Angel de la Muerte

Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 10th

"Lights out in ten," the voice boomed mercilessly over the crackling intercom. Marcos Gomez slowly turned the page of the bible over and blocked out the sounds of the other cells around him. There were eleven other prisoners in this block and each of them felt the need to be heard. Their shouts and cries were loudest at lights out, when the still silence of night brought with it the sense of fear.

The soft footfall of the guard approaching his cell made him look up and Marcos turned his head in time to see Kevin Patterson watching him through the bars.

"Still reading that bible Marcos?"

"Yes." Marcos levered his legs off the mattress and stood to face him fully, his fingers keeping his page in the bible.

"A little late for that isn't it?"

"Never too late to repent!"

"Well it's lights out." The guard lingered for a moment more then moved onto the next cell.

Marcos stood up from his bed, walked over to the sink and placed the bible on the floor by his feet. He turned the pages to find the passage he wanted and slowly closed his eyes. Twisting the faucet he let the water run over his index finger then he circled the ground around him, leaving a light circular trail. Deep soft breaths filled his lungs and he loosened the muscles in his chest to take it all in. He unbuttoned the prison issue denim shirt and tossed it onto the mattress behind him.

The heavy clunking of the lights being switched off let him know it was exactly eleven pm. The sounds of the cellblock slowly died down to the almost eerie silence he was waiting for.

He locked eyes with his reflection on the stained, dirty mirror before him and concentrated on his breathing. On his back a colorful tattoo marred his smooth skin. The large picture of a bloodied pair of angel wings covered his back, reaching across his scapula from one shoulder-blade to the other. They were spread out as if in flight but scarred and battered, dripping blood graphically around his back.

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper in the darkness. He felt his body swaying as the mantra passed his dry cracked lips over and over.

***

Providence Cancer Center
Washington DC
March 10th

"I'm sorry Mrs. Robinson, but there is nothing else we can do for your son."

The hallway seemed such a cold place to be imparting news like this and Dr. Woodrow never liked it. But when the patient was as close to death as James Robinson was, he knew the family never liked to be more then ten feet away from his bedside. "I have called the Chaplain."

"How long do you expect him…to…?" her words faltered and the doctor squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I'm afraid there is no way of telling. His organs are failing rapidly. It could be a minute from now or an hour. But not much more after that."

"Thank you doctor, for everything." Vickie Robinson dabbed at her eyes with an off white silken hanky then turned to the door of her son's room. As she opened the door to go in a strong hand rested on her shoulder. She turned into the warm friendly face of the Chaplain who smiled sadly and followed her into the room.

"Mrs. Robinson? I am Father Robert Kelly."

"Hello Father." They both approached the bed slowly and the priest turned his back to rest his bag on the chair by the window. He opened it with a soft click and reached inside. He lifted the purple sash to his lips and gently kissed the embroidered cross, before placing it carefully around his neck and slowly running his hands over the silky material, smoothing it over his chest.

From his bag he took out the small bible and clutched it over his heart with both hands. In the doorway he watched as two prison guards held the door open, standing guard over the patient with heartless diligence.

"This is a private matter," he said stiffly, approaching them with a stern look as he grabbed the door. "Would you step outside please?" His words and his clothes carrying more weight then direct orders. With reluctance the guards took a step back and the priest closed the door after them. "It's just past eleven pm. I'll begin the final blessing now," he said softly as he blessed himself and genuflected at the foot of the bed.

"Thank you Father." Vickie bent over her son's head and gently kissed him on the forehead. His skin was cold and clammy but she couldn't pull away. Tears fell from her red weary eyes as she rested her forehead on his.

"I love you James, I'll love you forever," she managed to say, her voice aching past her throat. "I forgive you."

After blessing and anointing him the priest spoke softly in words she couldn't comprehend before finally blessing himself again.

"Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tactum," he muttered softly his voice still echoing in the silent room.

He sprinkled the room with holy water and prayed aloud waiting as Vickie responded carefully through a teary, choked voice.

"By the Faculty which the Apostolic See has given me, I grant you a plenary indulgence for the remission of all your sins, and I bless you. In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Sprit. Amen."

Vickie's breath caught in her throat as her crying took over her body, wracking her with heavy sobs. Father Kelly placed an arm across her shoulder but Vickie shrugged it away. She grappled to hold her son's arm and pulled it up to her face, coming close to pulling out his IV Lines.

"Vickie, be careful," Father Kelly began but her sobs were out of control.

She threw herself over James and held on but Fr. Kelly pried her hands away.

He took her hands and held them in her own. He muttered a soft prayer then led her out of the room past the officers to the chapel where they knelt and prayed together.

The heart monitor in the room beeped slowly, the silence growing longer, heavier between each shrill beep. The soft thud of the door closing, disguised the sound of the whispers.

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for." James opened his eyes and took a long deep breath. Then whispered again, "I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for."

He pulled the oxygen cannula from his face, sat bolt upright and glanced at the door. With one hand he lifted the bed sheets off his legs as the other ripped the EKG nodes from his chest.

The room filled immediately with the shrill sound of the monitor alarms as they were detached, so with one look at the door he raced over to the window and lifted the latch off. The window swung open, caught in a gust that swirled into the room, kicking the curtains up behind him.

James lifted one foot onto the windowsill and hefted himself up easily. Looking down he glanced at the 15-foot drop, then without hesitation he propelled himself into the air. He landed with a soft thud on the grassy ledge below and took off into the night's shadows before he had a chance to look back.

***

Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 10th

Marcos slowly opened his eyes and held his breath as the room stopped swaying. His chest ached with the burning need for oxygen, so carefully he sucked in a shallow breath and watched his reflection as his chest rose and fell slowly. Only the soft sheen in the hall from the emergency lights illuminated the darkness of the cell.

Carefully he lifted one hand over his shoulder and gingerly touched the throbbing center of his tattoo. The blood seeped painlessly out of his skin as he traced his fingers over his belly in a small simple movement.

His head was slick with sweat from the excursion but the smile on his face was immovable. With a soft sigh Marcos bent to retrieve his bible and lurched for the bed, his body finally giving up its bearing and he fell into an uneasy slumber.

"Look upon mine affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins," he murmured softly before he succumbed to the darkness.

***

Mulder and Scully Duplex
March 11th

Dana Scully slowly combed her hair back and lifted it into a tight ponytail. No matter how tight she kept it several strands managed to get free and gently tickle her neck, but it was the best she could do. It was going to be a long day at the office she realized with a sigh as she mentally ran through the list of meetings she had lined up for today.

In the mirror she could see Mulder behind her, where he stood in the kitchen wearing only his boxers and an open freshly ironed shirt. She turned to him as he spread the black pants across the ironing board and slowly pressed the steam iron onto them. His tongue appeared at the side of his mouth in concentration and she couldn't hold back the soft giggle. It was that adorable look he had on his face.

"If you could come in here and help me I might get this done quicker."

"Mulder, ironing isn't a two man job." She sauntered by him and lifted one of the freshly popped slices of toast from the toaster. He watched her in mock annoyance as she spread raspberry jelly over it and sat at the table to eat.

"If I had my way we'd send all our clothes to the cleaners!" He concentrated again, smoothing the iron up one leg of the pants.

"Mulder if you had your way we'd just throw them out and buy new ones!"

"No, you know I hate shopping." He said before yelping as the iron grazed the top of his fingers. "Oh I give up. They'll do."

He pulled them off the board and gave them a gentle shake, then held them up to examine them closer. One leg was perfectly ironed and smoothed with the crease down the front but the other was still crinkled and scruffy.

"Here let me. Have your breakfast." Scully finished the last bite of her toast then took the pants from him. Mulder smiled gratefully and kissed her neck as she passed by. He grabbed his toast and buttered it heavily then added a generous layer of marmalade. Checking his watch he saw it was just past 6 am and flicked on the TV.

"I'm just gonna check the news. Don't want to get caught in another traffic jam on the bridge."

Scully finished ironing his pants and joined him in the living room where Mulder stood right in front of the screen.

"Here. And hurry we're running late."

"Okay, okay," Mulder conceded as he held the toast between clenched teeth and slipped into his pants and zipped them up. "Oh nice and warm," he said with a quirk in his eyebrow.

"Mulder…your shirt!" Scully pointed out the dollop of orange marmalade in the center of his shirt.

Through a mouthful of toast, Mulder muttered a curse, rolled his eyes and raced upstairs to the bedroom to change. Scully shook her head and checked her watch again. Then the flashing blue police lights on the screen caught her eye. She recognized the Providence Cancer Center and quickly turned up the sound.

"The doctors here at the Providence Center didn't expect James Robinson to make it through the night but it seems he had other plans." The camera cut back to the footage of James Robinson being led into the hospital on a gurney. Several prison guards flanked the paramedics who wheeled him in.

"He arrived here last week after taking ill in State Pen. in North Carolina. He was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer two years ago and his health has been degrading ever since. The hated debate continues over the lack of health options for inmates and James had always been a spokesman for the cause. Convicted for murder of three men and the attempted murder of another three years ago James was serving a life sentence."

"Are you ready?" Mulder came up behind her and circled his arms around her slender waist. His lips found the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck and he kissed her teasingly.

"Mulderrr! Let's go." She flicked off the TV and tossed the remote onto the couch, but Mulder didn't move. His lips were intent on kissing and tasting her neck and he showed no signs of stopping. "Mulder?" she said leaning her head to one side to let his lips travel to her ear.

"Mmm?" he murmured against her skin.

"As much as I love this, stop it or we'll be really late." She wriggled free from his grasp and whirled to face him. "C'mon."

***
American University
Washington DC
March 11th

The halls bustled with students moving quickly between classes and James Robinson blended in perfectly. The baggy jeans and tee shirt he had stolen from the university laundry block made him look like just another student lolling around the quad.

Just this once. That's all. Then it'll be over, please god just this once! He whispered to himself as he felt the familiar hot flush of pain wash over his body.

Then as if his prayers had been answered he watched as Professor Daly stepped into the sun and started to make his way across the open square.

James stood up and moved to intercept with him, his fingers nervously gripping the sweaty handle of the knife in his pocket. Deftly he fell into step behind the professor marveling at the way he hadn't been recognized yet.

"Professor?" Startled, James turned to see a young female approaching them holding out a folder. "Professor you left your folder in the lecture room."

"Oh thank you Jane." As Professor Daly reached out to grasp the folder his eyes flickered over to lock with James's and for a moment it was as if he had been propelled back in time. The same cold blue eyes, the same look of hate and determination sparked behind them "Oh my god!"

"Professor?" Jane watched the exchange that passed between them.

"Can't be saved this time Daly!" With a surge of angry hatred James pulled the hunting knife from his pocket and lunged at the professor. He stabbed wildly, tackling him to the ground and straddling the older man's bleeding chest. Finally finding her voice, Jane dropped the folder and screamed in horror, backing away from the macabre scene.

The quad was crowded with lunching students who raced over at the sound of the frightened screams. James let out a feral roar as he stabbed over and over again, lifting the knife over his head and plunging it down into Daly's chest with as much strength as he could muster. Some students shouted at him to stop as other circled closer to stop him. But with the knife swinging in vicious wide arcs there was nothing they could do, less they be hurt themselves.

James stabbed the fallen Daly again in the chest, twisting the knife and leaving it in his torso to the hilt then shakily stood up. From behind him two campus guards approached their guns held out in front of them as they shouted at him to back away from the professor. But James paid them no attention. He stared at Professor Daly as his eyes glazed over and his chest deflated, his body finally giving out.

"Oh my god!" one of he students shouted at the sight of the dead professor and blood everywhere.

