Keywords: None.

XxXxXxXxXxX
Chapter Ten
XxXxXxXxXxX

There were things he would never say aloud.

One time at Oxford, stone cold sober, he'd climbed a tower 
and thought about stepping off the top just to see what would 
happen.  Not suicide, no.  Just for a split-second he'd 
believed that he could fly.

The dirty names he had called his mother inside his head, 
because his father had left and she had stayed to take the 
blame.  Sometimes Mulder thought she looked at him and knew 
everything anyway.

He had hoped on and off for years that Samantha would be 
dead.  Mulder and all the king's horses couldn't put her back 
together again, that bright-eyed button girl who would be 
forever turning cartwheels in the sky.

Sometimes he just wanted someone else to be the hero.

XxXxX

They rolled through the streets at a leisurely pace, always 
within the speed limit.  Mulder would have thought Watts was 
out cruising, but the car in front of him made a series of 
complicated turns that suggested Watts knew where he was 
going.  Mulder followed the demon eyes of Watts' taillights 
through dark, tree-lined suburban streets and right out of 
town.

Ten rapes and Watts had not committed a single one in his own 
backyard.

As they drove, Mulder found himself sizing up potential 
targets.  The strip mall at the center of town was too 
bright, too exposed.  Watts didn't even slow down.  A rinky-
dink second-run movie theater had a parking lot with trees at 
the back, but too many cars had crammed in together, and 
everyone would pour out from the theater at once.  The Wal-
Mart was closed, its oceanic lot shadowed and bare.  They 
continued on out from town, and Mulder spotted the white 
gleam of a Mom-and-Pop variety.  Small lot.  Many trees.  No 
one around.  Bingo, he thought, and in front of him Watts 
pulled an illegal U-turn and pulled into the lot.

Pulse pounding, Mulder stopped his car by the curb and 
proceeded back on foot.  He cut behind a narrow apartment 
building and through the wooded area to the rear of the 
store, where he could see Watts' Explorer parked nearby.  
Watts was still inside sitting at the wheel.

C'mon, whip it out, Mulder urged him silently.  I dare you.

Watts just sat there not doing much of anything for a good 
five minutes.  Leaves bobbed and waved in front of Mulder as 
he watched behind the branches.  He wondered what he would do 
if Watts tried to crawl in there with him.

Another car drove up and parked on the other side of the lot.  
Both Watts and Mulder watched a heavy set man get out, 
scratch himself, and go inside.  A minute later, Watts did 
the same.  He jangled his keys again as he walked, whistling.  
Mulder rested his finger on the trigger.

The man lumbered out again with a six-pack in his hand, just 
as another car was pulling into the drive.  This one held two 
young women, both slim and sporting matching ponytails.  They 
wore tank tops and shorts and giggled to one another as they 
got out of the car.  The man with the beer stopped to watch 
them walk away.  He got into his car, old engine coming 
sluggishly to life, and backed out onto the street.  

Mulder slipped out from the trees, sweat on his brow.  He 
switched his pocket light on and sneaked up alongside Watts' 
Explorer, all the while keeping one eye in the direction of 
the variety store.  Mulder did a quick check of the front 
seat:  empty.  No knife, no stocking cap.  Maybe Watts 
already had them with him.

At the sound of the girls' voices, Mulder thrashed into the 
woods again.  He kept his breath low and even as the young 
women returned to the parking lot.

"I don't want to go to Amy's party," one was complaining as 
her companion paused to light up a cigarette.  "Bobby is 
going to be there, and I just don't know if I can face him 
yet."

"Half an hour, Em.  Please?"

Mulder missed her reply because a third shadow appeared 
across the parking lot, stretching long behind the girls.  
The leaves quivered with Mulder's sharp exhale. Watts ghosted 
around the corner, hunched shoulders, mouth parted. Backlit 
in the glow of the neon sign, he looked large and menacing.  
The girls didn't seem aware he was there.

"If he's there with Keely," the one was saying as they 
reached their car.  "I am *not* staying."

Mulder moved closer to the edge of the woods, coiled to 
strike.  Watts advanced towards the girls.  

