TITLE: HUNT FOR THE FETISHIST AUTHOR: DONNILEE E-MAIL: donnilee@snet.net RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: MSR, O/O SPOILERS: Orison DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't ours unfortunately. Frankly, I think we do better with them than their owners. But alas, they belong to their creator, Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. DEDICATION: This one is dedicated to those who squealed the loudest for a sequel to "Hunt for the Werewolf". In no particular order they are: Babsie, Carma, mimic117, Lindy and Nina. Thanks girls for all the pokes and pushes! Hope you enjoy it. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are called into help Daryl solve a case as his relationship with Jamie evolves. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sequel to "Hunt for the Werewolf". WARNING: There is one non-con sex scene in this fic. It is not between Mulder and Scully or Daryl and Jamie. It is between two other secondary characters. As I am doing now, so I've done with this fic, I am marking the NC-17 portions within the chapter so that you may skip over them if you do not wish to read the graphic sex. THANKS: Thanks to my two beta readers, Laura Salvadow and Rita for doing a bang up job on this and stepping up in a pinch. Thanks girls! PROLOGUE (R ) 146 EDGE HILL ROAD RICHMOND, VA 20 YEARS AGO "Where are you, silly Willy?" she called out in a singsong voice. He was crouched in the corner of the closet in his room. He heard her enter and look around. He peered through the louver doors of the closet and sighed silently as she left the room. He waited until silence remained for several minutes and then crept out of the closet and hurried to the door. Opening it just a crack, he listened putting his ear to the crack as he heard the front door open. Minutes later, he heard the first scream. "You fucking son-of-a-bitch!" she cried. "Get away from me you crazy bitch!" "Where have you been?" "Working." "Bullshit! You've been with your whore, haven't you?" "Please Darlene. It's been a long day. I just want to shower and go to bed." "Well, tough shit. I'm tired of you having time for everyone but me." "You like the money, don't you? What? You think it grows on the God damned trees? I have to work for a living. God knows you don't!" "Fuck you!" "Maybe later, I'm tired now," he said sarcastically. "Too tired cause you already humped your whore!" she cried out. Willy cringed, wondering who was 'the whore', and what that meant. "Darlene, shut up. He's going to hear your caterwauling." "Good, maybe then he'll know what a stellar individual his father is." "He's seven years old. He doesn't need to hear your alcoholic ravings! I'm a doctor. We work long hours. Doesn't mean I'm having an affair. Not that anyone would blame me." "You find some little Jewish princess to bang? Your secretary, maybe?" "Enough, Darlene." "Then prove it. Take me upstairs, right now." "I'm tired. Let me have a shower." "You're a liar. What? I'm not good enough anymore. There was a time when you begged for this shiksha pussy." "Yeah, before you grew a neurotic mouth!" "Fuck you!" "Maybe later," he mumbled and Willy heard his footfalls on the stairs. Willy carefully closed his door and locked it. PART 1 (PG-13) POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA WEDNESDAY, 5:00 PM It had been a long day. Daryl had gone in at 5:00 AM to finish some paperwork and then worked all day. I could skip my thrice weekly visit to the gym which was due tonight, but I didn't want to. That could become a habit too easily. I needed to stay in shape for my job. Plus, Jam loved my muscles. I smiled at the thought. I would see him tonight. He was cooking me dinner at 7:30 PM. We still lived apart for the sake of propriety but I was beginning to care less and less. He was more reluctant than I was to move in together. Detective Mulharen had retired and no one else knew of my sexual orientation. Although I knew it could hurt my career with the brass, I also knew that it was less dangerous for me as a detective as opposed to when I was a street cop and had to have someone watching my back all the time. In addition, I wouldn't hesitate to slap the department with a discrimination suit should they ever try to deny me my job or a promotion based on my sexual preferences. That would be a heap of bad press for them. At the moment though, my partner, Emma Rizzoli, Rizzi, as I called her, was the only one that knew my secret. There were a few others that suspected but couldn't prove anything. If I were to move in with Jam, the secret would spread through the department like wild fire. In a way, that's what I wanted. I was tired of being in the closet. I loved my job though. I sighed, deciding this was an issue to contemplate at a later time. Rizzi walked out of the ladies room and came toward me smiling. "We done here, Cart?" That's what she called me for short. Cart. "Finally," I murmured. Just then the phone on my desk rang. I gave it a dirty look and Rizzi laughed. Her short, curly blond hair twisted around her face in a wild riot of curls that framed her pixie-like face, with an upturned nose and full, pouty lips. She was a mere five foot, one inch tall. People often underestimated her, much to their detriment. I sighed and picked it up on the third ring. "Cartwright," I answered. [Detective, I hate to ruin your day.] "Who is this?" [Sam Kelly.] He was a patrol cop, a damn good one too. He'd make a good detective. He was hoping for his gold shield in the round of promotions, which might come soon since it was an election year. "You're going to ruin it anyway, aren't you? I'm about to walk out the door." [Sorry. 'Fraid not. I'm out at Forest Lawn Cemetery.] "What have you got?" [A corpse.] "Shit." [Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Someone visiting grandma called it in. You catchin'?] he asked. That was the term for catching a case. "I was about to go home, Sam. Keene and Fairway come on in five minutes." They were the night shift detectives, or one set of them. [Frankly, I'd rather have you, Daryl. This is a weird one.] "Hold on." I put my hand over the receiver mouthpiece. "Rizzi, he's got a corpse out at Forest Lawn Cemetery." "Only one?" she wisecracked. I smirked. "He wants us," I said, neglecting to say that he'd said he wanted me and not mentioned her. "He'd rather we come than hand it over to Keene and Fairway, says it's a weird one." She sighed. "I don't have any hot date tonight," she said with resignation. I smiled. "Unfortunately, I do. Damn it." She smiled. "Your call, Cart." I sighed and went back to the phone. "We're on our way, Sam. Call a crime scene van to meet us there." [Will do. I'm smack dab in the entrance to John B. Phillips Boulevard.] "On our way." I hung up the phone and grabbed my jacket. If I was lucky, I could still make Jam's by 7:30 PM, but I doubted it. Shit. I'd really been looking forward to tonight. Rizzi already had her jacket on and she strode out of the squad room ahead of me, her close-cropped curls bouncing on the back of her head. I liked having Rizzi as a partner. She was a good detective and she didn't take shit from anyone, including me. She'd fought hard to get where she was, one of only three female detectives on the force in Richmond. She was brassy and sharp as a tack. I respected her immensely. xxxxxxxxxxxx I was the senior detective, with more experience than her. I'd had my gold shield for ten years, her for five. Her first partner had quit when he contracted colon cancer and left on disability. Billy Sands had been an old curmudgeon that gave her trouble from the word go. He'd been an old timer that remembered when women weren't allowed on the force. She'd braved his taunts and let her work speak for itself. She had a very high solve rate, 80%, which was outstanding in this city. Mine was about the same. My last partner, Tim Cannes, had requested a transfer to Roanoke where his wife's family lived about the time Sands had left. I'd gone straight to the Lieutenant and requested Rizzoli as my partner. I needed one, she needed one, we both had solid solve rates and the Lieutenant had no reason to deny my request. So it was a year ago that we had teamed up. She knew of me and was surprised I'd requested her as a partner when Lieutenant O'Heran told her and asked if she would like to be paired with me. She'd accepted right away. It had been magic from the start. She walked out to my desk, arms akimbo, and fists on her hips, stood in front of me and craned her neck up to look at me. She'd pursed her lips and said, "You requested me for a partner?" "Yes, I did." "Why?" I'd been amused but quashed the smile that was threatening and said, "Because you're a damn good detective. Your solve rate is high, we both need a partner and frankly, the other candidates don't interest me at all." She'd pursed her lips again, a habit she had when she was thinking hard. It made her lips scrunch up into a cupid's bow that reminded me of one of those cartoon pictures of exaggerated big lips puckering up for a smooch. It went along with raking her fingers through her close-cropped blonde curls as she paced. She hadn't been pacing then but she met my eyes head on and said, "Ground rules: No gender comments, no concessions because I'm a woman, no holding back hunches or evidence from me. Fifty/fifty all the way." "Agreed. Anything else, boss?" I'd teased. She'd smiled in spite of her efforts not to. "You have any rules?" "No gender comments, no concessions because I'm a man, no holding back hunches or evidence from me. Fifty/fifty all the way," I repeated her demands. She'd laughed then and said, "O.K., partner. Let's ride." Soon after, I'd introduced her to Jam. I'd asked her to drop me off there one night and he'd come out onto the sidewalk in front of his townhouse wearing jeans and Richmond PD tee shirt, his long black hair hanging free to his waist. She'd gotten out, and I'd introduced them. I called him Jamie in front of others, it was less confusing. "Jamie, this is my new partner, Emma Rizzoli. This is Jamie, my ... boyfriend." I'd almost said 'significant other', but bit the bullet. She'd not even hesitated and stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you. Call me Rizzi." He'd shook her hand, "Call me J. Watch his back, would you?" She grinned, "You bet, as long as he watches mine." "I'm sure he will. And you don't have to worry about him staring at your assets instead of paying attention." She'd guffawed and held her stomach. As her mirth got under control, she chuckled to a halt and said, "Good to meet you." They'd smiled and we'd said good night. She hadn't even batted an eyelash and I knew it would be smooth sailing from then on out. And it had been. She liked to drive. She had a lead foot, fortunately combined with superior defensive driving skills. Most of the time I let her drive mainly because I didn't care one way or the other. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx We jumped into our tan unmarked and sped north on I95, passing Highland Park and Washington Park on our way up as we turned northeast on Route 2. We exited the highway and cut across some back roads, finding ourselves on Myrtle Grove Road. She took the turn onto Stratford Drive sharply and I grabbed the crash handle above the door in mock terror. She laughed and accelerated, edging the car up to 55 on the small road. I groaned and closed my eyes, leaning my head back on the headrest and she laughed again, murmuring, "You wimp." We came to intersection with John B. Phillips Boulevard and turned left into the entrance to the cemetery. Sam already had crime scene tape staked up around the body that sat about 20 yards back from the entrance. We piled out of the car and approached Sam. He nodded at Rizzi and turned to me. "Glad you came." I nodded and looked down at the corpse. I nearly gagged but managed to swallow hard and swallow the bile that wanted to rise up in my throat. "Jesus," I whispered. "Not pleasant, is it?" "How long you figure she's been dead?" Rizzi asked. "I don't know ... a while. Any dug up graves around here?" "Nope," Sam replied, "First thing I checked. Called the groundskeeper and he's on his way. Said there hasn't been a funeral here in almost two weeks. It's not an old corpse." "God, she was really hacked," I said, wondering at the fury that would be necessary to commit such a crime. Rizzi squatted down and peered at the corpse. Apparently, the smell wasn't bothering her as much as it was bothering me. "I can't even begin to count how many wounds are here." "There's a question for the medical examiner," Sam said. "Why would you defile a corpse that's already a corpse?" I asked to no one in particular. "Perp took a trophy," Rizzi said suddenly. "What have you got?" I went down on one knee as Rizzi pulled on gloves and gently moved the girl's hand out from under the button gap in her dress. "Yuck." All the woman's fingernails had been removed, leaving gashes of torn flesh on the ends of her fingers. I looked at the corpse from head to toe. It was a woman, approximately 30 years old, brown hair, sunken cheeks. She was wearing a blue dress that buttoned down the front. It had been hiked up around her waist. Her panties were pulled down around her ankles and her feet pushed up towards her rear end, so that her knees were spread wide. It was rather obscene. "What's that?" I asked, pointing to her mouth where a small brown fleck graced the corner of her closed mouth. "Probably dirt," Sam injected. I pulled gloves from my coat pocket and pulled them on. I peered closer and said, "No it's dried blood." I placed a finger gently on her chin and exerted the slightest pressure. Her mouth fell open and Rizzi gasped. "Trophy number two," she muttered. The woman's tongue was cut out. "Shit," was all I could say. Then to my embarrassment, I gagged as a smell like rotten eggs wafted up my nose. I tood up and walked away few steps, taking slow, deep breaths. Rizzi tapped my elbow and I turned to her. She held up a travel size jar of Vicks Vapor Rub. I smiled at her, "So that's your secret," I said quietly. She nodded and unscrewed the cap, holding it up. I dipped a clean, glove covered finger into the goop and scooped up a small amount. I spread it gently on the inside of each nostril and was assailed with the ether vapors that blotted out every other smell. "Thanks. Sorry," I muttered. "Don't mention it. If it wasn't for this stuff, I'd be losing my latest meal." We turned back and saw the Crime Scene van pulling into the drive. Two techs emerged with cases of equipment and approached the body. "What have we got?" asked a tall, skinny man wearing horn rimmed glasses. "Looks like someone really did a number. I can't be sure, but I'd guess most of this damage is post mortem ... at least I hope it was," I added. Rizzi asked Sam, "Anybody hear anything?" "Well, let's let these guys do their work. Don't touch the body until after the medical examiner has a look, guys," I added. "We know the drill." Rizzi started firing off our grocery list. That's what we called our list of 'things to do' on a new case. "We need to get a list of all the residents within a half mile of here and canvas to see if they heard anything. That kind of damage, someone must have heard something." She turned to the techs, "Medical examiner will take prints. Can you ask him to send them to us ASAP?" "Will do," the tech replied as he circled the area, taking pictures of everything around the corpse. Rizzi and I circled the area in every widening circles looking for clues. Just off the edge of the pavement where the grass started was a foot print. It appeared small but there was some tread indentation in the dirt. "Hey, what's your name?" I asked the tech. "Kramer, Billy Kramer," he said. "My partner over there is Jenn Lorre." "Billy, I got a foot print over here. Can you take a picture and then make an impression for me?" "Sure, no prob," he said as he went to the van and extracted more equipment, coming over to the print. "Oh, she's a nice one, isn't she?" he mumbled, in the weird way crime scene techs often had of talking about inanimate evidence as if it were living and breathing. He snapped a picture and then dropped the camera that was on a strap around his neck. He opened his case and muttered, "Come to poppa." I rolled my eyes and walked back towards Rizzi. "Anything?" "Nope. Not a thing, Cart. That woman has multiple stab wounds. If any of that was done while she was alive, somebody must have heard something." "Not necessarily. I don't think she was killed here." "True. She was dumped for sure. There's no excrement or blood other than a little bit around the wounds. She was cleaned. But it must have been close by. I mean, how far are you going to drive with a corpse in the car." "No way to know. But all those wounds, and no blood on the ground. You're right. She was definitely dumped." The medical examiner arrived and we greeted him. Craig Jensen was well known in Richmond for taking his job VERY seriously. His somber face spoke of countless crimes and their aftermath that he had witnessed. No one would ever call him jolly, but he was very good at what he did. We ran down the scenario for him and he took a few notes. He turned to Sam, "You first on the scene?" "Yes, sir." "Let's talk. Detectives, I'll call you tomorrow with the preliminary report." Rizzi's eyebrows went up. "You're doing the autopsy tonight?" "Why wait?" he asked as if there were no other options. "Appreciate it," Rizzi said. "I'll take it from here. Cartwright is it?" "Yes, and this is my partner, Rizzoli." He shook both our hands. Rizzi said, "Want to wait for the groundskeeper?" I turned to Sam. "Was he here earlier." "No, he comes on at 11:00 PM, for the graveyard shift. No pun intended." "Who's here during the day?" "Nobody, they only have security at night." "Pretty sad when you need security in a graveyard. You wouldn't think desecration was that much of a problem." Sam said, "No, but vandalism probably is. Kids get bored and weird things happen." "That's for sure. Look, Sam. Tell him to call us in the morning and we'll set up an interview." "Sure thing, Rizzi." He smiled t her and winked. Rizzi raised both eyebrows and shook her head in amusement. "See you round, Sam." "Count on it," he said, smilingat her. Jensen said, "Go home and eat dinner and I'll call you in the morning." "Good night," I said and we turned toward the unmarked. Rizzi said, "Eat? After that? I highly doubt it." I chuckled as I slid into the passenger seat. I rubbed my hands through my hair and wiped them over my face. "Sam has a crush on you," I commented. "He's a nice guy. I think he's ust one of those guys that can't help flirting with any woman that's available." I didn't comment, thinking that she was wrong about Sam. I'd seen him looking at her several times when she was unaware. His expression could only be described as hungry, maybe some longing. "Long day, huh?" she commented idly. I didn't answer, knowing it was a rhetorical question. "Something's already nagging me about this one." "Besides the fact that we may have a necrophiliac fetishist on our hands?" she asked. "Do we? We'll have to wait and see if she was sexually assaulted." "Is it assault if the person's dead? And he wouldn't necessarily have to have intercourse to be a fetishist." "It's desecration at the least -- and so gross I don't even want to think about it." "Me either, but I'm afraid we're going to need to examine all the possibilities. It's premature right now anyway. We'll see what Jensen turns up. We need to I.D. her quick." "Right." I sighed. "I don't want to go back to the station." "Leaving me with the prelim report?" she teased. "We can do it in the morning." She nodded. "Want me to drop you at J's?" "Yeah. Would you? That would be great." "That means I have to pick you up in the morning. Your car's at the station." "I know. Are you willing?" "Ready and able, baby. Name the time and place ... oh, and the hotel," she joked. I laughed. "God, Rizzi. Sometimes you make me wish I was straight," I teased her in return. She beamed me a full wattage smile with dimples and threw her head back and laughed. Then she sighed dramatically. "All the good ones are married or gay." We both laughed then, until I gasped as she took the on ramp to the highway, nearly on two wheels. PART 2 (NC-17) JAMIE LEVEAU'S TOWNHOUSE RICHMOND, VA WEDNESDAY EVENING I turned as I heard a car pull up out front. I pushed the curtain aside and looked out the front window in the living room. His partner Rizzi was driving as usual and she was dropping him off. He looked tired. I'd thought he would be coming straight from the gym, but apparently not. He was still wearing his suit. He wearily crossed the lawn and I opened the front door before he could reach it. He smiled wanly and I waved him in. "Welcome to Chez Leveau." He slid his jacket off his big shoulders and threw it on the coat rack, loosening his tie, and shrugging his shoulders all in the same movement. "Hey Jam." "Hey yourself. What happened, Daryl?" I asked. "Sorry I didn't call. I know I'm later than I said." "It's all right. You're not that late." "I'm a half hour late. I should have called." "Why didn't you?" I asked, not really concerned. His job often required him to be late or held up. "I caught a case just before I left. Hoped I could still make it on time." "That sucks." "Yeah, it does. It was grisly." "Are you hungry?" He made a face. "I don't think I can eat just yet." It must have been bad. I opened my arms and he stepped into them, bending slightly at the waist and wrapping his arms around me. His shirt tugged taut over his bulging shoulders and biceps as he lifted me off my feet. "Geez," I hollered as my feet left the ground. He kissed me hard on the forehead and set me back down. "What was that for?" I asked, laughter still bubbling in my throat. He looked down at me and smiled tenderly. "I couldn't wait to get here. I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. I was so pissed when I had to go to that scene. I'd been just about to walk out the door when the call came in. The beat cop that called wanted me and Rizzi specifically." "Come on. Let's sit down." He moved to the couch and I went to the CD player, plopping in a Pat Methany tape and turning the volume low. I returned and sat down next to him. He immediately turned, leaned into the corner of the couch and motioned me to come to him. I slid up next to him and he grabbed my arms and hauled me up his torso like I was a rag doll. I smiled and crossed my hand under my chin and rested them on his chest. His fingers came up and dove into my hair, pulling through it and lifting it as he let it trail down to the ends. I shivered and closed my eyes. "I missed you," I whispered. "Me too. It's been four days." "Yeah, Saturday ..." I smiled. We'd had fun Saturday, going to dinner and the movies and coming back here to make love half the night. "Mmmm," he hummed and cupped my face, pulling me toward him as he leaned into me and covered my mouth with his. I sucked in a breath, feeling warmth and a tingling sensation steal through me as it always did when he touched me. His kiss was gentle and playful, languid but determined. I hummed in the back of my throat. He broke the kiss and stared at me. Out of the blue, he said, "God, Jam. You make me so hot." I chuckled and ground my pelvis into his, feeling his erection poke my belly. I was growing hard myself but didn't know if he was really in the mood. Just because his body was didn't mean he was up for it. No pun intended. "I know you're tired. You look beat." "Yeah, I wouldn't mind getting out of these clothes either." "You have some sweats and tee shirts upstairs." "Or we could just get naked," he suggested. I grinned. "Don't feel obligated ... I know you're tired." "I don't. I want to at least cuddle if nothing else. We'll see how I hold up once I relax a little." "Sounds good," I murmured, sliding off his big body and standing next to the couch. He unfolded his body and stood up, his six foot frame towering over me. I stood five foot, four inches tall, short by anyone's standards, but especially for a man. My petite stature had always lent to my air of feminism, which didn't bother me, but it bothered a lot of other people. Fortunately, Daryl wasn't one of them. He took my hand and led me upstairs into my own bedroom. I wished he lived here. I wanted to be able to take care of him when he came home at night, cook him dinner, pamper him after a hard day's work. I worked too but my work was mostly sedentary. It didn't require me to be on my feet much. I still worked at Dial-A-Dream. It was odd how I could talk to these men all day and not feel aroused at all, although I knew I was arousing them, getting them off. But one smoldering look from Daryl's green eyes and my spine was melting into my shoes. We undressed and crawled into bed. It was early, but I realized he needed to rest if not sleep. He spooned up behind me. We just lay there letting the warmth of our bodies build up under the covers. Within a minute, his big hand was sliding over me, caressing my chest, my belly and sliding over my hip and down my thigh. XXXXXXXX THIS PORTION NC-17 I sighed, feeling my groin tingle. I felt him harden and flex his hips against my ass. I reached back and slid my hand down his