"Thank you God!" James roared as loud as he could before finally closing his eyes as his body fell limply to the ground.

***

X-Files Basement office
March 11th

Mulder jumped up from his chair as Scully walked in and he handed over her coat from the rack. Startled she watched as he threw on his own coat and smiled widely at her.

"I just went to the bathroom, what could possibly have happened in the last two minutes."

"The bat phone just rang Scully, clear your calendar."

"What?"

"C'mon," he said ushering her out the door towards the garage. "I'll fill you in on the way. We have a job to do. " he added in his best Adam West impersonation.

"Skinner knows?" she queried carefully, remembering the last meeting in Skinner's office where he promised to have them locked in the basement for the next three months. That was only yesterday, she realized with a sigh.

"It was Skinner who switched on the bat signal."

"Mulder, enough with the Batman references!" she said wearily as she climbed into the car beside him.

"Sorry I couldn't sleep this morning so I got up and there was a marathon of Batman cartoons on."

"Figures. So what's this case?" she buckled up as Mulder peeled through the streets at full speed.

"Professor John Daly was murdered this morning at American University."

Mulder's voice became solemn and low as he described the murder. "He was stabbed fourteen times by James Robinson with a hunting knife in the middle of the quad at lunch time."

"James Robinson?" Scullys mind tingled with recognition. "There was a news item about a James Robinson on TV this morning."

"The one and the same. James Robinson was a convict who escaped from Providence Cancer Center last night."

"Escaped? He was a terminally ill cancer patient. Given minutes left to live.

He wouldn't have had the strength needed to stab someone." Scully watched the road for a moment. "Mulder he was all but dead already!"

"Never the less there were over fifty eyewitness to the murder." Mulder pulled through the campus parking lot and stopped the car at the edge of the police tape.

"What makes this an X-File?"

"You said it yourself Scully. This man was at death's door."

A misty rain clung to the air as they made their way across the quad. A uniformed officer lifted the crime scene tape as they flashed their badges and directed them towards the detective in charge.

"Is James in custody?" Scully asked softly as they approached the small crowd of forensic technicians and police who surrounded the scene.

"He's dead." Scully looked up startled as Mulder took a step forward, his hand outstretched to meet the hand of Detective Reece.

"Hi, glad you could make it out here. Jason Reece."

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is my partner Dana Scully." Scully nodded grimly, casting her eyes around the scene. Both bodies had been covered over with blue tarps but the left hand of the professor had snaked out, showing the shallow pool of blood that nestled in its palm.

"What can you tell us happened here?" Scully asked as she stepped around the detective and crouched low next to a forensic technician.

"Professor Daly left his lecture room at 13:40 and was walking across the quad to his office. He was attacked without provocation by James Robinson with a diamond back 4.25 hunting knife."

"May I?" Scully asked the technician as she reached for the corner of the tarp.

"Yes, we've finished here, we're waiting to transport him to the morgue."

"Fourteen stab wounds in total," Reece continued as Scully lifted the edge of the tarp. John Daly's face was contorted in a grotesque image of terror, his eyes wide and glassy sending a shiver down Scully's spine. "After which James Robinson stepped away from the body and then collapsed himself."

"Collapsed?" Mulder asked watching as Scully remained on her haunches and turned towards the second tarp. "Was he subdued?"

"No, witnessess say he stood away from the professor then shouted out." Detective Reece checked his notebook. "Thank you god," then he just collapsed."

"Are you aware that James Robinson-" Mulder began but was cut off by Reece's waving hand.

"Yeah, yeah I know. Escaped from the cancer center last night?" the detective said with a grimace. "The state police have already been here and identified him. I had to practically wrestle them off the body to stop them from moving it. Because he was an out of state prisoner I had to call the FBI."

"Did he have a history with the professor?" Mulder asked.

"It was the previous attempted murder of Professor John Daly that had James in the State Pen."

***
Quantico Autopsy lab
March 11th

Dana Scully shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she let out a deep sigh. Deftly she closed up the last of their autopsy incisions as her mind reeled from the information she had just collected. She nimbly cut off the final stitch before she covered the body with a teal green sheet. She crossed the room to her clipboard and filled in the final notations on the attached form. As she ripped off the latex gloves the large heavy door opened with a groan.

"You done in here?" Scully turned to see a small heavyset man peering in around the door.

"Almost." She turned back to the form and continued writing, suddenly aware that the stranger was still watching her. "Can I help you with something sir?" she said over her shoulder.

"I just wanted to get the body back to storage." he said nervously, his eyes flicking from her to the covered corpse.

"You can take it, I just have a few notes to finish."

"Thank you ma'am."

Scully turned back to her notes and concentrated on jotting down her thoughts and conclusions before they escaped her. Moments later when the door opened with another groan, she rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"I just need a few more minutes!" she bit out angrily without turning around.

"Scully?"

It was Mulder who walked across the small lab towards her, his face a picture of bemusement. His tie had been loosened almost half way down his chest and his shirt collar was twisted and turned. The pants he'd taken so much care in ironing that morning were caked with mud and grease, the left leg ripped almost up to his knee.

"What happened to you?" she asked holding back a smile.

"The cab I took got a flat tire."

"What?"

"Long boring story Scully. You done here?"

"Why is everyone trying to rush me out of here!" Scully snatched up her clipboard and took the tape from the tape recorder. "I just need to wash up, change my clothes then we can leave."

"Did you find anything?" Mulder asked trailing behind her into the locker room provided.

"James Robinson died as a result of heart failure."

"He had a heart attack?" Mulder asked surprised. He was standing over the sink cupping his hands under the faucet and throwing water over his grimy face.

"No." Scully pulled off the soiled scrubs and slipped back into her pants.
"His heart stopped. As did the rest of his organs. His whole body shut down."

Mulder dried his face with some paper towels and turned as she slipped into her blouse. His eyes flickered appreciatively over the soft curves he knew so well but pushed those thoughts aside with a small shake of his head.

"His body experienced severe organ failure. But that's not the surprising part."

"No?"

"The effects of his deterioration came on so fast it's impossible to confirm the time of death."

"But we know when he died."

"His body doesn't," she said as she slipped into her shoes and turned to face him fully. "His core temperature had dropped over 8 degrees. Liver mortis was in stage three which should have been impossible."

They walked back though the lab and out into the car lot. "Rigor mortis takes only 6 hours to set in and for liver mortis it can take up to ten hours for the discoloration to take place but James was alive less then four hours ago."

"If you didn't know about the murder at the university, and the exact time of death -- if you were given this body to examine, at what time would you have placed time of death?" Scully took the keys out of his hand and unlocked the car. She sat in and buckled up before turning to him. He was watching her intently, waiting for her answer as if he already knew it.

"I would have put the time of death between 16 and 20 hours ago."

"That's just about the time last night when he was read the last rites…according to his patient chart."

***
Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 12th

"Don't you think it's strange doc?" Marcos said with a smile as the doctor prepared the injection in front of him.

"What's that Marcos?" without care for his bedside manner the doctor grabbed Marcos's arm and held it out tightly. He pressed the needle to his skin and inserted it, swiftly finding the vein with ease.

"I get a little cut and the prison board goes mad trying to patch me up." He winced at the sting from the needle. "I guess they want me in perfect shape for the electric chair, huh?"

"It'd be a waste of good tax payers money otherwise." The doctor packed the syringes and medical stuff away into a small metal case, which was taken from the cell immediately by a guard. "So how did you cut yourself this time?"

Marcos glanced over his shoulder, the bleeding marks along his tattoo seemed more natural then any scar on his body. And after 14 years in the American penal system, he mused, he'd had more then his fair share of scars.

"Dunno. Must have scratched it during the night."

The doctor didn't believe him but refused to be drawn into the lie. Instead he concentrated on applying the disinfectant to Marcos's back, cleaning off as much as the dried blood as he could.

"This is the third time this month that I've had to come and sort this thing out," the doctor groused, his eyes glaring in disgust at the angel wings tattoo.

"I don't know where the real blood stops and the image starts."

"Art Doc, its all art."

"Pfft." The doctor shook his head but supposed the argument was pointless, so he pushed it aside and hurriedly cleaned his patient up.

"Think you could hurry up a bit doc. The Chaplain is coming round for confessions in a few minutes."

The doctor seemed surprised at Marcos's genuine apprehension for possibly missing his appointment with the prison Chaplain, but then reminded himself which block of the prison he was in. The confessional times of the week were always popular on death row.

"Never too late huh?"

"No sir. It says so right here," Marcos tapped the bible he held so tightly in his free hand "Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered."

"Maybe it's not the bible you should be reading Marcos. Ever try reading the… other side?" With a smirk the doctor stood up and quickly examined his bandaging. "Think you might fit in better over there."

***
12th Precinct
Washington DC
March 12th

The compact office seemed to get even smaller with the rows and rows of files that were stacked up against the walls, on shelving and every flat surface that was available. Detective Reece sat behind his desk working amongst the files, seemingly oblivious to the clutter. When there was a knock at the door he stood up to see over the piles on his desk. Through the frosted glass, he immediately recognized the silhouettes of the two FBI agents he had spoken with yesterday and glanced around the room at the disorder then sighed in dismay.

"Come in," he called out, stepping around the desk and clearing the piles of files from two seats. The door partially opened before colliding against a stack of boxes and careening back against Mulder's head. With a groan Mulder held his hand up against the door and slowly tried to open it again.

"Security system?" Mulder asked, gingerly stepping sideways through the door to squeeze into the office, his left hand rubbing the red mark where the door had whacked him on the forehead.

"Yes, not sure if it's to keep people out or to keep me in though!" Reece said with a laugh as he shook both their hands and offered them a seat. "So you found something in the autopsy?"

"Yes." Scully pulled two pages from the file she was holding and passed them over to Reece. "You said that two state police officers identified the body?"

"Yes. Is there a problem? It is James Robinson, isn't it?" Reece said glancing at the page of autopsy report she handed him.

"It is James Robinson, of that there is no doubt. But the time of death is incongruous with the extremis effects on the body. Also as you can see from his hospital records, James Robinson had no tattoos or defining marks anywhere on his body, and yet the body I examined last night had a pair of angel wings inscribed across his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade."

"What does this mean?" Reece asked confused. "Is it Robinson or not?"

"Oh it is Robinson." Mulder confirmed. "And apparently after gaining a new lease on life he escaped from the cancer center, went to get a tattoo then killed an old professor."

"Is there a point to all this?" Reece asked, his voice finally showing the signs of exasperation.

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance.

"To be frank detective, no." Scully admitted with a sigh. "But aren't you curious to know how this man managed to survive long enough to kill someone? How, when examined during the autopsy, the signs of death far exceeded the time of death?"

"Look, this was a cross state murder. So I called the FBI." Reece said with a thin smile. "As per regulations."

"You just didn't expect us to actually investigate anything," Mulder finished for him.

"What is there to investigate?" Reece stood up and walked around the desk. He leaned his hip back against the sturdy wooden corner of the over sized desk and folded his arms across his chest. "James Robinson was witnessed stabbing this guy, then he died as a result of his cancer."

"What about his tattoo?" Mulder countered.

"Maybe he got it in the pen. Maybe the hospital records are old. Who cares?"

Again Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance. Mulder stood and held his hand out to the detective. "I guess there is nothing else here for us to do."

"No. Thank you for your speedy autopsy and I will be sure to file it in my report."

Scully cast a withering look around the room that was already littered with files and reports. She stood with Mulder and followed him out of the room. They weaved their way through the station and out to the car. In silence they buckled up and Mulder drove them back onto the road.

"Strange." Scully muttered half to herself and half aloud.

