Darwin, California had NOT been an X-File. The 
most amazing thing about that was that Mulder was the one to 
point it out. The three cases of Spontaneous Human Combustion 
turned out to be not so spontaneous. Instead a clever bank robber 
was killing those who suspected him, by using the crematorium 
while the mortician was out of town.

The case was over in three days, with everything cleaned up, 
filed and processed and the suspect shot dead while trying to 
escape arrest. It was so neat and tidy it was... down right boring 
and depressing. Scully sighed. She actually longed for something 
with a challenge to it.

"You gonna eat those?" The chin resting on her shoulder was 
digging in uncomfortably. Her nerves were already jangled due to 
the fact that they were in the air. She didn't need this.

"Yes, eat your own." Scully ripped open her bag of peanuts and 
popped one in her mouth with a vindictive fervor.

"I already ate mine." He was pouting.

"Grow up." She pulled a magazine from her carry on. Cosmo. 
Hmmm... How to rate your lover, page 53.

"Got any gum?"

She wiggled her shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the second 
head that had apparently sprung there.

"No. You took my last piece on the way TO California." She 
popped another peanut in her mouth to make the point.

She folded her magazine and produced a red marker from her 
bag.

"I don't believe you read Cosmo. That is so... not you."

"Mulder, if you don't stop digging your chin into my shoulder I'm 
going to have to break your jaw."

That worked. Much better.

"You're going to take that test?"

"What's wrong? 'Fraid you won't pass?" She tapped her teeth with 
the end of the pen.

Does your man: a) play well with others, b) listen well, c) run 
with scissors? Scully checked c.

"Oooh, you think I live dangerously."

"More dangerously than you know if your fingers get one inch 
closer to my peanuts."

Is your relationship: a) wild and unpredictable, b) stable and 
dependable, c) in need of CPR

A bright red check next to a. Of course Wildman was, at this 
moment, munching on her peanuts.

"I licked those."

"I've sucked on your tongue."

Does your man possess: a) boyish charm, b) mature contemplation, 
c) passionate exuberance.

Another a answer. Right now he was all of seven years old.

"Oh, come on, I'm a c."

"You're a hemorrhoid. Get me a drink."

He signaled a flight attendant.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" Her smile was flirtatious.

"Can I get a diet Coke for my partner?" His smile was suggestive.

The woman nodded and disappeared, her hips swaying just a bit 
more.

Mulder felt a sharp pain in the shin. "We'll get better service." 
He offered by way of an excuse.

"You better get really good service now, because you aren't getting 
ANY service tonight." She glared.

"It's like window shopping when there's no intention to buy, and 
you're perfectly happy with the model you have already."

The glare didn't waver. In fact, he was pretty sure there was some 
sort of heat ray coming from her eyes and any minute now he was 
going to resemble one of the victims from this last case. "I'll shut up 
now." He muttered quickly.

"Good idea."

The flight attendant returned with a can of diet Coke and the 
plane's phone.

"Excuse me, Agent Mulder?" The woman was wearing a worried 
frown. "You have an urgent call."

The frown jumped from her face to his instantly. "Thanks." He 
took the phone, all sorts of unpleasant scenarios running through 
his head.

"Mulder." He straightened up. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir."

Scully cocked her head to the side, trying to pick up on the 
conversation.

"Are you certain? I mean... it's terrible, but these things do hap... 
Yeah. I'll come in tomorrow morning." He hung up, then sat back, 
no longer watching her fill out answers. He handed the phone over 
to a passing flight attendant.

"Skinner?"

"No. Senator Matheson. Some favors are getting called in." He 
didn't look happy with the prospect.

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA
4:35 pm

Cassandra pulled into an empty parking spot a bit too fast. Her car 
hit the parking block and she was thrown forward by the sudden 
stop. She hurriedly unbuckled herself, snatched her purse, and 
headed into the glass and concrete high rise she'd only seen twice 
before, over six months ago.

She entered right behind a man dressed in an elegant suit. With 
only a quick glance in the direction of the front desk she followed 
the man ahead of her by a two feet. If he didn't stop and address her 
perhaps the guard would think she was with him, and not ask 
questions or bar her way.

It worked. She was in the elevator and the man she'd followed 
nodded to her, oblivious, as he pushed the third button.

"Seventeen please." She asked with a nervous smile.

He nodded and pushed the button for her.

As the conveyance moved smoothly upward Cassy tried to imagine 
the floor plan. She didn't have an apartment number, just the vague, 
outside directions of Seventeenth floor, upper right corner balcony.

When the man left she was alone in the elevator and she felt her legs 
begin to shake. Damn. Until now she'd been concentrating on the 
road, on plans for getting here, anything to keep her mind off of what 
had nearly happened. In the enforced idleness of the elevator her 
nerves were catching up with her.

The doors slipped open silently and she stepped out. Ok, The 
apartment would be last on the left if it was on the right outside. 
She almost ran to the door in question.

Behind her the elevator chimed and she turned to see it head back 
down. A knot of fear twisted in her stomach, it's edges razor sharp 
and lacerating.

It was them. She didn't know how, or even why she knew, she just 
did. The elevator was descending and they'd be on it when it next 
arrived.

She pounded on the door, ignoring the doorbell. The pounding was 
frantic, in time with her terrified heartbeat.

The door flung open and she looked up into the startled face of 
Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI.

"Miss Troy?"

He remembered her, thank God, he remembered her.

"Inside, quick. They're right behind me." She urged him to back 
into his apartment.

"Who? What's going on? Are you aware that your apartment 
was..."

The elevator chimed. Cassy turned to see the doors slide open, 
almost in slow motion. The two men who had chased her at work 
spotted her immediately and began to draw their weapons.