"Fine, okay?  If she's there we won't stay."  They opened 
their car doors and got inside.  Mulder held his breath as 
their engine roared to life.  They peeled out of the 
driveway, nearly backing over Watts in the process.  Watts 
clenched his hands and watched them drive away.

In the bushes, Mulder's heart rate receded.  Now what?

Watts ambled back to his car with his head down, keys still 
loose in his hand.  He seemed to hesitate at the door and 
scanned the woods in front of him.  Mulder froze.

This was it.  

They were just six feet apart, Mulder invisible, his prey 
carved from the shadows by artificial light.  He looked at 
Watts' hands, imagined them holding a knife to Scully's 
throat, saw him forcing her down in the dirt and prying her 
legs apart.  

Oblivious, Watts began opening his car door. He was getting 
away.  A hundred times defeated, Mulder wasn't going to let 
this one go.  Watts was easy meat.

His heart thrumming, he slipped from the trees and approached 
the man from behind as Watts inserted his key into the lock.  
It clicked in place just as Mulder cocked his trigger and 
placed the barrel on the back of Watts' head.

"Move and I'll kill you.  Isn't that how it goes?"

Watts held up his hands without turning around.  "I've got a 
hundred bucks in my wallet, man.  It's all yours."

"I don't want your fucking money."  The gun barrel held 
steady at the base of Watts' skull.  He thought of Chet 
Appleby, how easy it was for him to pull the trigger.  
Adrenaline surged again. "I want you down on your knees.  
Now."

Quivering, Watts did as requested.  "Who are you?  What do 
you want from me?"

"I'm the man who comes out of the bushes and changes your 
life forever.  You know all about that, don't you Greg?  You 
know about the man in the bushes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do.  Your lawyer can fancy talk for the press all 
she wants, but you and I know the truth, don't we.  We both 
know what you are."

"You're crazy."

Mulder licked his lips.  "Maybe," he said softly, nudging 
Watts' head with the gun again.  Watts flinched.  "You want 
to test that theory, Greggy?  You want to test it right now?"

"What do you want, man?  Just tell me!"

"I want the trophies."

"Wh-what?"

"You know exactly what I mean.  The things you stole from 
them, you sonofabitch.  I want to know where you hid your 
stash."

Watts turned his head to get a look at Mulder.  "Who the fuck 
are you?"

"Did I say you could move?"  Mulder brought his foot down 
hard on the back of Watts' leg.  "Your souvenirs, Greg.  The 
wallets, the underwear.  I want it all.  Now."

Watts didn't say anything for a few seconds.  Mulder kept 
glancing at the street to make sure no one else was turning 
into the parking lot.

"Now," he ordered again.  "Or we can do this the hard way."

"You a cop?" Watts asked, sounding less worried all of a 
sudden.  "Is that it?  You boys can't get me on honest 
charges so you're pulling this John Wayne bullshit instead?"

"Shut up."

"You must be a cop.  They're the only ones who know what's 
missing.  Unless..."  He looked over his shoulder again.  
"You happen to know one of those bitches."

Mulder planted his boot square in the middle of Watts' back, 
sending him forward against the SUV as the wind knocked out 
of him.  "You have three seconds to tell me."

Watts coughed.  "Was she the blonde at the video store?"

The gun shook as Mulder restrained himself.  "Tell me," he 
gritted out.  Let the bastard string his own noose.

"Maybe the skinny Hispanic chick?  Oh.  No, wait."  The 
funny, twitching smile appeared on his face.  "You've got to 
be FBI."

"Maybe I am.  What's that to you?"

Watts shrugged. "I read in the paper that one of those 
bitches was an FBI woman.  You know the one I'm talking 
about?"

Mulder heard Scully's sobs, felt her curled around him.  "No.  
You tell me."

"Would if I could."  He sighed.  "She must have really wanted 
it, though, or she'd have put up a fight."

Mulder howled inside.  "How do you know she didn't?"

"Papers say she didn't get the guy.  That's enough for me. I 
think she liked it."

Mulder shoved the gun at him again.  "You talk big, but I 
know what you are.  You used to wet your bed all the time, 
didn't you?  Couldn't leave mommy's house for the night 
because then everyone would know."

"You leave my mother out of this."