"Sorry?"

"It's strange. This case. Why would Skinner put us on this case if it was just for the fact that FBI presence needed to be there for an out of state prisoner?"

"Maybe Skinner didn't put us on this case."

"But you said-"

"Skinner called me and told me about this case. But who told him?" Mulder drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as if his mind needed the rhythmic distraction to keep his thoughts flowing easily. "If it was just because of the cross state arrest then it wouldn't have reached Skinner. Those bulletins go straight to the Law Enforcement Cooperation Dept."

"Did you ask Skinner?"

"No. He called the office and gave me a quick run through on the file and told me to get out to the university ASAP."

"Maybe we should ask him where he got the bulletin from."

***
Providence Cancer Center
Washington DC
March 12th

The soft rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was soothing. Cian Ford clung to the sound for the lifeline that it was. Every passing second that it continued to make that noise, was another second god had granted him to live on in this world. He lolled his head to the side, no longer able to hold it up and looked towards the priest as he donned his confessional garments.

His dry tongue came out to lick at cracked lips but it was no relief. Finally the priest turned to face him and smiled warmly.

"Hello Cian," he said gently as he upturned a small bottle of holy water on his fingers and slowly made the sign of the cross on Cian's forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

"A bit better," Cian said with a smile but the effort of talking sent him into a spasm of coughing. The priest rested his hands on Cian's chest as he waited for his coughing to subside. "A bit…"

Cian opened his lips for the glass of water the priest held up to him and he took a small sip before resting back onto the bed.

"Are you ready?" the priest asked, tapping his hand on the bible.

"Yes Father." Cian closed his eyes for a moment and waited for the priest to settle in the wide comfy chair beside his bed. "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been two days since my last confession."

"Yes my child."

"In those two days I have thought a lot of death. My own death." The priest nodded sagely but no sound passed his lips. "I am afraid Father. I need to gain the forgiveness for the things I have done in my life. I need to beg for forgiveness from her."

"You ask me for forgiveness and I will forgive in the name of the Lord."

"No Father," Cian's voice hissed painfully. "I need her forgiveness."

"Cian," the priest sat forward and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I know you need the forgiveness but…"

"Please Father. Before it's too late…find her. Let me ask for my forgiveness before I die or else I fear there will be no hope for me."

The priest watched Cian's watering eyes before finally letting out a deep rooted sigh. He stood up and approached the bed, resting his hand on Cian's forehead and closing his eyes. Cian closed his eyes too and concentrated on controlling his breathing.

"God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself, and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

***
M&S Apartment
March 12th

Mulder spread the file out on the kitchen table, his fingers leafing through the open pages as his eyes darted across the words. Across the room Scully stirred the pot and hummed mindlessly in the back of her throat.

"I can't see it."

"Leave it Mulder. You heard Skinner."

"There has to be a reason. Has to be…" he muttered, frustrated as his fingers pulled out the autopsy notes Scully had printed. "The body can't decay as rapidly as that. There was no drugs in his system?"

"No, the tox screen came back negative."

"Then what happened to him? What made him able to leave that hospital ward?"

"Clear the table Mulder, dinner's ready." As she tipped the pasta into a colander and ran a gush of water through it. She added sauce and cheese then spooned it onto their plates but when she turned around, she saw he hadn't moved so she dropped the pan and walked over to him. "Hey, Mulder…leave it."

He looked up distractedly and cast her a crooked smile before turning back to the files.

"Well at least eat first." She said, squeezing his shoulder as he acquiesced to her command and shuffled the pages to the side of the large table. They ate in relative silence, inane conversation floating between mouthfuls of pasta until finally they had eaten their fill.

As Scully took their plates back to the sink Mulder pulled the report pages back in front of him. She sighed as she spied him sinking lower in his chair, holding the crime scene photo as close to his face as he could.

"I know why you're doing this Mulder," she said with a smile as she walked around behind his chair and started to massage his shoulders. The tension in his muscles was hard and unmovable, despite the ministration of her small fingers. So she leaned down and gently kissed the nape of his neck.

"Doing what?" he asked rolling his head forward to allow her greater access.

"Immersing yourself in this case." She said lifting her lips off his neck long enough to talk and blow a soft waft of cold air across the wet skin she'd just kissed. "You afraid of the mound of paper work that's waiting for you on your desk."

"Waiting for us Scully!" he countered dropping the photo back to the table and leaning forward to rest his forehead on the smooth wooden surface.

"Excuse me but I have completed most of my reports. While you were wiling the hours away I was busy." Her hands roamed up his back, feeling the tight muscles under his pale blue shirt. At his collar she turned her fingers in and pulled the material down to allow her more access to his skin.

"I wasn't wiling the hours away…I was keeping busy."

"Not doing reports."

"You know Scully it's hard work doing nothing all day," he said with indignation, but she imagined the smile curving his lips.

"I bet," she muttered under her breath as she leaned over him to kiss him again but he was too quick for her. In one smooth motion he sat up and reached around to her, pulling her to the front and depositing her onto his lap.

He kissed her hungrily and his mind absently wondered when he had last made love to her in the kitchen. She laughed into his kiss as her arms looped his neck to pull him tightly against her. In no time she had managed to unbutton his shirt and he hadn't even realized it until he gasped in pleasure as her roving hands found the warm skin of his chest.

In the living room the phone rang loudly, but as he pulled away from her to answer it she dragged him back with a moan and kissed him harder. All thoughts of interruptions were banished from his mind as she pulled her lips away from his and traced warm wet kisses along his jaw to his ear. His hands rested on her hips, frozen in their search for the cuff of her blouse as her lips moved further south on his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the answering machine click on and their recorded message play out to the air in the emptiness of the living room.

"…please leave a message."

"Hello? Hello? Oh no, a machine," there was a pause and then the sounds of shuffling pages. "This is Father Robert Kelly from the Providence Cancer Center. I am calling for Ms Scully. I need to talk to you as soon as you get this message. You can reach me at 555-2113 any time day or night. Eh…thank you…Please hurry."

***

The close air from the unseasonably early spring warm spell still clung to the night like a drowning man to a life raft. With the windows open and a humid breeze wafting over their bed Scully glanced balefully at the broken AC and cursed Mulder for not calling the repairman when it quit working the previous fall. For a man with alleged photographic memory she often wonder how it was so selective. She looked over to Mulder's sleeping form and cursed his ability to sleep anywhere.

Lifting her legs over the side of the bed she stood and slowly padded her way across the room. Remembering she was naked, she decided to leave the lights off as she walked across the landing and quietly made her way downstairs. In the kitchen she filled a large glass with chilled water from the fridge and took a long gulp before refilling it again. Turning back with her drink, a new chill settling in her stomach, she glanced across the room at the table. The report pages had been spread across it and they spilled onto the tiled floor. The dinner plates still languished in the sink waiting to be washed but the mess wasn't enough to wipe the smile from her face.

The memory of Mulder's almost feral growl as he lifted her off his lap and set her onto the table before leaning over her and pinning her down, made her laugh. It had been a while since she had seen him so frisky and he usually took more coaxing than that to get him away from a case file. Not that she minded. She loved the coaxing part. And knew he did too, prolonging his defeat for as long as he could before finally giving in to her persistent kisses.

With a sated moan, Scully arched her back and felt her muscles straining against the over use but it was a good feeling. A familiar feeling she admitted with a wicked smile. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that she couldn't sleep. Maybe it was time she woke Mulder up too, she mused, her smile emitting a low chuckle as she passed through the hallway on her way back up the stairs.

Passing the doorway to the living room she spotted the red flashing light on the answering machine, casting an eerie red glow about the room. She wandered over to it and pressed the play button.

"Hello? Hello? Oh no, a machine," there was a pause and then the sounds of shuffling pages. "This is Father Robert Kelly from the Providence Cancer Center. I am calling for Ms Scully. I need to talk to you as soon as you get this message. You can reach me at 555-2113 any time day or night. Eh…thank you…Please hurry."

Frowning, Scully pressed the play button and listened to the message again. Standing in the living room transfixed in thought she didn't hear Mulder walking down the stairs behind her.

"Hey," he said engulfing her into his warm arms. "What are you doing up?"

When she didn't respond, he loosened his arms and turned her around to face him, worry etched on his face when he saw the blinking light on the answering machine.

"Scully? What is it?"

"Nothing, I …don't know."

"What was the message?" Mulder asked but even as the worried words spilled from his mouth, he pressed the play button and listened to the frantic priest on the tape. "What's that about?"

All of a sudden the fear he usually confined to the dark recesses of his mind roared forward in a tidal wave of raw emotion. Had she been seeing a priest at the Cancer center? Had she been seeing doctors there? Why hadn't she told him? All these questions flew past his thoughts in a second and his grip on her shoulder tightened in his growing panic, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"I don't know. I never met him before. I don't know a priest called Robert Kelly."

"Maybe you should call him."

"I will, I just want to grab a robe," she admitted as she whirled out of his reach and raced up the stairs with Mulder close on her heels. He too had followed her down the stairs without a stitch of clothing so as she threw on the terry cloth robe and tied around her waist, he pulled on a pair of sweat pants.

Scully lifted the phone off the hook and quickly dialed the number the priest had recited. It rang three times before an old nervous voice answered on the other side.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Ms Scully. I'm returning a call I received earlier from Fr. Robert Kelly."

"That's me. Thank you so much for getting back to me, Ms Scully. Before I say anything, I need to know if you are who I think you are." The priest rambled.

"What's this about?" she asked trying to avoid any eye contact with Mulder as he leaned back against the windowsill in front of her, watching her face intently.

"Are you the same Melissa Scully that attended University of Maryland in 1989?"

"Excuse me?" Scully was stunned into shock. "Melissa?" Mulder stood up his hands dropping to his sides.

"Yes, I'm looking for Melissa Scully."

"My name is Dana. Dana Scully."

"Oh dear, I am very sorry to have bothered you."

"No, no wait!" Scully said before he could hang up. "Melissa is my sister."

"She is?"

"She was. She died 8 years ago."

"Oh, I am very sorry to hear that."

"What is all this about?" Scully asked her anger and confusion diluting her voice.

"I'm afraid it's not something I can't discuss over the phone. All I can say is its in regards to a man named Cian Ford."

The simple sound of his name sent a hot flush of anger through Scully's blood. Mulder watched in horror as her face paled and her eyes glazed over.

He rushed to be by her side, grabbing her arm and squeezing it gently as his other hand cupped her shivering face.

"Scully?" he said urgently trying to wake her from this trance.

She shook her head a little and her eyes blinked, creasing her face in what looked like pain. In her ear the priest was still speaking but his words meant nothing to her. All she heard was that name repeated over and over.

"If you would care to meet me?" The priest's gravelly voice finally broke through.

Scully cast Mulder a wary look, knowing he would disapprove of her meeting this man. And certainly he wouldn't let her go alone.

"Of course." She had to know. She had to find out. "Tomorrow."

"Yes. There is a diner on Lincoln Avenue. Jake's."

"I know it."

"Wonderful. Tomorrow morning at 9?"

"Okay Father. I'll see you then."

Scully hung up the phone and stared at her hands as they wrang the life out of the belt of her robe.

"Scully? What is it? What happened?" Mulder's voice was soft and soothing, chiseled with care and comfort from years of practice with his own traumas and those of others, but it was tinged with an underlying wave of worry.

"It was…oh Mulder…"

"What? What is it?" he was getting more worried now as her voice broke, her tears falling over her pale cheeks.

"Oh god!" she whispered into the darkness of the room. A flood of emotion washed over her, anger, fear, frustration and despair all vowing for supremacy.