"Down!" She rushed him. Despite the fact that he outweighed her 
by a good sixty pounds, the sudden unexpectedness of the move 
allowed her to knock him down, both of them landing on the floor 
as two darts lodged into the door.

Cassy swung her leg, hooking her heel on the edge of the door and 
slamming it with enough force to shake the frame.

"What the hell..." His face was flushed with anger.

They both got to their feet quickly.

"There are two of 'em. They have FBI badges but they aren't FBI. I
 think they want me alive. Please, help me. I didn't know where else 
to go."

There was little sound, just an explosion of wood chips from around 
the door lock.

Skinner grabbed his gun from the desk before he gripped Cassy's arm 
and roughly propelled her up a staircase to the left. She was oddly 
comforted by the feel of his solid weight behind her.

"Hide." The word was ground softly into her ear and she felt his breath
against her cheek. He released her arm, almost shoving her down the 
hall.

He remained at the top of the stairs, placing himself between the goon 
squad and her. He pressed his back against the wall at the top of the 
stairs, out of sight of anyone ascending behind them.

She paused for a moment. His whole body was tensed, and focused. 
He looked... lethal. She wasn't sure if that frightened her more, or 
comforted her.

She slipped into the first door she came across.

It was a small room set up with all kinds of gym equipment. 
Unfortunately none of the weight machines or benches offered 
much cover and the mirror on one wall would make her doubly 
visible.

It did offer one thing, however. Cassy reached out and grabbed 
the smallest of the free hand weights. She tested its weight and it 
felt a good ten pounds. Good enough to bash a head in. She 
wistfully wished this guy had a hobby more along the lines of 
collecting assault rifles or something that would make a better 
weapon, but this would have to do.

She slipped back out of that room and saw Skinner spare her 
only a quick glance and a pointed finger to the last door of the 
hallway. She nodded and went where she was told.

The bedroom, a large box bed dominated the room. Light colors 
everywhere but the hunter green bed. The place was elegant, but... 
impersonal. It, also, left few places to hide.

First place anyone would look was under the bed or in the closet.

She stepped behind the door. It opened inward. If anyone but Mr. 
Skinner entered she'd be able remain unseen until she could slam 
the wood into their face before coming round with the weight in 
her hand.

               *

The door smashed open, below.

A dozen options were considered and discarded one by one.

To identify himself as a federal officer and demand surrender 
pretty much ranked up there with waving a red cape on the 
bright ideas list.

Soft sounds, shoes over carpet, fabric on fabric, these were the 
whisper soft sounds of deadly stealth.

A stair creaked. He waited, in perfect stillness. A gun's silhouette 
appeared. He struck.

He grabbed the man's gun wrist and pushed upward. No resistance. 
Most likely these two were trained to expect a downstroke. The hiss 
announced another silenced shot fired. With his opponent's arms 
pushed up Skinner used his other hand to smash in the man's nose, 
using the edge of his own gun. The man's fall back down the stairs 
was the loudest noise to that point.

He moved back around the corner, the wall providing cover. The 
only way to get him was to come up after him.

They knew he was here now.

"Federal Officer. Drop your weapons and stand with your hands 
on your heads." He made the identification because he was duty 
bound to do it. Not because it would do any good.

He looked down the stairway at the mirror on the one wall. The 
one man he could see in it was slowly approaching the stairway.

"Somehow I had the feeling that wasn't going to work." He muttered 
under his breath.

Skinner kept low and swung around the top of the stairway. He 
fired on instinct at the first thing that moved. The man went down.

The first attacker lay at the bottom of the stairs. Skinner cautiously 
made his way down and checked for a pulse. It was there, but thready. 
The man had a smashed nose and was unconscious, it looked like 
he might have a broken leg as well.

The second assailant wasn't as lucky. The shot took him square in 
the chest.

Skinner made a quick call.

"I need a team at my apartment now. There's been a... break in. One man
dead, another wounded." His voice was clipped as he gave the orders.

Then he heard the static crackle of a hand held com unit.

"Unit one do you copy? Come in unit one. We're sending in additional
support. Do not lose the woman. Repeat, do not lose the woman."

Lifting the right side of the dead man's trench coat revealed the 
Com unit. Skinner swore. Those things did NOT have a very long 
range.

"Ms. Troy, get down here, we need to get out NOW."

The woman in question appeared at the top of the stares, pale and 
frightened. Her hand flew to her mouth upon seeing the men on 
the floor.

"Oh God, what's happening? Why is this happening?"

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that." Skinner grabbed 
some tissues and found the fake FBI wallet on the dead man. He 
frowned. He'd be willing to wager the badge and ID were REAL, 
but the name didn't ring a bell.

Things just went from bad to worse. He grabbed a zip lock from 
his kitchen and placed the wallet inside.

"Come on, we're taking the service elevator." He stood and grasped 
the shocked woman's wrist, half dragging her after him.

Once in the spartan elevator used only by the cleaning staff, Ms. 
Troy wrenched free of his grip. She was breathing heavily, and 
her eyes were dangerously glazed looking.

"I'm okay. I can handle it. More are coming aren't they? If you 
didn't think more were coming we'd have just waited for the 
police or FBI or whoever gets jurisdiction in cases like this, right?"

Skinner nodded, curtly. "One had a com unit. More are coming. 
I'm getting you to a safe house until I can figure out what's going 
on. It would certainly help if you would start at the beginning."

               *

UNKNOWN LOCATION
5:00 pm

A penlight shown brilliantly into a pale, blue eye. The pupil neither 
expanded nor retracted. The man wielding the penlight frowned.