"Can't make it with girls.  You probably stutter when they 
try to talk to you.  But they do the stuttering when you pull 
out the knife, don't they?  Then you can show them who's in 
charge."

"Hey, I am always in charge!"

"Not right now."  Mulder was breathing hard.  "Are you?"  He 
grazed Watts' head with the gun barrel again.  "One bullet, 
and it's all over but the crying."

"You wouldn't," Greg said, but he sounded unsure.

"Think of it this way -- I'd be sparing you the trials.  Your 
mother would never know the truth about her dirty, dirty 
boy."

"You can't shoot me."

"I can."  Mulder found he meant it.  His finger hovered over 
the trigger.  He would shoot.  He would kill.  He'd done it 
before and this was no different.  He bit his lip so hard he 
tasted blood.  Watts' hands were shaking.  "I can," Mulder 
repeated.

It would be over.  He would be free.  Scully would...

Would...

"I can," he said, determined.  The gun wavered in his hand.  
Scully crying.  Rentham bleeding on the floor.  Chet in 
prison with his sad, pale face.

*You'd have done the same thing if it were your sister.*

Headlights suddenly flooded the parking lot, and Mulder 
jerked his arm back down by his side.  "Get up," he told 
Watts as an old Honda rolled to a stop where the girls had 
parked.

"I'll sue you," Watts said, defiant.  There was blood on his 
lip.

"Good luck with that."  Mulder wiped his mouth with his arm.

"I'll get off and sue the whole damn legal system from the 
chief on down.  You bastards have the wrong guy."

"You'd better run on home now, Greggy."  Mulder still had the 
gun in hand.  "Momma will be wondering where you are."

Greg glowered and said nothing as he climbed into the SUV.  
"You'll be hearing from my attorney," he said through the 
open window.  Mulder said nothing.  His heart was still 
slamming against his chest at the thought of what he'd almost 
done.  

"You'll be hearing from the district attorney," he said as 
Watts started the engine.  "The stuff is out there, and we 
will find it."

Safe in his car, Watts' casual shrug returned.  "Good luck 
with that," he said, tossing Mulder's words back at him.  The 
weird little smile spread over his face.  "And be sure and 
tell Agent Scully I said 'hi.'"

The tires screeched in reverse, leaving dust in Mulder's 
sweaty face.  He stared, still reeling, gun hanging in his 
hand, until Watts' taillights vanished from sight.  Then 
Mulder faded into the brush again, back the way he had come.

XxXxX

The shrill ringing phone made Scully sit straight up in bed.  
It was dark, and sticky hair hung down over her face.  She 
groped blindly for the receiver.  "Hello?"

"Dana?  It's Chris Clark.  I know it's late, but we have a 
problem."  He sounded stressed and angry.

Scully squinted at the clock, which read two thirty-seven in 
the morning.  "What is it?" she asked as she switched on her 
light.

"Your boyfriend is ruining my case."

"Excuse me?"

"Mulder.  He attacked Gregory Watts tonight in a parking 
lot."

Scully's stomach lurched forward.  "He what?"

"Bellamy rousted Savioshy at home and gave him quite an 
earful.  They want to press charges against Mulder for 
assault.  Dana, I understand where the guy is coming from, 
but this could mean serious trouble come trial."

Scully sagged back against the pillows and closed her eyes.  
"I'll talk to Mulder."

"Yes, do that.  Explain to him this is not helping anyone, 
least of all not your case."

"I thought you said I don't have a case," Scully snapped.

"Well, Mulder playing night stalker vigilante isn't the way 
to go about getting one."

"You think I put him up to it?"

Chris sighed.  "I don't care whose idea it was.  I just want 
it to never happen again."

"Not to mess up your case.  I've got it."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I think I do."

"Dana..."  Chris's tone softened.  "I'd like to pop the guy 
too.  I would.  But if we're going to put him away, we've got 
to play by the rules.  All of us."

The rules aren't getting it done for me, Scully thought.  She 
wondered how badly Mulder had bloodied Watts.

"I said I'll talk to him," she told Chris.

"I suggest you try the County Jail.  Savioshy booked him an 
hour ago."