Knowing his words wouldn't make her feel any better Mulder wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. She cried openly, hot tears falling against his heart until finally only silent sobs racked her chest, shaking her against him. Suddenly the warm spring air wasn't enough to keep her shivering at bay. He led her upstairs still tightly holding her, glad she was letting him comfort.

Without a word, he maneuvered them over the duvet and slowly pulled her robe away. Beneath the covers he tucked her small trembling body back against his own and tried to cover her as much as he could with his warmth.

***
14 Mill Street
Alexandria
March 13th

The large hospital bed looked out of place in the living room. The floral pattern that adorned the walls, the large pink rosettes that covered most of the carpet and the lacy curtains that were closed over the window, added to the bed's misplacement. But it had been like that now for so long that Gerry Black hardly noticed it anymore. He could barely remember a time when he hadn't been sleeping on this bed, in this room.

Pfft, Sleeping! He thought with a bitter laugh. When was the last time he had even slept?

The tubes pressed uncomfortably down his throat helping him to breathe but stopping him from talking. The IV cables that wound their way over and back into his arm gave his blood the energy it needed to move around his body but it stopped him from lifting his hands, to scratch his nose, to caress his wife's face or anything else he had dreamt about doing one more time.

His eyes wandered around the room and fell on each piece of equipment that took over the small space. The heart monitor beside his head beeped mercilessly and no matter how many times he had wanted them to move it, they could never guess what he was trying to say. As he gestured frantically with his eyes and moaned around the tube in his larynx they gently tried to soothe him. Eventually sedating him again when he got agitated.

The breathing apparatus was the most annoying. Knowing that if it wasn't for this artificial lung he would be in sweet oblivion by now he cursed it with a glare, purposefully contracting his throat around the tube as if he could physically hurt it in the way it was hurting him. The IV bags that hung overhead, dripping rhythmically into each arm were more of a hindrance than anything else. His arms had become too heavy to lift and the needles had left a numbing area around the inside of his elbows from the amount of times they had been stuck into him. He didn't mind the numbness. It reminded him that this was nearly all over.

With a jerk he turned his head to the large clock over the television and he had to wait a moment for his weary eyes to focus. He pricked an ear towards the door to his left where the nurse was sleeping.

At last, he felt his lips smiling around the tubes and he slowly closed his eyes. The mantra he wanted to shout out at the top of his voice came quietly to his mind, circling his thoughts as if it were going to attack, then pounce.

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for." He said in his mind. Hearing his own voice speak so loudly and clearly in his mind gave him power. Gave him the strength he needed. He said it again and again and continued to repeat it until finally he felt his throat gagging, his larynx rejecting the tube and his fingers moving off the bed sheets.

With a hard pulsating cough, Gerry reached up and pulled the tube out of his throat. Even over the cough he found himself laughing and the sound of his strong voice pounded more blood around his body.

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for."

Miraculously, Gerry swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled all the wires and connections off his body. He glanced around the room, knowing he wouldn't see it ever again but could only smile at the prospect.

With slow steady steps Gerry crossed the room to the hall and unlocked the heavy front door. He stepped out into the warm night air and closed the door softly behind him with a resonate click.

Over the horizon he could see the first tendrils of daylight caressing the city ahead of him. Gerry took a lungful of sweet fresh air and stepped off the porch.

"Beautiful Morning," he muttered cheerily before walking away.

***
Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 13th

Marcos took a deep slow breath and tried to calm down his erratically beating heart. His hands braced the slippery surface of the sink, losing their grip immediately. He fell to the floor with a thud but could only smile.

"Look upon mine affliction and my pain; LORD!" he shouted out through a painful cough. Blood from his back was smeared over the concrete floor where he'd fallen. "LORD oh LORD MY GOD, forgive all my sins."

Marcos crawled across the floor over to the bed where he managed to pull himself onto the mattress. Like before he reached over his shoulder and smeared his hand across the wetness on his back. With careful precision he was surprised he was capable of, he drew symbols again on his belly, trailing a long line of red blood across his torso when finally the exhaustion was too much for him, he fell back onto the mattress, asleep.

***
Jake's Diner
Lincoln Avenue
March 13th

It had taken way too much effort to convince Mulder that she would meet Fr. Robert Kelly on her own. Now as Scully pulled up outside the diner and peered in at the patrons through the large windows she felt weary. Her mind struggled to focus and all she could recall was that name.

Cian Ford.

The name she had learned to hate for so long. A name that instilled everything she hated, everything she despised and everything she feared. It had been nearly fifteen years since she had heard it and she was surprised at how quickly all these emotions exploded in her. She thought she had put them behind her, but it seems forgiving and forgetting wasn't as easy as she thought.

The weather seemed to match her mood as a dark cloud threateningly blotted the sky. She stepped out of the car and locked it behind her, almost willing it to rain. Slowly, she made her way across the path and hesitated a second longer at the door. It opened with a dull creak and she spotted him immediately.

Fr. Robert Kelly sat in a booth at the back of the room watching as she slowly crossed the room . She bee lined for the booth and slid in across from him without saying a word. A waitress, who'd watched her progress through the diner, appeared by her side immediately and poured her a cup of thick treacle like coffee into two waiting cups.

"What can I get for you hun'?" she said her Boston twang, confusing and out of place. Scully glanced up and shook her head, with a click of her tongue the waitress walked away.

"Ms Scully…" Kelly spoke softly, his eyes darting around her face as he tried to figure out where to begin. "I guess there is no easy way to say this."

"Just say it," Scully hissed, surprised at her tone. The emotion that churned in her had nothing to do with this priest, but it was he who pulled them all from her past.

"I work at the Providence Cancer Center. I called you on behalf of Cian Ford."

"Why?" she spat out.

"He is dying. He is dying of Chronic Lymphoid Leukemia. He could die any day now. He asked me to contact Melissa so that he may apologise to her."

Scully's eyes widened with shock as she listened to the words tumble from the priest's mouth.

"When you called me yesterday and said that your sister was no longer with us, I hoped that you might help. That you might accept the apology on her behalf."

"Apology?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Over the past year Cian has been reformed. Religiously he has led so many groups in the community in the name of the lord, preaching and offering comfort where necessary. Now he is earnestly trying to atone for assaulting your sister."

"You mean raping her." It was a correction more then a question.

"He is sincere in his request and if you could help me offer him this last vestige of peace….."

Scully watched his lips moving, glaring straight ahead and not seeing. just the distress on her sister's face that night. She barely listened to the words but watched as they spewed out of his mouth, his kind eyes and beautific smile left her cold and she sighed as her shoulders slumped. She slid out of the booth and walked away without uttering another word.

***
Ocean City MD
Washington DC
March 13th

Gerry Black pulled off his jacket and stared out at the sea. The waves crashed relentlessly onto the shore, coughing up white horses along the sand.

The roar of the water, the soft sand under his bare feet all collided to make him smile. He tore at his shirt and pulled that off as well, discarding it in the sand behind him as he made his way purposefully towards the water.

Pausing only to pull off his sweat pants discarding them behind him with a laugh he walked on, his stride increasing. Long wide steps took him to the water's edge where it lapped his toes like a dog welcoming his master home.

He smiled at the soft, cool sensation and stepped further into the water. Knee deep, hip deep, waist deep. Further still he kept walking, holding his arms up high to keep his balance.

The warm sea water was like salient solution to his wounds, basking in the gentle caress of the waves he bent his knees and dipped his whole body beneath the surface. He floated below the waves for as long as he could, his lungs screaming for oxygen when he finally thrust himself upwards and gulped down some air.

In the distance he could hear someone calling him. He turned to the shore to see someone waving at him but he ignored it and continued to make his way further out to sea. Pushing his legs off the bottom he thrust his arms over his head, swimming easily through the waves until finally he could hear the voice no longer. His arms ached from the exertion but he had to keep moving. Something was calling to him and he needed to answer. Nothing else mattered.

When his legs became too heavy to kick and his arms too weak to tread water he felt himself sinking, but he couldn't put up a fight. This was what he wanted, this was why he was here, he told himself as he closed his eyes and allowed his body to sink further.

His lungs ached and fought against him, begging for air but he refused. Instead he welcomed the darkness. The heavy sensation that engulfed his head, the peace he had sought for so long was finally surrounding him in its tight embrace.

Thank you God, he said to himself as the darkness swallowed him.

***
X-Fles Basement Office
March 13th

Mulder looked up at the clock. All day he had been watching the minutes tick away. Slowly, painfully the minute hands circled the clock. And with every glance his eyes were tugged back to the phone.

She left straight after breakfast, asking him to cover with Skinner for her. After holding her trembling body all night in his arms he asked her to talk to him the second she woke. But she refused, brushing the concern and comfort he offered away. She raced around the house, showering, dressing and avoiding him until finally he caught her in the kitchen. As she bit into a slice of wheat toast he threw question after question at her, stopping only when she rested two fingers across his lips.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing blue boxers and an open white shirt and he had managed to pull one sock on during his barrage of questions. But the other hung limply in his hand when she touched him.

"Please Mulder," she said, her voice but a whisper.

His lips moved to speak again but she replaced her fingers with a kiss, muffling his voice. It was a lingering kiss and Mulder kept his eyes open for the duration, watching hers flutter closed. When she pulled away she put her fingers back on his lips and leaned in close to whisper into his ear.

"I'll be back at lunch and I'll answer all your questions then." Then before he could reply she swiftly moved away and left.

Now that lunchtime had passed and she still hadn't called he was worrying. Her cell was turned off but he left dozens of messages on their home phone. But still there was no response. He knew he shouldn't chase after her.

Shouldn't try to talk to Fr. Kelly who had left the message but all of a sudden he couldn't resist. His fingers grabbed the phone as if they had been expecting this command from him and quickly called the number that the priest left on their answering machine.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to speak to Fr. Robert Kelly?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Hello. My name is Fox Mulder, I'm a friend of Dana Scully."

"Oh I hope she is okay," the priest said sadly.

All the hairs on Mulder neck jumped up to attention. He had to catch his breath to stop it from leaving his body and he sat up straighter in his chair.

"Sorry?"

"She left in such a hurry."

"Where? Where did she go?" Mulder shouted into the phone wondering how bad it would be to threaten the life of a priest for information.

"I eh, I'm afraid I don't know. She left without saying anything."

"What were you meeting her for?" Mulder demanded.

"I'm afraid that is a private matter-"

"Is she sick?" Mulder's voice was no longer the threat it had been moments ago. Instead it had turned into a pleading tone, begging for mercy. "Is this about her cancer?"

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that."

Mulder felt his heart sink, his stomach agonizingly twisted and turned as he said goodbye and hung the phone up. He banged out her cell number again and cursed at the sound of her voice asking him to leave a message.

"Dammit Scully," he shouted at the empty room then started at the sound of the phone ringing. "Hello?" he said frantically into the receiver.

"Agent Mulder?" It was Skinner's surprised voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes sir, I'm just waiting for a call."

"Has Agent Scully returned from her meeting yet?"

"No. She should be here any minute. How can I help you sir?"

"I have a case I want you and Agent Scully to look into."

"A case sir?" Mulder glanced up at the clock and watched another few second pass by.

"Missing persons." Skinner sighed frustratedly on the other end. "Will you come up to my office for a few minutes?"

"Yeah. I'll be right there."

After replacing the receiver Mulder pulled out a page from the legal pad on his desk and wrote a quick note to Scully, asking her to wait here if she came back. He grabbed his jacket and hurried through the hall to the elevator.

Quicker he got up there the sooner he'd be back, he mused as he pressed the elevator button for the tenth time.