"He's still unresponsive to external stimuli. How much of the 
mixture did you give him?"

A second man checked the leather straps binding the immobile 
man to the bare, metal cot. "The exact same dose we gave the 
others. He did the job, so quit yer bitchin'."

The man with the penlight stood up and glared down at the second 
man. "These are NOT disposable commodities. If they go into 
catatonic shock after an assignment they are useless. It will shut 
down this project.

"I want Mr. Dodd watched. He is not to be given further injections 
unless I order it. Keep him on the glucose-saline and make sure he 
is as comfortable as possible."

The man checked the ankle straps and nodded. "Fine by me, doc. 
But if this part of the freak show comes down and remembers 
where he is; I'm not gonna let him get into MY mind. If he could 
do that Senator guy from this far away... what'll he do to us? I'll 
shoot him first. So you be real sure about skipping doses."

The doctor's face reddened. "You forget who is in charge here. 
You, sir, are disposable, HE is not. If you are this jumpy working 
around the subjects then I will have you transferred to another area."

"I'm fine as long as they stay in la-la land. They're SUPPOSED to 
stay in la-la land. So as long as you do your job, I can do mine." 
The argumentative man stepped through the door, leaving the doctor 
with his patient.

The doctor sighed and leaned over his 'patient'. "Just two more, 
Mr. Dodd, and you will be surrounded by all of your old friends. 
You'd like that wouldn't you? Pretty soon we'll have the most 
important piece of the puzzle, and she will boost your abilities 
exponentially. Think of all that you can do then."

Mike Dodd didn't even blink.

end part 4

Disclaimer attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake
(Part 5/?)

Cassandra kept looking over her shoulder and out the back window 
as she spoke. Her speech was a bit rapid, but she had managed to 
get control of herself and force herself to think rationally.

She told Skinner about Nora's e-mail and the men at her work. He 
told her about her apartment.

Apparently Tammy had come home while the police were there and 
had, so far, no luck in reaching Cassy. Big news. Cassy had been 
too busy running for her life.

"Will Tammy be okay?" Cassy glanced anxiously at the Assistant 
Director.

"I think so. She had no idea why you'd call me. She was going to 
stay with a friend and try to find YOU." He seemed to take her 
whole story with equanimity, as if this sort of thing happened all 
the time. Cassandra wondered if this was an FBI trait or just 
something that came with the territory of knowing Fox Mulder for 
any length of time.

"Could you have someone contact her if I give you her boyfriend's 
number? I want her to know I'm all right. I don't want her to worry 
too much. She's such a mother hen she'll work herself into an anxiety 
attack." Cassy gripped her purse tightly, trying to focus on something 
other then her own problems.

Evidently Skinner was not interested in that technique. "You should 
be more worried about yourself right now. Why did your friend think 
someone would be after you and these others?" He wove his car in 
and out of traffic lanes with an ease Cassy envied. He seemed so calm 
and self assured. She felt a ray of hope that she had gone to the right 
place.

"Where are you taking us?" She countered.

"I asked you first."

"Oh, that's mature. I think I have a right to know. I mean I've just 
placed my life in your hands, the least you can do is let me know 
where we're going. For all I know you could be taking me to hand 
me over to these people yourself..." Cassy glared and let her anger 
leak into her voice.

"If I were going to do that I wouldn't have just killed a man in my 
own apartment, now would I?" He made a sound half way between 
a hiss and a sigh, "I'm taking you to a safe house run by the Bureau. 
I'll put two agents on you until I know what's going on, who wants 
you and why."

Cassandra considered this and nodded wearily. "Can you trust these 
agents? I mean those guys back there had FBI badges, are you sure 
that some of your own people aren't in on this?"

The only indication that she had touched a nerve was a tightening of 
his grip on the steering wheel and the movement of his head, as if 
loosening a non-existent collar. "I'll look into that. And I'll make sure 
the agents can be trusted."

Cassy nodded again, then, after one more check out the rear window 
for any signs of a tail, she settled down and drew up her shoulders.

"In the summer of nineteen eighty four I'd had this... ability of mine 
for two years. My dad is a college history professor and he heard of 
this program at Princeton where psychics were going to be tested and 
studied to learn if such abilities really existed and to try to measure 
them, that kind of thing. After some discussion I signed up. See dad 
has this thing for the advancement of knowledge." She waved her 
hand in the air and caught herself before she went off on a tangent.

Skinner nodded, indicating she should continue. "There were ten 
of us in the final group. We all showed very visible psychic talent 
in different forms. Not everyone had the same abilities. Mine was 
empathy and limited telepathy through dreams. Nora's was 
psychometry, the ability to touch an object and know its past. Roger 
was a telekinetic, he could move things with his mind alone, Mike, 
Penny and Linda were these really strong Telepaths. Fred was a 
receiving telepath. Becky could foresee the future to some extent, 
and had these premonitions. Jennifer could sense the past, sort of 
like Nora, but she didn't have to touch anything, she kind of knew a 
PLACE'S past by being there. Carl could see things going on in other 
places."

Cassy fell silent for a while as she remembered each face, each 
friend. "Together we called ourselves the Ganzfeld League, after 
the Ganzfeld chamber where a lot of the tests took place. We never 
had our real names on any documents. We tried to remain 
anonymous to the outside world.

"We became friends and team mates and it all seemed like one great
adventure. Only Nora was afraid. She had this idea that the 
government was watching us, testing us. She thought we were all 
going to be made to disappear and be forced to work in some secret 
project. I was never completely sure why she thought this, but it had 
something to do with her father. He worked for the State Department."

Cassy paused when she saw Skinner stiffen.