XxXxX

County was a small jail, dating back to the early 1900s, and 
Scully had the credentials to get inside. Though it had been 
renovated several times over the last century, it still 
boasted the same heavy stone frame and sliding iron bars.  
The concrete floor looked relatively new, but one of the 
overhead fluorescent lights flickered in and out at a 
seizure-inducing rate.  Lazy ceiling fans stirred the humid 
air.  

In the first holding cell, a drunk lay on a bench and mangled 
the Miranda warning. "You have the right to remain silent," 
he told the ceiling.  "If you give up that right a lawyer 
will be given to you."

Mulder sat on his bench in the next cell with his head in his 
hands.  He looked up as Scully and the guard approached, and 
they stared at each other through the bars while the man 
unlocked Mulder's door.

"You've got fifteen minutes," he told her. Scully entered the 
cell and the guard drew the bars shut behind her.  She merely 
folded her arms and stood there.

Mulder rubbed one hand over his stubbly face and neck.  "I 
take it you heard."

"Mulder."  She shook her head.  "I don't even know where to 
start."

"Then don't."

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He pushed to his feet.  "They'd called off surveillance.  Did 
anyone tell you?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  Watts was 
footloose and fancy free tonight, Scully, and you know the 
first place he went?  A parking lot.  A dark parking lot with 
plenty of trees."

Scully ignored the clammy chill that spread over her back.  
"Where you assaulted him."

Mulder held her gaze, angry, but she did not back down.  
"What if he'd been going to your place?" Mulder asked.  "What 
then?"

"Then I would have called the cops," she said.  "Like you 
should have if you anticipated trouble."

"He knew your name."

Scully swallowed.  "What?"

"He knows your name, Scully.  He said to tell you 'hi.'"

She backed up until she felt the bars hit her from behind.  
"My license," she whispered.

"If we had that, we could prove Watts is the one.  That's why 
I followed him, and *that's* why I questioned him."  

"Did he tell you anything?" she asked, holding her breath for 
the answer.

Some of the fight left Mulder.  "No," he admitted finally, 
turning away.  "Nothing we could use in court."

"Mulder, you're going to be the one in court.  You could lose 
your job over this!"

"Yeah, well maybe it'd be worth it," he said, turning on her 
again.

She stared at him.  "Fabulous," she said flatly.  "And where 
would that leave me?"

Mulder looked at the floor.  "I did this for you."

"The hell you did.  You did this for yourself, Mulder.  You 
did it to make you feel better.  You've wanted to go after 
Watts from the beginning.  The fact that he was back out 
there again was driving you crazy!"

"Watts attacks ten women and they just let him go to do it 
again.  Savioshy wasn't doing anything to stop him.  The DA 
wasn't doing anything to stop him.  Someone had to do 
something!"

"And that someone had to be you."  She covered her face with 
her hands and sighed.  "Mulder, if this case gets thrown out 
now..."

"It won't," he said steadily. 

"If it does..." She dropped her hands.  "I don't know what to 
say, Mulder.  You go out and do this tremendously foolish, 
dangerous thing, risking your life, your career, putting the 
whole case on the line for a few minutes of vigilantism, and 
then you stand here and say it's all for me.  Am I supposed 
to be grateful?"

Mulder didn't answer right away. "I hoped you'd be relieved," 
he said at length.

Scully chuffed.  "You're in jail, Mulder.  What about this 
picture am I supposed to find especially reassuring?"

"I didn't plan this part," he admitted.  He sat down again on 
the low metal bench, knees forced up around his ribs.

"You assaulted him, and what, you thought he wouldn't press 
charges?"

Mulder gave her a long, hard look, and Scully realized with a 
jolt that the original plan hadn't allowed Watts to press 
charges.  Watts was supposed to be dead.  "You're kidding," 
she breathed, and he looked away.  "Mulder..."

"Tell me you haven't thought it."

Scully said nothing.  Mulder heaved a sigh.

"Anyway," he said, "I didn't do go through with it.  
Obviously."

Scully searched him wordlessly.  "Why?" she asked at last.

His gaze flickered over her.  "You."

She felt her eyes well up, and she shook her head.  "And when 
they fire you, Mulder, and lock you up in prison for five 
years, is that going to be because of me, too?"