***
Holy Trinity Church
March 13th

Sitting half way up the church in the center of an empty pew, Dana Scully interlocked her fingers on her lap and let her eyes flutter closed. The priest on the Alter was motioning for the patrons to kneel for the blessing of the Eucharist, and the silence of the church was broken but the shuffling of clothes and the creaking of wood as almost forty people knelt forward at once.

Without even realizing it, Scully found her self pushing forward on the seat and resting her knees on the cushioned step. Her hands came up to the back of the pew in front of her and she rested her forehead on them. The soft chanting of the congregation praying reminded Scully of a meditation chant she learned from Melissa.

They sat facing each other cross-legged late one summer evening in the tree house Charlie and Bill had built. Melissa showed her how to cross her legs and tried to show her how to empty her mind. But it was no use. Too many questions, thoughts and ideas swam through her mind that she had trouble clearing it.

"C'mon Dana, concentrate."

"I'm trying."

"No you're not, you're sitting there thinking about our summer reports or next terms subjects, or Mark Gibson!" Dana blushed and smiled and Melissa roared with laughter. "Okay try this with me…"

Melissa rested her hands on her knees and watched as Dana did the same.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin in a defiant pose before softly uttering three words.

"Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam."

"What does that mean?" Dana asked watching her sister with a slight grimace.

"It means God, the Sun, most adorable and enchanting. Say it with me."

"Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam." The two girls chorused in unison. They repeated it over and over again until Dana could no longer feel her legs. She sat back with an audible oomph and slowly stretched her legs out in front of her. They tingled with the first signs of a cramp and she looked over at Melissa who was still sitting cross-legged, her lips barely moving as she chanted.

As Scully recited the Nicene Creed with the rest of the church she found her lips reciting another phrase.

"We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen… Thath Savithur Varenyam."

She looked up to the Alter where the priest was walking towards the front step to pass out the Eucharist. She watched as the patrons filed up for it and slowly she took her seat again. Her body seemed to be wiped free of energy.

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she pressed them together and squeezed them between her knees. A cold chill engulfed her as she tried desperately to seek the answer.

***
14 Mill Street
Alexandria
March 13th

Mulder parked at the curbside and walked through the throng of onlookers to the front door. The officer on duty glanced at his badge and pushed the door open for him. In the living room, Detective Reece who looked at Mulder with a frown but greeted him. They shook hands stiffly and Reece led Mulder over to the far side of the room.

The first thing Mulder noticed was the hospital bed and all the medical equipment. The machines had all been turned off and were without a patient, but they still added the sense of impending death to the room.

"Strange that you got called in on this case?" Reece asked pointing to the room with his chin as his hands reached for his notebook and pen.

"Coincidence?" Mulder said with a half smile. "Maybe. Any leads?"

"No ransom note or demands. No contact has been made with the family."

"You think it's a kidnapping?"

"The missing person is Gerry Black. Aged 72, he was suffering from the last stages of lung cancer. This man has been bed ridden for the last two months unable to move his arms or legs. As good as paralyzed." Gerry gestured towards the medical equipment. "He's been on life support for the last 4 weeks and was a DNR case."

"What motive do you think there is for kidnapping?" Mulder looked around at the floral patterns on the walls and carpets that he guessed had been out of vogue since the Carter administration. "Was he rich? Powerful?"

"No. Retired English teacher."

"So other then the fact that you don't think he walked out of here you have no basis for the kidnapping theory?"

"Do you honestly think he just upped and walked out of here?" Reece spat out angrily.

"I don't know detective. That's what I'm here to find out."

Mulder walked away from Reece and crossed the room to the bed. By the door to the kitchen an elderly lady was being comforted by an officer.

Mulder examined the equipment for a moment longer before deciding to approach them. He asked the CS Technician if the room had been dusted and the tech nodded as he took a few more pictures. Mulder picked up the IV tube for a closer look and noticed the tape that held it in place had been ripped. The tracial tube for the oxygen was slick with blood as if it had been carelessly tugged out of the patient's throat.

Looking up to see the wife calmer now, he approached her slowly, a gentle curve on his lips in place to reassure her he was there to help.

"Hello Mrs. Black. I am Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI."

"You will find him won't you? He won't be able to make it far without his oxygen."

"What time did you realize he was missing?"

"At seven when I came down the stairs. I always wake him at seven so we can watch the sunrise." She sobbed anew. "We were taking a trip out today to see the ocean. He loved the ocean. He just wanted to see it once more before…before…."

Mulder touched her hand with a sympathetic squeeze.

"And he was gone?"

"Yes. The bed was empty. At first I thought he'd fallen but he was nowhere. His tube had been pulled out and he was missing…just gone!" she started to cry again and the other officer put an arm around her shoulders.

"Do you have any home help working with you?"

"Yes, A nurse. Sarah Wilcox." The wife looked behind her to the kitchen table where a younger woman was sitting as if in a daze. "She was sleeping in the room over there but she said she heard nothing."

Mulder looked over to the other door and saw through the open gap a single bed and a wardrobe. How quiet would you have to be not to disturb someone in the next room? He mused as he remembered the blood on the oxygen tube. Having been the victim of too many oxygen tubes in the past he knew how painful they were to remove, inducing severe coughing fits in their wake.

"Thank you for your time."

"You will find him won't you?" she pleaded with him, her hand squeezing his arm surprisingly strongly.

"I will certainly do everything I can."

In the kitchen Mulder spoke with the nurse for a few minutes, confirming the same things he had just heard from Mrs. Black. As he crossed the living room again he spotted Detective Reece calling an APB out with Gerry Black's description. Reece put the phone back into his pocket and nodded his head at Mulder.

"Still think he walked out of here?"

"It could be any number of things," Mulder admitted, not wanting to claim one theory. "The medical equipment was just yanked out. Possibly by the wife."

"You think the wife did it?" Reece said a little too loudly for Mulder's liking. He yearned to have Scully by his side, to bounce his ideas around without them being taken as gospel, or ridiculed by the local cops.

"I'm hypothesizing..." Mulder glanced around the room and opened his mouth to speak when Reece's phone rang. As the detective took the call Mulder pulled out his own cell and speed dialed Scully's number. Cursing her answering machine again he hung up in time to see Reece's face pale.

"Lock up that scene. We'll be right there." He snapped his phone shut.

"What is it?"

"A body washed up on Ocean City beach this morning. Matched the description of Gerry Black."

"Lets go."

***

X-File Basement office
March 13th

Dana Scully stepped wearily off the elevator and walked slowly down the hall to the doorway. Hesitating for a moment, she took a deep breath before reaching for the handle then pushed it open quickly, stepping into the empty room.

The darkness surprised her as she expected to see Mulder huddled at his desk, pretending to be finishing his paperwork. She reached into her pocket for her cell phone only to find it switched off. Remembering then how she had turned it off at the diner before she met Fr. Kelly. Tentatively she pressed the power button and watched with guilt as it registered all the missed calls. They came from a mixture of Mulder's Cell phone and the basement landline. Hurriedly she pressed the speed dial and called Mulder.

"Scully!" came his instant reply. From the wind behind him she guessed he was outside but there was more noise there too. It didn't sound like traffic she decided, but it was just as loud.

"Mulder, where are you?"

"At a crime scene on Ocean City Beach. You?"

"I'm at the office. I'll be there in about an hour and a half."

"No wait Scully, can you meet me at Quantico?" he asked. "I need you to do an autopsy." Their talk would have to take a backseat.

"Alright."

Scully hung up and glanced at the clock. Six o'clock was the worst time to get to Quantico. Across the city traffic and over the bridge. She felt a pounding in her head pressing into her temples and wondered if this day would ever end.

***

Quantico Autopsy lab
March 13th

After parking her car Scully took a moment to calm her nerves. Her head pounded, her hands gripped the wheel with white-knuckle ferocity, and her back felt like the sand dunes of the Sahara with knots seizing up every available muscle. Inside the wide glass doors of the Quantico building she could make out Mulder pacing the tiled floor. His hands were resting on his hips and every few seconds he lifted one to his mouth.

Sunflower seeds. She mused with a smile, feeling her fingers loosen around the leather wheel. As soon as she opened the door and stepped onto the path Mulder raced through the door, hurrying up to her. He grasped her shoulders the moment he was within reach and pulled her against him, oblivious to their surroundings or the curious onlookers leaving the building for the night.

"Mulder?" she soothed, her face crushed against his chest.

"I was so worried," he said holding her away for a second then pulling her back into a hug.

"I left my phone switched off by accident." She murmured, relaxing into his hug and feeling her body melt against his. The weariness she was feeling washed over her suddenly and she fought it back.

"Are you okay? Where have you been all day?"

"It's a long story Mulder." She stepped away from him and brushed her hands down the front of her crinkled suit.

"Do you want me to ask Dr Wright to do the autopsy?" he asked, for the first time fully seeing the tiredness in her eyes.

"No, I'm here now. I just need to get started."

"Lets go in."

With his hand on her lower back he steered her in through the building and into the lab locker room. She slipped off her jacket and blouse and pulled on a dark navy scrub top. Mulder sat on the center bench beside her as she changed, telling her about the case.

"Why did Skinner call us for this?"

"He wouldn't say." Mulder took a seed shell out of his mouth with one hand and replaced it with a full seed with the other. "I think he's working on orders to give them to us."

"Why? Is there a link between this case and the Robinson one?"

"At the crime scene the coroner said that the body had decomposed past the twelve hour mark."

"And?" She slipped the scrub pants on and pulled on a pair of sneakers Mulder had brought in from the car.

"Gerry Black was alive a little under five hours ago, according to two witness's at the beach."

Fully changed now and ready to perform the autopsy, with a second wind, Scully stepped through to the lab where the body was prepped and ready for her. Mulder sat quietly in the corner, the only sound he made was the snapping of the seed shells as he cracked them quietly. Aware that he was watching her and also how worried he was about her, Scully made an effort to conceal her exhaustion and concentrated on the autopsy.

The moment she examined the body she saw the similarities between this body and the body of James Robinson. His corneas were clouded and misty, liver mortis had settled past the point she would have expected for a body that was alive only hours ago. And even though he'd been in sea water, which should have staved off rigor, it had already claimed his legs, which were stiff and immalleable.

She spoke confidently, clearly into the mic overhead, noting her confusion at the state of decay for each discrepancy she found. Mulder remained in the background leaning against the counter and watching her work. His ears perked at every mention she made of something she didn't expect but he held his silence, not wanting to disturb her. He couldn't help himself when he'd seen her climbing out of her car. Couldn't quell the need he felt to hold her in his arms and kiss her worries away. And his own. Now watching her work diligently on the autopsy when he knew all she wanted to do was sleep made his heart swell.

He cursed himself for asking her to meet him here, knowing that Wright would have performed the autopsy without hesitation. But after spending the day apart, unsure what was happening with her, without her support he needed to get her close. Needed to see her working as if it would be a reassurance to himself that she was okay.

Mulder moved his eyes over her back, watching the play of her shoulder blades through the thin material of the scrubs as she lifted her arms to place a lung into a scale. The sudden vision of him drawing a bath for her, rubbing oil onto her skin, massaging her painful muscles into remission made him smile. As soon as she was finished he would do just that he decided, shaking his head to remove the image and focusing back on the body on the slab.

"Mulder this man was dying of lung cancer?"

"Yes."

"He had no right being out of bed. I can't understand how he was alive."

"A witness at Ocean City saw him walking across the beach, he stripped away his clothes and then waded out to sea."

"Are we sure it was him who was walking?"

Mulder pushed himself away from the tall counter and walked over to the body, averting his eyes from the open Y incision on his chest.

"Positive ID."