"The Nostradamus Project." He muttered through clenched teeth.

"The what?" Cassy frowned as she dug in her purse, finally bringing 
forth a colorful scrunchie.

"Never mind, go on." Skinner made a turn off the main highway.

"You don't throw out a name like Nostradamus and just say never mind."
Cassy began plaiting the thick mass of her dark hair into a braid. "
You  have some idea of what's going on, and since *I'M* the one 
getting chased  all over two states I think I have the right to know 
why."

The man beside her stiffened slightly. "As of right now your only 
right is the right to stay alive. There are some things you are better 
off not knowing."

"Ignorance is bliss, huh? Guess again. Stop the car. I'm getting out. 
Thanks for saving my life, have a nice life of your own." Cassy 
grabbed for the door handle.

A muscular arm shot across her body and a hand clamped over her 
wrist. "Don't be an idiot. You aren't the suicidal type. You're in over 
your head and you know it, or you wouldn't have shown up at my 
place. Just how DID you know where I lived anyway?"

Cassy wrenched her wrist free with a growl of anger. "Some things 
you're better off not knowing." She shot back. "Am I under arrest?"

"You're in protective custody." Skinner's eyes were unreadable as a 
passing car's lights reflected off his glasses.

"And you're my bodyguard?" Cassy arched a fine black eyebrow.

"No, I'm your bodyguard's boss." Skinner made another turn into a 
residential area and Cassy realized she was hopelessly lost. "Do you 
have any idea who financed the research done on your... Ganzfeld 
League?"

"Some private businesses and eccentric rich guys, I think. A few 
academic grants." Cassy tried to look for street signs to get her 
bearings.

"Any idea who funds academic grants?" The question was facetious 
if the tone was any indication.

"Uncle Sam," Cassy answered anyway. "So you think Nora was 
right, don't you? And if the government is after us. If they already 
kidnapped some of us... Jesus... there's nowhere we're safe."

"Yes there is." Skinner pulled the car to a stop before a small two 
story house in a quiet looking neighborhood. "You should be safe 
here for a while."

A man emerged from the house and approached the car. Cassy 
sighed with relief. She knew this man.

"Sir, can I have a word with you in private?" Special Agent Donald 
Jenkins stepped to Cassy's side as soon as she stepped out of the car.

Cassandra had helped rescue Agent Jenkins' little girl six months ago. 
She forced a smile for the man. "Don, how's Kimmy?"

Agent Jenkins answered her smile with one of his own as he gently 
escorted her into the house. "The nightmares are few and far 
between thanks to you. The therapist thinks she's going to make a full 
recovery. Are you our body?"

Cassy looked around her. "Looks like."

Jenkins looked around Cassy at Skinner. "Sir?"

"In the kitchen, Agent Jenkins. Have Agent Calloway show Miss Troy 
to her room." Skinner gestured to the woman who was descending the 
stairway to the left of the foyer.

"Miss Troy?" The woman offered her hand. "I'm Meghan Calloway. 
If you'll come with me... I even think we have a few things here to 
fit you, if you don't mind sweat suits..."

Cassy shook the older woman's hand and, after casting a nervous 
glance to Skinner and receiving an encouraging nod, followed the 
agent up the stairway.

In the kitchen Jenkins spoke rapidly. "Sir, a forensic team went 
over your apartment. There were no bodies when they arrived, 
although there was bloodstains on the carpet. So far no prints have 
been recovered, including yours. There were holes in the walls 
where the team is examining a chemical compound, but no bullets."

Skinner pinched the ridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, just 
under his glasses. "They cleaned up fast. All right I still have some 
evidence for the labs to look at." He pulled the ID wallet from where 
it had been tucked in waistband of his jeans. "I'm going to run this in 
and have it checked over. If this is an inside job I want agents I can 
trust on this."

Jenkins nodded. "If you don't mind sir, I'd like to stay here with 
Ms. Troy. I sort of owe her one."

Skinner nodded. That was precisely why he had phoned in and 
asked for Jenkins. There would be a sense of loyalty there lacking 
in any other agent.

"I'll be back in the morning. Your replacements will be here by 
eight in the morning. Any questions?" Skinner tucked the wallet 
back in his jeans.

"Yeah, who would want to hurt Cassy?" Jenkins frowned.

"I intend to find out." Skinner answered.

               XXXXX

WASHINGTON NATIONAL AIRPORT
8:35 PM

They weren't hard to spot. The two particular passengers he sought,
disembarking from flight 407 from Fresno, looked worn and tired. 
Not like most of the others who were excited to share news of 
vacations or business trips with family and friends. He hung back as 
he followed them to the luggage carousel.

The man kept stretching, easing the kinks and cramps that would 
inevitably occur from folding such a long frame into coach seating. 
The two did not waste time with useless chatter. The man took the 
heaviest of their luggage, including one suitcase, distinguishing itself 
with a floral tapestry pattern, making it doubtful that it was his.

The watcher went to a line of pay phones and quickly dialed the 
number he had memorized.

"They just arrived. I'll keep track of them from here. Don't call me. 
I'll call you if there's any trouble." He hung up quickly before he 
lost sight of the quarry.

               *

The drive to Scully's apartment was spent mostly in comfortable 
silence.

"Have we done something to piss someone off recently?" Mulder 
asked out of nowhere, his eyes darting from the road to the rear 
view mirror.

"You mean within the last hour?" She turned to look behind them 
as well. "What's up?"

"There's a Mercury three cars back, it stays three or four cars back 
and it's been behind us since the airport."

Mulder turned down a side street that would take them to Scully's 
apartment by a more indirect route. The car did not follow.