"Scully..."  He stood again and reached for her just as the 
guard reappeared.

"Time's up."

Scully sniffed and wiped at both eyes.  "I'll get you out of 
here, Mulder," she said without looking at him.  The heavy 
iron door slid open to let her out, and the guard clanked it 
shut when she was free.  Mulder came up and wrapped both 
hands around the bars.

"Scully, I'm sorry."

"Time's up," the guard said again, and led her away.

XxXxX

Her favorite reporter, Sabrina Kimbrough, led the charge:  
"I'm here outside the sixth district county courthouse this 
morning, where once again accused rapist Gregory Watts is the 
order of the day.  This time Watts' interests are represented 
on the other side of the table.  We've learned that Watts has 
filed charges against FBI agent Fox Mulder for assault with a 
deadly weapon.  Watts claims that Agent Mulder attacked him 
in a parking lot late Friday night and threatened him with a 
gun.  Watts, who has been charged with four rapes in the area 
and suspected of at least six more, maintains his innocence 
and states that Agent Mulder's attack was completely 
unprovoked.  The police have not commented as to motive, but 
a source inside the courthouse told WRC that Agent Mulder is 
a close associate of the FBI agent who was raped."

Scully stood in front of the TV, unable to look away.

There was a shot of Watts, wearing a Sunday school suit and 
looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  "He came 
from behind me," he told the camera.  "All I felt was the gun 
barrel against my head.  He said if I didn't do what he 
wanted, he would kill me."

Scully grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.  She was 
shaking from head to toe.

*Do everything I say, or I will kill you right here.*

At that moment, she wished Mulder had pulled the trigger.

XxXxXxX

Scully knew before she reached the office that it was empty.  
The hall was dark, everything still, no sounds of Mulder 
wrestling the slide projector or playing dartboard on the 
ceiling.  He would be at home right now, polishing his shoes 
for court.  Scully scraped the key in the lock and entered 
the office.

She blinked as the lights came on, illuminating the mess of 
Rentham's files that they had strewn from one end of the room 
to the other.  With a heavy heart and slow feet, Scully made 
her way to her table and set her briefcase down on the only 
spare rectangle of space.  She surveyed the stacks of 
folders, the wall of file cabinets and the many trophy photos 
Mulder had tacked up behind his desk.  She tried to imagine 
what she would do with it all, if it became hers alone.

The phone rang.

It was Skinner on the other end, with a tone that suggested 
someone had wound his BVDs too tight. "Agent Scully, could I 
see you upstairs in my office, please?"

She considered saying "no."  "Right now?" she asked instead.

"If it's convenient," he replied, with an edge that indicated 
it had better be.

In the elevator on the way up she met two male agents, only 
one of whom she vaguely recognized from her days in the 
bullpen.  Pendelton?  Pembleton?  He was staring at her, so 
she acknowledged him with a short nod.  He nodded back.  
Scully looked at the floor, but out of the corner of her eye 
she saw Pendelton/Pembleton elbow his colleague.

That's the one, he seemed to say.  Scully felt her cheeks 
burn hot.

"I did it for you," Mulder had said, and now the whole world 
knew it.

The elevator halted for her stop but Scully didn't get out 
when the doors slid open.  "You guys have a question?" she 
asked, facing them.  Pembleton's friend coughed.  Pembleton 
went gray.  Scully took a step closer, forcing them back 
against the wall.  "Something you want to ask me?"

"N-no," Pembleton managed.  His companion focused his 
attention on the ceiling.

"Really?  Because you can go ahead and ask."  They shook 
their heads vehemently.

"No, no.  Sorry."

"Yeah," Scully said with disgust, dismissing them.  "I didn't 
think so."  She hit the button to stop the doors from closing 
and stalked off down the hall.

Kim wished her good morning, but Scully didn't reply.  She 
walked past her and opened Skinner's door.  "You wanted to 
see me?"

He said nothing but beckoned her inside.  The slits in the 
blinds behind him cast a striped pattern across Skinner and 
his desk, reminding Scully of jail.  From the deep crease on 
the AD's forehead, she had the distinct feeling that Skinner 
was having similar thoughts.