"It's impossible. He was on oxygen life support. See this?" Scully pointed with her scalpel at Gerry's throat where his trachea protruded from his neck.

"Eh, yeah," Mulder said with an uncomfortable cough.

"The tube was pulled out with considerable force. This tube was keeping him alive and without it he would have died in seconds."

"So he wouldn't have made it to the beach alive?"

"No. He wouldn't have made it across the room alive." She spoke definitively as if there was no more to be added.

"Whether he could leave the room or not, he was seen crossing the beach and going in for an quick dip."

"All signs of post mortem decay point to the fact that Gerry Black died between the hours of six and eight this morning. He couldn't have been seen at Ocean City beach alive."

"So we should be dragging the beach for another body?" Mulder said flippantly.

"No Mulder," she said with a tired sigh as she covered the body and pulled off her latex gloves. "But you can't argue with the science." She crossed the room and threw her gloves and goggles into the waste bin before turning back to him. "There is any number of factors that could distort the witness account."

"Like what?"

"Like were they facing into the sun? How far away were they from the person they saw walking down the beach."

"The witness, Brian Hoffman, was facing north. so the sun couldn't have impeded his eye sight." Mulder said as he circled the table where Gerry lay.

"He was about 200 feet away from him as he waded out to sea and he also recalls a large intricate design that seemed to be tattooed across the victims back."

"Tattoo?" Scully, who was pushing the heel of her hands into her eyes to ward off the powerful headache she was feeling, looked up suddenly. "The medical reports didn't have a tattoo listed on his body."

"Help me with this." Mulder stood alongside the body and lifted back the tarp from it. He snapped on a pair of gloves and waited for Scully to do the same. He grabbed Gerry's torso as Scully squeezed her hands under his shoulders. "On three…" Mulder said getting ready to lift him. "Three!"

They lifted him up and rolled him over onto his stomach. Even though the body had been discolored from its exposure to the seawater and the decay of muscles and blood vessels had left a staining beneath the skin, the tattoo was plainly visible.

A pair of bloody angel wings stretched from shoulder to shoulder, red and raw as if it were fresh, the sight of it making Scully gasp.

***

M&S Duplex
March 13th

Mulder brushed her hands away from the plates and steered her over to the couch. He pushed her into the soft cushions with a smile and bent over her to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. Waggling his finger he silently told her to stay put and returned to the kitchen to clean up. After washing everything up and clearing the table from their late dinner he joined her back on the couch and lifted her feet to rest on his lap.

"Tired?" he asked pulling her shoes off for her and gently massaging her feet.

"Mmmm," she murmured letting her head fall back against the armrest and wiggling her toes in his hands.

"Want me to run a bath for you?"

"Oh god yes!" she said in a hoarse voice that surprised him.

"Okay, wait here."

Scully sank deeper into the couch as she listened to him puttering around upstairs. He hummed a tune she didn't recognize but it still made her smile.

Ten minutes later he called her up and stood waiting at the top for her. When she reached him he rested both hands on her shoulders, steering her into the bathroom where he proceeded to remove her jacket. Too tired to fight him off and climb in herself Scully just yawned as he hung her jacket up and started to unbutton her blouse.

"I'm undressing you Scully and you yawn?" he teased, smiling as he folded it clumsily and dropped it onto a chair beside the sink.

"I'm just worn out Mulder."

"I know." His fingers grazed her shoulders and turned her around before him. Her bra followed her blouse then he turned her round to face him again.

As tired as she was she couldn't help the smile as he unhooked her pants and pushed them down her legs, lifting one foot then the other to release her fully.

"Now, get in and scoot forward," he said matter of factly as he turned his back to her and rummaged for something on the shelf. The bubbles in the water tingled on her skin as she stepped into the hot bath and scooted forward to huddle in the middle. Before she realized what he was doing he had hunkered down on the tiled floor beside the bath and was rubbing something on his hands. "Sore?" he asked as his hands started to massage small circles into her shoulders.

"Mmmm," was all she could manage as she lolled her head forward, resting her chin on her chest and letting her body melt under his touch.

Mulder worked and kneaded his way across her back and as low as her tailbone, massaging her back carefully with just enough pressure to banish all the knots in her muscles. He finished by gently rubbing her with a soft sponge then pushed her back to lean on the bath pillow.

"Now, should I do the front?" he said with a smile, waggling of his eyebrows but her answer was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing.

"Saved by the bell," she murmured as he pulled himself up and left the room.

Mulder hurried across the landing to grab the phone in the bedroom.

"Hello?" he said curtly, his mind awash with the image of her naked and soapy in the bath and how untimely this call was.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes."

"This is Detective Reece. I just got a copy of the autopsy your partner did on Gerry Black."

"Yeah."

"The tattoo on his back is the exact same as the one that was on James Robinson's."

"That's right. I'm having the ink tested and the blood around the tattoo to see if we can link it to a particular vendor."

"It doesn't make sense."

Mulder almost laughed. "It rarely does detective."

"What does it mean?"

"I don't know…yet." There was a stiff pause on the other end.

"I will canvas the city tattoo parlors and see if anyone remembers doing this design."

"Good idea."

"If Gerry Black was murdered then this could be a calling card." Reece said his voice taking on a new level of excitement as he landed on a theory.

"The tattoo is the only link we have so far so we need to follow it as soon as possible."

"I'll let you know if we find anything."

"Thank you detective."

Mulder hung up the phone and turned to go back to Scully when he noticed with dismay that she'd sauntered in to the bedroom wrapped up in a heavy towel. She walked slowly across the room and perched herself on the corner of the bed.

"You okay?" he asked wondering if now would be a good time to throw out the full barrage of questions or not.

"No. Not really."

Immediately he was by her side. One arm across her shoulder the other grasping her tightly, interlocking fingers that rested on her lap.

"It's about the phone call? And where you've been all day?"

Silently she nodded, a rogue tear crossing her cheek.

"It all happened so long ago I thought it was over. I thought I had put it behind me."

"What? What happened?" Mulder's voice was almost quivering with fear as his eyes darted from her face to her hands and back again.

"The call last night was from a priest. Fr. Robert Kelly. He was calling on behalf of a man named Cian Ford."

"Cian Ford?" Mulder racked his brain to see if she had ever mentioned the name before. A shot of irrational jealousy bursting in his heart as he wondered if it was an ex boyfriend.

"Melissa attended University of Maryland for a while. Three full terms. But at the end of her third term she was attacked one night leaving the library. She was raped by Cian Ford."

"Oh my god…" Mulder whispered, tightening his grip on her.

"He was arrested and sentenced to a six month suspended sentence," she spat the words out. "That bastard deserved more."

"Why is he calling you?"

"Fr. Kelly called for Melissa. Cian Ford is dying of Chronic Lymphoid Leukemia and he wanted to apologise in person to her. Atone for his sins."

"How convenient that he finds the need to repent on his deathbed."

"When I told the priest that Melissa had…died, he asked if I would accept the apology."

"Oh Scully," Mulder whispered as he moved off the bed and knelt before her.

"I eh, I don't know what to do," she said with a harsh laugh, reaching up to wipe her fingers across her cheeks to stem the tears. "I keep wondering what Melissa would do and immediately I hear her voice saying that she accepts his apology, but I don't know if I can do it." She let out a harsh laugh and looked up to the ceiling. "I spent most of the day at my church today.

Praying for the answer. Forgiveness is such an important part of my faith but now that I am faced with this decision I don't know if I can go through with it."

"I have faith that you will do whatever's right." Mulder said squeezing her hand supportively.

"No Mulder. Don't you see? I already know what the right thing to do is. I just don't know if I can do it."

***

12th Precinct
Washington DC
March 14th

Detective Reece stepped carefully out of his office and crossed the room to the notice board. Pictures of the deceased had been pinned up along with maps and photos of the crime scenes. Slipping it out of its envelope he produced a photo of the tattoo on Gerry Black's back and pinned it in the center at the top of the board.

"Sir!" one of the officers called out to him, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, he frantically waved his arms for Reece to join him.

"What is it Goldman?" Reece asked as the young black agent wrote something down on the pad beside him. "You got it? Where?"

Goldman thanked the person he was talking to and hung up before standing, smiling broadly at Reece.

"Sacred Art Tattoo Studio on Canal road has a match. Here's the address."

Reece patted his pockets to make sure he had his keys, pulling them out along with his cell phone as he hurried across the room to the main entrance.

He called Mulder's number quickly and held the phone up to his ear as he unlocked his car and jumped in.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, its detective Reece. We have a match for the tattoo."

"Where?"

"Sacred Art Tattoo Studio on Canal Road."

"I know it."

"I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"I'll see you there."

Mulder placed his cell phone back into his pocket and turned to see Scully standing with him, grabbing her jacket off the stand.

"We have a match for the tattoo design."

***

Sacred Art Tattoo Studio
March 14th

Mulder pulled the car up alongside Reece's and hurried out. The studio was a small room no bigger then the X-Files basement office but its walls were painted a deep scarlet color that seemed to make it even smaller. The ceiling was a swirl of colors with designs and photos showcasing the skin artist's talents. Several photographs were framed on the wall of specific designs each with dates engraved on a metal tab that was fixed to the bottom of the frame.

As soon as they walked in the door they noticed the large print facing them.

Obviously their favorite design, it had a prominent position greeting potential customers the moment they stepped foot in the studio.

"See it Scully?" Mulder asked pointing it out and seeing her nod. They approached it slowly and Mulder lifted his hand to touch it as if he expected to feel the bumpy texture. "May 1999."

"We don't have a title for it."

Mulder swung around to see Reece approaching them, his face encased in a deep frown as he looked down at his notepad.

"No name?" Scully asked studying the design closer.

"No. They have an exclusive deal with their designs though. You pay extra for the tattoo to ensure that it is never repeated."

"Looks like someone should get a refund."

"Our designs are never copied." They all turned to see a large heavy set man approaching them his face contorted in anger. On his nose he had three piercings, more through his eyebrows and one in the middle of his lower lip.

His shoulders were a canvas for a multitude of designs that reached below the cuff of his t-shirt, and down to his fingers. "No one could do it if they tried."

"Do you recall who bought this design?"

"Our designs aren't for sale." He swept his arm around at the various photos that donned the walls. "Our customers make their own designs and we ensure exclusivity."

"This is Dean Lebowski the owner," Reece provided.

"Well it looks like someone messed up," Mulder said to him, holding out the photos of James Robinson and Gerry Black, both lying face down and showing their bloodied identical tattoos. "So do you recall who was the original customer for this design?"

The tattooed man looked incredulously back at the picture on the wall and saw the date.

"That was over five years ago. I don't remember."

"Sir I hope you are not impeding a murder investigation?" Scully said softly, somehow managing to infuse her voice with authority and understanding.

"Not his name anyway. I remember the design though. It took three weeks to finish."

"Why so long?" Mulder asked.

"You can't just imprint the body like that without giving it a chance to heal. You need to nurture the skin around the art and treat it properly or it will reject it. The guy was tall though. Taller than me."

"Was he Caucasian?"

"No. Hispanic, with numbers tattooed on his shoulder."

"Numbers?"

"Yeah, like sides of a dice. Strange tattoo. I asked him what it meant but he didn't say. He never said anything."

"You don't recall a name?"

"No but there was something else." Dean stepped closer to the photo and lifted his hand to his chin, finger reaching up to twirl the metal ring that pierced his lip. "He was on the news."

"The news? Recently?"

"No, No." Dean whirled around turning to face them. "Back then. I think I remember because he paid double the fee we had agreed on and we were throwing a party at the Dragon hole pub that night. He was on the news. Was arrested for some murder in the city. We recognized him immediately as they dragged him out of the building with no shirt on."