Scully shook her head. "I'm glad to see the paranoia is running full 
tilt. I wouldn't want to think you were losing your edge."

"Don't you mean losing my mind?"

"Nope. You lost that long before I met you."

He pulled up in front of her apartment and helped her with her 
luggage, walking her to her door. They spotted the car pulling up 
to the corner half a block away. It was a Mercury.

"So much for losing him." Scully pulled her gun once they were 
inside her apartment.

"I'll see who he's after." He deposited her bags inside her door.

"You aren't staying?" she frowned.

"If he follows me, I'll see if I can shake him. If he doesn't I'll just 
drive around two blocks and sneak in the back. I don't want to 
take out a full page ad in the Washingtonian about what we do 
together in our off hours. I'll call you as soon as I know what he's 
doing." He turned and left.

She sighed and sat by the phone with something new to worry about. 
She hated waiting. She hoped the tail did not follow Mulder, if only 
because then she could DO something.

Back in the car, Mulder noticed the Mercury decided that he was 
more interesting *than* Scully. It COULD be coincidence; after all, 
gray Mercurys were fairly common. Of course, Mulder mused, I 
could also run for Congress next year. The likelihood was the same.

When he turned onto 295 from route 50 he noticed it stuck with him.

He hit the speed dial of his cell phone.

"Scully." She sounded tired.

"Maybe the guy in the grey Mercury found my mind and he's trying 
to return it. He's still back there."

"Mulder are you certain it isn't another car?"

"Tell you in a minute." He flashed his emergency lights and pulled 
onto the shoulder of the highway. The car sped by with the rest of 
traffic.

"It's a rental. License JTT978. I think I threw him with that maneuver 
though. At least he knows I'm onto him."

"So hang up and I'll put a trace on it. With any luck Danny will be 
pushing his overtime and be in. Could this have something to do 
with the call you got on the plane?"

"All theories are open right now. Call back the minute you know 
anything."

"Don't I always. I'm not YOU." The dialtone punctuated the slight 
reprimand.

Mulder pulled back onto the highway at the first break in traffic. 
He debated driving around aimlessly for a while, but if that tail 
had been waiting at Scully's place then they already knew where 
he lived.

               *

He cursed soundly then shook his head admiring his quarry even 
as he was irritated with him. He had not taken his instructions as 
literally as he should have.

This guy was smart and alert, not the usual type he tailed. He had 
been spotted, twice. He figured that after agent Mulder pulled to 
the side that he would run a trace on the license plate. It was time 
to get another car.

He reached over and opened the heavy file folder and looked at 
the five by three black and white glossy of Fox Mulder. It was a 
copy of one of those security badge shots that made the DMV look 
like professional fashion photographers.

It was the best that could be done on short notice. In the past 
twenty four hours he had managed to build a paper history on 
the guy. It made for interesting, and not very reassuring, reading. 
This one just might be the trouble his current employer expected.

He closed the file and opened the one underneath, pulling the 
glossy out of that file and holding it at the steering wheel so he 
could look and drive. Olive skin, delicate heart shaped face, large, 
uptilted, green eyes giving an air of innocence to her. There was a 
thick braid of dark hair over her shoulder.

She was definitely a looker if a bit on the tall side. She was the 
primary target. The only reason he needed the story on Mulder 
was to help him judge if the guy needed to be taken out of the 
picture or if he could prove to be an asset.

Cassandra Alexandra Troy, a twenty eight year old commercial 
artist currently employed at the Simms advertising agency. Native 
of Baltimore. Her father is currently a professor of History at Johns 
Hopkins University and her mother is a botanist at the Cylburn 
Arboretum. Her younger sister was listed as a graduate of the 
Baltimore School for the Deaf currently attending Johns Hopkins 
working for her masters in biochemistry.

Great! Cassandra Troy owned a handgun and was licensed to carry 
concealed in Virginia. Damn amateurs were dangerous. Ms. Troy 
was on a list of ten people who spent a year being tested and 
pushing the boundaries of modern Psi research in New Jersey 
thirteen years ago. He glanced briefly at the list. Seven names were 
checked off in bright red ink. Seven kidnappings pulled off without 
a hitch, leaving no trace or hint as to where the victims were or even 
if they still lived.

The watcher pulled over to a car rental place and fished through a 
small stack of credit cards, each baring a different name. As soon 
as he switched vehicles he would go to the address listed on both 
folders. This job just kept getting better and better, he thought 
sarcastically.

end part 5...

Disclaimers attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake
(Part 6/?)

FBI SAFE HOUSE
SILVER HILL, MD
11:30 PM

Cassandra wasn't about to admit how nervous she was when 
Skinner left. She still had no idea exactly WHERE she was. Sure 
he had left her with at least one known friend, but still...

It was with a certain ironic perversity that she found herself seated 
at a formica table with two federal agents staring down at a fist full 
of playing cards.

"Gin," she spread her cards on the table with a smug smile as 
Jenkins and Calloway tossed theirs down in frustration. "Now 
aren't you glad I didn't want to play penny Poker?" Cassy finished 
the last slice of microwaved frozen pizza.

"Never play cards with a psychic," Jenkins raised his glass of coke 
to her.

"Empath. How many times do I have to tell you I can't read minds, 
Don? I think I'm going to try to get some sleep. I haven't been this 
wiped out since I was cramming for finals at college." Cassy swept 
up the cards and tapped them neat.

"Want me to lay across your bedroom door?" Jenkins wiggled his 
pale blond eyebrows.

"Now, now... don't make me call your wife." Cassy waggled a finger 
at him, secretly thanking the dear man for doing everything he knew 
how to keep her mind off the situation in which she found herself.