"Agent Scully," he said when she had sat.  She raised her 
eyebrows when he did not continue.  His chair hissed as he 
leaned back again, frowning some more.  "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, sir."

He nodded.  "I hadn't said anything before, but I want you to 
know the Bureau has resources available to you if you need 
them.  Counselors, legal advisors, whatever you need, we can 
get it."

"That won't be necessary."  She sat stiffly, expressionless.

He nodded some more.  "You're, uh, not the first woman here 
to face this situation."

"And what situation is that, sir?"  Violated in a parking 
lot, rejected by the justice system, partner in jail...

Skinner looked even more uncomfortable, if that were 
possible, and adjusted his glasses.  "I just wanted you to 
know," he said.  "I regret not saying something sooner."

Scully looked at her lap and said nothing.

Skinner cleared his throat and continued.  "Mulder has been 
temporarily relieved of his duties," he said, and Scully's 
head snapped up.  Skinner pursed his lips.  "Suspended 
without pay pending trial."

"What happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"You're saying he's innocent?"  Skinner squinted at her.  
Scully didn't reply, and he sat forward with a long sigh.  
"He's charged with a serious offense, one that the Bureau is 
forced not to take lightly."

"Because it made the papers," Scully said bitterly.

"Because we can't have agents going around stalking people 
and assaulting them in public!"

"I saw Watts on television this morning, and he looked all 
right to me."

"Mulder was out of line.  You know it."

"Maybe I understand his reasons."

Skinner shook his head.  "I think everyone understands his 
reasons.  That doesn't make them right."

"Today's just a preliminary hearing," Scully said.  "It could 
take weeks or even months to come to trial.  What am I 
supposed to do in the meantime?  The X-Files office isn't 
exactly overstaffed."

"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about," 
Skinner said, folding his hands.  "We can't get another agent 
full time.  I've already asked.  I might be able to file for 
some part-time help, but I can't guarantee how reliable it 
would be."

"Great."  

"There is another option," he said, and Scully looked at him.  
He handed her the morning paper, and tapped the small 
photograph under the fold. "Henry Eames struck a deal last 
night to keep him off the injection table for the six 
homicides in Atlanta.  There were at least ten others, he 
claims, and he's willing to say where the bodies are buried.  
The Atlanta field office has requested a fulltime pathologist 
to aide in the investigation."

"You want me to go to Atlanta?"

"They asked for our best.  Your record more than qualifies."
 
His compliment barely registered.  "If Mulder is suspended 
and I'm in Atlanta, what would happen to the X-Files?"

"Nothing.  The office would simply be closed until your 
return."

Scully imagined a sign on the door:  "Gone Grave Digging."  
"We fought so hard to get the X-Files back.  I--I can't just 
leave." 

"It wouldn't be permanent."

"Sir, if this is some way to punish Mulder..."

"It's not a punishment.  It's an opportunity for you to..."  
He gestured expansively.  "Get away.  For a while."

Oh.  So that's how it was.  "I see."

"It's your choice, obviously," he hurried to point out.  "No 
one is trying to force you to leave.  This assignment just 
happened to come across my desk at a time when I thought you 
might like a change of scenery.  If I'm wrong, please just 
tell me."  Scully said nothing.  Skinner waited a beat and 
then sighed.  "Take the day to think about it."

In the hall on her way out, Scully kept her head down, 
thoughts blurred as she returned to the basement on 
autopilot.  A pair of agents near the drinking fountain 
stopped talking as she walked past.  They said nothing but 
tracked her progress all the way to the elevator.  She could 
feel their eyes on her back as she waited.  At last the ding 
signaled the elevator's arrival, and Scully escaped to the 
blissfully empty car.

Down in the basement, the phone was ringing again.  Mulder, 
she thought, rushing to answer.  "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Dana Scully?"

"This is," Scully said, cautious.  She recognized the woman's 
voice but couldn't place it.

"Ms. Scully, my name is Sabrina Kimbrough and I work for WRC.  
I was hoping I could talk with you about Gregory Watts and 
Fox Mulder."

"No."

"Please, I won't take up much of your time."