"Do you remember who he allegedly murdered?"

"No I don't."

"Okay thanks. You've been a great help."

Mulder and Scully stepped away to the main door. His hand was on her elbow as he led her out onto the street and over to the car.

"We need to get a search started on all murder arrests that year. Starting in May."

"Mulder what does this prove?" she said exasperatedly. "If he was arrested and convicted then most likely he's still in prison. And besides, there were no prints found at the house where Gerry Black went missing and if this guy had taken him we would have found a match from his penal record."

"It's the only link we have to go on."

"To go on what?" she asked incredulously.

"The murders."

"Mulder, James Robinson was seen stabbing Professor Daly before collapsing and succumbing to the disease that was already killing him. And Gerry Black was in the midst of a painful degrading death. Isn't it possible that his wife decided to put an end to his suffering?"

"Possible yes. But that doesn't account for the witness report of Black walking into the sea, or the fact that both these man didn't have enough strength to lift their own hands but performed these amazing acts."

"So the power of the tattoo?" her voice was polished with skepticism.

"Maybe it's a residual effect, from the power transference," Mulder muttered squinting his eyes as he blurted the thought out, still piecing it all together.

"What?" Scully turned around to face him fully, her face awash with confusion and disbelief.

"Just a theory Scully, it would explain everything."

"It explains nothing Mulder. You're looking at all the evidence, what little there is and you come to the conclusion that someone is giving them the strength to act out on one final wish, one final deed before they die?"

"Yes! I hadn't seen the reason before but now you have voiced it, yes. Some sort of righteous wish, granting them the ability to finish what they started, to tie up loose ends or die with dignity."

Scully shook her head sadly at the thought that she fed his theory more substance than it deserved.

"Well before we chase down that fountain of power there is something I need to do. Can you get a lift with detective Reece?" she held out her hand for the car keys.

"Yeah sure. Are you going to be okay? Want me to come with you?" He didn't need to ask where she was going, he already knew.

"No I want…need to go alone."

Mulder placed the keys in her hand and closed his fingers over hers, holding them there for a long moment. With a sympathetic wink he offered her all the support he dared in this public setting before turning back towards the studio.

***

Providence Cancer Center
Washington DC
March 14th

"Into Thy hands, Lord, I commend my spirit. O Lord Jesus Christ, receive my spirit. Holy Mary, pray for me. Holy Mary, Mother of grace, Mother of mercy, do thou defend me from the enemy, and receive me at the hour of death."

The verse was powerful enough to carry through the partially open door and into the hallway where Scully stood leaning against the wall. Nurses passed her by glancing at her curiously but it wasn't an uncommon sight to see despair in the halls on the cancer ward. Slowly she took a deep breath and pushed herself away from the wall. She breathed in steadily, waiting a moment longer before clearing her throat and taking a step forward.

She pushed the door open further and watched for a moment as Fr. Kelly sat beside the bed in a large recliner, bent forward with a rosary dangling from his fingers.

Cian Ford lay back on his bed, his head slumped towards the priest but his eyes were closed and his lips moved in unison with the prayers. Neither of them noticed her for a second so she stepped further into the room. The sound of her heels on the linoleum floor brought her presence to their attention.

"Ms Scully!" the priest jumped up out of the chair with an agility she wouldn't have expected from him. "You came."

"Yes." Her eyes were fixed on Cian's face and she wondered if he was still alive.

"You came…" Cian croaked out, lifting his head a little off the pillow and prying his eyes open. "Thank you for coming. I thought…"

"I wasn't going to come." Her feet remained rooted to the spot halfway in the room. She refused to step any closer.

"I don't know how to say this. I'm just so very sorry. For everything I put her through. And her family."

"Did you know her? Did you just pick her? Why? Why Melissa?" the questions poured out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had promised herself she would speak as little as possible but now found the words spewed out of their own accord.

"I don't know. It never happened again."

"I'll take comfort in the thought that you singled her out for it then," Scully spat out bitterly.

"I met Father Kelly and he taught me how to ask for forgiveness. I want to repent, please let me repent."

"Repent? Because you feel genuine sorrow?" She looked around the room at the various machines hooked up to his fragile body. "Or is it because now you're gripped with fear for the retribution for what you did?"

"Christ is with me right now." Cian started to cough and Fr. Kelly jumped forward to help calm him down.

"Then you don't need my forgiveness."

"Please…" Cian urged through another spasm of coughs.

"I want you to feel every bit of this agony every single moment until it ends for you, and then maybe you'll begin to understand what you did to my sister, what damage you did to her peace of mind and sense of self." Scully took a step back as if her words stung even her. "You're getting exactly what you deserve. I hope you rot in hell."

Her eyes locked angrily with Fr. Kelly's as she backed away and walked swiftly out of the room. Scully stormed through the hallway, her breath pushing out of her lungs as she took each step, tears stinging her eyes and her heart beating wildly in her throat. As she got into the car and pulled the belt around her she fell forward onto the wheel, crossing her arms around her waist as if she was in pain and she wept.

For a long time she stayed like that. The tears had dried, staining her cheeks in red streaks across her pale skin and her eyes were swollen and sore. Her breath was shaky and shallow as she pulled a tissue from the glove box and wiped her face as best she could. She twisted the rear view mirror to get a better view of the results of her tears and then the glinting of her gold cross caught her eye.

For a moment she stared at it. Stared at the cross on the gold chain and felt her heart sinking. Shakily she lifted her arms up behind her neck and struggled with the fastening. Finally the latch clicked and she unhooked it from the loop, pulling the chain from around her neck.. In the silence of the car she held it up before her and watched as it dangled from her hand.

The sudden shrill sound of her phone ringing made her jump. She hastily shoved the chain into her jacket pocket and grabbed the phone out of the glove box.

"Scully."

"We have a match. Marcos Gomez. Currently a guest of the state services in Wallens Ridge State Prison."

"Virginia?"

"Yes. I've got two flights booked from Dulles in 80 minutes. Do you want to come?"

"Yes Mulder. I'll meet you there."

***
Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 14th

Mulder was unusually quiet for the duration of the drive. Instead of his usual banter he immersed himself into the case file and studied it carefully, all the while making a pile of seed shells on the dashboard tray before him. Content with his quiet mood, Scully had taken the time to clear her mind. Silently she chanted in her mind the long remembered words Melissa had taught her.

"Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam, Thath Savithur Varenyam." And she was surprised when they seemed to give her the calm that she was craving.

After they arrived Mulder seemed to sense her need for peace and quiet as he remained so all the way to the prison gates, where their guns were checked and ID numbers noted.

"He's been incarcerated here for the past two years. He is currently on death row and awaiting execution." He said suddenly startling her.

"Where was he before Wallens Ridge State?" she asked flipping through his prison records to view his picture.

"As you can see from his records he's made personal appearances in correctional facilities in many cities across the country

They were led through a maze of corridors, each one looking the same as the next until finally they stepped through two large metal detectors that led into a separate building. The guard that was showing them the way passed a keycard through the gateway to another officer who bore a different insignia on his uniform. Mulder glanced down at the image of the American eagle with a scripture in its beak.

"Different officers for this block?"

"In Wallens Ridge there are different officers for each block. We rotate on a weekly basis so no bond can be formed with the inmates. Our uniforms match the cell block insignia," the guard stated as he tapped his badge with two fingers and then pointed to a matching plaque on the frame over the cellblock entranceway.

"How long have you been working at this prison?" Scully asked.

"Four years last month."

"Do you know Marcos Gomez?"

"I do not know any of the inmates."

Scully and Mulder exchanged a glance but she continued to question him.

"What visiting rights does he have?"

"He is allowed to have visitors that have been registered on a pre approved list with the facility. Each visit takes place in a private room where they are separated by glass. No visitors are allowed to touch the prisoner at any time."

"How many visitors are on the list to see Marcos?"

"None. In the two years that he's been incarcerated here he hasn't received any civilian visitors. The Chaplain is the only one he speaks to. Him and Doc Morgan."

"Has he required a lot of medical treatment?"

"Some. It's all in his file," the guard said looking pointedly at the folder in Scully's hand. "This is it."

He opened the door and ushered them into a small room. One wall was prefab covered in regulation notices and housed a large window with a table up against it. Beside the table were a chair and a phone. On the other side of the window Mulder saw the cordless phone was fixed to the wall.

"Cosy!" he said as he pulled the chair out and let his partner sit down.

"I'm not entirely sure what you intend to find out here."

"Those men are getting their power from someone, or something. The only thing we have that links them is this Gomez tattoo." He slapped the file on the table and opened it onto the picture of Garry Black's back.

"That's not a link. It's a supposition."

"His wife said that she had never seen that tattoo on his back before. His wife who bathed him daily from head to toe. She was almost happy to see this, thinking initially that it wasn't Gerry's body and her husband was still alive."

"Isn't it possible that who ever killed him inscribed this on his body before dumping him into the sea at Ocean City?"

"Yes it's possible but not likely. What about the witness who saw him walking into the sea?" he urged her to explain that one but she was stumped.

Fortunately then, the door in the room across from them swung open and a large thick set man walked in. He was wearing blue denim jeans, a denim blue shirt and slip-on canvas trainers. His hands were cuffed to his waist and his feet were chained together, making him shuffle further into the room where he plopped down into the seat behind the glass window. Once he was seated the guard came in behind him and fixed his cuffs to the table, giving him enough slack on the chain so that he might reach the call button.

"Hello Mr. Gomez, I'm Special Agent Mulder with the FBI and this is my partner Agent Scully."

"Hello." Gomez pressed the talk button with a slow sardonic smile. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"We are investigating a murder in Washington DC and we have a few questions we wanted to ask you."

"I didn't do it!" he said laughing in a startling maniacal fashion, releasing the talk button to hold up his hands and clash the cuff chains together.

"Do you know anyone by the name of James Robinson?"

"No."

"Gerry Black?"

"Don't know that either."

"Do you have a tattoo on your back Mr. Gomez?" Scully asked suddenly fixing him with an impatient glare.

"Do you?" he retorted.

"Answer the question, Mr. Gomez."

"Are you an admirer of body art Agent Scully?" he asked as he unbuttoned the metal fasteners on the front of his shirt. With some degree of difficulty he managed to lower it off his shoulders and droop it low across his back.

Slowly keeping his eyes locked with Scully's he twisted around, turning his back to them. His tattoo was almost an exact copy of the one she'd found on the two bodies except his looked older. The edges were frayed with scars and cuts and the amount of blood depicted on the wings looked more graphic, vivid.

"Did you design it yourself?" she asked.

"Yeah. Got it done in a place in DC."

"Sacred Art?" Mulder chimed in.

"That's it. They were real proud of it and took a picture of it when it was finished."

"You were arrested for murder, Mr. Gomez." Scully said steering the conversation away from the tattoo. If he did have something to do with the deaths of Jason Robinson and Gerry Black then she was sure it had noting to do with supernatural powers from a tattoo.

"That's right."

"In 2003 you were convicted of the murder of Jayne Donovan. Your wife?"

"You did your homework," Marcus said tightly but it was obvious his mood had changed. Mulder wanted to stop this line of questioning, pull the speaker off Scully but he knew better then to do anything.

"It's not the first time you were in trouble with the law was it?" she held up the file close to the window and flicked through the pages of arrests. "Since you turned 16 you have racked up an impressive record with the law. Petty theft, Grand Theft Auto, aggravated assault, resisting arrest, attempted murder, 2 counts and murder."

"What's with the history lesson?" Marcus sat back in his chair and rattled the chains around his wrists.