"G'night, Cassy." He waved her off.

"Hold on." Agent Meghan Calloway touched Cassy's arm and 
moved past her up the stairs.

Cassy had the feeling the older woman was going to sweep the 
upstairs once more. Calloway's nervousness broke through Cassy's 
shielding at the touch.

"All clear?" Cassy called up the stairs.

"Yeah, just keep the shades closed." Calloway reappeared and 
descended the stairs.

Cassy showered quickly, and re-plaited her hair into her night-time 
braid. Donning a pair of sweats that were a size too large she 
crawled into the unfamiliar bed certain she would find no sleep.

The strain of the day caught up with her the moment she hit the 
pillow and she was out.

PARAPSYCHOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENTAL LABORATORIES
PRINCETON, NJ
MAY 1985

Cassy, Penny and Linda entered the communal dining room 
together.

Fred and Roger both stood up and approached the girls as a 
cassette tape floated across the room to settle into the larger 
main stereo unit. Invisible hands loaded the tape and turned up 
the volume and Madonna's "Like a Virgin" cranked out. Cassy 
blushed and shot Roger a dirty look. He just grinned and winked.

Roger gave a courtly bow and offered Cassy his hand. "May I have 
the honor of dancing with this charming vision?"

Cassy giggled, as only nerveous fifteen year olds could. "Soooo 
Rabbit, what  did they have you doing today?" Cassy spun away 
only to slide up to Roger's  side and sway gently with him.

"Roll the pretty red ball around in a glass case to test my fine 
control, lift weights from another room to test my limits, the usual 
horse shit. That, and a few predictions, focus on the future type 
stuff. That makes me uncomfortable. I refuse to believe the future is 
written in stone. I prefer to think of it as always in motion."

"But you can sometimes tell what's going to happen." Cassy stopped 
dancing and looked sadly at Rabbit. "I can't imagine how awful that 
must be."

"Not so bad as that. I know exactly what the woman I'm going to 
marry looks like, if my constantly in motion future stays on it's 
current course."

"Really? who is she?"

"I don't know, I haven't met her yet. I also know what the man 
you will end up with looks like, if all things remain on their current 
course," Roger winked. "Not at all what I would have thought as 
your 'type', by the way, "he paused, "I had a strange dream I 
thought  might be precognitive though. It involved you."

"Oh?" Cassy followed him over to the group clustered around the 
food. She swiped a piece of pepperoni pizza.

"I saw you. You were surrounded by this darkness, pressing in on 
you. You were looking for someone. I got the impression that you 
were not sure if they were part of the darkness or simply lost in it. 
It may have even been the man I saw as part of your future...How's 
that for a vision open to wide interpretation?" He shrugged, "One 
more thing; part of the vision and I think it was important. A message 
that kept whispering in the back of my mind. It was - 'The sum of 
the whole is greater then all of it's parts.'"

Cassy looked at Roger strangely, letting the pizza in her mouth sit 
there, almost afraid to swallow. She did manage to swallow after a 
few seconds. "That makes no sense. You sure they didn't slip you 
any funny tasting brownies before you went to sleep?"

Roger laughed. "Positive. Just keep in mind what I said. I get the 
feeling you won't need it for some time now anyway."

Cassy's attention was pulled away from Roger when she heard 
Nora arguing with Fred to her left. Freddy was outright accusing 
her of deliberately failing some of her tests. Cassy bit her lip. 
Nora was denying it and the music had died down. Soon everyone 
was looking at the older man accusing the teenager of cheating 
and ruining important tests. Nora looked close to tears.

Fred was being an ass, and Cassy didn't like the bit of enjoyment 
she picked up from him. He was right and he knew it and now he 
was enjoying pointing out Nora's mistakes. However, his accusation 
didn't make Nora look bad. Everyone was looking at him like he 
was being a total jerk.

"That's enough Fred." Cassy jumped in when the others stood in 
mute shock. "How would YOU know if Nora was cheating anyway? 
You can't receive worth jack shit, and everyone here knows it. So 
unless you are cheating as well you have no proof. Just back off."

Nora took Cassy's hand and pulled her away. The two practically 
fled to their dorm room where Nora cried into her pillow. Her 
tears got on her glasses, and Cassy took them from her friend's 
face and wiped them off with a tissue.

"It'll be ok, Nora. He can't prove it you know."

"But... but they'll watch me more closely now. Why did he even 
start in on that?"

"He's like our big brother, right? He just wants us to do our best. 
Maybe he thought he could embarrass you into trying harder. 
Maybe he was hurt that you might be having a problem and didn't 
go to him with it. We've gone to him with everything else. Don't 
sweat it."

"Thanks Cassy." Nora sniffled. "I think I'm going to just take a 
shower and go to bed early."

Cassy watched her friend gather her stuff and leave for the 
showers.

When she turned back Penny was on Cassy's bed. No. Not the 
right Penny, Penelope O'Hare the marine biologist Penny had 
become.

"Not much time kiddo. Be careful. You let the snake get too close. 
Don't be fooled by kind words and love, he can fake almost 
anything. Keep your guard up." She looked scared. "No... no... no 
more. I'll be good. I promise." Penelope tried to shrink away from 
something only she could see.

               *

Cassandra sat up in bed. She took great gasps of air to calm herself.

Once more the memory-dreams. Once more a warning. Cassy lay 
back with the sheets twisted in her white knuckled grip. It was only 
four am according to the clock by the bed. She stared hopelessly into 
the darkness and knew she would not sleep again this night.

For the first time in years she missed them all with an aching 
loneliness. They  were the only ones who ever TRULY understood 
her. They all knew the  blessings and burdens of having odd gifts. 