"No comment," Scully said, and slammed the phone down as if 
it had suddenly morphed into a snake.  Shaken, she lowered 
herself into Mulder's chair and disappeared behind Mulder's 
orphaned files.  When the phone rang again, she yanked out 
the cord with such violence that small plastic parts 
skittered across the room. 

Scully put her head down on the desk, where a wall of silent 
victims masked her tears.

XxXxX

Afternoon sun pounded the courthouse pavement, settling like 
lead on Mulder's dark suit.  Cars glinted around him in the 
treeless parking lot. Mulder tugged his tie loose as his 
lawyer, Stan Serrano, imparted some last words of advice.  
"The injunction bars you from going within one mile of Greg 
Watts, his home or his family, Mulder, I strongly suggest you 
not tempt Judge Owens on this.  He'll have your ass in jail 
again so fast your head will spin. Stay *away* from Watts."

"But what if I'm out shopping for nylon stockings and we just 
happen to run into each other?"

Serrano did not crack a smile.  "Shop online.  I mean it, 
Mulder.  Your only chance of coming out of this unscathed is 
to keep your nose clean from now until the trial."

Mulder pulled out his handkerchief and waved it at Serrano.  
"Message received, okay?" he said before wiping the sweat 
from his brow.

Serrano hefted his briefcase.  "Go home.  Don't watch the 
news because it'll just make your blood boil.  I'll be in 
touch."

Mulder bade Serrano a half-hearted goodbye and climbed into 
the inferno that was his car.  "Yow," he said, jerking his 
hand back from the steering wheel.  He turned over the engine 
and set the A/C. to blast.  For several minutes, he just sat 
there, eyes closed, letting the air stream over him as he 
replayed the hearing in his head.

"Not guilty," he had said when asked, because that was what 
Serrano had advised.  In their meeting beforehand, Mulder had 
wondered about the likelihood of that defense.  "But I am 
guilty."

"Watts doesn't have more than a tiny cut on his lip," Serrano 
had replied.  "He was an accused rapist loose in a dark 
parking lot, stalking a potential victim.  We'll argue your 
actions were not only justified, but that they probably saved 
some woman from a brutal rape that night."

Justified, Mulder thought now.  That's damned straight.

The rest of the world could see he had a right to his anger.  
Why couldn't Scully?

He reversed the car and maneuvered out onto the road. He 
drove it faster than he ought, curving hard left and right as 
the mirage puddles kept appearing and evaporating up ahead.  
If I'd found his stash, he thought, it would have been worth 
it.

Mulder cruised back roads and city streets, staying away from 
the highway that would take him to Plumtree Lane if he let 
it.  Stay away, they had told him, but that only applied to 
his body.  Mulder didn't need to see Greg Watts to follow 
him.

He drove to the drugstore where Watts had attacked the first 
victim.  He drove past the Wal-Mart, the all-night Wendy's 
Restaurant, and the Store 24.  He visited Ming's parking lot 
and recalled his time in the bushes.  Each new crime scene 
gave him another adjective to add to his list.

Careful (there was always an easy exit)
Methodical (all scenes resembled one another)
Dutiful (Watts didn't drag his dirty laundry home; he kept 
his nasty sexual crimes away from Mommy and Daddy)
Extremely angry at women (Watts researched the sites but not 
the victims; he hated all the women equally)
Voyeuristic (each hiding spot would have allowed extended, 
perhaps frequent, surveillance of potential targets)

Mulder walked Watts' steps and thought his thoughts.  He 
imagined the lust, the hate, the power, felt the anger 
sweating through his every pore.  But there was shame, too.  
Dirty Greg, hiding in the bushes with his bulging erection.  
They made him feel small, worthless.  It was their fault he 
had to hide.  

He would make them pay.

Mulder's chest was tight, his hands clenched around the wheel 
as he drove through sprawling Virginia neighborhoods.  Greg 
didn't live here, but he might have.  The lawns sparkled.  
The houses gleamed.  Expensive swing sets in the yard were 
two stories tall.

The tires screeched as Mulder jerked to a halt in the middle 
of the road.  He dug out his phone and dialed Savioshy at the 
station.

"It's Mulder," he said when Savioshy answered.  "I know where 
Watts hid his stuff."

XxXxXxX

End chapter ten.

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