"I also see your approved visitor list is empty." Scully leaned forward and dropped the file onto the table carelessly. "Have you found God, Mr. Gomez?"

"He found me."

"And you have been repenting regularly with almost daily visits from the prison Chaplin."

"Would you deny me the chance to repent Agent Scully?"

"Not if you were truly repentant."

Mulder sat forward and placed a hand on her arm. Suddenly the conversation wasn't about the case or the man on the other side of the glass. It had taken on a new meaning, a new angle for her. Mulder took the speaker from her and was annoyed at the spiteful smile that twisted Marcus' lips.

"Thank you Mr. Gomez. We have no more questions for now."

Scully stood up, gathered the pictures off the desk then walked out into the hallway to wait for Mulder. He joined her shortly afterwards and the guard beside them signaled for Gomez's escort to return him to his cell. They were led back through the maze of corridors and shown to their car. The car was double checked then they were escorted back to the main gates of the prison grounds.

"They don't take any chances there do they," Mulder said as he slipped on a pair of shades and turned onto the main road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. "So what do you think?"

"I think he has nothing to do with it."

"What about the tattoo?" Mulder protested.

"What about it?" Scully ran her fingers through her hair. She knew she wasn't giving him the time he deserved to explain his theory but she couldn't help but blatantly dismiss it. "If anything it proves that one of the tattoo artists from the Sacred Art Studio is a suspect."

"They have all been questioned and have alibis for both nights."

"C'mon Mulder, the link is tenuous at best. And at worst…"

"At worst?" he urged her to continue. He was fully aware of her mood, the dark cloud that hung over her head from the moment she'd received that message the other night but he didn't believe it warranted this reaction.

"At worst it's a bad guess. An unprofessional leap?"

"Is that what you think this is?" the anger and hurt in his voice was palpable but she had uttered the words now and couldn't take them back.

"Tell me Mulder," she said with a sigh. "Tell me what you think."

Mulder pressed harder on the accelerator and sped though the dust roads to the highway. She watched him from the corner of her eye. Watching his fingers grip the wheel tighter, his knee flexing tensely under his pants and the deep frown that creased his brow.

"Mulder?"

"Do you see which exit?" he asked curtly, keeping his attention on the road signs.

"Mulder!" she touched his elbow and turned in her chair to face him fully.

"I'm sorry. I'm in rotten mood and I just snapped."

He stared down at her for a moment, looking at the sorrow in her eyes and his resolve melted.

"Ok." His hand slipped over hers and squeezed reassurance.

"But still…this tattoo link. It can't be the only thing connecting these people to Gomez. There must be something more."

"I agree. There has to be another connection."

"Gerry Black was treated for his cancer at the Providence Center before they sent him home for home care."

"So was James Robinson."

"But there is no mention of Marcos Gomez ever attending that hospital." She flicked back to his medical records in the back of the file. "He was treated for numerous cuts and scrapes on his back, several times but that seems to be the extent of his injuries."

"What about his visitors?"

"Like the guard said none. The prison doctor, Dr. Charles Morgan."

"Does he have any connection with the Providence Center?"

"There is no record here about him." Quickly she flipped through a few more pages of the file, her eyes scanning the words swiftly. Just his connection with Gomez."

"Might be worth checking out. Who else?"

"The Prison Chaplain." She checked the list again and froze.

Mulder glanced at her and watched in a split second as her face paled.

"Scully, what is it?" he asked

"Fr. Robert Kelly."

"What?" That name that he had been cursing for the last two days. That name that he never wanted to hear again.

"Fr. Robert Kelly is the prison Chaplain. He is also the chaplain at Providence Cancer Center."

***
Providence Cancer Center
Washington DC
March 14th

"It is time my son."

"I'm ready father."

Fr. Robert Kelly smoothed his hands along the front of his garments and reached out to take Cian's hand. Cian lay listlessly on the bed, his face contorted in pain as the final stages of his life closed in around him. Kelly reached for the small crucifix that lay on the bedside and lifted it up to Cian's dry cracked lips so he could kiss it. Then from a small dish he pulled out a silver spoon and gently sprinkled holy water all around the bed.

"Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost." Cian's words were choked and painful, each one dragging his breath from aching lungs.

"Hear us, holy Lord, almighty Father, eternal God: and be pleased to send Thy holy angel from Heaven to guard, cherish, protect, visit and defend all that dwell in this house. Through Christ our Lord."

The priest made the sign of the cross over Cian's body and then blessed himself, all the while whispering words of prayer under his breath. He dipped his fingers into a bowl of ointment and held it over Cian's body.

"By this holy unction and his own most gracious mercy, may the Lord pardon you whatever sin you have committed," he uttered then made the sign of the cross on Cian's forehead, lips and chest. His lips moved in a soft prayer as he washed his hands with holy water and wiped them on a small towel that hung of the sash that circled his waist.

"Remember not, Lord, the offences of Thy servant and take not vengeance on his sins."

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for," Cian mumbled incoherently as his head lolled from side to side.

"May almighty God bless you, Father and Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.." Fr Kelly looked at his watch and smiled. He rested his hand over Cian's forehead and felt the fever growing stronger. Cian moaned uncomfortably but the priest hushed him. "It'll all be over soon my son."

Carefully he packed up all his belongings and slipped them into a small leather bag. He turned back to Cian once more, then blessed himself as he left the room.

***
Wallens Ridge State Prison
Death Row
Virginia
March 14th

As soon as he returned to his cell Marcos stripped off all his clothes and walked over to the sink. He filled the shallow basin with as much water as it would hold then dipped his hands in, cupping cool water into his palms.

"That these waters may be sanctified by the power, and effectual operation, and descent of the Holy Spirit." He lifted the water up high and let it seep though his fingers. "That this water may be unto the bestowing of sanctification; unto the remission of sins." Again he filled his hands and lifted it high. "That he will graciously enable us to perfect sanctification by participation in these waters, through the invisible manifestation of the Holy Spirit."

This time as he lifted the water up high, he held his head back and tipped it over his face. Rivulets of water splashed over his skin, down his back, forming a puddle on the ground. He felt his heart rate increasing, the adrenaline cursing more blood throughout his body as the familiar euphoric feeling washed warmly over him.

"In this arid wilderness of steel and stone I raise up my voice that you may hear. To the East and to the West I beckon. To the North and to the South I show a sign proclaiming," he intoned softly, trying to keep his voice neutral.

He was afraid of attracting any attention from the guards on duty so he kept as quiet as he could. "Death to the weakling, wealth to the strong!"

He felt his tattoo pulsating, throbbing painfully but it was a good pain. The pain helped him feel alive. With both hands he reached over his shoulders and traced his fingers into the seeping blood.

A dizzy wave of nausea curled around his stomach but he pushed the unpleasant feeling aside, concentrating on his reflection in front of him.

"I who am the joys and pleasures of life which strong men battle for," he incanted, struggling to keep his voice even as the pain in his torso increased.

The room seemed to sway around him but he gripped the sink tighter with one hand, while the other drew designs on his stomach with the blood that seeped from his back.

"For I stand forth to challenge the wisdom of the world; to interrogate the "laws" of man and of God."

***
Providence Cancer Center
Washington DC
March 14th

As soon as they got back to DC Mulder was on the phone to Detective Reece. Without explanation he asked Reece to get a unit over to the center to apprehend Fr. Robert Kelly for questioning and to his credit, Reece didn't ask for one. He jumped into the driver's seat and Scully made a call.

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully, I need you to get an address for me," she said to the information department at the Bureau. "Fr Robert Kelly. Prison chaplain in Wallens Ridge State Prison, Virginia and Providence Cancer Center here in DC. I'll be on my cell when you get it."

"This morning." Mulder said as they cleared the slip road on the highway, crossing four lanes of heavy traffic in one dangerous swoop. "You went to see Fr Kelly."

"Yeah." Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

"Did you speak to Cian Ford?" he asked in a strangely quiet voice.

"Yes. Why? You don't think…" her voice trailed off. "But Melissa is dead. Anything he might have to finish with her is long over."

"You're not."

"Look Mulder-" she began but he cut her off, his eyes alight with a quiet terror.

"No Scully. You look. This man is a convicted rapist. He is a member of Fr. Kelly's dubious flock. Don't make this easier for him."

"Easier?" she scoffed. "Mulder I saw him this morning and he could barely lift his head off the pillow. His legs have probably atrophied beyond use and I'd be surprised if he was still alive at this point."

"Gerry Black was all but paralyzed. James Robinson was read his last rites."

"This doesn't mean anything."

"I can drop you home." He ventured, prepared to take the verbal outrage he was sure she'd blast him with.

"I'm coming." Her voice was strong but quiet and it almost scared him more.

"Scully-"

"Just drive Mulder."

For the rest of the journey he was silent. Fuming but silent, she noted. But nothing could make her go home in the middle of a case like this and he should have known better then to ask her. Their matching moods were clashing in the somber darkness of car but neither of them would back down.

Detective Reece was standing in the lobby of the Cancer center talking quietly with one of the nurses when they both walked in through the double doors.

"Where is Fr. Kelly?" Mulder asked immediately.

"He's in the chapel." Reece walked over to meet them and led the way though the corridor to the large ornate doorway of the small hospital church.

Scully pushed the door open with her shoulder, walking in first and spotted him immediately, kneeling on the red velvet carpet at the foot of the alter, staring up at the crucifix in prayer. Two uniformed cops stood either side of him.

"Fr. Kelly?" she said curtly. She watched as he blessed himself then slowly got to his knees and turned to face her.

"Ms Scully. Have you come back to lay to rest your trouble with Cian?"

Scully took a steadying breath, grateful for Mulder's attentive presence.

"No. I haven't."

"She knows him?" she heard Reece whisper to Mulder.

"I'm afraid you are too late now my child. He passed a little over twenty minutes ago."

"Do you know a prisoner called Marcos Gomez?"

"Ah yes. Marcos." The priest walked over to the first pew and sat heavily into it. "He's a great student. I fear he may have taught me a few things too."

"And James Robinson?"

"Yes," Kelly said with a hint of sorrow in his voice as he bowed his head and blessed himself. "Such a hard life for someone so young."

"Gerry Black?"

"A wasted life. He was so strong. Stuck down with that dilapidating illness."

"What did you do to these men?"

"Do to them?" the old priest laughed but there was no mirth in his smile.

"Nothing my child."

"Fr. Kelly," Mulder stepped forward and stood directly in front of the elderly priest. " Cian Ford just passed away?"

"Yes."

"Did you help him in the same way you helped the other men?"

"Of course!" he replied indignantly, offended at the thought that he wouldn't have helped in any way he could.

"Where is Cian's body?" Mulder pressed, resting his hands on his hips.

"Cian is gone." Fr Kelly blessed himself again and glanced up to the crucifix.

"Where?"

"To where he belongs."

"Mulder, this is useless." Scully said exasperatedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Look Scully," Mulder took her elbow and led her away from the onlookers who were watching the interaction closely. "Whether you believe me or not you have to believe him. Believe the evidence."

"What evidence?"

"Before each of them went missing they were blessed or cursed or whatever by this man."

"Mulder-"

"Now you know Ford was with him before he died," he said making air quotes with his fingers on the final word. "So there could be a chance that whatever he gave these man to get their second wind he's done the same for Cian Ford."

Scully had no rebuke so she kept her lips tightly shut.

"I want you out of this hospital." Before she could argue he put his hand up to stop her. "You know you're the obvious target. I'll call in for his file and investigate all other possibilities but not with you here. Not like this."

"I'm fine Mulder."

"I know you are." His fingers tightened on her arm offering