The closest she had come to that kind of deep, shared understanding 
had been  Mulder. But even that had been vicarious. What ability he 
had was so deeply  buried under fear and loathing that he had actually 
made a conscious effort  to ignore it, to refuse to acknowledge it. 
For someone so acutely interested in  the paranormal he was 
resolutely  in deep denial over his own talent.

It was close to empathy, which is why she had found it so very 
easy to slip  into his dreams, and so very hard to shut him out. 
He used it when profiling  killers, without acknowledging he did 
so. She had heard of his own psychic  dreams involving a child 
killer. It really was no wonder he wanted to deny his  own weak 
talent.

Now... now she no longer had even Mulder as solice. And being 
in this strange  safehouse also ripped Tammy's motherly smothering, 
in all it's familiarity, from her. 

Cassandra felt her own seclusion peirce through her. With it came 
the fear.  Someone wanted her either dead or captive. She now 
had no where to turn.  In the heavy darkness she silently wept.

               XXXX

ALEXANDRIA, VA
12:00am

Mulder had driven around aimlessly for two hours and couldn't 
detect another tail.  When he pulled up to his apartment complex 
he scanned the area for any sign of  surveillance. One car was 
suspicious, with it's tinted windows and one too many cigarette 
buts in the street by the drivers side door.

He pretended not to notice as he gathered his bags from the car 
and  entered the building.

In the semi-privacy of his apartment he left the lights out and 
checked from the window. 

Great. Just what I need," he muttered under his breath. 

His cell phone rang and he snatched it from his pocket before 
it could offer another chirrup. "Mulder."

"It's me. The plates you called in are registered to a rental agency 
in  Cleveland. It was rented under the name Morty Rodenta," 
Scully's voice was all business.

"In other words Mortimer Mouse. I love a tail with a sense of 
humor."

"That's not all. The car was charged to the account of one Daisy 
Mallard,"  Scully didn't sound amused.

"AND a Disney fixation. Why didn't the rental company pick up 
on the transparent phoney names?"

A sigh, "apparently the Visa was valid, and Morty had a genuine 
drivers  license and credit card of his own. People have been 
known to have unusual names... Fox."

"Ouch! That one hurt. Okay, so now we trace the address that 
credit card was billed to." Mulder moved away from the window.

"We? Seems to me I'm the one doing all the tracing. By the way, 
you're lending Danny 'Dorothy Does Oz'."

"You are a cruel, cruel woman, Scully. Guess what I'm looking at." 
Mulder peeked back out his window.

"If it's a part of your anatomy I'll pass. It's been a long flight and a 
late night..."

"Oh, Scully's going three for three. You wound me." He fetched his 
binoculars and focused them on the suspect car.

"Not yet, but give me half a chance... Okay. Mulder what are you 
looking at?" She purred into his ear, making parts of his body want 
to stand up and pay attention.

"You should have your own 900 number, Scully."

"What's to say I don't? Are we still playing 'do you see what I see'?"

Mulder cursed the poor light. "Dark sadan, tinted windows, one's 
cracked enough to let out the smoke. Lots of butts laying next to the 
driver's side door. I wonder if he's read the Surgeon General's warning 
on those things. Did you check to see what present might be on YOUR 
street?"

"Yes, and nothing looks suspicious or out of place. Congratulations, 
Mulder, they seem to want you."

"Must be my sunny outlook and glowing personality. The dark sadan 
is a Suberu. I can't make out plates from here."

"You want me to come over?"

Mulder shook his head as if she could see him. "No. Don't want to 
start any nasty rumors that we might be fraternizing."

"Not at all." He could almost hear her eyes roll.

"This guy doesn't seem to be in a hurry. Maybe he just likes to 
watch. I'll sleep with my hand on my gun."

A rather indelicate snort assaulted him through the phone. 
"Hopefully the one that holds bullets. Night, Mulder. You run 
the next search. Call me if you have trouble. I'll call you at five 
in the morning regardless. If you don't answer I'll be over there 
faster then Clinton can say 'we were only friends'."

"You and Clinton? Scully, I'm shocked."

"Night, Mulder. Don't let the Men In Black bite." The phone 
clicked in his ear.

                                     XXXXXX

FBI CRIME LABS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
5:00 AM

Skinner sprung from deep sleep to fully alert at the touch on his 
shoulder.

"Sorry to startle you, sir. Coffee?" The over-earnest young man 
held out a styrofoam cup. Skinner took it.

He hadn't left as the two lab technicians had worked on the wallet. 
He didn't want this piece of evidence disappearing as well. He'd 
been assaulted in his own apartment, been forced to kill a man in 
his own home. For some reason a woman's life lay in the balance 
and he wasn't going to delegate this to anyone who could be bought. 
No one was tampering with this, his only lead.

Before settling into this chair he had spent fifteen minutes on the 
phone with Ms. Troy's distraught room mate, assuring her that 
Cassandra was physically fine and it was in her best interests if no 
one knew where she was right now. The petite blond, whom he had 
only met that afternoon, then threatened to kick his ass, no matter 
who he was, if Cassandra Troy didn't return home in perfect health.

Somehow he imagined he had more to worry about then a five 
foot one, ninety five pound attitude introducing her shoe to his 
backside.

"What have you got for me?" Skinner sipped at the bitter brew 
and followed the white coated technician into the lab. He felt his 
vertebrae snap and pop as he stood and a dangerous kink had 
formed in his neck. Sleeping in a chair was not recommended 
procedure at his age.

"As you suspected the badge was real. But we have no record of 
this number in any database. We're requesting a list of all serial 
numbers from the manufacturer, but we won't get it until Monday, 
sorry. We did lift four latent prints from the wallet." The dark 
haired kid gestured to the well lit glass box where a high intensity 
bluelamp highlighted the finger prints on the badge wallet.

"Partial thumb, good forefinger, and a good thumb and partial 
middle finger. Thing is; they belong to two different people, both 
right hands. Prints have NOT shown up in the system yet."

Skinner shook his head. "I'm not surprised."

"A little Ninhydrin helped us lift two more latents off the paper 
ID card. Another good thumb and a partial index. It appears to 
belong to a third person. Again, so far nothing nothing in AFIS." 
This was said by an equally young woman. Both lab technicians 
made Skinner think they were recruiting these kids right out of 
high school.

She continued, "wallet and ID tag are also government issue, but 
no record of any agent by the name of Michael Urbich is in the 
system either."

"Blood sample from the corner of the wallet is AB negative. We're 
going to be running the DNA through the system but that'll take 
weeks even at top speed. Even then with nothing to compare it to, 
it most likely could lead us anywhere."

From there Skinner stopped off at his office. He kept a spare suit in 
the closet,  ever since he had had to attend a meeting with the director 
with a coffee stain  down his front.

He set an Agent to getting a list of all employees of the firm 
manufacturing the  Bureau's ID wallets and badges, including delivery 
firms that processed them. 

He poured himself some coffee and took a moment to sit down. 
He planned on  checking up on Miss Troy, then personally visiting 
the aide who'd tickled his ear  with the forewarning of the 
Nosterdamus Project.

He sipped some of the awful black liquid and considered his 
priorities there. What  was it about the mysterious Miss Troy that 
made him want to personally assure  himself of her well being? 

Certainly, she was beautiful. Definitely, she was intelligent. 
Undoubtably she was  resourceful. So a kind of admiration had to 
be admitted. Not many civilians would bear up as well as she had 
to yesterday's events.

Her talent... now there was a subject that made him nervous as 
hell. Officially,  he'd have a hard time putting the experience she'd 
put him through six months ago on any report. Unofficially, it had 
jarred him far more then he'd ever let anyone know. For a brief 
moment, he had felt all that she felt, and he had no doubt she had 
taken a tour of his own emotional psyche. It had been both terrifying 
and... startlingly... arousing. 

He shifted his thoughts away from that path. He was too old and 
too scarred for such foolishness now. Right now his interest was 
no doubt because she  had trusted HIM to keep her safe. She had 
placed herself in his hands, and  he'd be damned if he'd betray that 
trust.

He finished his coffee and left a note for his secretary to have Agent 
Mulder call him as soon as he got in.

End part 6...

Disclaimer attached to part 1.

THE GANZFELD LEAGUE
by Rhondda Lake
(part 7/?)


AN ABANDONED ASYLUM
LOCATION UNKNOWN

"This one was trying something last night sir." The voices seemed 
far away now. Penelope couldn't really focus on them too well. 
She was to busy enjoying the floating sensation. Everything was 
warm and fuzzy. 

"What was she trying to do?" Penny remembered she was 
supposed to listen to the voices, try to grasp the meaning of the 
words. There was a familiar pleading in the back of her mind. 
Someone was sending her love and comfort. Reassurance. 
The thoughts and feelings were strange, alien in nature. Not at 
all human, but no human could remain so pure to their purpose 
as to pierce the drug haze.

"Our guard claims she tried to use her mind to escape. Maybe 
even try to reach another telepath."

"Was she successful?"

"It's doubtful. We pumped her full of joy juice as soon as it was 
noticed."

"I noticed Number three was back with us this morning. I told 
you he wouldn't stay catatonic for long. Keep an eye on all three 
of the telepaths. They are the most useful and the most dangerous 
right now."

"I thought number five would be. He nearly beat Jake to death 
without laying a hand on him. You said he could only lift things, 
you never mentioned he could use his power like a fist."

"Let us deal with number five. So long as he remains drugged 
he will not be a problem." The voices floated further and further 
away.

*Mike... Mike can you hear me?* Penny pressed her head against 
the softly padded wall. Her head hurt when she tried to transmit.

*Yes. Penny, I hurt. The last shot is running out. It makes my 
bones ache when I come down. My skin's crawling.*

*I think I might have gotten through. I may have warned Cassandra. 
Link with me Mike. Touch my mind. We can go someplace where 
the joy juice can't touch us. Where they can't touch us.*

She felt Mike's mind clutch and claw at hers. It was painful in it's 
intensity as Mike fought against the pain of withdrawal. The bastards 
let him start withdrawal so he would have reason to cooperate. 
They had them all hooked on their damn drug.

She let Mike cling to her thoughts as she retreated, floating to 
that alien presence in the back of her mind.

*Did you do what they wanted you to Mike?* She asked as she 
allowed the 'other' to pull her.

*Yes. Oh God. God forgive me. Penny I think I... killed a man.*

*Shhhh... it isn't your fault. They are monsters. You can't think 
any more clearly then I can. Hold on to me. This place is beautiful.*

Then they were surrounded by warm water. The light from above 
danced in playful patterns across the pale constructed floor. They 
were floating, swimming with sleek shapes that sang to them. Gentle 
grayness that touched and stroked offering comfort. Touch. See. Play. 
Make the badness go away. Come back. Come back.

Penny allowed the alien mind to embrace her. Her friend offered 
this escape to both her and Mike. The others were too far away to 
link with. Her inability to help them gain this temporary escape 
pained her. call him the moment he came  in this morning. That 
done he headed out again. 

               XXXX


end part 7a...