stomach, finding his penis and wrapping my hand around it. I squeezed gently and he moaned, hardening further, not quite fully erect. I pushed back and he flopped onto his back. I rolled up onto my knees and caught his gaze. He was breathing short, shallow breathes. His pupils were dilated and his mouth was slack with anticipation as he stared at me, his eyes dropping to my lips that were now hovering over his cock. I pumped him gently in my hand and he moaned again, his eyes slipping shut, but popping back open again. I held his stare as I lowered my mouth, darting my tongue out to lick the glans, tasting his precum. "Oh God ...Jam, please, I need this tonight," he muttered. I knew he loved it when I went down on him. I was good at it if I do say so myself. I smiled and let my mouth drift softly over the velvet head of his cock, swirling my tongue around it. "Oh," he gasped and flexed his hips toward me again. I grasped his thickness in one hand near the base and began sliding up and down, wetting him with my saliva and taking more with every slide down his gorgeous phallus. He had a beautiful cock. It was a full eight inches, long and thick. I couldn't wait to feel it stretch me out. I blew him leisurely while he groaned and pushed into my mouth, finally taking him down my throat. He shouted and threw his head back. "No more, Jam," he croaked. I slowly slid back and off him. I held his eyes as I asked, "How do you want me?" He grunted. "Shit, you're gonna be the death of me." I smiled what he called my impish smile, showing my dimples. He shook his head with amusement. "On your back," he mumbled. I laid down and spread my legs. He hefted himself up and knelt between my legs. He fondled my balls and licked my shaft until I was squirming. I am not a big man, and neither are my genitals. I'm a about five inches long and average width. He could easily take me all the way into his mouth. I groaned, but he didn't continue. He lifted off and leaned over, taking the tube of Astroglide out of the nightstand. He squeezed a dollop onto his finger and rubbed it between his thumb and finger, warming it. He reached down and probed my entrance, easily sliding one finger inside. I groaned as he wiggled it around. He stretched me out, added a second finger and did the same. I was tossing my head around at this point. "Enough," I finally croaked out. He leaned over me taking his weight on one arm. The other guided his cock to my entrance as I raised my legs high and spread them wide. He nudged me and I moaned. "Condom?" he asked. "It's all right. I know you're clean." He grunted. We usually used one anyway. But tonight I wanted to feel him. His voice was husky with arousal and he whispered, "Bareback it is, baby." He pushed inside, his wide glans popping past my resisting muscle. I forced myself to relax and felt him start to rock his hips. He squeezed out more lube and rubbed it on his cock. Both arms came down now, framing my shoulders. God, he was a giant. I wrapped my legs over his hips. "I love being under you," I thought. "I love having you under me," he said, and I realized I'd said it out loud. I blushed, embarrassed for no particular reason. He rocked again and poked further into me, stretching me and making it hurt a little. I took a deep breath and relaxed and then felt his steady pressure do its work as he began the long, slow slide inside. "Aaaaaahhhhhh," I groaned as he bottomed out, panting gently and not moving now that he was buried inside me. I relaxed and he began to stroke in and out. God, it felt great. Almost immediately, I felt shivers start to chase each other up and down my spine. He whispered in my ear. "Oh yeah. Oh baby, you feel so good. God, Jam, I need you tonight." I tightened my ass muscles and he cried out, "Oh yeah!" I began to rhythmically squeeze his shaft as he stroked into me. He was keeping his pace slow, trying to draw it out. I reached down and bent at the waist, grabbing his ass and squeezing his it. He moaned again. I knew how much he liked to have his ass cheeks squeezed. There was something about the nights when he came here after seeing death. No matter how tired he was, he wanted to make love. I knew it was a life affirmation thing, that he needed to feel alive and know I was there for him. I didn't mind. He was always gentle with me, aware of his size. He sped up slightly and he leaned down, driving his tongue into my mouth. We kissed for long minutes as he stroked slowly in and out of me, his speed gradually increasing. The need for air brought his head up. He sucked in a gigantic gulp of air, sweat shining on his hair line and upper lip from his effort. "Go Daryl, let go," I whispered. "Want you to come with me," he grunted. "Don't wait for me. This is your night. Just take what you need. I'm here for you." He whimpered, actually whimpered and sped up again, now slamming his huge phallus in and out of me. "You're so beautiful," he groaned. The slight darts of pain as he bottomed out added to my excitement. He shifted his angle and suddenly he was ramming my hot spot, crushing my prostate. I howled and felt my whole groin twitch, my balls flushing hot. Then I was coming, in short, hard bursts. He shouted, "Oh Jesus, you drive me crazy. So sexy!" I felt him grow unbearably hard inside me and then he was shooting his warm cum inside my bowels, his face scrunched up in ecstasy. He collapsed onto me, careful to hold most of his weight on his arms. His nose was buried in my neck. My waist length hair was tangled underneath me and I didn't care. I tugged him down and he let his arms slide up, resting more weight on me. "I'm not crushing you?" he asked. XXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX "No, it feels good." "God Jam. I needed that." I chuckled. "Me too." I closed my eyes feeling an inexplicable sadness wash through me. We'd been together almost nine months now and I was irretrievably in love with him. But he hadn't said the words. I still didn't know if he loved me in return. I knew he cared for me, found me sexy ... but that wasn't enough, not anymore. It occurred to me suddenly, that perhaps he was waiting for me to say the words. "Daryl ..." I said tentatively. "Yeah?" he asked groggily, lifting his head, his eyelids drooping already as his flaccid penis slipped out of me. I tightened my ass muscles, feeling myself close up. He was so tired. Now wasn't the time. "What is it?" he asked, catching the frown I'd tried to hide by turning my face away. "Nothing, forget it." He cupped my face and made me look at him. "Tell me. Why the sad face?" I shrugged. "Forget it," I repeated. "No, tell me." I looked away and he let me, rolling off me and maneuvering the covers over us as he pulled me into his side. I rested my head on his big shoulder and put my hand on his breastbone, playing idly with his chest hair. "Another time, you're tired," I said finally. "Sleep now." His fingers found my chin and tipped my face up to meet his eyes. "No," he said firmly. "I want to know what's bothering you." I sighed, knowing he was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't going to let this go. "How do you feel about me?" His features softened. "I'm crazy about you." I looked down again, not wanting to show my disappointment. "I know the sex is great ... " I began, trailing off. He pulled his arm out from under my head and rolled up onto his side, his arm draping over my waist. "Look at me," he said. I took a deep breath and looked up, blinking fast as I felt the tears sting my eyes. I was not going to cry in front of him, damn it. I bit my lip and his thumb worried it until it let loose. He leaned down and kissed me softly. "It's more than sex, Jam, you know that." "Do I?" I asked, staring hard at him again. He frowned. "Of course it is." I licked my lips. "I didn't mean to push," I said, flopping onto my back. "Just forget it for now." He leaned over me, his beautiful face hovering over mine, a lock of chestnut hair falling rakishly across his forehead. He was so handsome. His thumb brushed over my eyebrow, lightly over my eye lids and then down my cheek. His fingers were warm and my skin tingled. "I don't want to forget it. And you're not pushing. You have a right to know. I just ..." "It's all right. Just go to sleep," I tried one last time. He took a deep breath. "I'm scared, J." Now it was my turn to be confused. "Scared? Of what? Not me?" He smiled a close-lipped smile. "No. I'm scared of how I feel." "Why?" "I don't know. Maybe because I've never felt this way before. Never found someone I wanted ... always before it was just a roll in the hay, to relieve the stress, you know, get rid of the sexual frustration." I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. If he was going to talk, I was going to listen. He guarded his emotions carefully. He was passionate in bed, but reserved otherwise. I knew his career demanded that of him. I just wished he'd trust me enough to be vulnerable with me. "Trust me," I whispered. He blinked rapidly, his eyes suspiciously wet. "It's hard." "I know, but I won't let you down, Daryl. I promise," I said earnestly, nearly hissing the last. He stared at me so long I didn't think he was going to answer. "I never found someone that makes me feel so cherished," he said. "I adore you." He smiled. "Likewise." He paused again as if gathering himself. "I want to spend my life with you, Jam. What else can I say?" "Why?" "Why what? Why do I want to spend my life with you?" I nodded. He looked puzzled but then recognition dawned on his face. He knew what I was asking. "Because I ..." He swallowed heavily and looked down at the sheets as if they were the most interesting thing he'd seen since cotton flannel. I bucked up my courage. "I know you may not be ready to hear it, but ..." I paused, taking a deep breath. "I love you, Daryl. I'm so in love with you, I ache with it sometimes." He looked up, startled. His mouth opened then closed again, no words coming out. I blinked rapidly, determined not to cry and to get this out. "I'm IN love with you. And I need ... I NEED to know if you feel ... anything like that for me." He didn't answer. Oh God. It was my turn to look down. "I don't expect you to fall at my feet. I just need to know if ... I don't even expect you to feel the same," I stuttered. "I do," he whispered. My head jerked up and he smiled a quirky smile at me, one side of his mouth turning up. He shrugged sheepishly and took a deep breath. "You do?" "Yeah, I do," he said and then smiled, looking relieved. He still hadn't said it but this was good enough for now. "Are you going to break my heart?" I asked suddenly. Then I felt stupid and looked down. He lifted my face with his hand under my chin again and leaned down until our lips brushed. "No, you're gonna break mine," he said. We kissed then. This one was slow and full of love and affection. I didn't expect flowery declarations from him. That might be as close as he would ever get to telling me he loved me. And it was enough ... for now. PART 3 (NC-17) 146 EDGE HILL ROAD RICHAMOND, VA FIVE WEEKS LATER XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I was moaning in ecstasy as I fucked the bitch beneath me. So many years of torment and now she was mine, a plaything, and a slave. "Oh God, Willy, please stop!" she howled. "Almost there," I panted as I nailed her tiny ass to the mattress. "DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Her arms wrapped around my chest under my arms and I felt the searing burn as her nails raked the skin of my back raw. The sting was exquisite and I groaned out loud, "HARDER YOU BITCH!" Her fingers curled, the nails biting into my skin. I felt the skin tear and felt her draw blood. "Oh yes!" "Ouch!" she screamed as I pulled her hair hard, yanking her head back. I bit her neck, sucking her pulse so hard that a lump of skin was sucked into my mouth. "You bastard!" "Shut up! Scratch!" I felt her fingers press into the fresh wounds, causing a trickle of blood to begin rolling over my back. Cum coiled in my balls and I screamed as I felt my pecker ignite and throb as I ejaculated hard into her bottomless cavern. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, woman! Oh yeah!" XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXX I collapsed on top of her, knowing she'd felt no pleasure. I liked it that way. Sometimes I felt generous, but most times loved that she was there to serve me, whether she liked it or not. I was high from the kill. The smell of blood was still tangy in my nostrils despite the shower I'd taken. I was far from done. I would check on my newest trophies later. Beautiful. Amazingly, I felt my cock twitch at the thought of them. They were sky blue talons painted with daisies. How quaint. I would arrange them together for a new toy tonight. I lifted my head and looked down into her worn face. The wrinkles around her eyes were deeper lately and the bright blue of her eyes had faded to a dull gray. Her face was expressionless except for the pool of moisture cupping in the bottom lids. The tears were not falling though. "Are you done?" she croaked, knowing that sometimes once wasn't enough. "Yeah, for now." "Thank God," she mumbled. I supported my weight on one elbow and backhanded her across the cheek. She yelped and brought a hand up to her face. I hadn't hit her hard enough to bruise, but the imprint of my fingers was pink on her cheek. "No back talk. What made you think you can suddenly be sarcastic with me?" Her lips pressed together and she whispered. "I'm sorry. Can I take a shower now?" I rolled off of her and stood up next to the bed, waving my hand toward the bathroom off the master bedroom. "Sure, go get cleaned up. Then fix me a sandwich. I want to take it downstairs." "What are you working on?" "None of your fucking business," I said sternly. She nodded meekly and exited the bed on the other side and walked to the bathroom with a slight limp. I had bent her legs pretty far up. She would be sore. I smiled, and walked over to the full-length mirror on the back of the door that led into the hallway. I turned my back to it and looked over my shoulder. Eight new red welts lined my shoulder blades, the blood from the superficial wounds already drying to a dull brown. I stroked my spent cock a few times and felt warmth flow through me. I would have to have her work on the lower half next time, let the shoulder blades heal up. I licked my lips and headed into the bathroom to take a piss. After that was done, I stepped into the shower with her. She gasped but otherwise remained silent. "Wash my back," I instructed. She soaped a washcloth and gently washed the blood from my back then moved to the rear of the tub. I stood under the spray and quickly washed my hair and the rest of my body. I climbed out, leaving her the rest of the hot water. I toweled off and combed my hair. I knew she liked to take long showers afterwards and it was the one luxury I gave her. I didn't want her out of commission and I knew the hot water kept her muscles limber. I went to the kitchen and downed two glasses of water, taking my nightly medication. I called into work and told them I had an upset stomach and wouldn't be in tomorrow. I had a lot of work to do. XXXXXXXXX After she made me a sandwich, I walked into the basement, still nude. I locked the door at the top of the stairs and descended, feeling the cool air close my pores and goose flesh my skin. I found the cord for the light switch by feel and pulled the chain, the bare bulb illuminating the area. I sat on my padded stool in front of the workbench and picked up the small chamois pouch I'd left there earlier. I pulled the drawstring and tipped it upside down. The nails fell out with a small clatter, bits of skin still attached. I sat the sandwich plate to the side and picked up my penknife. I began to carefully cut away the stray skin until nothing but the nail was left. When I'd finished all ten nails, I took out my small dentist drill and plugged it into the wall, drilling the tiny hole into the base of each nail. Next was the tricky part, threading the needle with the super thin braided elastic. I weaved it in and out of the holes until I had all the nails bound together. I pulled the elastic tight till it formed a gathered circle in the center of the base of the nails. It looked like a flower now, with the nails sticking out straight. The daisies painted on the ends added to the effect. I smiled and tied off the elastic carefully in two sets of double knots. Didn't want anything coming undone. I then covered the knot in super glue and set it aside to dry, which wouldn't take long. I finished my sandwich and got another glass of water, this time from the sink at the rear of the basement and drank it down. I checked the clock and knew that the glue was dry. I picked up my newest toy and retreated to the far wall, where I plopped into the oversized easy chair, flipping up the footrest and reclined on a 45-degree angle. Reaching over to the small coffee table next to the chair, I opened the drawer under the top of the table and extracted some of my jewelry, choosing blue ones that matched my new toy. I pinched my nipple up and gasped as I slid the cool metal rod through the hole in my nipple and put the fastener on the end of the post. I felt my prick begin to harden and went through the routine with the other nipple. I admired the way the nails hung from the post on either side of each nipple, sky blue with stars on them. I tugged them gently and felt my cock rise to its full six inches. It wasn't long but it was unusually thick, easily two inches in diameter. I carefully pulled on two of the nails of my new toy and opened the elastic a bit. XXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXX I felt my groin tingle as I slid it down over my engorged cock and fitted it carefully at the base, snug against my aching balls. I groaned as I felt the elastic constrict my flesh and felt my shaft engorge further to that exquisite state of hardness. The nails fanned out over the base of my cock facing toward the tip of my shaft. I grasped my cock and slid my hand down carefully over the nails and squeezed, feeling them bite into my tender, engorged flesh. "Awwwww, fuck, yeah," I groaned out loud, not worried that she would hear me. She would be back in bed by now watching TV. Some damn nighttime soap opera no doubt. My right hand fisted my cock and jerked close to the base, digging the nails in as I watched my cock turn red. I reached over and pulled out another one I had made last time and fastened it around the base of my ball sack. I groaned again, feeling another throb in my shaft and feeling the prick of the nails into the papery skin of my balls. "Oh fuck," I muttered, jerking slowly, enjoying it, drawing it out. My left hand raised and tugged on my nipple rings, first one, then the other, pulling outward carefully until the nipple stretched and began to turn white. "Oh yeah, oh fuck." My mind spun away to 19 years ago when I was 13 years old again, sitting in the doctor's office, listening to the doctor explain to my half-wit mother that I was a normal human being, something she would have known if she wasn't such a fucked up lush. "Ma'am, your son is perfectly normal. At this age, boys get hormonal surges that are completely out of their control. An adolescent going through puberty can experience up to 20 erections a day for no apparent reason. Any stimulation at all can release the hormones and cause it. It's perfectly natural. As he nears the end of puberty, it will calm down and he'll have more control." "It's disturbing," she replied in that prim, annoying way she had. It was a total act. I wished the doctor could see her when she was a raving lunatic bitch, screaming like a banshee. Or wailing like a siren as my father nailed her to the wall with his fat prick. Yeah, she was a real saint. "Ma'am, there's nothing to be done here. I guess you have to try and ignore it." "Humph." We'd left the office and she'd grumbled all the way home, muttering about what a little pervert I was, getting excited when she was trying to discipline me. What was exciting about that? she asked. And what did the damn doctors know anyway? Stupid bitch. Home again, she hit the bottle and called for me to get her a blanket and bring it to the couch, long after I'd gone to bed. I guess I hadn't responded fast enough and she'd leaped off the couch, spilling her drink. "Look what you made me do you little bastard. Can't you do anything right? Does it take a freakin' year to find a blanket. What the hell?" she screeched. I'd cringed like a pussy and tossed the blanket at her. She screamed and then the arm came down, talons extended and swiped across my bare chest. I screamed in pain, my voice cracking as my tender skin was furrowed with red welts. Her snow- white boob had fallen out of the loosely belted robe and she hadn't even noticed. I panted heavily at the memory, remembering that despite the pain, my little dick had been hard and tight against my stomach at the sight of her nipple, hard and turgid in the cool air of the house. I stroked faster and tugged at my nipple ring until I roared with pain and pleasure and felt myself cum all over my hand. My back arched and I clamped my hand around the base of my cock, driving the nails into my bulging shaft. Five hard spurts later I collapsed, boneless in the chair, sweating and panting. That was a good one. I had the power now. She would never have it again. Her memory brought me nothing but pleasure now. I thought about the bitch upstairs and smiled. I hated her, but I loved fucking her and watching the fear in her eyes, wondering what I would ask of her next. I sighed and got up to get a washcloth from the stash I kept down here. I wet it down and cleaned myself up, gently removing my toys and patting them dry with a paper towel. I carefully placed them in the toy drawer under the coffee table and stretched. Time for bed. I could probably sleep now. PART 4 (R) ONE WEEK LATER HOOVER BUILDING X-FILES BASEMENT OFFICE The phone rang and I picked it up. "Scully." [Ah, the fair Agent Scully.] I recognized the voice but couldn't quite place it. "May I ask who's calling?" The voice suddenly changed to the androgynous alto and said, "Of course, darling. You can ask. But first, answer this. Who else has the balls to call you at work? Oops, well I still had them last I looked. Depends on who you ask." "Jamella!" I cried, bringing Mulder's head out of the file he had buried his nose into. "Hello, darling. How's our Foxy man?" I chuckled. "He's good." "How good?" she drawled. I laughed out loud now. "VERY good," I replied. Her laughter sang over the phone line and Mulder smiled, hearing it from where he sat. I was perched on the end of his desk on his phone. "Can I talk to the brute?" she asked. "Certainly, just a sec." I handed the phone to Mulder, still chuckling and slid off the desk. We'd kept in touch with J since our last encounter when she'd been in danger on the Werewolf caseabout eight months prior. Mulder had been determined to be a beter friend and he'd made sure he called every two weeks to check on her. She'd regaled us with stories of her whirlwind romance with Daryl. We were both happy for her. He'd seemed like such a nice man. I listened to the one sided conversation as Mulder talked to Jamella. "How many bodies?" My head came up quickly, realizing this must be more than a social call. "Mulder?" He waved me to silence. "Tell Daryl to send over whatever he has, no detail is too small. I'd be glad to help. We're not that busy right now. Uh huh. 555-6092." He paused and looked at me, mouthing, "She's O.K." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Sure J, no problem. If he needs anything else, let us know." He hung up and looked at me. "Guess Daryl has a mysterious case on his hands. Jam talked to him about my background in VCS and he's asking if I would do a profile for him. Weird stuff. Two women found murdered, displayed, and dumped at the Fairlawn Cemetery. Funny thing is, nobody has heard a sound, and judging by the mutilation of the bodies, if it was done while they were alive, they should have been screaming their heads off." "Wow. Who's done the autopsies?" I asked. "I don't know. The bodies haven't been buried though. They're being held at the morgue at Richmond as evidence. They think they have a serial killer on their hands, and people are starting to panic. The media has dubbed him the Graveyard Ghost." "Daryl's faxing over the fie?" "Yeah, J said she would call him at work and give him the O.K. and our number. I assume any autopsy reports will be with the stuff he's faxing over." "I better load it up with paper," I said, as I made my way over to it and stuffed another stack of paper into the plain paper fax that we now had. "There's more," Mulder said. "You said they were displayed?" "Yeah, but that's not the weird part. He took two trophies. One was tongues and one was fingernails. They're keeping the fingernails from the press." "In case of a copycat?" "Yeah, or a false confessor." "They've had those already." "Oh yeah. Unbelievable what people will do for attention." The fax machine beeped and began to whir. We both waited as page after page spewed out into the tray. I saw the first page of the first autopsy spit out and immediately looked at the bottom for the name of the pathologist. "Craig Jensen. He's the Richmond County Medical Examiner." "Any good?" Mulder asked. "One of the best ... if not the best. Takes his work very seriously." "Let's see what we've got." We began going through the pages. I handed the police file to him, he handed autopsy reports to me. There were over 20 pages of files here. We took our respective stacks and returned to our seats. Mulder put on his glasses and hunched over the desk to begin reading, placing a yellow legal pad on his right, absently twirling a No. 2 pencil through his fingers. I glanced at him and smiled. He was in concentration mode and I loved to watch him when he was like this. He felt my eyes on him and looked up. "What?" "Nothing. Just thinking about how cute you are with those glasses on." "Cute?" he asked, feigning insult. "How about sexy? Does that work better for you?" He smiled and nodded. "Yes, I believe it does. Have I told you how nice you look today, Scully?" I grinned. "Quit fishing for compliments, Mulder." "I wasn't. I was giving you one." "In hopes I would continue cataloguing your sexy attributes," I teased. He stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and I threw my head back and laughed at him. "You're a goofball." Now he looked injured, "Now I'm a goofball?" "Mulder, get to work. We had nothing to do, now we do, so let's try to make the most of the rest of the afternoon." He sighed dramatically, "The abuse I put up with." "Poor baby. If you're good and work hard, maybe I'll give you a treat at the end of the day." He perked up and whispered, "What would that be Agent Scully?" I looked him in the eye and in my best dead pan said, "How does a nice long blow job sound?" He snorted and then gasped for air and began laughing. Shaking his head, he turned back to his papers muttering, "Sounds REAL good." xxxxxxxxxx Despite my efforts not to get too involved, I found myself fascinated with the case that Detective Daryl Cartwright had faxed over to us. Scully had reviewed the medical files and I was working up a profile and was not getting a pretty picture, not that they ever were. In six weeks, two bodies had been found. They began showing up at the Fairlawn Cemetery, obviously dumped, obviously mutilated. They were displayed and wearing the clothes that they were attacked in. All the victims were about 30 years old and had multiple stab wounds about the chest and belly. The faces were left intact, but the tongues were removed along with all the fingernails. Fingernails. That was a new one. Reminded me of Donnie Phaster and his fetish for hair and nails and I cringed. After getting Scully's analysis of the autopsy reports, it got even more gruesome. She'd told me, "Says here that Jensen determined that all the stab wounds happened while the victims were alive. This sicko likes to take his time." Then, why no sound? That was the mystery. Every house within a mile radius of the cemetery had been canvassed and no one had heard a thing. The cemetery had placed a guard 24/7 at the Fairlawn Cemetery, but he was a rent-a-cop from some city security agency and somehow the killer had been able to slip by him, placing the second victim. Added police patrols through the cemetery didn't seem to stop the perp either. He had to have what we called a 'killing house'. I was getting a picture of the killer but it wasn't clear yet. I had about 10 pages of notes though and I was only half way through the information that had been sent to us. It was 6:00 PM and my eyes were bleary. I sat back and took off my glasses, rubbing my eyes with the back of my fingers and feeling them sting with dryness. "Let's call it a day, Scully. I can't finish this tonight anyway. I'm only half way through this stuff." I heard her computer beep as she powered down her laptop. "Sounds good to me, Mulder. I'm hungry." "I'll feed you. You coming to my place?" I asked. "Sure. I have an overnight bag in the car." "Good, let's hit the bricks."' xxxxxxxxxxxxx FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT 42 HEGAL PLACE ALEXANDRIA, VA 7:00 PM Mulder called from the kitchen. "You want pasta, or frozen pizza?" "Oh yum," I muttered, thinking that I should buy him some groceries or at least stock his fridge with some things my stomach didn't find totally offensive. "Want to order Chinese?" I hollered back and I relieved myself of my jacket, shoes, and panty hose right there in his living room. Our relationship was still less than a year old, but we had reached a new comfort level. I shrugged and walked into the bedroom with my bag and dug out my sweatpants and tank top, changing into comfortable clothes and sighing as I felt the freedom of loose cotton. I walked back into the living room to find Mulder on the phone. "Yes, yes, sweet and sour. No hot stuff. No, no hot stuff - right General Tso's chicken -- right, right, and two egg rolls. Right." He hung up and made a face. I couldn't help smirking at him. "Trouble?" "No, not really, but you'd think they'd have someone who at least speaks decent English answering the phone wouldn't you?" "It's a free country, Mulder." "I know, it just irritates me sometimes. They probably have six kids that speak perfect English and they don't have one of them answering the phone." "Come here," I said, and motioned him to sit on the floor in front of my legs as I sat on the couch. He did and I grasped his shoulders and began to knead the muscles. "Ohhh, Goood," he groaned, stretching his neck from side to side. "You've got rocks back here, Mulder." "I know." "You need a real massage." "This is a real massage." "No, it's a band aid. You need a full body massage. You're way too tense." "You volunteering?" "Maybe later." I continued to knead his muscles and move down between his shoulder blades making him jump as I hit his trigger points. "Ouch!" he cried out. "Sorry," I muttered and then just rubbed his back. He turned around on his knees and placed his head in my lap, his arms coming up to gently grasp my hips. "Mmmm," he hummed and rubbed his face on my legs. I chuckled. He looked so happy and content and I couldn't help feel a little pride at the fact that I knew I was the reason. Despite my scolding about his muscles, he'd been much more relaxed since we'd become a couple. He smiled more and took more time for himself, or for us to just be normal people. We went shopping and to the park together. We had picnics and went out to dinner and the movies. It was a whole new world for us personally. I for one, was loving it and I could tell he was too. We still maintained our own apartments and occasionally spent a night apart, but not very often. One of us usually ended up with the other before the night was through. On the road, we rented connecting rooms and set up one as the case command room and we lived, slept, and made love in the other. No one seemed to be wiser so far. We were very discreet at work, other than the usual teasing banter. Of course, if the place were bugged, we were screwed, given my new proclivity for offering blowjobs and other sexual favors just to see him smile at me. His nose wriggled its way under my tank top and tickled my belly. I giggled as he rubbed it back and forth and then brought a hand up to assist, lifting the hem. He stuck his head under my shirt and began tonguing my navel. I gasped at the immediate warmth that flowed through my abdomen. "Mulder!" "Whafff?" he mumbled and continued his kissing, nipping and licking until he'd reached my breasts. His dark hair sprouted out of the neck hole of my tank top as he took my nipple in his mouth and suckled slow and rhythmically. I groaned, "Ahhhh, that always feels so good." Encouraged, he moved to the other breast and treated the second nipple to the same treatment, his hands flexing their fingers on my hips. He hummed, "Hmmmm, Mmmmm." He sounded so content and I felt myself relax into the cushions. He pulled his head out from under my shirt and went to pull it up and over my head when the doorbell rang. "Damn it," he uttered, and got up to go to the door, yanking his wallet out of his pocket. He paid the delivery boy and returned with our food, laying it out on the coffee table. I chuckled at the scowl on his face. "Hungry, Mulder?" He stared at me with dilated pupils and growled, "Not for food." I flushed and couldn't help the chuff of laughter that escaped. "There's plenty of time. Let's eat." "I'm not hungry anymore," he said petulantly. I shook my head and pointed to the container on the table. "Eat." He sighed and took the lid off and said under his breath, "Tease." "Excuse me?" I asked, raising my eyebrow at him. He grinned. "I'll get you back." "I'll look forward to it, Agent Mulder." He smiled again and we ate the rest of our dinner in silence. PART 5 (PG-13) RICHMOND COUNTY MORGUE TWO WEEKS LATER We had another one. Damn it, and we were no closer to finding out who this perp was. We had I.D.'d two of the girls. Both were known prostitutes. That at least gave a place to start and we sent uniforms out with pictures of all the vics asking other hookers if they'd seen the girls, if they were one of the working girls in the area. It took a couple days but as it turned out, they were both hookers. Some only had 'street names' that the other girls knew. From that we cruised the police databases of prior arrests for solicitation and found the real names of the girls and started the arduous task of informing the next of kin, if there was a next of kin. Not one of the happier parts of the job. Rizzi was angry. She always got angry on any case where women were exploited or harmed and I couldn't blame her. We stood next to each other, gowned and gloved, watching the latest autopsy. Craig Jensen was thorough and methodical, talking into his voice-activated tape recorder as he went, weighing each organ. Gruesome, I thought. I couldn't do this for a living. My tolerance had gone up tremendously since discovering Vicks Vapor Rub and I now carried my own little jar in the glove box of the unmarked cruiser we used, and my personal car, a Kia SUV. Agent Scully entered, gowned and looking much different from the last time I'd seen her. "Hi, Craig!" "Dana Scully, it's been a long time," Dr. Jensen said. "Hi, Dana," I said. She smiled at me and bustled up to watch Craig work on the body. Rizzi said, "Hi, Agent Scully." Then she turned to me. "We have to find the 'killing house'." "It may not be a house," I replied. "I know. But you know what I mean. I just don't get it. You'd think someone must have heard screams and called the cops, wherever he's doing this." "Not if he's out in the boonies," I supplied. "I've been checking old cases, cold cases, looking for a similar M.O." "Any luck?" "No, but I did find something interesting." "What's that?" "There are some drugs used for anti-seizure treatments that in the right dose can paralyze a person." "Paralyze?" "Yeah, like you can't move at all ... and you can't speak," she said softly. "Or scream," I added, catching onto where she was going. "Right, but we did tox screens and nothing was showing up except the regular stuff. Some amphetamines, some coke and pot lingering in their systems." "Yeah, but maybe we haven't tested for the right thing." "Craig?" Rizzi called to the Medical Examiner in a voice loud enough for him to hear. He finished the cut he was making and then raised his head. "Yes?" "How extensive were the tox screens you did?" "Pretty thorough. I check for drugs, legal and illegal. I check for any medical conditions that are indicated by BUN and Creatinin levels." "What about diabetics?" "Huh?" "Do you test for diabetes or epilepsy?" "I can usually tell from the brain tissue if the victim has epilepsy in any severe form. What are you looking for?" "There's a substance called Curare." Scully spoke up. "Yes, I've heard of it. It's sort of the natural substitute for Phenobarbital in epileptics that have grand mal seizures. You can buy it over the counter at a pharmacy." "Over the counter?" I asked, surprise evident in my voice. Dr. Jensen smiled. "Yes, some health food stores too. I personally don't agree. If you don't know what you're doing, it can be dangerous. Dosage is critical. When that's the case, natural, homeopathic or not, I don't think it should be sold without a prescription." "Dangerous how?" I asked. "I'd have to look it up to get ALL the symptoms but if you overdose, it can paralyze you." "The muscles?" "Yes, even the heart muscle, which is why it's so dangerous. Can cause a heart attack." "And it could kill you," I concluded. "Yes, ..." He stopped and his eyes widened slightly. I knew he'd just figured out where this conversation was going. "What are you thinking?" "I don't know," Rizzi replied. "But here's a question. In the right dosage, would it paralyze your vocal chords?" His eyes got even wider. "I bet it would," he said softly. "I've got to redo these tox screens, looking specifically for paralytic substances." He was suddenly brisk and animated. "I'll bet Curare isn't the only substance that can do that." "I'll bet not. I read about it in a very old case where the lack of sound and screams was a dominant feature in the case. Turns out the victims were injected with Curare through a syringe, directly into their trachea and vocal chords. It was gruesome. They were perfectly conscious and awake as they were tortured and couldn't utter a sound." Jensen shivered a bit and scrunched his shoulders. "The capacity of people for cruelty never ceases to amaze me." Rizzi nodded in agreement. "Let's go do some research. You'll let us know if you find anything different." Scully said, "That's research I could do for you." Rizzi beamed at her. "Really? That would save a lot of time. And being a doctor, you'd have a better idea as to whether something was potentially applicable or not." Jensen said, "Oh, I did find something a little odd in the last victim." "What's that?" "A discoloration on the liver where one of the stab wounds was. I tested a slice and it turns out it was copper." "Copper?" "Yeah, I have no idea what would get copper inside the body." I went still and then blurted out, "Unless there was cooper on the murder weapon." "It's a knife," Rizzi said, sounding puzzled. "We THINK it's a knife. It's something that stabs or cuts like a knife, but who says it's really a knife?" She stared at me for a moment. "We have more work to do." "You bet, and Mulder's profile should be coming in today." Scully responded. "He said he'd meet you at the station house when he had it finished. He was nearly done when I left him." "Let's hit the station and make a new grocery list," she suggested. "We'll divvy up the work." "Sounds like a plan to me," I agreed. We left Craig Jensen up to his elbows in blood, looking at us over his shoulder as we quickly fled the morgue. I heard Agent Scully say, "Can I use your computer?" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA WEDNESDAY, 5:00 PM We walked in to find Mulder waiting on the visitor's bench. He stood as we approached. "Hey, we didn't know you were coming until we ran into Agent Scully at the morgue," I said and stuck out my hand. Mulder shook it. Then he extended his hand to Rizzi. "Good to see you again," I added. "Emma Rizzoli," she introduced herself. "Everybody calls me Rizzi." "You must be the ace partner we've heard so much about," Mulder quipped. Rizzi grinned and turned to me. "You telling tales out of school, Cart?" I smiled. "No, but J might have." She smiled. "I know I have a muzzle somewhere. Damn, I forgot to bring it in again," she joked. Mulder laughed immediately, warming to her as most people did. "Shall we?" I asked, waving my hand toward the squad room. They followed us into one of the dingy interview rooms and I offered coffee. After looking dubiously at the muddy mixture in the coffee pot, he refused and I got a soda from the machine outside the door instead. We settled in and Mulder asked, "Any progress?" "No, but we had some more thoughts at the morgue this morning." His eyebrows lifted. This was Agent Scully's area of expertise, I remembered. I wondered if Jansen would be offended if we had Scully do the next autopsy. I felt sad feeling fairly certain there would be a next body. We proceeded to lay out all that had happened since we'd sent them the file, which consisted mostly of explaining the latest victim and the evidence of copper on the one victim's liver wound and our suspicions about a paralyzing agent in the victims to prevent screaming. He nodded and didn't interrupt other than to ask a clarifying question now and again. I knew Rizzi was reluctant to ask for help from the Feds, but when I explained Mulder and Scully's relationship to Jam, and their unconventional methods of investigation, she relented. I'd explained that they were not your typical FBI agents and they wouldn't take the case over from us, which was her main concern. Finally, Mulder produced a manila folder from his briefcase. "I've drawn up a preliminary profile. I may add to it as more information becomes available but for now, I'd like to give you a synopsis." "Fire away," Rizzi encouraged. She was frustrated at our lack of progress. She didn't want this to be the one we couldn't solve, one of those 20% that went into cold case files. "This guy isn't going to stop, is he?" "No," Mulder said, looking grim. "And he's definitely escalating. He went from five weeks apart to two weeks. Not good. I suspect you are looking for a white male 30-35 years old, in the neighborhood of the victims' ages. He's single and probably lives alone or with a female family member. I suspect that wherever he's killing these women, it's in another location away from his home. It's a possibility that he's killing them in his home, but only if there is a secluded basement or an outbuilding like a barn that would provide him with a lot of privacy. Your theory of a paralytic agent preventing screams, however, would point more directly to his own home or outbuilding, rather than a remote location. A remote location wouldn't require silence. "Our boy is very, very sick. Your stab wounds are pre-mortem which you know. It appears, that the tongue and fingernails, however, are extracted after death." "At least they don't suffer that while awake," Rizzi replied. Mulder nodded. "Not much consolation, considering what he does beforehand." "I hear you," Rizzi said. "He's a sexual predator, no doubt." He continued. "We are dealing with someone who is rage based. There is no DNA evidence of rape or sexual penetration, per se, but we do believe this is a sexual predator. I think he wears a condom." "How so?" I asked. Mulder answered. "Fetishes don't appear out of nowhere. People develop them over time. Often childhood humiliations can be transformed into adult fetishes. For instance, Mom makes you wear dresses while she hems them. You develop a fetish for seamstresses. Your sexual urges are ignited by someone who wields a needle for a living. That's a silly example, but the only one I could think of at the moment." "So you're saying our boy has a fingernail fetish for some reason." "Yes. It's possible fingernails are a big part of his sexual arousal process." I grimaced, slightly confused. "I can't imagine how that would work," I said. Rizzi smiled. "Never had your back scratched in a moment of passion, Cart? I'll have to talk to J about that." I blushed and coughed behind my hand. "Watch yourself, Rizzi." She beamed an unrepentant grin at me and Mulder chuckled. I'd informed Rizzi that because they knew J, our relationship was not taboo subject matter with these two. "How is J, anyway?" Mulder asked. "Good. Actually, he's considering giving that up." "Cross dressing?" Mulder asked, evidently surprised. "Well, the lounge acts anyway." "Not enjoying them anymore?" "I think he's tired of it. Wants to do something more substantial." "Like what?" "Maybe start his own business." "Oh, like what?" Mulder asked. "Why don't you ask him about it," I said, not wanting to continue this conversation, not knowing how much Jam wanted people to know of his plans. Mulder nodded, understanding that he was probing more deeply than I was willing to accept at this moment. "What else is in that profile?" Rizzi jumped in, dispelling the momentary discomfort of the exchange. I knew I shouldn't be uncomfortable around them. I was just so reflexively in the closet at work, it was an old habit. And the walls were thin around here. I decided to mention it since I didn't want them to feel I was being snobbish. I looked at Mulder. "Thin walls here, you know? We'll talk later." He nodded. "Understood, no problem." He turned to Rizzi. "O.K., so we have a fingernail fetish. I'm not sure about the tongue but I suspect he probably had a rough childhood, possibly a mother that nagged or yelled at him all the time and he got a little too sick of hearing her castigate him." "So he takes the tongue as a symbolic trophy of shutting up whoever this female is in his life that he feels such rage toward." "Yes, she could have been his first victim," Mulder added. Rizzi groaned, "Meaning there's one we haven't found?" "It's a possibility. The other possibility is that this female is the one he lives with and when he can't stand her anymore, he goes out and kills her." "Using the victim as the substitute to symbolically kill his nemesis, because he doesn't feel he can really kill her." "Right. These killers are usually people who work in solitary professions, but not necessarily. I think this one isn't solitary though, for some reason, I don't think this one is college educated. But I suspect he's got some sort of education, possibly in a trade. I don't think he's any type of corporate or higher educated profession. I'm thinking EMT, fireman, something like that." "He is clever though," I added. "Definitely. He's washed the bodies of his prints and trace evidence. He dumps the bodies away from the killing zone, and he's left no DNA behind." "But he's a sexual predator," Rizzi stated. "That doesn't make sense." Mulder interjected. "He could get his rocks off where ever he kills them, leaving any semen or DNA at THAT scene, but not on the body." "Jacking off into tissue?" Rizzi suggested bluntly. "Could be anywhere. We won't know until you find the killing house." "Wonder if he saves that too," she mumbled, clearly sickened by this information. Mulder said, "I suggest that you check all the hair and nail salons in Richmond for women with single male offspring in the 30-35 range that still live with them." "Good idea. Why didn't I think of that?" Rizzi said. "That sounds like a good task for you, Cart," she slipped in. I looked at her. "Why me?" I asked, imagining hours of fruitless interviews. "Because the ladies love you, Cart. You know it's true. They're threatened by me, but you give them that Tom Cruise smile and they melt into their shoes. They'll tell you their life history." I smirked at her. "Oh goody. Just what I want to listen to, a bunch of fag hags." Mulder laughed out loud again. "There are worse things," he added. Rizzi grinned. "Yeah, but I'll always be your FAVORITE fag hag." "Not if you keep this up," I teased back. She pouted, sticking her cupid bow bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Oh quit it. Yes, you'll always be my favorite." She smiled then, falsely brightening and said to Mulder, "He can't stay mad at me, no matter what he tells you." They exchanged a smile and said, "Is J working today?" "No. Not tonight either, and he made me promise if you came to Richmond to not let you go without visiting." "O.K., I'll leave this profile with you and keep the copies of the case file." Rizzi said, "Let me get the Murder Book and make copies of the recent info. I'll also fax the latest autopsy when we get it." Mulder suggested, "Maybe we can help with the research on the paralytic agents? The FBI has a huge trace evidence data bank." "I'd appreciate that," Rizzi replied. "Agent Scully already volunteered," she answered. I looked at her. "And what are you going to be doing while I'm hearing all these beauty salon life stories?" She smiled and blinked rapidly. "I'm going to be looking for any businesses in Richmond that use copper." "Ahh," I said, and then repeated her words. "Why didn't I think of that?" "That's why we make a good team, Cart," she said. "What I don't think of, you do. And what you don't think of, I do." "Oh, I knew there was a reason," I replied dryly. I turned to Mulder to find him grinning at our report. "I'll call J and tell him to expect you for dinner." "Sure. Oh, one more thing. This guy obviously knows enough of police procedure to get rid of the evidence. He knows what we will look for and hasn't left it behind. The copper, if it was on the weapon, could be his first mistake. I would expect this guy to be highly intelligent. I would also be on the lookout. He might try to insinuate himself into the investigation." "How so?" Rizzi asked. "He might hang out at a regular cop bar and talk to cops. He might get a job as a mail boy at the station here, or something like that. Or, he might be a witness you have to interview." "Never a dull moment," Rizzi deadpanned. "Who would want that?" I asked sarcastically. PART 6 (NC-17) JAMIE LEVEAU'S APARTMENT RICHMOND, VIRGINIA LATER THAT EVENING We all sat around the table sipping coffee after consuming a pot roast, potatoes and baby carrots. I'd gone all out, knowing Mulder and Scully were coming. I'd run to the grocery store in a frenzy to get everything I needed and get back home to cook it all on time. I was glad to be seeing them again. Daryl was grinning as he came in with them a few hours later. They'd obviously hit it off and I was glad. He hadn't gotten to spend much time with them the last time they were here. I felt so ... domestic having Daryl here and guests for dinner. It was almost like we were keeping house together and I sighed wistfully to myself, knowing he could ruin his career if he moved in with me. I knew it was necessary, all the pretense, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't resent it sometimes. They talked about the case but then we moved on to brighter subjects, laughing and teasing each other. Their relationship was apparently going well so far, which I'd had no doubts about. Fox was more relaxed and at ease than I'd seen him in years. It made me happy for him to see that he'd finally realized what he'd been missing. The room went suddenly quiet when Mulder asked teasingly, "So Daryl, when are you going to make an honest woman out of my friend here?" Dead silence fell on the room and Scully whispered, "Touchy subject I take it." I nodded and stared into my coffee cup. Then Daryl surprised the hell out of me. "Actually, I've been thinking about that lately." My head jerked up and I stared at him. Mulder backpedaled. "Look, sorry. I was just teasing, didn't mean to set off a fire bomb." "No, I don't mean to be hesitant. I'm just ... used to NOT discussing it," Daryl replied. "Even with me, apparently," I muttered. "Look," Scully said. "Maybe we should go." "No!" both Daryl and I nearly shouted. They went still and then Mulder said, "Well then let's change the subject." "How about those Knicks?" I asked, flashing him a sad smile. Daryl surprised me again. "No, I don't want to change the subject." "Daryl, I don't think this is the time," I said. "I think it is, Jam." "In front of our guests?" I asked. "Maybe that's what's giving me ... courage," he replied softly. I nodded. Mulder and Scully said, "It stays right here at this table. You know that, Daryl, don't you?" Scully asked. He nodded. "I'm sick of hiding," he said finally after a few more moments of silence. "At work?" Mulder asked to clarify. Daryl nodded again. "Yeah, some suspect but can't prove. Others retired that knew for sure. Rizzi knows, obviously and she's great." "She's a pistol," Scully added, smiling. Daryl grinned. "She's a piece of work, all right. One of the highest solve rates among the D's." "So do you," I added. He shrugged noncommittally. "Jam and I have talked about moving in together, but shelved it more often than not." "You weren't ready," Mulder said and it was a statement. "Yeah, I guess I was trying to figure out what all the consequences would be and if I wanted to deal with all that." "I don't want you to have to deal with all that," I interrupted. He waved a hand at me. "I'm at a point now where I realized I don't give a damn." "About your co-workers?" Scully asked. "Right. My solve rate speaks for itself. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." "Easier said than done, Daryl," I added. He nodded. "True, but you know what, J?" "What?" I asked. "It's about priorities." "Priorities," I repeated carefully, the question evident in my tone. "Yeah, what's more important to me? My relationship with you? Or my job?" Mulder smirked as though he knew what was coming. I was afraid to hope. "And you've come to some conclusion about that?" "Yes." "Wanna share with the class?" I asked softly, my tease falling flat. He smiled that beatific smile that showed all his teeth and his features softened as he looked at me. His voice was husky when he said, "You win, hands down, Jam." I felt a traitorous tear leak out of the corner of my eye and angrily wiped it away. "Damn it," I muttered. Daryl leaned out of his chair and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me on the forehead and nuzzling my hair. I looked up in time to see Scully elbow Mulder gently with her eyebrows raised. Mulder cleared his throat. "I think we need to get back to the hotel, J. Thanks for a great meal. We don't get home-cooked very often any more." "You don't have to leave," I said, torn between wanting to spend time with Mulder because it was so rare that we got together, and wanting to be alone with Daryl to discuss this new change of heart he seemed to have had. Daryl sat back in his chair, releasing me. I missed the heat of his body instantly. Something snapped inside me when he was tender with me. "We'll be staying a few days, unless we get called back to D.C. for another case, so we'll be around." "Come for dinner tomorrow?" I asked. Daryl said, "Let's all go out to dinner tomorrow." Mulder nodded. "Sounds good. J, you have my cell number. Call us with a time and place and we'll meet you there." "Will do," I said. I stood up and started clearing the table while Daryl showed them to the door. I'm sure I wasn't supposed to hear it but I did. Mulder said, "You two will be O.K.?" "Yeah, we will." Mulder's voice was stern. "J's had a lot of disappointment in his life." "I know," Daryl said. Scully said softly, "Mulder, this isn't our business." "He's my friend. I'm making it my business." I was about to walk in and break up the party when I heard Daryl say. "You don't have to worry, Mulder. I won't hurt him." "Promise?" Mulder asked. Daryl said softly. "Promise, I ... love him." Mulder must have given some indication of acceptance because I heard the door close behind them. A few seconds passed and then Daryl appeared in the kitchen door, leaning his bulky shoulder against the doorframe and striking a casual pose. "Well that was interesting," he muttered. "What? Mulder protecting me like Momma Bear?" He paled slightly. "You heard all that?" "Yes," I said simply, drying my hands on a dishtowel and leaning back against the counter. He pushed off the doorjamb and walked toward me with a lazy gait. His hands landed on my hips and he looked down at me, searching my face. I couldn't help the anger that rose up in me. "You told THEM, but you can't tell me, can you? Damn it, Daryl!" I hissed, working myself up for a tirade. I took a deep breath, preparing to push him away and start talking again. In that brief quiet, he said softly, "I love you, J." I froze in mid push, my hands on his chest and stared at him in stunned silence. He lowered his head and brushed his lips over mine, just gently and pulled away a mere inch. "I'm sorry I've been such a dolt." "Don't worry about it," I squeaked, embarrassed at the breathy tone of my voice. "I was wrong. I should have said it to you first. I just ... he made me feel cornered, and I want him on our side." "Our side?" "He's your friend, one of the few that truly accepts you. I know that and how much it means to you. I wouldn't want there to be dissention between us. I like him too." "He's a good friend," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. "Leave the dishes," He muttered, nuzzling my neck and making me shiver as he planted butterfly kisses on my neck and pulse. I gasped as arousal shot through me. "I should finish here." "Leave the dishes," he repeated. His huge hands slid around and cupped my ass, lifting me off the floor and up against him. I had no choice but to put my arms around his neck to hold on and wrap my legs around his waist. I could feel his partial erection against my own cock, which was making noise of it's own. He turned without a word and crossed the floor into the living room, heading straight for the stairs. He carried me up the stairs as though I weighed nothing and laid me back on the bed after entering the bedroom and kicking the door shut. I stared up at him as he began to peel his dress shirt and khaki's off his spectacular body. XXXXXXXXXXXXX THIS PORTION NC-17 XXXXXXXXXXXXXX I gazed at his ridiculously broad shoulders and swept my gaze down his chest to his lean waist, then to his narrow hips and long legs. His washboard abdomen rippled. As I watched, his cock rose up off his leg engorging with blood. I sat up and ripped off my tee-shirt and slacks, throwing them over the side of the bed. He watched me, standing quietly. His eyes blazed with desire and they looked black. His voice was ragged when he said, "It's not safe to love me, you know?" I knew he meant because of the job, the repercussions, and the fact that Detectives tended to make enemies. I whispered, "I don't have a choice. I don't know if I ever did." He inhaled deeply and followed me as I scooted back on the bed, my prick rigid with anticipation. "I want you so much," I said, my voice quivering with need. I felt that primitive need overwhelm me with a quickness that was dimly terrifying. He could break my heart so easily. I wondered if he knew how easily. I didn't trust easily and it had taken some time for me to trust him. I still didn't know if I could trust him with my heart. But I needed him and there was no turning back for me now. His eyes sparked with need as he grasped my hips and flipped me over onto my stomach. I heard the top pop off the lubricant and without warning his fingers suddenly and roughly split my anus and inserted themselves deep inside. I made an incoherent sound of pleasure as I relaxed my ass and felt him pump his fingers in and out. I heard his feral grunts of arousal as he abused my ass, widening it in preparation for his cock. "Uh, uh, god, J, uh." It excited me to no end. Then I felt it. The large mushroomed tip of his shaft pushed against my back door, slipping easily through the stretched ring. I felt it close around the head and tightened my muscles. He groaned, his voice sultry, "Oh Jesus, gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, you make me crazy." I knew how much it excited him to hear me talk dirty. "Take me, Daryl. Show me how much you want me. Fuck me hard," I sputtered. He grunted, losing hold on his control and slammed the length of his meaty prick inside my bowels, opening me wide. I shrieked in pain and began breathing deeply, consciously relaxing my muscles as he stayed still. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I want you so much." "Show me," I moaned. His large cock began pounding the sensitive inner flesh of my ass with such intensity that I was totally incapable of speaking. I made unintelligible sounds of intense pleasure, whimpering as his cock touched places that he had never reached before. My body accepted his cock willingly. "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH, AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH," I shouted as I felt my balls spasm and I began climaxing into the sheets, spurting hot spunk all over my belly as he nailed me to the mattress. He began grunting and talking as he thrust deeply inside, snapping his hips and pressing up at the end of each stroke, stimulating my prostate with every blow. "Watching my cock slide in and out drives me crazy. You're so fucking sexy, J. Nobody excites me like you do. Oh God, your little ass is so delicious." I squeezed my ass muscles in response. "Oh YEAH!" he shouted. "Milk me, do it again." I did it again and continued to do so as he howled, "Oooohhhhhhh, soooo good! Oh Jesus, oh Fuck, J." "Come on. Cum for me, lover," I choked out in between crushing thrusts. He shouted, "I LOVE YOU SO MUUCCCH," as began emptying his balls up my ass, warmth flooding my insides as his hips jerked involuntarily with every ejaculation. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX He collapsed on my back, his nose in my hair. He pushed it out of the way and found my neck, kissing me there and licking my sweat. I shivered and he whispered. "I'm a fucking idiot, J. Can you forgive me?" "For what?" "Holding back." "Forget it." "No. Never again. I love you, J. Jesus, how I love you." I felt tears sting my eyes as his now flaccid penis slid out of my body. He massaged my ass as my sphincter closed up. Then he sat up on his knees and flipped me over onto my back, moving out of the wet spot, his legs straddling my thighs. He leaned down and kissed me softly. "I could have lost you cause I'm such an emotional retard." I chuckled in spite of the seriousness of his words. "You can't lose me, Daryl. I love you too much." He moaned softly. "I don't deserve you, J." "Well, we KNOW that," I teased. He chuckled and looked at me again, all his features soft and sated. I gazed at his rippling muscles as he shifted his weight and then he stretched out above me, my legs wrapping around his hips. He took his weight on his elbows and began kissing me again, softly and with such tenderness I felt the traitorous tears come again. He finally pulled back and looked me in the eye. "I want to live together, J." I bit my bottom lip. "Give it some time. I want you to be sure. Don't make these decisions while we're all emotional." He shook his head, "No, I'm sure. I want you so much, but ... I need you, J. I need to come home to you every night. I need to know you're going to be there to wrap your arms around me after a hard day. I need to feel your lithe, tiny body pressed up against mine while I sleep." The tears fell. Well, fuck, I simply couldn't hold them back anymore. I felt like a weeping fool lately. It was all coming so fast and furious. From a stonewall, to a flood of endearment. "What changed your mind?" I asked tentatively. He leaned his head to one side, looking slightly amused. "Can't just accept it at face value, huh?" "I could ..." I said slowly. "But you don't want to and you know what?" "What?" I asked. "You deserve better. Better than me in fact, but definitely better in the way of explanation." "You must admit, you're not the most effusive individual on the planet." He chuckled. "No, I'm not. And I can't tell you that is something that will ever change. But I do know this. I love you, J., don't ever doubt it, even if I forget to tell you." I nodded and kissed him softly on the cheek. "I was in the morgue today," he said suddenly and I jerked my eyes up to meet his frown. "I was watching the autopsy," he continued, with a far away look in his eyes as he looked over my head. "That poor girl lying there and I wondered if she had anyone that loved her. Any one that would give a damn that she was lying cold on a slab in the county morgue." I swallowed heavily. "And it hit me like a Joan Crawford coat hanger," he said dryly and I chuckled. "What hit you?" "That I was a fool. That I could die tomorrow and you would never know how I felt about you. And that scenario simply wasn't good enough. Simply wasn't acceptable anymore." I didn't know what to say so I said nothing and he brought his eyes back down to my face. "I've known I was in love with you for a while, J. I don't know why I couldn't bring myself to say it. Maybe cause it's new. Maybe because I'm afraid of being hurt." "I'll never hurt you." "Don't make promises you can't keep." "O.K., how bout this?" He looked at me expectantly. "How 'bout what?" "I'll always love you and I'll never leave you." "Promise?" he whispered, echoing Mulder's exacted confession. "Promise," I whispered and we kissed again. He slid off me, turned me onto my side and spooned up behind me, his large body cocooning me in warmth. I sighed in contentment. "I love you, Daryl." "I love you, too, J. We'll talk about moving in together tomorrow." "O.K., sleep on it." "I don't mean it that way. I don't need to sleep on it. I'm just tired." I squeezed his arm where it was draped over my waist and he hugged me back in response, molding my body into the cradle of his chest and pelvis. "Sleep now." "Mmmmm," he hummed and dropped out like a stone. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx 18 YEARS AGO RICHMOND, VA "You're little pecker is hard again! Jesus Christ!" "I can't help it!" he cried. "Your father can't get it up, and you can't keep it down!" "I'm sorry!" he cried again. Her anger suddenly disappeared as if she'd had a wonderful idea. He cringed in fear, afraid she would strike him again. She reached for his hard on and he scooted back on the bed. "Easy, little man," she cooed suddenly. Her voice all the more frightening for its calm. He gripped the covers as her hand wrapped gently around his rock hard erection. He moaned as she pumped gently. Her other hand came down and scraped her fingernails across his scrotum, not hurting this time but sending bolts of arousal through it's shaft and up his spine. "You're are a little man, now, huh? Fourteen years old and almost all grown up. Why haven't I noticed before?" "Don't know, Momma, ahhhhhhhhhh." A few more strokes and he came, spurting his spunk high into the air. It landed with a dull splash on his chest. She smiled and licked a little off her finger and smiled at him. "I think our relationship is going to change, Willy. I'm tired of fighting, aren't you?" He nodded warily, afraid to speak. "I think I've been going about this all wrong," she said as though speaking to herself. "Instead of being upset with your lack of control, I think maybe I need to take care of these nasty episodes for you. Teach you control. What do you think?" He swallowed but didn't say anything. "Well?" she asked, the anger cutting into her voice again. "Yes, Momma." "You want Momma's help?" "Yes, Momma." "All right then. As long as your father isn't home. You get a nasty hard on, you come to Momma and she'll get rid of it for you, all right?" "Yes, Momma." PART 7 (NC-17) RICHMOND REGENCY HOTEL RICHMOND, VA ROOM 205 Since we weren't officially on a 'case' for the X-files and were doing this out of our own pockets, there was no reason to be discreet. There are criteria that allow the FBI to step into a local investigation, and this case didn't warrant FBI attention at this time. There were no state line issues. The FBI's "official" assistance hadn't been requested. It was merely Daryl asking us to help out with a profile, not assist in the actual investigation. I knew that if we went to Skinner with a 302, he would turn it down. Mulder had rented one hotel room, complete with an efficiency, not knowing how long we would be here. We'd taken a week's vacation time and left word with Skinner to call us if we were needed back in D.C. We'd said only that we were helping out a friend on another police force. Skinner hadn't asked any questions and approved our vacation time, which we'd both built up. I watched as he emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. His spiky hair was still damp from the shower and I let my gaze linger on his chest, admiring his golden hued skin. He looked at me and stood casually next to the bed, returning my gaze. I was laying in the middle of the bed, stark naked with my hands behind my head. He asked, "How likely do you think it is that the female in this guy's life is a prostitute?" The question was jarring and brought me out of my admiration for his body. We were done for the day and I didn't want to discuss the case. I sighed, knowing he had a hard time just 'turning off' his brain when the day was done. "I don't know. I'd be more inclined to think that prostitutes are just easy prey. They ask for a date, you say yes and they jump in your car, no questions asked. And it's rare that anybody misses them for a while. Most of them are disconnected from their families, most don't have good friends. Their pimps are probably the only people that will miss them." Mulder nodded. "Hmmm, you're probably right." "Come to bed, Mulder." He met my gaze again and said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep going on the case. I know you like me to relax once we're home." I had been trying to get him to do that, leave work at the office. Mulder had this amazing capacity to look like he wasn't paying attention. Then all of a sudden he would throw all these bizarre associations at you. More often than not, he ended up being right and it left me feeling a bit wobbly and off center, unable to keep up. His was like cerebral flypaper. Whatever went in got stuck there and never left. His eidetic memory was a force to be reckoned with. But then he would touch me and all feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty vanished. I found that I lived for his touch. It balanced me in a way I couldn't explain. And I felt at some basic level that it did the same for him, anchored him and balanced him in our ever changing world. But there was a case to solve. He was fond of saying, 'Reality is the curse of the sane.' "Well, we're not exactly home," I conceded. "No, but we're done for the day." "Yes, ... but ... I really hope we can help catch this guy." I shivered. "Me too, this whole thing reminds me way too much of Donnie Phaster." Mulder scowled at the mention of his name. "I was hoping you wouldn't make that connection." "How could I not?" I asked. He sighed. "I'm sorry. No more talk about the case." He dropped his towel and crawled into bed, coaxing me under the covers. He began running his hands up and down my side, brushing the sides of my breasts and I sighed again, this time with arousal. "Keep touching me," I whispered. "You like that, huh?" he muttered, as his mouth surrounded my nipple and his hands continued rubbing up and down, over my hips, and back up. "I want you," I whispered. "Ain't that the truth," he said, "I mean, I want you too," he corrected, looking sheepish. I chuckled. "Well, I do want you and that's the only truth I care about right now." "Don't think about 'you know who'," he commanded. "Make me forget," I whispered. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX My body felt so in tune with his. I'd never experienced this level of connection with a lover before. It was a craving of sorts, elemental and I needed it like I needed air. Sometimes I felt that I would die without his touch to sustain me. I wondered how I'd ever gone so long without it. I groaned as I felt him maneuver between my legs and rub his cock against my clit. He gave out a primitive whimper around the nipple he was sucking, letting me know that he was just as affected as I was by the fire we ignited in one another. I raised my legs, wrapping them around his slender hips and felt him slip into place. He moaned gently and released my nipple, adjusting himself and taking his weight on his forearms. He pressed slowly but steadily inside me, filling me to the brim with his full nine inches and it was my turn to moan. He began thrusting gently, staring at me with that odd intensity that he had. It made it nearly impossible to look away. When it was too much, I would simply close my eyes. If they were open, I had to look at him. He loved to watch my face, watch my reactions to everything he did to me. I knew he was still slightly baffled that he could make me feel so aroused, so out of control, that he could make me climax with abandon without a whole lot of effort. I could always tell by the awed expression on his face every time I had an orgasm that it was still somewhat of a mystery to him. He muttered, "Oh, damn. You feel so good, Scully." "Mmmm, yeah," I muttered, unable to speak intelligently at this point. He sped up, the sounds of our skin smacking lightly against one another filled my ears. Our bodies broke out in a fine sheen of sweat and we both began to pant as his large cock filled me over and over again. He shifted and coaxed one of my legs higher, changing his angle of penetration and sinking even deeper. I groaned, feeling his balls plastered to my ass. He was in so deep. When he resumed thrusting, the wide mushroomed head of his cock, scraped over my G-spot, making me cringe and then melt into a puddle of warm vibrating sensations. "Oh Jesus, yes, Mulder. Right there." His eyes lit with the fanatic gleam he possessed when he was determined to make me come. His strokes became harsher and I moaned again. "Yeah, Scully. Come on, Baby. Cum for me, baby. That's it," he mumbled, never losing his rhythm. "Oh God!" I shrieked and felt my inner walls begin clamping around his hardness in rapid spasms. He stretched out his neck, his eyes going to the ceiling, then his head snapped down to stare me in the face as he watched me vibrate and quiver beneath him. His strokes slowed and he kept pumping. My nipples peaked into hard points of desire and he dropped his head, gently sucking as I came down, moaning, and gasping. When I'd recovered, I pushed on his chest. He stopped, looking slightly bewildered and sticking his lower lip out in a pout. I kissed him harshly and said, "Roll over onto your back." He beamed me a toothy smile then and retreated, hissing as his still hard cock emerged from my depths. He rolled off me and onto his back. I followed, straddling his thighs. I bent down, kissing him slowly and thoroughly and then made my way down his chest, until I was positioned between his legs, my hands cupping each one of his taut butt cheeks. He moaned, "Ohhhh, yeah." I lowered my mouth to his waiting cock, licking his head. He bucked slightly and I chuckled, sinking down to surround him. He groaned loudly and muttered, "Oh yeah, suck me off, Scully. I love the way you do this." I could taste myself and was always surprised at the pleasant tangy taste. I bobbed my head, taking more of him with every stroke. He fisted the bed sheets and began pulsing his hips toward my face. I grabbed the portion of him I couldn't swallow and jerked him slowly in time with my mouth, applying suction. In no time he was chanting, "Oh, oh, oh, yes, oh, oh, so close, oh, oh, God, Scully!" I sucked hard, jerking quickly with my hand and he shouted, "YES! Here it comes!" I felt his warm jism explode into my mouth and swallowed just in time to feel another, and another. I swallowed, retreating slightly and swirling my tongue around his pulsing shaft and cleaning the residue off. When I was satisfied that he was clean, I slipped slowly off his now flaccid penis and smiled up at him. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX He smiled a lazy smile of sated post-coital lethargy and motioned me up. I crawled onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. "I love you, Scully, just in case I forgot to tell you today." "You didn't, but I can't hear it too many times." "Oh, well, in that case, I love you again." I chuckled. "I love you too, Mulder." "Let's get some sleep." "Got my vote," I mumbled, feeling sleep tugging at my consciousness. He rolled me onto my side and pressed himself up behind me, spooning me in the warmth of his large torso. I snuggled in, wiggling my butt against the cradle of his pelvis. He hummed with contentment and buried his nose in my air, his arm slipping beneath my neck to pillow my head. "Love you," I muttered. "Love you," he muttered back. And we both slipped off into dreamland. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rizzi went out on her first date in years. I'd been right. Sam Kelly had asked her out. I hadn't let up on my teasing since. "I told you so, I told you so!" "Shut up," she would reply, but I could see the light pink creeping into her cheeks. "I can't resist. I get so few chances to say I told you so." "Any luck at the beauty parlors?" she asked, deftly changing the subject. "Not really. None of them are old enough to have grown children. The ones that are, have daughters. A couple have sons, but they live in other states or far away. I have a small list of names of in-state sons I want to run background checks on, but I don't expect anything to pop up." "Bummer." "Yeah, I have a feeling, if there is a connection there, it's someone who is retired or doesn't do it anymore. Think about it. If your son was grown, "What about businesses that use copper." "We have a hit. There were two plants to create copper tubing and piping, but they didn't create anything, other than a pipe that could be construed as a weapon." "And we know our stab weapon was not a pipe." "Right, so I asked for a list of customers." "Customers?" "Yeah, you know, who buys their copper tubing." "Good thinking. Anything?" "Not at first. Most were HVAC outfits that needed copper tubing and piping for air conditioning and heating elements. But one of them, Rinaldi Heating said he thought that The Armory bought some copper." "The gun store, The Armory? Or the federal armory?" "The gun store," Rizzi replied. I raised my eyebrows. "That's certainly odd." "So I went to talk to the proprietor, one James Fischer." "And?" "And he said they don't use copper for any guns, although some bullets do have copper tips. BUT, they have a guy who works there, Jeremy King." I waited and she said nothing, "What I have to prompt everything here?" I asked. "O.K., I bite. What does Jeremy King do?" "He makes hand crafted knives." "Knives, uh huh." She was nodding, smiling, her dimples showing. I gave a mock growl of impatience and she laughed. "Some he buys and adds decoration to afterwards, on the handles and such, others he crafts from scratch." "He does it there at the armory?" I asked. "No, he has a shop at home in an old barn. Has himself foundry ovens and everything to heat metal. He makes them there and then sells them on consignment at The Armory." "Did you get a look at any of them?" "Yup, I bought one." "You bought one?" She walked over to her desk and I followed her. She opened the side drawer and reached in, coming up with a knife in a plastic bag. "Nice, huh?" "Whew!" I whistled. It was a hunting knife. The blade was six inches long and about two inches thick with a wicked point. It's distinguishing feature was a wavy line of copper color down the center of the blade that blended into an ivy decoration of copper leaves that wound around the handle of the knife. The back end of the handle was covered in copper. "Could be our culprit." She nodded. "I asked him to get me a list of everyone that has bought one of these knives." "Everyone?" "He's only been doing it for two years, or at least, only been selling on consignment at The Armory for two years, so James Fischer said he would go back in the records. He keeps the consignment records separate. He said often it's collectors that buy them, never intending to use them, but they display them in cases in their homes or at shows." "How much did that set you back, Rizzi?" "Two hundred bucks." "Wow!" "Yeah, they aren't cheap." Just then a voice from the other side of the squad room called out, "Emma!" She ducked her head, dropped the knife back in her desk and slammed it shut. I looked up and grinned as Sam Kelly made his way through the sea of desks towards us. "Hi Sam," Rizzi greeted him as she stood up. "Hi," he said softly. "Uh, sorry to bother you here, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to a movie tonight. Maybe see that second Lord of the Rings movie?" She smiled and turned to me. "We have a big agenda tonight, Cart?" "Nope. Go have fun," I said, unable to keep from grinning. "Shut up," she mumbled. I grinned again. "I didn't say anything." "You didn't have to you beast." I laughed then and so did Sam. "Giving you a hard time, is he?" "Yeah, but I'll kick his ass later," she teased. Sam leaned in and gave her a quick, but discreet peck on the cheek that rose the color in her face. "See you later. I'll pick you up at 7:00." "O.K.," she said softly. He flashed me a smile and waved over his shoulder as he made his way back out. "Rizzi's got a boyfriend, Rizzi's got a boyfriend," I teased in a singsong voice. "Cart. I'm warning you. I will kick you in the balls." I faked crossing my legs in anguish. She laughed. "I'll go back to The Armory tomorrow. He should have our list by then." "I'll run these backgrounds just for kicks." "Want help?" "Nah, run along and get ready for your date." She scowled, waiting to see if I would tease her more. After a couple of seconds I said. "Go on. I'm happy for you, Rizzi. You deserve it." "Thanks, Cart." "Besides, I like my balls," I couldn't resist teasing. She let out a guffaw and turned to leave. "See you tomorrow." "In the AM," I replied and watched until she was gone. Jam was taking his test tonight, so I was on my own. I got up and went to the back wall where several computers were set up. I began doing background checks with no real hope of getting a hit. PART 8 (NC-17) POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA Rizzi and I sat in one of the interviews with Scully and Mulder. They'd called and asked to meet us first thing this morning. Scully was frowning as we all fixed our coffee, fresh from the deli across the street. She pulled a magazine out of her brief case. "I was doing research on some drugs that are paralytic agents. Interestingly enough, most of them use curare as a base. I was doing some research and they referenced an article in the New England Journal of Medicine. I went to the library and checked out this issue. It was a study done at Boston's Children's Hospital. I'll read the pertinent parts to you. **"In an article in the February 17 issue of the New England Journal of Medicine, Dr. Robert D. Truog and four co-authors from Boston's Children Hospital discuss the practice of administering paralyzing drugs to patients whose mechanical ventilation is being withdrawn at the end of life. "These drugs, derived from curare (the famous South American blow-dart poison,) cause total body muscular paralysis. Doctors use these drugs relatively frequently when treating patients on ventilators. Paralyzing the muscles of respiration can render the mechanical ventilation more effective - essentially by keeping the patient from "fighting" against the ventilator. In these cases, the drugs are used for their therapeutic effect. "But Truog et al. describe how some physicians administer these same paralyzing drugs when withdrawing the ventilator from patients who appear to be a t the end of life. Sometimes they simply fail to discontinue the drugs when the ventilator is withdrawn. In other cases, they actually initiate paralyzing drugs at the time the ventilator is being turned off. The rationale, apparently, is to make the patient appear peaceful in his or her final moments, or (according to a Dutch study quoted by Truog,) to shorten "a very prolonged dying process." "The authors point out that while these drugs cause total body paralysis, they do not change a patient's state of consciousness, nor do they dull pain. In fact, if patients are otherwise conscious when the ventilator is withdrawn, these drugs leave them capable not only of feeling pain, but also of fully perceiving the agony of suffocation - all while appearing to be quite "peaceful," by virtue of their total body paralysis. "Indeed, the authors indicate, the patient's peaceful demeanor may be the very thing that keeps medical personnel from administering adequate sedation and analgesia. After considering the ethical issues involved, Truog and his co-authors conclude that, in general, paralyzing drugs should not be used when withdrawing mechanical ventilation."** She looked up and put the magazine down, a grim look on her face. Rizzi swallowed hard and said, "Son of a bitch." Mulder spoke up. "It's interesting that the use of one of these drugs could make the patient look peaceful. "Why?" Rizzi asked. "It may indicate some remorse on the part of the UNSUB." "I don't know," I said. "Why do I get the feeling, this guy likes to hear them scream." "Maybe not. Maybe he likes the control only, or it is a place where he can't afford the noise." "Damn, what does this mean?" Rizzi said. Scully offered, "It means there are several drugs that could be used. But other than buying small doses of curare in a drug store, which wouldn't be enough to c ompletely paralyze someone, you would have trouble getting the drugs." "Not if you were a doctor," I suggested. "Or a nurse," Rizzi said. Mulder said, "I don't see our guy as being that educated, but it's possible. The other possibility is that he's simply a hospital employee or volunteer." "Like a janitor?" Rizzi asked, sounding incredulous. "It's possible, or a phlebotomist, could be anyone who has access, or could steal a key and get access. I would suspect someone who works night shift when there is less traffic around." Rizzi sighed. "There's two hospitals in Richmond." "Richmond General and Samaritan Hospital," I explained. Mulder said, "I'd get a list of night shift employees, even the ones that rotate shifts, anybody who could work night shift, or does on a regular or semi-regular basis." "That's thousands of people, I'll bet." I said, "We'll have to ask someone to run backgrounds for us. There's no way we can get through that many. It would take weeks." "I have some friends in Records," Rizzi said. "I'll see if I can recruit a few of them to work on it." I sighed. "Thanks for your work, Agent Scully." "No problem. I'll check with Craig Jensen again for you and get the results of his second tox screens. That might narrow things down for us if he found anything." "Let's get going, Cart. I'll call Samaritan, you call Richmond General." Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ALDO'S RESTAURANT RICHMOND, VA Sam clinked his glass with Rizzi's across the dinner table at Aldo's. "To the most beautiful woman in the world." "Stop it," I said. "Why? It's true." I shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds like a pick up line." He frowned and looked down. "Sorry." Now I'd hurt his feelings, damn it. "No, Sam, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to this, I guess." He smiled tentatively. "I really do think you're beautiful, Emma." I was allowing him to call me Emma, even though no one except my family did. I had thought about it and decided if we were going to have a relationship, I should let him call me by my first name. I had, however, asked that he call me Rizzi when we ran into each other at work. We didn't need to advertise our relationship. "Thanks, Sam. You're not so bad yourself," I said, teasing. He smiled wider and looked down at his body. "What? This old thing?" I laughed. "You're 33, not exactly over the hill." He grinned and took a sip of his wine. "Ready to go?" "Sure." He paid the check and we walked out to the parking lot, sliding into the car. He drove slowly on the way home, the silence becoming uncomfortable. We'd gone out several times now and I still hadn't invited him in. I wondered if I would tonight. He pulled up to the curb and said, "Can I walk you in?" "I'll be fine," I protested. "I know, that's not why I want to do it." I looked at him and met his gaze. "Come on," I said. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX EMMA RIZZOLI'S HOUSE 50 MAPLE DRIVE RICHMOND, VA He smiled, looking relieved and I got out and led the way into my apartment building. I got to the door and slid my key in, turning the slide bolt and shouldered the door open. I felt uncomfortable in my knee length black skirt and blue silk blouse. I was not used to dressing this way, wanting to be ... feminine. I wore pantsuits mostly to work. He followed me in but stopped just inside the door, not invading my space as he shut the door behind him. "Nice place," he said as he looked around my small living room. It wasn't much. A sofa and coffee table with one recliner, a bookshelf and a stereo along one wall with a TV and VCR on top of another storage cabinet. But it was tasteful, with light green carpet and beige walls. I turned and put my purse down on the small knick-knack table near the door, brushing against him as I did so. I heard his small intake of breath and straightened back up. I looked him over from head to toe. His dark hair was combed nicely, a lock falling over his forehead. His blue eyes were staring at me and I flicked past them and looked at his muscular chest hugged by the snug blue dress shirt he was wearing. His broad shoulders tapered into a lean waist where his shirt was tucked into tan khaki's. He was wearing socks and brown loafers. He wasn't tall, only about five foot, nine inches, but to me at a screaming five foot even, he was plenty tall enough. I smiled up at him and stepped a little loser, my hands landing on his waist. He stared down at me, his breathing a little faster than normal and I saw his eyes dart to my lips. I'd only let him kiss me once before and it had been rather chaste and I'd cut it off quick. Now, I was feeling flushed with a good meal and several glasses of wine. He was looking so good to me and it had been so long. I knew it was early in the relationship to start a sexual thing, but I at least wanted to kiss him. I wanted to let him know I was interested in continuing, give him something to look forward to. I whispered, "Kiss me, Sam." The corners of his mouth twitched and his hands came up to cup my face. His thumbs rubbed gently over my lips and I gasped quietly. "So beautiful," he murmured and lowered his mouth to mine. I opened my mouth inviting him in and he hummed and let his tongue slide into my mouth. I moaned softly and he dropped his hands from my face, wrapping them around my back and tugging me up against him. I could feel his arousal pressing into my belly and it felt like granite. He sucked on my tongue and I groaned. One hand slid down and I cupped his perfect ass cheek in my hand and squeezed gently. "Oh yeah," he breathed out, breaking the kiss and pushing his pelvis into mine. One of his hands left my back and slid up my side, caressing, his thumb sneaking under the curve of my left breast. "Oh," I whimpered, feeling a ripple of pleasure in my chest, my nipple hardening to a tight, nearly painful bud. He spun me around and pressed me up against the wall near the door. I was a little startled but he wasn't rough. I could feel his arms trembling with suppressed passion and it excited me. How long since a man had reacted to me this way? I wondered. I couldn't remember so that meant it had been way too long. He muttered, "Oh fuck, Emma, you make me crazy." His mouth descended again, his hot, wet tongue bathing the inside of my sensitive mouth with delicate strokes. He tangled with my tongue. I didn't even realize it but I was pressing myself against him. He groaned and lifted my right leg, hooking it over his hip, pressing his cock firmly against my center under my hiked up skirt. "Oh shit," I muttered, feeling my crotch flood with wetness. I could smell myself so I was sure he could. "Emma, please," he said in a ragged whisper. I wasn't sure what he was saying or asking ... then again, yes I did. He was being so good. Here I was grinding against him and he was stopping, trying to slow it down. "Sam, I don't know. I mean, I'm excited but ..." "I won't hurt you." "I know, but we've only gone out three times." "We're not strangers," he reminded me. "God, Emma, I want you so bad." His mouth descended again and I felt my resistance melt away. It had been a long time and we weren't strangers. I'd known him since I'd joined the force. I let my leg fall and pushed gently on his chest. His arms dropped and he stepped back, his arms hanging at his sides, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists. He stared at the ground. "I have to go then, Em," he said, his voice gravel toned and sexy. "No," I said firmly. His head snapped up and our eyes met. "Let's go in the bedroom," I heard myself saying, surprising myself, despite my erotic thoughts. His eyes lit with such lust and desire I thought I was going to faint. "Yes," he said. We went into the bedroom and I reached for the light. He stopped my hand and said, "No, leave it out." "You're not afraid of me seeing are you?" I teased. He hesitated and I focused on him. "No, but I want to feel my way, explore you everywhere." I thought this was odd but I didn't question it. I was too horny now. I undressed and turned to find him in just his boxer briefs and his unbuttoned dress shirt. "Get naked," I said. XXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXX He smiled in the wan light that was filtering in through the window from the moon. He pulled his boxers off first and I stared at his erection, standing tall and leaking pre-cum from it's burgeoning head. He put a knee on the bed and started to slide over to me. "Shirt," I said. "Fuck it," he said and descended on me. He kissed me everywhere, my hands sliding over his pumped up chest muscles, then down to his waist. He kissed my breasts, and suckled my nipples until I was whimpering. His hand slid down to my knee and lifted it up, placing my foot flat on the bed. His fingers slid down and tested my readiness, finding me soaking wet. My juices flowed out over his fingertips and he muttered, "Jesus Christ, Emma." "Shirt," I said again, sliding it off his shoulders. "Can't wait," he said and suddenly he was right there, the crown of his beautifully thick cock pressing at my entrance. I gasped his name, "Sam!" That was as far as I got and he slid inside me in one rough, hard stroke, burying himself to the balls. I yelped at the pleasure/pain of his entrance. It had been a long time. My muscles quivered around him, stretched to an unbelievable degree. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "So thick, give me a second. Been a while," I gasped. He nodded and took all his weight on his elbows, his forearms sliding under my shoulders, and his hands cupping over the top of my shoulders. He seemed like a giant over me, half his face in shadow and I looked up and had a trickle of dread run down my spine. He looked crazed in that moment, but then he smiled and I was sure I'd imagined it. I was so out of practice! He felt me relax and pushed deeper, stretching the door to my womb. I gasped again, my cervix thinning out over the head of his cock. I hadn't realized he wasn't all the way in. "Oh fuck, yeah, Emma." "So big," I whispered and gasped again. Without warning, he pulled back and surged into me again, banging into my cervix and stretching it unmercifully. "Easy!" I cried out. "Sorry, sorry. So good, Emma." I forced myself to relax as he remained embedded. We were both overexcited. I knew he didn't mean to be rough. "S'Okay, go ahead," I instructed as I felt my lower body relax and fade into the mattress. He gave a few experimental thrusts. I could tell he was holding back, trying not to go wild. I lifted my hips toward him, impaling myself, feeling my insides relax with the extra lubrication that was seeping out of me now. "Oh shit, I'm so excited," he muttered. "It's all right. Go ahead, Sam. Show me how much you want me." Thrust. "Aww, fuck!" Thrust. "Oh shit!" Thrust. "So tight!" Thrust. "So tiny." One small phrase after another spewed out of his lips as he thrust hard into me and then paused to utter a phrase, then withdrawing and doing it again. I could feel myself move to the next stage of arousal and began lifting my hips towards him again. "Feels good, Sam." "Forgive me," he muttered. "Forgive you?" I asked, my voice lost in his next cry. "AAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, GGGGGGGGAAAAAAAA!" He braced himself and began slamming into me with all his strength, his body hunched over me like he was going to devour me. "Ooww!" I cried out as his big phallus slammed into my cervix hard. A dart of pain ripped up my spine. "Oh yeah!" he cried. I grasped for purchase on his shoulders as he continued his frenzied assault, slamming into me like a wild man, his knees on the bed, using his legs for extra powerful thrusts. My hands slipped on his shirt, and I grabbed the bed covers, feeling my ass bounce on the bed and pop back up to assist him in striking deep. "SAM! Please, slow down!" I cried. To my horror, I felt a tear slip down my cheeks. I looked up at his face and he was staring at me, grimacing through a smile of all teeth, looking absolutely crazed with animal lust. "Oh shit, can't, Emma, forgive me. Can't, can't. Oh have to FUCK YOU! It's so good." I choked on my sobs. It hurt but it wasn't intolerable. I willed myself to relax and accept him into my body. I was bouncing around too much and my hands slid onto his back around his waist and I clutched him to me, hoping that I could slow his assault and take away his leverage. He screamed, "No Emma!" I glanced up puzzled just as my hands slid across his lower back, feeling the ridges of scars there. He was embarrassed! That's why he'd kept his shirt on. He had some sort of wound and he was embarrassed. I felt a wave of sympathy rush through me and he actually slowed a little bit. "It's all right," I whispered. He stopped suddenly and lay panting on me, still hard and throbbing inside me. "Don't touch my back, please," he said. "It's all right. I don't care about a scar, Sam." "More than one," he said. "I don't care," I whispered. He leaned down and kissed me. I felt him shaking, but then he surprised me and started to thrust again. He was slow and leisurely now, his attack of craziness seemingly having evaporated with my acceptance of his scars. "So sorry I hurt you, Em. Never want to hurt you." I rubbed his lower back feeling several welts and wondering if he'd been beaten, or gotten hurt in the line of duty. I'd have to ask about it but now was obviously not the time. He stroked into me now and then rolled over onto his back. I straddled him and put my hands on his chest. He was peering up at me. I realized he was crying, silently. No sound came out of him but his ragged breathing. "Oh Sam," I cooed and began to lift and settle myself on his shaft. "Sorry, Emma. Oh God, can you forgive me? I didn't mean to be so rough. I lost control. I'm so sorry." He was upset, but ironically, still hard as a rock, possibly even harder than he'd been before and it felt great now that I was controlling the pace and harshness. I sped up a little, impaling myself and squeezing his nipples. He threw his head back and groaned, "OOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhh, Emma, yeah!" I lightly scraped my fingernail over his nipple, noticing a couple of fine white scars running along his pectoral muscle as well. He bucked suddenly and fiercely underneath me. "Oh GOODDD!" "You like that, huh?" I teased. He nearly choked as he nodded and I braced my fingers, my index fingers flicking my nail over each of his nipples. They were hard little nubs. His chest heaved every time I did it and the look on his face was that of exquisite ecstasy. I knew some men loved to have their nipples played with but I'd never seen a man react this way. A constant, "Aww, aww, aww, awww!" came from the back of his throat. It was about the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. I tipped my hips forward, crushing my clit between us as he clutched my hips and I ground into him rapidly. I felt his cock pulse heavily and hotly inside me becoming unbearably hard and then I was screaming, "SSSSAAAAMMMM! Oh God, yes, I'm coming!" He grunted and began to thrust up into me as he found his own release. I collapsed onto his sweaty chest, panting like I'd run a marathon. I felt twinges in my nether region and knew I was going to be sore. But lord, it would be worth it. Who knew that shy, polite, Sam Kelly was such a dynamo in bed? XXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXX I giggled. And he smoothed my curly hair and coaxed my face off his chest. I came up on my arms, which were weak with post coital lethargy. "What's so funny? You know, when a girl laughs after sex, it can give a guy a real complex." I chuckled again. "I just ... I'm happy." He looked astonished that I would say that and smiled. I could see the wetness pooling in his blue eyes. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Emma. I lost control. I don't know what happened. That's never happened before. I just ... wanted you so bad, and you felt so damn good.. You're so small inside and I ..." he trailed off. "Shhh, big man. It's all right. I told you. I'm a little out of practice so that makes me a little ... well, let's just say I'm not stretched out." "I'm sorry," he said again. I leaned down and kissed him. "Forget it. Wanna shower now?" "Yeah." We got up and he carried his clothes into the bathroom and hopped in the shower. I went in a minute later after finding some sweats and a tee shirt. It didn't want to put my skirt back on. The bathroom was full of steam and I saw his silhouette through the smoked glass. He turned his head. "Can I come in?" He hesitated. "Emma, I don't know ..." "I don't care, Sam," I repeated, knowing he was once again afraid to let me see his back. I wondered how bad it was. "Ohhh, O.K.," he said, sounding hesitant again. I pulled the door open and stepped in to find him facing me. "I need to get wet," I teased. He smiled and shuffled to the rear as I came forward, careful to keep his front to me. I wet my hair and shampooed. His hands aided mine as I lathered up my hair and then rinsed it. I sighed at the blissful feeling of hot water cascading over my body. He picked up the soap and a scrubby sponge I had on the ledge and soaped it up. He washed me from head to toe, turning me to wash my back and always keeping his front to me. I rinsed off and then moved to slide to the back. "Your turn." "I'm all right." "Sam, I'm a grown girl. I promise not to freak out cause you have a couple scars." He looked at me, debating the sincerity of my statement and then turned, very slowly so that I could see his back. I couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped me. His tanned back was crisscrossed with white, welted scars from the top of his shoulder blades to the crest of his buttocks. "Jesus," I muttered. "What happened to you?" He shrugged. "I was beaten when I was a kid." I soaped up my bare hands and then put them down on his back and I lightly ran my hands over his back with gentle strokes. He was tense and rigid, but as I continued rubbing, he slowly relaxed. We rinsed him off in silence and climbed out, drying off and getting dressed. We retreated to the living room after I brewed some coffee and made us both a cup. While I was in the kitchen I had a horrifying thought. Our UNSUB had a fingernail fetish. What if? NO! It couldn't be. I swallowed hard as I pulled the mugs out of the cupboard. Mulder's voice crept into my head saying, "He may try to insinuate himself into the investigation, get a job in the station." Jesus! It couldn't be, could it? I felt bile in the back of my throat. He said he was beaten. Don't jump to any conclusions, I told myself. I settled onto the sofa and he took the other side, turning slightly to face me. "I'm sorry our first time was so weird." I took a deep breath. "Want to tell me about it?" He frowned. He didn't even have to ask what I was referring to. "Not really," he said. I nodded. "All right. But Sam ..." "What?" he asked with a slight edge in his voice. I sat up rigidly, suddenly slightly afraid of him. "If we're going to have a relationship, a healthy one anyway, we can't have secrets." He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and then said. "I know, I guess I'm just not used to ... talking about it. I don't like to talk about it." "You don't have to tell me now, I guess, but ... I'll be honest. It will bug me until I know." I thought about the first crime scene, the only one he'd been at, and me finding the fingernails missing. Had he been watching at that point? Had he seen me discover that? We'd kept that from the press. I decided to see how much he knew. "Sam." "Emma," he said at the same time. We smiled at the same time. "Go ahead," I said. "My parents were into S&M," he said quietly. My eyes went round. Uh oh, I thought. He continued. "I didn't know that at the time. But they owned all kinds of toys, including whips and paddles, etc. And when I was out of line or bad ... which by my father's standards, didn't take much ... he would beat me." I nodded, not wanting to interrupt if he was willing to tell me. "He'd use a cat-o-nine tails. Do you know what that is?" "Yeah, in theory. I know I've never actually seen one." "It was his favorite weapon." I frowned. "How old were you?" "It started when I was around ... eight or nine, I guess. I don't really remember. But it continued until I was about 16." "What happened then?" I asked quietly. "I got bigger than he was and I beat the shit out of him when he came after me. I was so full of rage and I just snapped one night after he pushed me over the kitchen counter after chasing me in there with the whip and something primal just took over." He was silent for a few moments, looking off into space. "He hit me once and then I broke away and just started swinging. I couldn't stop, even after he'd collapsed unconscious on the floor, I kept swinging." "Did you kill him?" I asked quietly. His head shot up. "No!" He paused. "My mother's screaming finally penetrated my brain and she was on my back trying to pull me off and I finally stopped and stood up, just watching him there on the floor, his mouth and nose bleeding. She called an ambulance and they took him to the hospital. "And?" "He never touched me again. My mother became a drunk and I got a job bagging groceries and saved every fucking dime I could. I graduated from high school and moved out. I moved in with a buddy of mine into this crappy little apartment and I never looked back." He laughed. "The stupid thing was, after he came home, I waited for the retaliation and it didn't come. And then one day I asked him if he was still mad at me." "What did he say?" He chuckled again. "He said he'd never been mad at me. He was proud that he'd raised such a tough kid. Said I was a man now." He looked at his lap and then took a sip of coffee. "I'm sorry, Sam." "Don't be. He was an asshole. He actually respected me after I beat the shit out of him. I guess that's how he measured whether or not you were a man." I shook my head. "That has to leave scars," I said, and then grimaced at my choice of words. But he merely chuckled, "Yeah, in more ways than one." "I'm glad you told me." "Me too," he said softly. "Me too." PART 9 (PG-13) SAMARITAN HOSPITAL RICHMOND, VA We were in a conference room waiting for the next employee. It was 8:00 PM and we were tired. We'd been at this since 10:00 AM. Rizzi had been quiet all day except for when she was interviewing employees. I wondered what was on her mind. I knew she'd had a date last night and I hoped nothing had gone wrong. I knew how much Sam Kelly liked her and I wanted her to be happy. The last employee entered. She was a petite woman, about 50 years old, dressed in a Nurse's Aid uniform. "Good evening," I greeted her. She sat down in the chair across from us. Rizzi said, "I'm Detective Rizzoli and this my partner, Detective Cartwright." "Hello," she said softly, her eyes darting from side to side. I looked at my list. "You're Darlene Mackie?" "Yes." "And you're a Nurse's Aide," I clarified. "Yes." Her hands were folded in her lap and she was wringing them slowly. I raised my eyebrows at Rizzi. She took over. It was our strategy to have Rizzi question nervous people or woman who seemed intimidated by me. Rizzi's voice was soft and sympathetic. "We're sorry to interrupt your shift, Ma'am, but we just have a few questions. You're not in trouble." She seemed to relax some, but not much. "Can you give us your full name and address?" "Sure. Darlene Mackie. 146 Edge Hill Road, Richmond, VA." Rizzi continued. "What department do you work in?" "Cardiology," she said softly. "Do you have access to the drug closets?" "No ... yes ... well, sort of." I looked at Rizzi with a question in my eyes. She asked, "Can you explain?" "Well, I can't give drugs to patients." "Who can?" "The nurses or doctors." "Do you get them for them sometimes?" she asked intuitively. The woman nodded. "Yes, I don't have a key myself, but sometimes if they are in a hurry, they will give me theirs and ask me to get something for them." "They trust you to do that." It was a statement that implied Rizzi was impressed. The woman relaxed her shoulders slightly and I silently applauded Rizzi. "Oh yes, I always bring it straight back to them." "O.K. Do they check the drug you've brought them before giving it to the patient?" "Of course, always." Rizzi nodded. "Have you ever taken anything other than what you were asked to retrieve for the doctor or nurse?" "No!" she said suddenly but her eyes darted to the wall and her shoulders slumped a little more. She was lying. Rizzi and I exchanged a look. This woman was tiny, maybe five foot, three inches at most. There was no way she was our UNSUB. We were sure it was a male. But it had never occurred to either of us that our UNSUB might have an accomplice. Rizzi and I exchanged another glance and I knew she was thinking the same thing. Rizzi sat back in her chair, adopting a comfortable pose. Then she fired a question at the woman. "Have you ever had a drug or alcohol problem, Ms. Mackie?" she asked casually, trying to eliminate that possibility for the woman's nervousness. "No." She straightened in defiance but her eyes still wouldn't make contact and her head tilted to one side. She was lying again. "Do you have any children, Ms. Mackie?" she asked, neatly changing the subject. The woman jerked her head up, surprised by the question. "Um, yes, two boys." "How old are they?" Rizzi asked calmly. "One's 30 and the other's 33." "What do they do for a living?" "One's is an carpenter and the other is a police officer." "A police officer?" Rizzi asked quickly, her foot falling off her knee and her relaxed posture gone in an instant. What the hell was going on? I looked at her and raised an eyebrow in question. She ignored it. "Yes, but he doesn't speak to me. I live with my other son." "What's his name?" I asked. She looked at me as if she'd forgotten I was there and maybe she had. "Um, his name is William. I call him Willy." "And your other son's name?" I asked, feeling like Rizzi was losing the focus of her questioning. Something was wrong. She was pale and I didn't want her to cut this one loose too quickly. "Arthur," she said softly. "He's the policeman?" "Yes." "Where is he a policeman? Here in Richmond?" "I think so. Like I said, he doesn't speak to me." "Why not?" I asked. She seemed to shrink in her chair. "He hates me," she admitted. "Anything you can tell us about?" She swallowed hard and then said softly, "His father beat him. I never did anything to stop it." I looked at her carefully now and noticed the slightly jaundiced color to her eyes. Her nose was beak-like and red with small broken capillaries. She had slight hand tremors that were apparent when she raised her hands to the table and laced her fingers together in a nervous fashion. It came to me suddenly that she was a drinker. The tremors were probably because she hadn't had anything to drink in the last few hours while she was working. "I'm sorry to pry ma'am." "I understand." Without prompting she said, "My Willy is a good man." I had no idea what that meant. I glanced at Rizzi and she seemed to have composed herself. "Good carpenter?" Rizzi asked. "Yes, and he takes care of me." "He ever hunt?" I asked. She seemed perplexed by the question but said, "Why, yes, he does sometimes. Hunt's deer when it's in season. Nothing like fresh venison steaks." "No there isn't," I replied. "Does he butcher them himself?" "He guts them, but then has a friend butcher them and wrap up the meat. Why?" "Just curious. He has the tools for that?" "Don't take much, just a hunting knife and a bucket. He has a hook set up in the barn." "Does he own a gun?" "I don't think so," she said, but certainly didn't sound sure. She hid her hands in her lap again. "That's all, Mrs. Mackie. You're excused. Thank you for your cooperation." She left and Rizzi said, "Let's get out of here." "You all right? I thought you looked a little peaked there at one point." "We need to talk." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx She stood and went out the door before I could stand up and gather my pad and pencils. I followed her, nearly trotting to keep up. She was really upset about something. We got in the car and headed back to the station. "Want to tell me about it?" "I need to check something first." "O'Kaayy. Do you want to call it a night?" "Let's just go back to the station." "Yeah, all right. I want to run a background on Mrs. Mackie. She was way too nervous for my taste." "Yeah, I want to look up her sons too." "Her son's a cop. Maybe we can find out if she has a drug problem. I think she's a drinker." "I think so too," she said. We pulled into the station parking lot and she was out of the car in a flash. I sighed and decided I wasn't running to keep up with her this time. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA She was already at the computer when I got to the squad room. I sat down and went over my notes, making a new grocery list. "Shit," Rizzi exclaimed. "What's wrong?" I asked. "There is no William Mackie in here." "Maybe he has no criminal record," I suggested. "I'm in the computer for the Town Hall records of births and deaths." I stood up and walked over to her, standing behind her chair. "Maybe he wasn't born here." "We should have asked her if she'd lived in Richmond all her life." "I can call tomorrow and get that." "Would you?" "Sure. What else is bugging you?" She shook her head. "I need to think, O.K., Cart? Something about her struck me." "Yeah, partner, sure. I'm here if you need me." "Thanks," she smiled at me. "Everything all right with Sam?" Her smile froze and no longer reached her eyes. "I don't ... yeah, sure." "Rizzi," I said, knowing she was lying. "I'm just not sure yet, that's all." "If you want a relationship with him?" I asked. "Yeah, I need to think some more." "I think he's a good man, Rizzi." She paused and then said cryptically. "I hope so." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 146 EDGE HILL ROAD RICHMOND, VA Someone was pounding on the door. Fuck. I got up from the recliner and went to it, peering out the peephole. Oh shit, I thought. I opened the door and stood back waving him in. "Will," he said firmly. "Arthur," I replied. "What do you want?" "How's Mom?" "She's working." "Hasn't been fired yet?" he asked. "Fuck you, Artie. You're always so righteous." "She's a drunk, man." "Yeah, well, she's still our mother." "Do you need money?" "No, but thanks for offering. As long as she works, we're fine. I don't want your fucking money, anyway." He sighed. "You behaving yourself?" "Yeah, of course." "Don't fuck with me, you little pervert. Are you keeping it in your pants?" I nodded sharply. "Not that it's any of your fuckin' business." "That last girl nearly charged you with rape. Do you know how many diseases you can catch nowadays fucking a hooker?" "But she didn't. What? You afraid of your precious reputation? She was a hooker for Christ's sake." "I'm a cop. I should have arrested you for soliciting." "No shit, huh?" I said sarcastically. "Why didn't you?" "I've worked hard to get where I am, Will. You'd do well to do the same." "Fuck you, I do all right." "Yeah, you look like you're doing great. Place is a pig sty." "Get out," I said in my most menacing voice. He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Call me if Mom needs anything." "Sure, Mother Teresa." "Fuck you, Will." "Fuck you, Arthur." I stared at the door as he let himself out. Our visits were always the same. I hated him. Holier than thou, always the lucky one. What the fuck did he know? Old crone had never scratched his ball sack. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx JAMIE LEVEAU'S TOWNHOUSE RICHMOND, VA The phone jarred me to wakefulness and I rolled over, looking at the clock. It was 2:00 AM. What the fuck? I grabbed at the phone on the bedside table, hoping it wouldn't wake, Daryl. My hopes were dashed when I felt him roll over and come up behind me, his head on his hand, his elbow on the bed. "Hello," I answered. [Ahhhh, Oh God, sorry, J.] "Rizzi?" I asked. Daryl sat up abruptly. [I need to talk to him. Is he there?] she asked in between hiccups. "Sure, honey. Hold on." I rolled over, covering the mouthpiece. "She's sobbing." I handed the phone to Daryl. "Rizzi? What's wrong?" ["Oh, Cart. It's awful. I think ... I think ... shit!"] "Slow down. Where are you?" [At the cop shop.] "Still?" [I've just been sitting here, trying to figure out what to do.] "You still haven't told me what's wrong." [It's Sam. Oh shit, Cart, I fucked up. I fucked up, big time.] "Go across the street to the all night coffee shop. You know the place, the Java Hut?" [Yeah.] "We'll be right there, give us fifteen minutes." [O.K., thanks. I have a lot to tell you. I'm sorry it's so late.] "Don't worry about it. I'm on my way. Can I bring J?" [Yeah,] she said in a little girl voice I'd never heard on her before. "See you in fifteen." Daryl hung up and handed the phone to me while sliding out of bed. "She's really upset. Something about Sam." "Did they break up?" "I think it's more than that. She was upset all day, and she was bothered while we were interviewing and after we got back to the cop shop, but she wouldn't talk to me about it." I hung up the phone and got up. We dressed quickly and were out the door in five minutes. PART 10 (PG-13) JAVA HUT RICHMOND, VA We walked in and found her sitting in a booth at the very back. The place was empty but for one other patron sitting at the coffee bar. We slid into the booth across from her and the waitress appeared. We ordered a whole pot of coffee and the fixings so we wouldn't have her disturbing us every few minutes. We settled in with our coffee. Her eyes were red and Jam was silent as he observed her. He was a good judge of body language and I wondered what he was picking up, besides that she was distressed which was obvious. "What happened, Rizzi? Tell me from the beginning," I prompted. "Last night I took Sam home with me after dinner." I waited knowing there was more. "He ... we ... did the nasty." I smiled, only slightly amused at her reticence to say the words. "And that's a bad thing?" "Not in and of itself, no." J was silent, taking in the exchange, but then said, "What did you find out that startled you?" I looked at him oddly and Rizzi let a sad smile crawl across her face. "You're too perceptive by far," she stated. J merely smiled and nodded at her to continue. "He has scars on his back." We both looked at her quizzically, wondering what that had to do with anything. Rizzi didn't strike me as the kind of woman that would care about that sort of thing. "So?" I asked carefully. She swallowed. "Not a few, his back is covered with them, crisscrossing his back from his shoulder blades to this low back. He kept his shirt on trying to hide them from me but I felt them and later saw them ... uh ... in the shower." "O.K., I still don't follow." "Wait. He said they were from a cat-o-nine-tails that his father used to use to beat him when he was a kid." "Shit," J said, and grimaced. I held her gaze and waited for her to continue. When she didn't, I said, "I'm not seeing where this is going, Rizzi." "Did you notice Darlene Mackie's nails, Cart?" It took me a second to rewind my brain and find the name. Oh, the last night shift employee we'd interviewed. "No, I didn't." "Well, they were professionally done, long and thick, painted pink to match her nurse's aide uniform. She was the most suspicious of the employees. I didn't know why, but something wasn't right about her. She looked haggard, and wore no make up and yet, her nails were done." "Everyone has their vice. Are you thinking she's involved in the case somehow because of the nails missing? I don't see her as being big enough or strong enough to kill those girls. Anyone can kill with a gun, but these women were overpowered and stabbed repeatedly with a knife." She held her hand up. "Let me tell you the rest." J whispered, "Quit interrupting her. This is hard for her." Despite the whisper, Rizzi heard and nodded a thank you to J. "O.K., tell me the story and tell me when you're finished," I said a little more testily than I meant to. She nodded. "I was doing those background checks and I couldn't find William Mackie." "I remember," I said and then shut up after a glare from J. "So I tried to look up the other son that's supposed to be a cop." "Arthur Mackie." "Right, only he isn't on the rolls with Richmond P.D." "She did say she wasn't sure if he was in Richmond but assumed he was." "She was lying. I knew it, I could tell by her body language. So anyway, I did a search for Mackie alone, and nothing, nobody by that name on the Richmond force. I checked a few neighboring divisions as well ... nothing." I waited this time, knowing this was where her story was going to get interesting. She sniffled and said, "On a whim, I decided to look up Sam Kelly's record, you know, just out of curiosity." I nodded. "Samuel Kelly didn't come up as a cop on the Richmond force either." "What?" I cried out, now thoroughly confused. "I know," she said softly. "So I did a last name search and a Kelly did come up in Richmond, so I pulled his photo, but Samuel isn't his first name, it's his middle name." Not sure I wanted the answer, I asked, "What's his first name?" "Arthur. I pulled up his photo to be sure." "Oh shit," J said quietly. Rizzi swallowed some more tears and then scrunched up her face in misery. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything, Rizzi. This woman's name was Mackie." She was shaking her head. "So I went back to the Town Hall death and birth records and ended up digging into the marriage licenses. In January 1972, Darlene Perry married Samuel Kelly." "No way," I muttered. She nodded. "Yes, Samuel Sr." "Why does she go by Mackie?" "They divorced in 1989. She remarried in 1991 to Dr. Henry Mackie. He died last year. Sam Kelly died two years ago." "What about the mystery son?" "Arthur Samuel Kelly, born July 1972, six months after the first marriage. William Maxwell Kelly, born October 1975." "Which makes Arthur the oldest at 33, and William the youngest at 30. And she remarried about two years after her divorce." Rizzi nodded. "It fits. I mean, he didn't even give me his real name!" she cried. I reached out and patted her hands on the table. "We'll check it out. We need to talk to him, find out what the deal is first. Let's not jump to any conclusions." "I know, but it's hard. He has all those scars, and I don't think they are from a whip. He was, at one point ..." "What?" "A little rough with me," she whispered. I knew my face turned hard. "Did he hurt you, Riz?" She shook her head but it was tentative. "Don't lie to me, Rizzi. Did he force you?" "NO!" I nodded and swallowed, licking my lips. "But he was rough." "For a minute only, then he stopped and kept apologizing, saying he didn't know what came over him and he lost control and he was sorry ..." She chocked on her tears again and then they slid silently down her cheeks as she looked away. "We don't know anything yet, Rizzi." "FUCK!" she yelled suddenly, gaining the interest of the clerk behind the counter and the lone patron at the bar. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll do more research in the morning. We need to ask him how much he knows about the victims." "Remember Agent Mulder said that the UNSUB might try to insinuate himself into the investigation? Well, fucking one of the assigned detectives would be a good way to do it, huh?" I bit my lower lip, not knowing what to say. "We don't know yet, Rizzi. Don't jump to any conclusions." "I don't know if I can sleep." "Try." "I can't talk to him alone now." "I'll ride shotgun. Don't worry. We'll clear this up. I promise. In the meantime, don't take his calls. I don't want him to be suspicious, but one or two missed calls shouldn't matter." She nodded. "I feel so stupid!" she said fiercely. "What if ... oh God, Cart, what if ..." J reached out and touched her arm. "Rizzi, IF he's a con man, and you don't know that yet ... well, they wouldn't be good con men if they weren't charming and very good at what they do. There was no reason for you to believe he was anything but an interested suitor." "I feel like I should have seen something, known something ... those scars." "Go home, Rizzi," I said. "Crap," she said to no one in particular. "Do you know where he lives?" I asked. "West Crawford Street, near Highland Park. His mother and brother live on Edge Hill Road, Cart." I didn't know what she meant by that and then realized. "Oh shit, that's right behind the Forest Lawn Cemetery." "Where all three victims have been found." "Do you want to crash on my couch?" J offered. She smiled sadly. "No, I'll go home. I'll see you at 9:00 in the squad room, Cart." "You got it. Hang in there. This might all be smoke and mirrors." Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA 9:00 AM "Hey, Cart. Anything?" Rizzi asked, as she approached her desk, which faced mine and butted up against it. She set her coffee down. I observed the dark circles under her eyes and knew she hadn't slept. "Maybe." "How long have you been here?" "About an hour. I wanted to check on a few things." "Like what?" "Darlene Perry Kelly Mackie's work history." "Ah. Turn anything up?" "Interesting. She used to be a hair dresser." "Really," she responded dully. I was really starting to worry about her. I hadn't realized how much she'd liked Sam. Frankly, I thought she'd just been dating him because he asked. I could tell by her reaction to this whole thing that she felt more than she had admitted with her cavalier comments. I would have expected anger, not this lethargic depression. "She worked in several around the Richmond area until about ten years ago, when she went back to school to become a Nurse's Aide." I decided facts were about all I could offer her at the moment. The last place she worked was a beauty salon that also offered nail services. She became a nail tech as well." "Great." "Rizzi, ..." "I'm sorry, I'll snap out of it." "We'll talk to him. For what it's worth ... I like Sam Kelly. I've always liked him. I don't see him being involved in this." "I just don't know, Cart, and that's what scares me. We have to assume we're dealing with a nail fetishist here. Those scars on his back could easily be from fingernails." "Or they could be exactly what he says they are, Rizzi. Try not to pre-disaster this." "Did you call yet?" "I talked to the dispatch Sergeant. I told him to send him up when he arrived for his shift." "When is he due in?" "Right about now." She nodded. "You want me to handle it, Rizzi?" "No, I'll come in with you. It's not going to be easy though." "I can keep you out of it, say I looked up shit and you don't know I was checking. Then if it turns out to be nothing, there's no dirt on your hands." She looked me in the eye. "No, I have to be there, see his eyes." I nodded. "Your call, Rizzi. I'll do it." "I know, Cart, thank you." "I just talked to Dr. Severonson at Samaritan Hospital." "Who's he?" "He's the Chief Administrator at the hospital. Interesting thing. I asked about drug theft and doctor and nurse addictions and if it was a real problem. He said it happened occasionally, but they kept really strict inventory on drug closets." "And?" "And over the last two months or so, a drug called Pancuronium has been gone missing." "What is that?" "It's a paralytic agent used as anesthesia sometimes, but it suppresses the respiratory system, so the person has to be mechanically ventilated or they will eventually suffocate." "Oh God." "Yeah, nasty way to go. Anyway, he said several vials have walked and they are questioning everyone and keeping an even tighter surveillance on the closets." "How?" "They changed all the locks and only heads of departments have a key." "So Darlene's practice of fetching drugs for the nurses, per doctor orders will come to a halt." "If she's doing it. But yeah, essentially, access has been severely limited. If more goes missing, they'll take a look at department heads." Just then I heard the secretary greet him. "Officer Kelly, good to see you." "Detective Cartwright in?" "Yeah, at his desk." We both looked up and Sam came through the gate with an easy grace, weaving through the desks with a smile on his face. "What's up, Detective?" he asked cheerily. Then he looked down at Rizzi. "Emma? Are you all right." She waved him away when he went to reach for her. "I'm fine, just tired." "Sergeant said you wanted to see me." "Yeah, we do. Come on into Interview One. I need to get some coffee." He nodded, but his face was no longer smiling as we stood and he followed us into the interview room. Rizzi already had her coffee in her personal mug. I took one of the Styrofoam cups and made myself a cup, adding lots of cream and sugar, the only way you could stomach this gut rot. "You want coffee, Sam?" "No, I don't drink caffeine." "Health nut, are you?" I teased, trying to relax him, seeing that he was already on edge when Rizzi closed the door a little too hard. She sat down and Sam sat across the table from her. I sat at the head of the long folding table, state of the art for Richmond P.D. "What's this about? This is looking formal." "Nah," I said easily. "We just have a few questions for you about people we think are your relatives." He frowned. "I don't associate with my family much." "Why's that?" I asked casually. He shot a glance at Rizzi who was quiet at this point. It was understood that I would take point on this one and she would jump in if needed. Mostly she would observe the nuances of his responses. Rizzi was good at this normally. I just hoped her involvement would not cloud her judgment in either direction. "We've never gotten along. I moved out when I was 18, after graduating high school and never looked back." "Shitty childhood, Sam?" I asked. He stared at me, still relaxed but suspicious. "Yeah, you could say that." He glanced at Rizzi again, obviously wondering if she'd told me anything about his abuse stories. "So, Sam ... or should I call you Arthur?" I asked, looking at his nametag that said only, 'S. KELLY'. He swallowed hard. "I use my middle name, Sam. What's the big deal?" "Why didn't you tell me your real name?" Rizzi asked quietly. He turned to look at her. "I don't know. I'm so used to going by Sam, I didn't think to, that's all. I'm not hiding anything." "Good," I interjected, not wanting this to turn into a relationship discussion at this point. "Then who is Darlene Mackie?" He looked at me and without hesitation said, "She's my mother." "Not Kelly?" "No, that was my father's name. She remarried a doctor named Mackie. He got her into nursing, or being a nurse's aide." "Where does she work?" "Samaritan Hospital. Is she in trouble?" Well, he'd passed the first lie detector test. "We don't know yet, something just blipped on our radar is all and we have to check out everything, leave no stone unturned, you know how it is." "Yeah, cover all the bases, right?" "Process of elimination is ninety percent of being a detective." "I understand. But how would my mother come up in an investigation?" "It's a long story. A few more questions first, Sam and then I'll give you the whole sordid story." He nodded. He didn't look threatened to me. Yes, he was uncomfortable but if he was guilty of some nefarious crime, he was one damn good actor. Then again, sociopaths were known for their ability to not react to stress; not in the conventional sense anyway. Three loud knocks on the door got Rizzi to her feet. The secretary said, "Urgent phone call for you Detectives." "Which one?" Rizzi asked. Joan, our secretary for the Homicide Squad shrugged. "The woman said either of you. Said she was FBI, though." Rizzi said, "Thanks, Joan. I'll get it, Cart." "All right." Rizzi slipped out and I waited until she closed the door behind her. "Hey while she's gone ... how are things going with you two?" "All right. I thought they were going good, but now she's looking at me funny." "Ah, we're both just tense about this investigation." "The FBI's involved?" "Yeah, friends that are helping out, not official. But one of them is a pathologist, damn good one too. I asked her to help Dr. Jensen with the autopsy on the latest victim." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Craig Jensen is a tough old coot. He didn't object to having his territory invaded?" I smiled at him, hoping to keep him relaxed with small talk. "No, apparently they know each other, have worked together before." "What's her name?" He was looking at me intensely and I got a sudden chill. "I think they want to remain anonymous for now. They aren't here in an official capacity, just consulting." "Oh, she have a partner?" "Yeah, guys a psychologist, some hot shot profiler." "He helping you put together a profile?" Sam asked. I nodded. I couldn't read him. It was weird. I'd always liked Sam, and he'd always seemed easy going. "Why do you ask?" He shrugged. "No reason. I've just always had a morbid fascination with behavioral profiling, forensic pathology and the like." "How come?" I asked, feeling my unease grow a bit. "No reason really. I thought about going back to school to get a degree in Criminal Psychology, but ... never seemed to have the money or the time, you know? I'm still busy paying my dues as a beat cop." "You've put in to take the test for detective, right?" "Yeah. No word yet, though. Probably be months before they offer the test again, but I've been studying." Rizzi knocked once to announce her arrival and opened the door, sliding in and closing it behind her. "Agent Scu ..." I held up my hand and then flattened it, asking for the paper she held in her hand. Her eyes darted to Sam and then back to me, as understanding dawned that I didn't want to say the FBI agents' names. She handed it to me. She'd written. **Agent Scully - found Pancuronium in the new tox screens - only in latest victim. Traces gone from previous victims, but upon closer exam, alveoli in lungs show signs of being paralyzed. Suspect drug was used on previous victims as well.** I nodded and handed it back to her. She stuffed it in her jacket pocket and sat back down. Sam watched the exchange with curiosity but asked no questions. "So back to the questions ... Sam." "Fire away," he said, shrugging. "Anyone else in the family in the medical profession?" "No, other than my step father." "Where's he live?" I asked the trick question. "He's dead." "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, glad that he had answered correctly. "I'm not," he said. We looked at each other. Rizzi asked, "Why's that?" "He was a prick. My mother had rotten taste in men. My father beat her and beat me." "Your brother too?" "You know about Willy too? No, I guess he was too little. But then Mom married the late, great Dr. Mackie and he picked up where my father left off. We tangled once after I got bigger and I jacked him up against a wall and he never touched me again." "What about your brother?" "I think he hit him a couple of times, but then something changed. It was like he just ignored us. I'd moved out by then. He and my mother were fighting all the time. Willy hid in his room a lot. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I spent as much time out of the house as possible." "Where did you grow up?" I asked, feeling sympathy for him despite my efforts not to. He was so matter of fact about it. 'Oh Gee, yeah, by the way, I was beaten repeatedly as a kid. No big deal.' "Edge Hill Road." "Behind Forest Lawn Cemetery?" I asked slowly. He gasped slightly and nodded. "Yeah, ... wait a minute, you don't think my mother ...??" He trailed off. We faced off. I tensed in case he went nuts. He stared at me. "Oh my God, you think ... you think **I** had something to do with this?" "Did you?" Rizzi asked softly. "NO!" he cried. "Jesus Christ, Rizzi, you know me better than that." "Actually, no, I don't really know you, ... Arthur. That's the problem." "Oh for Christ's sake! NO! I had nothing to do with this. You have to believe me," he said, his anxiety obviously peaked. He was distressed, no doubt about it. The question was it because he was innocent, or was it because was he guilty and close to being caught. We were all silent for a few moments and he took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Please ... " he breathed out in a whisper. "Please believe me. I would never ... Jesus, I've spent my whole life trying to be a good man ... trying to be what my father wasn't, what my step father wasn't ... hell, what my brother isn't." If he was guilty of some duplicity, be it his own or covering for his family, he was one good actor. "Tell me about your brother," I said suddenly. "Willy?" I nodded. "Is there more than one?" "No, just my little brother, Willy. He's not so little though. He's five foot, ten, works out, quite muscular. He's a contractor. Works for Simon & Bogg here in Richmond." "Residential contracting?" "Yeah, not much commercial, mostly houses, or nowadays, mostly additions. Nobody is building from scratch anymore." "What's your relationship with him?" "Honestly? It's a love/hate relationship. He feels guilty cause I took beatings for ... both of us. At the same time, he resents my success." "Being a cop?" "Yeah, it threatens him. He thinks that I think I'm better than he is." "Do you?" I asked calmly. He shrugged again. "Not really. I just think I've always been more motivated. I got out of there. He never did." "He never married?" "No, then again, neither did I." "He lives where?" "With my mother, still on Edge Hill Road. He never left. They are like two peas in a pod. They always had some weird bonding thing going on. I never understood it. She always paid more attention to him than me." "Why?" "I don't know, cause he was the baby? Because he was better looking? Who the fuck knows?" he said derisively, the anger showing in his tone now. I asked carefully, knowing he might pick up on where I was going with this. "Do you resent her, or hate her for that?" His eyes met mine. "I used to, but then ... once I left ... I didn't give a shit. I mean, I think I benefited from a little healthy neglect if you know what I mean." I nodded, not really knowing what he meant. He must have sensed that I didn't fully understand because he added, "My mother was a drunk, a screamer too. Her voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard when she was ranting and raving. I preferred to be ignored." I glanced at Rizzi but she had her eyes riveted on, Sam. He turned from me and returned her gaze. "You're going to know my life history before we get out of here," he tried to joke. It fell flat and Rizzi just continued to stare at him. She needed to lighten up. "Hey, Rizzi, want to go grab us a couple of donuts from down the hall?" She turned abruptly to look at me. "What am I, you're fucking maid?" she spit out. I flinched. "Sorry, I'll go get them if you want. I want a donut. I didn't eat breakfast." She deflated. "I'm sorry, Cart. Yeah, I'll go get them," she said in a distracted voice. She stood and walked out, without looking back at us, closing the door quietly behind her. "What the hell is wrong with her?" Sam asked as soon as she was gone. "Does she really think I had something to do with these murders?" "She ... look Sam, Rizzi really likes you. I know she does. She doesn't go out with just anyone. I think she's a little off balance right now, doesn't know what to think." "I've never lied to her!" he said. I could see wetness pooling in his eyes, but no tears fell. "But you haven't told her the whole truth either, have you?" He looked at the table. "I guess not. I wanted to be more established in the relationship first." "Rizzi isn't the type of woman to be scared away by a dysfunctional family." "I know that! I'm not an idiot, it's just that ..." "Just what?" "I'm embarrassed. There, I said it. They fucking embarrass me, all right? My mother's a drunk. My brother's a sullen prick with a chip on his shoulder, who frequents prostitutes to get his rocks off. They are not two individuals I want in my life. I have to see them now and again, check in on them ... just because I feel I should. I've helped with money sometimes, but mostly, I stay away. I don't like either of them." "But you still love them." He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. Love in my household was so fucking twisted." "You ever been in a long term relationship before?" "Yeah, once." "What happened?" "She moved away." I nodded. "How do you feel about Rizzi?" He lowered his face into his hands and then scrubbed his face, slowly raising his head to meet my gaze. "I'm in love with her," he said. Then he looked away as though embarrassed by his admission. "And now she thinks ... aww, shit. I haven't even told her that." He put his face in his hands again, but now they rested on the table. "I need to say something to you." He lowered his hands. "What?" he asked a little defensively. "I love my partner. Not the way you do, of course. But I respect her and she's my best friend, second only to ... my significant other." The corners of his mouth shot up and then lowered at my use of 'significant other'. He knew, I realized. He knew I was gay. Didn't matter, I realized. "I know that. You've been good to her. She's told me so." "I want her to be happy. And I respect her enough to not interfere with the choices she makes." "But?" he replied. "BUT, ... " I paused. "If you hurt her, I'll kick your ass." He smiled then. "I think she might hurt me. But I won't hurt her." "I hope you're right." "I am." He paused. "Did you get rough with her last night?" He paled. "Aw, shit," he said under his breath. "She told you?" "No details, just said you were a little rougher than she liked for a minute but then you apologized. "I still feel guilty. It'd been a while, you know ... oh shit. It won't happen again. I can't believe she told you ... " I glared at him and he repeated, "It won't happen again." "Make sure it doesn't. I can put up with a lot of bullshit but if you physically hurt Rizzi, I can promise you lots of pain." He nodded. "I promise." He paused. "Listen, Daryl, can I call you Daryl?" "Sure," I said. "Daryl, I don't know what you think right now, but I swear on a stack of Holy Bibles, I had nothing to do with this. I'm a cop! But more than that, I worked HARD to be a cop. I love my job, man. I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. I want to be a detective, for God sake. I want to be one of the good guys, make a difference. Shit, I AM one of the good guys. Damn it!" He slapped the table and I barely restrained myself from jumping. I believed him. I might be a complete fool, but I believed him. "Sam," I began. "Yeah," he responded in a dejected voice. "I need your help." Now he looked at me again. "My help?" "I want you to do something for me. It's not going to be easy." "Will it convince you I wear a white hat?" "Yeah, it will." "Then I'll do it," he said without hesitation. "You don't know what I'm going to ask you yet." "Doesn't matter," he said with determination. "I'll prove myself. I've done it before. I don't have a problem with that. This is important to me." Rizzi knocked once and entered with a half dozen donuts. "I stole a whole box, didn't know what you like." She directed that at Sam. She knew what I liked. I grabbed the cruller and took a big bite. "Rizzi, can I see you outside for minute?" "I just got back." "I know, but I need a word with you." "Yeah, sure." She hadn't sat down yet and turned to the door once again. I followed her out. Xxxxxxxxxxxxx I reentered the interview room. Sam was waiting patiently. "I was explaining things to her, what I want to do." He swallowed but didn't respond, nodding for me to continue. I sat down. "O.K., here's what I want you to do. I'm going to need a statement from you in order to get a search warrant for your mother's house." PART 11 (R ) 146 EDGE HILL ROAD RICHMOND, VA "What the fuck are you doing here?" "Hello to you too, Ma." She reeked of whiskey. "Aren't you working today?" "Called in sthick," she slurred her words. Another killer hangover. "Why don't you take some aspirin and lay down then?" "Don't need your help." "I know, but you might feel better after a nap." "You're right ... where's Willy?" "Working, Ma. It's 11:00 o'clock in the morning." "Oh," she said, sounding confused. She stood on unsteady legs, still dressed in a ratty bathrobe and pink slippers with holes in the toes. She held onto the furniture as she left the kitchen and navigated her way through the living room. She disappeared down the hall. When the door closed, he went and opened the front door, waving to the car across the street. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rizzi and I trotted across the street and were let into Sam's childhood home. The thing that hit me first was the smell. I smelled rotting food and stale water. There were dirty dishes stacked in the sink. He whispered, "Sorry it's such a mess. My mother is home ... sick; read that; hung over. I just sent her to bed." Rizzi nodded. "Where's your brother's room?" Sam pointed down the hall. "Careful. My mother's room is the one on the right, his is on the left." "We'll be quiet," we said and slipped down the hall. I turned the knob and the door swung inward easily with no sound. I entered the room slowly and Rizzi followed me. We looked around. Nothing seemed terribly out of place. There were some dirty clothes on the floor, a jean jacket hung on the back of a chair at a small desk. The double bed was unmade, the sheets crumpled into a ball in the center of the bed. I went to the desk, put on gloves and began going through it slowly. I found utility bills, credit card bills with 1-900 charges on them. Rizzi was sifting through the closet. She opened some shoeboxes, but found nothing but old sneakers and carefully put them back the way she'd found them. Nothing was really of interest. We went and searched the bathroom for drugs or anything unusual while Sam checked the cupboards and cabinets in the kitchen. Nothing, we found nothing. We emerged into the kitchen, furthest away from his mother's bedroom, but we still whispered. Rizzi asked, "If your brother were to buy a knife or a gun, where would he put it? Any ideas?" "Oh! Shit, I forgot. He has a workshop in the basement. He turned it into one after my step father died. Keeps all his tools down there. He makes things occasionally, repairs the house." "Can we take a look?" "Sure," he said right away and led the way to the cellar stairs. It was a door on the far side of the kitchen, nearly hidden by the refrigerator. He turned the knob and yanked. It didn't move. "Shit, he locked it. And this is a new lock. This used to have one of those old glass knobs on it with the big key plate underneath." Rizzi pulled a lock pick gun out of her pocket. I smiled at her. "You were a girl scout, weren't you?" I teased. She smiled. "Always be prepared, that's my motto. I borrowed this from the Tool Shed. "The Tool Shed was the Confiscated Room where all confiscated material was held. After seven years, if the case had been solved, tools could be checked out and used by detectives, vice or undercover cops. She approached the door and stuck the gun in the lock, tapping the trigger like a pro. In about fifteen seconds we heard the tumblers roll and a click. She smiled, removed the lock pick gun, and gingerly turned the knob. It turned and the door swung open. Sam looked at Rizzi and she said, "After you. It looks dark down there." Sam took two steps down and reached for the wall. He flicked a switch and light flooded the basement below us. We carefully followed him down the narrow treaded stairs. There was a utility sink and counter against the back wall with a medicine chest above it. Next to it was a wooden chair with wash clothes and towels stacked on it. The perpendicular wall held a small basement window about head height and a stack of boxes against the wall. Directly opposite us was a long workbench that stretched from one end to the other. It had to be twenty feet long. The wall behind it was pegboard and covered with various tools of the carpentry trade hanging on hooks, slipped into the pegboard. We looked over the tools, not seeing any knives. Sam pulled open a couple of drawers, built underneath the counter at intervals. She opened and closed as we looked into a dark corner finding the furnace and hot water heater. On the fourth wall were a couch, a recliner and coffee table and a little end table next to the recliner. I went into that area and looked around, seeing nothing. Rizzi was going through the medicine cabinet. Then I noticed the end table had a deep drawer in it. The dark finish made the lip of the handle on the drawer nearly invisible. I gently pulled the drawer open and felt all the air leave the room. I must have gasped cause I heard Sam say, "You O.K., Daryl?" I caught my breath and said, "Fuck." Rizzi was beside me in an instant looking down into the drawer. "Aww, shit," she muttered. Sam came up behind us. "What? What did you find?" We stepped aside and let him look down into the drawer. "Oh no," he whispered. "Oh Will, no ..." He looked pale as a ghost and backed away from the door. "This can't be right ... oh God, you were right, Daryl ... oh shit, ... " He was starting to panic and I motioned to him with my head. Rizzi went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and hunched over her small frame. I heard him sniffle. "Oh shit, Rizzi ... I hoped ... oh shit, I hoped we were wrong ... I really thought we were wrong ..." "Shhh, it's all right. Why don't you go wait in the car?" He stood up, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "No, I should ..." Rizzi held his biceps firmly. "You should wait in the car, Sam. You're too ... close. We don't want it said that the evidence is ... tainted." He nodded. "O.K., yeah, right, so then ..." He was babbling. Rizzi handed him the keys to the unmarked car that was parked across the street. "Go sit in the car. If you see your brother or anyone else come along, try to stall them and let us know they are out there, O.K.?" "Yeah, how ...?" "I've got my cell. You know the number?" "Yeah, know it by heart," he said, smiling sadly. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she said softly. He nodded. "I'll be in the car," he said, and he turned and made his way upstairs, shutting the door behind him. It reopened immediately and he said, "I'm gonna wait in the kitchen in case my mother comes out, O.K.?" "That's fine, Sam," Rizzi told him. He disappeared again. I pulled a wad of evidence bags out of my jacket pocket and began bagging the items in the drawer one by one. "Did you finish on that medicine cabinet?" "No." She was gone for a several minutes and I was zipping the last thing into a bag when she approached holding two vials, one in each hand. They were syringe vials with no label. "One guess what these are?" she said. "Pancuronium?" "I'd put money on it." I nodded. "I found all the nails, but ..." "The tongues, is that what you're thinking?" I nodded. She scrunched her nose and said, "I better check the freezer." Xxxxxxxxxxxx We didn't find the tongues that had been cut from the three victims, but the nails were plenty to damn him. His sick collection of toys looked somehow obscenely innocent. We called for back up and a crime scene van showed up. Sam woke his mother up and told her she had to get dressed and come downtown. She was belligerent and hung over but cooperated in the end, acting like she didn't know what was going on, and maybe she didn't. The whole house was tossed and everything put back the way it was before the crime scene van came. Then we retreated to our car and waited for William Kelly to return home. The tech guys had found the knife. It was a hunting knife with a six-inch blade, with a strip of copper running down through the center of the blade and some filigree on the handle. It was clean but they bagged it for the lab. We would see if it matched the wounds on the victims. Sam left to escort his mother along with two other patrol cops to the station. They were going to hold her until we could get back and talk to her. Rizzi was quiet and I asked, "You O.K.?" "Yeah." "What's going on under those mop curls?" I asked lightly. She smiled sadly. "I'm glad it was him. I mean, I'm not glad for Sam, but I'm glad ..." "That it wasn't Sam," I finished for her. "Yeah," she whispered. Then, "I feel like a heel, suspecting him like that. I should have had more faith in my character judgment. I should have ..." "Rizzi, you did everything right. You had a reason to suspect him. You didn't outright accuse him, you didn't run off and confront him yourself, and you did it all the right way. Now stop beating yourself up. I'm sure Sam doesn't hold it against you." "God, I hope you're right. Cause if I fucked this up, I'll never forgive myself. Cart ... I haven't felt this way in a long, long time." I waggled my eyebrows at her. "Rizzi's in luuuvvvv," I said dramatically. She punched me in the arm. "So are you, tough guy, and don't tell me you're not." I smiled at her. "Bet your ass I am. I'm moving in, by the way." "With J?" I nodded. "Yeah." "That's great! About time." "You should take a few days personal time after we finish all this." "I might do that. Geez, I hope this doesn't come between us later ..." "It won't. He loves you, Rizzi." "I don't know about that, but ..." "He loves you, trust me," I said firmly. She looked at me quizzically. "What do you know that I don't know?" she asked. I looked out the window. "Oh lots of things." "Cart!" "Rizz!" I shot back. "You're a bully, you know that?" "Bully? I am not." "You really think it's going to be all right?" she asked, suddenly serious. "I know it will be." I paused. "He told me, Rizzi." "Told you what?" "That he's in love with you." "What the fuck? He hasn't said anything to ME!" "Whoa, hold on. He answered because I asked, and he knew nothing but an honest answer would do." "What do you mean, you asked?" "I asked him how he felt about you, after I decided I believed him." "You shouldn't have interfered, Cart." "I care about you, Rizzi. You're more than my partner, you know that. You're my best friend." Her eyes got suspiciously wet. "What did you guys say?" "He said he loved you and wouldn't hurt you." "And what did you say?" she asked. I turned to look at her and locked stares with her. "I told him if he hurt you, I'd kick his ass." She busted out laughing. "Oh, that's just GREAT, Cart. Now he thinks I have a bodyguard. You've probably totally scared him off, you big brute." I smiled. "Nah, he doesn't scare easily." "No, he doesn't. He's proved that simply by dating me." I saw the red pick up truck trundle down the road and pull into the driveway. "Head's up." Rizzi looked out the window at the truck. She was already sliding out of the passenger side door as I said, "It's show time." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 146 EDGE HILL ROAD RICHMOND, VA I called out to his retreating back as he exited his car. "Mr. William Mackie?" He turned and I was looking at a younger version of Sam, only not as good looking. He had the same dark hair and brown eyes, but he was slightly taller and leaner, less muscular than Sam. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and blue jeans covered in sawdust. "Yeah?" "I'm Officer Daryl Cartwright and this is my partner, Officer Rizzoli." He eyed us warily. "What do you want?" "I'm sorry sir, but I have to place you under arrest for ..." "For WHAT? Fuck you." "Mr. Mackie. You can make this hard or you can make this easy." He hesitated and then said, "I guess ... I'll make it hard then." He turned on his heel and broke into a run. I heard Emma curse behind me, "Oh shit." I motioned to her and we split up, rounding separate sides of the house. He was charging across his back lawn toward a fence with a gate. I sprinted after him, gaining slightly. He had to pause at the fence, but rather than open the gate, he vaulted over it neatly, hands on top of the gate, swinging his legs over. I wasn't so graceful, but I managed to hop over it myself and continue the chase into the woods. Where the hell was our back up? There were supposed to be two officers behind the house in case he decided to split this way. I drew my weapon as I ran, chambering a round. I looked around quickly, seeing no houses. I was gaining on him, but not by much. He was still about twenty feet ahead of me. I could hear Rizzi crashing through the brush behind me and to the right. I hollered, "Police! Freeze Mr. Mackie!" He didn't of course, and I continued to run, my weapon pointed at the ground. About thirty seconds later, I'd lost him. I stopped, gasping for breath, trying to listen for breaking twigs or footfalls on the forest floor. We had to be close to a road. I could hear traffic. Over to my right and slightly behind me I heard Rizzi shout, "Police, freeze or I'll shoot!" I spun around and crept toward the sound of her voice, trying to be quiet. Fortunately, the sounds of traffic were covering my noise. I rounded a huge maple tree and saw them about ten feet in front of me. I froze, not wanting him to see me. I hoped Rizzi wouldn't take her eyes off him and clue him in that I was there. I knew she could see me. A small flicker of her eye in my direction was the only tell tale sign. Mackie was standing with his hands in the air. What Rizzi couldn't see and I could was that he had a pistol jammed into the back of his jeans. I hadn't seen it before because his sweatshirt had covered it up. Now it was bunched up over the belt holster that was on his belt. I pointed my weapon at him and shouted, "ON THE GROUND, NOW!" He spun, whipping the pistol from the back of his pants at the same time. "Freeze! Drop your weapon!" Rizzi and I both shouted at the same time. He pulled the trigger. I dove for the ground and rolled, feeling a branch rip through my suit jacket and into my shoulder. I bellowed in pain as I heard the bullet whistle past my ear and strike the tree behind me. I hollered, "I'm not hit." Rizzi shouted again, "Drop it now or I'll shoot!" He spun and fired at Rizzi. I heard her yelp and then saw red blossom on the left shoulder of her blouse and she went down, dropping her weapon. Mackie took off back the way we'd come. I imagined he was going for his truck. I leaped to my feet and ran to Rizzi, coming down on my knees. "Rizzi!" "Go, I'm all right. Catch the mother fucker!" "Rizzi!" "Just my shoulder, GO!" she screamed. I hesitated another second and then leapt to my feet and took off after him. I could hear him crashing through the brush again but he had a bigger lead this time. Anger and adrenaline flooded into me as I thought of Rizzi sitting back there with a bullet in her shoulder. All of a sudden it was like I was lighter than air and I was speeding over the terrain, my feet barely touching the ground. A fallen tree loomed up ahead of me and I neatly hurdled it. I was ten feet away when he burst through the gate at the back of his property, which Rizzi had left open. The two Officers, Remington and Brooks were there now and drew weapons. I shouted, "Freeze Mackie! He's armed!" The two other officers drew their weapons as he fired a wild shot at them as he ran past. I took a flying leap and tackled him, my arms wrapping around his legs. We both hit the dirt with a thud. I dropped my weapon and leap frogged onto his back as I heard him grunt with the impact. Both my hands lunged for his wrist. I wrapped my hands tightly around it and held on for dear life, smashing his hand onto the ground. "DROP THE WEAPON, NOW!" I screamed in his ear. "Ow, FUCK!" he hollered and let go of the gun. Remington was there and kicked the weapon away from his hand. Brooks had his cuffs off his utility belt and stood waiting while I twisted his arms behind his back. "Call an ambulance!" I shouted, still jazzed on adrenaline. Remington gave me a quizzical look as if to say, 'what for?' "Rizzi, he hit Rizzi!" As soon as the cuffs were on, I was on my feet. "Watch him, call an ambulance, NOW!" I shouted and turned, fleeing back into the woods. I heard Remington behind me. "Mr. William Mackie. You're under arrest for the murder of Cynthia Groves, Patricia ..." By the time I reached Rizzi, she was propped against a tree. She'd torn the sleeve of her blouse and made a crude bandage around her shoulder. I ripped my jacket off and then tore my shirt open, buttons flying. "I didn't know you cared," she joked weakly. I huffed with sad laughter, and began tearing my blue dress shirt into strips, biting the material with my teeth. I made another bandage to replace her blood soaked piece of blouse. Then a second one and gently eased her forward. She hissed in pain and what little color she had left drained from her face. The exit wound was nasty, and I pressed the folded shirt piece against it. She groaned and leaned back, cushioned on my hand. With my free hand, I wrapped another long piece of shirt over the bandage and tied it down. "Sorry, I know it hurts." "S'all right," she slurred. "Shit, it hurts." "I know, hold on. There's an ambulance on the way. Once she had the bandages secured. I draped my jacket over her shoulders and scooped her up in a baby carry, careful to keep the arm behind her back below the wound. She groaned again, and spit out, "Fuck!" She clenched her teeth and then sagged against me. I walked fast, afraid that jogging would bounce her too much. She weighed nothing and felt light in my arms. "Did you get him?" she whispered. "I got him." "Good." Then she passed out. Xxxxxxxxxxxxx RICHMOND GENERAL HOSPITAL RICHMOND, VA Sam met me at the hospital. I was in the waiting room when he came in, looking frantic. "What happened? Where is she? Is she all right?" he rapid fired questions at me. I rose and put my hands on his shoulders, looking down into his face. "She's going to be fine. They put her under for now. They have to sew her up. The bullet exited, which is a good thing, but they needed to drain and sterilize the wound and then sew her up. She's going to be sore as hell for a while but she's going be all right." He sagged and I dropped my hands. He whispered, "I want to kill that asshole brother of mine. God Damn It! Fucking pervert!" he yelled, balling his fists up. I wasn't going to argue with him. "You want to go get some coffee? They said it would be at least a half hour and that was only five minutes ago." He took a deep breath, regaining his composure. "Yeah, sure." We walked in silence to the hospital cafeteria and both got coffee and a muffin. We sat facing one another across a fiberboard table. "Are YOU going to be all right?" I asked finally when he didn't say anything. "Yeah, I'm just so ... pissed!" I nodded, knowing there was more. "I mean, shit, Daryl, how could I not know how fucked up my brother was?" "It's not your fault," I said calmly. "I know ... but I keep thinking I should have seen some signs, I should have paid more attention to him, talked to him more ... something." "If he was that far gone, Sam, he wouldn't have talked to you anyway. He would have lied to you. I know it hurts to hear that, but ... that's the way it goes usually." He nodded and swallowed hard. "You going to interview my mother?" "Yeah, after I know Rizzi is situated. They're holding her at the Tank until I get there." The Tank was a set of three holding cells where they held people who were waiting to be booked. "What'd you do after you got Rizzi in the ambulance?" "Just checked to make sure they read him his Miranda Rights. I didn't want him sneaking out on a technicality. Then I raced here to check on her. Called you on the way. I got to say about two words to her before they whisked her off." "What two words?" he asked ironically. "Good luck." He smiled. "Thanks for calling me," he said. I returned his smile. "Yeah, this is the shitty part of the job, my friend." He nodded. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." "It's going to go worse for your brother now. Along with murder charges, he is going to add assault on a police officer at the least, possibly attempted murder." "Yeah, I know. I asked one of the guys to check the weapon. I doubt it was registered." "They'll add that on too, not that they need it." "I feel guilty ... that I didn't know. I feel guilty that ... I don't feel bad for him," he said quietly. "Don't, Sam ... families are funny. We can pick our friends. But we can't pick our family, and sometimes, they aren't who we want them to be." "They've never been who I want them to be." "Do you think your mother stole the drugs for him, that paralyzing drug?" "No doubt, but I gotta tell you, as much as she's a drunk ..." "What?" "I don't think she would have done it ... if she wasn't coerced." "You think Will threatened her?" He nodded. "I'd bet on it. She's pretty timid, but she depends on Will." I nodded in return. "I'll approach it from that angle, maybe get her released on her own recognizance, and if she was coerced, she'll probably get off with just probation as a first time offender. I doubt, given the circumstances, that they'll land heavy on her. I'll try to prevent that." "I'd appreciate it." He was quiet. "She was never a good mother, but ..." "She's the only one you got," I finished for him. He grimaced and nodded. "Yeah, and I'm going to lose Willy, as estranged as were ... but I don't want to lose her too." "I'll do my best. Let's head back to the waiting room. That's where the doc will come when they're done." We stood and made our way back to the waiting room. About ten minutes later, a doctor walked in, still in scrubs. He greeted us, "Hi, I'm Dr. Copen." "I'm her partner, and this is her boyfriend," I introduced us. Sam looked a little startled at the introduction but he didn't contradict me. "Any family here?" "No, just us for now. Her mother's on the way in from Falls Church." He nodded. "She's going to be fine. I had to put over 100 stitches in her and she'll have a scar, but she'll heal completely. After the stitches come out I'll send her for some physical therapy, to massage the area to make sure scar tissue doesn't set in too badly." We nodded. Sam asked, "When can we see her?" "In about ten minutes. I'm moving her upstairs, Room 203. Just give us a few minutes to get her settled. There is a waiting room on the floor if you want to go up there. I'll let you know when she's ready for company." "Thanks, Doctor," we both said. He smiled. "She's one tough cookie. She'll be fine." Minutes later we were in another waiting room. It seemed like an hour, but was only ten minutes before Dr. Copen appeared and told us we could go in. He warned us that she was still groggy from the mild anesthesia they'd given her. He admonished us not to tire her out and let her sleep if she looked like she was going to drop off. We entered the room quietly, but she turned to see us enter. We each took a side of the bed. Nearly her whole chest was bandaged to keep the pressure dressings in place and keep her arm immobile. It was basically tied to her body. She blinked slowly. "Here's my guys," she said softly. Sam bent down and kissed her chastely on the forehead. "That was lame," she joked. He laughed and bent over again, kissing her on the lips with an exaggerated smacking noise. She smiled then and let her head relax into the pillow. "How's that?" he asked. "Better, you'll have to work on it." He laughed again. "I know you're better if you're joking around." "When can I blow this popsicle stand?" "Doctor says he's keeping you overnight for observation and some IV antibiotics to make sure you don't infect. If everything looks good, you'll probably be out of her by tomorrow," I answered. She nodded wearily. "Good, I hate hospitals. Hate the food even more." I looked at Sam. "I know she's better when she's complaining." We both smiled at her and she said, "Thanks, Cart." "For what?" "You re-bandaged me and hauled my heifer butt out of the woods." She turned to Sam. "It was quite a show, popping buttons and everything. I got to see his Nautilus puff," she joked, her voice weak and thin. He smiled and said, "Shit, I'll never live up to that," he fired back. "You already do," she said and then her eyes sagged droopily. He petted her hair. "You're delusional but I love you for it." She smiled softly. "Need to slleeep," she slurred. "Sleep, baby," he murmured, kissing her cheek and then stood up as her head fell slightly to one side. She was out like a light. He looked at me. "I think I'll stay here for a while, as long as they'll let me." "You're a cop, they probably won't throw you out. I'll get back to the station and talk to your mother, see if I can get her released. I'll let you know what happens. My day is long from over." "Sorry about that." "Not your fault, nature of the biz. You know that. The paperwork's worse than the chase." "See you later." "Later." PART 12 (NC-17) POLICE HEADQUARTERS HOMICIDE DIVISION RICHMOND, VA TWO WEEKS LATER 9:00 AM You want some coffee, Scully?" Mulder asked as he fixed himself a cup. I scowled. "Not that road tar," I said. He smiled and returned to the table with his cup. Mulder asked Daryl, "So what happens now?" "We wait for the trial. He's gotten himself a lawyer. The judge refused to grant bail, so he's inside. He was judged a flight risk due to the rabbit routine he pulled when we tried to arrest him. Plus, they rarely grant bail for murder unless the evidence is real circumstantial. In this case, we pretty much got him dead to rights." "How's Detective Rizzoli?" I asked. "Good, Agent Scully. Sam hasn't left her side. She's cranky about his hovering, which means she's feeling a lot better. Say, Agent Scully, I don't know if I thanked you for all the work you did with the autopsy and the drug research. I really appreciated you taking on that legwork. You too, Agent Mulder. Turns out your profile was dead on." Mulder nodded. "No thanks necessary. We were glad to help out." I asked, "What's going on with Mrs. Mackie?" Daryl scowled. "She's in therapy. She's out on bail on her own recognizance, with a PTA, promise to appear. Agent Scully, ... I don't really know what to make of her." "She really was a victim of circumstance, huh?" I clarified. "Yeah, ... I didn't tell you the worst part," Daryl said, making a face of disgust. "What's that?" I asked. "He raped her," he replied quietly. "WHAT?" Mulder cried out, shocked out of his relaxed pose and sitting straight in his chair. Daryl nodded, still making a face of disgust. "I can't even imagine ..." My voice held all the horror I was feeling. "You're saying he raped his own mother?" "Yes, it was all part of the control. He made her steal the drugs and threatened to take her booze away. It was all a big control fest. His back looks as bad as Sam's, except his scars are from her." "Her trying to get away from him?" Daryl swallowed harshly and shook his head. "No, he wanted her to do it." "Excuse me?" Mulder asked, plainly appalled at the scenario that was unfolding for us. "She was a nail technician at one time, and apparently when he was a kid, she ... touched him when she was drunk ... she admitted that much. So later, he got off on it, being scratched. Ergo, she thought she was responsible for her rape, figuring that if she'd never touched him, he wouldn't have developed his fetish. By the time she realized what had happened to his mind, she was a drunk and under his control." "Whew!" Mulder whistled. "That makes me sick to my stomach just to think about it." "Yeah, it's not a pretty picture. Somehow, Sam escaped all this. He was never sexually abused, and I'm hesitant to tell him what his mother did at this point. Some things you just don't need to know. Sam apparently packed his bags and booked as soon as he graduated high school. But Will was still in school and stuck there. By the time he was out of high school, I'm afraid his fate was already sealed." "Sam never suspected any of this?" Mulder asked. "I've talked with him. He says he knew that his little brother was oversexed and a little perverted. He'd found S&M magazines in the house, and he actually caught him one night with a hooker when a team was doing a take down on Cherry Street. He was one of the johns. Said the hooker said she'd been raped, but didn't want to press charges. They let him go ... she was a hooker after all," he said sarcastically. "Was she one of the ones he killed?" "Ironically, no. She left Richmond, apparently. I asked Sam to get her name from the old reports. She was arrested for solicitation so they had her name on file. I asked around about her on the street, but they all say she left Richmond about a week after the take down. Paid her fine and bolted." "Well, we need to get going. We still need to check out of the hotel," I said. We all stood up. "Thanks for coming by," Daryl said, and shook both our hands. "No problem," Mulder said. "Call us anytime." We turned to go to the door and Mulder stopped and turned back to Daryl. "Oh, by the way, what was J's big secret? He hinted that he was going for a career change, but was vague about it." "He wasn't sure he would pass the test. But he passed last week. I'm surprised he didn't tell you." "What test?" Daryl smiled slyly. "He got his P.I. license." "No shit?!" Mulder said. It was rhetorical. "Well, I'll be damned!" "I'm very proud of him," Daryl said. "I'll bet you are," I added. Daryl smiled. "Guess who I'll be sending a lot of business?" "Is he going to hang out a shingle?" "Yeah, he hasn't found office space to rent yet, so for now, he's going to work out of the house." "He's not going to work for someone else?" Daryl laughed. "Surely you jest ... Jam? No, he'd probably have a hard time getting some agency to accept him." "Even though he isn't doing ..." "Drag?" Mulder nodded. "He might still do that if he needs to." "Good disguise," Mulder said, nodding in contemplation. We all smiled. "I'll call him and congratulate him." "Do that. He'd love to hear from you." "All moved in?" I asked. "Yup. My lease was up last week." "See you round," Mulder said. "See you round," Daryl repeated. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx EMMA RIZZOLI'S HOUSE 50 MAPLE DRIVE RICHMOND, VA THE SAME DAY "Sam, so help me God, if you don't leave me alone, I'm gonna flatten you!" I said through clenched teeth. "Sorry," Sam said, deflating at the reprimand. He'd just brought her dinner into the living room on a tray after she'd said she would go to the kitchen table tonight. He looked so dejected. I sighed loudly. "Look, Sam. I appreciate what you're doing. I needed it in the beginning. But I'm fine now." "I just ..." I stood up and carried my tray into the kitchen. "I know, but you're making me feel like an invalid and I'm not." He followed her into the kitchen slowly. He approached the table and sat down. "I'm sorry, Emma." I leaned over and kissed him on the lips after setting my tray on the table. "I know. Just let me ... ask for help if I need it from now on. How's that sound?" He scowled. "You wouldn't ask for help if you were dying," he said petulantly. I laughed. I couldn't help it. His frown deepened. "I'm sorry, Sam, but you're so damn cute when you're pouting." "I'm NOT pouting," he said with a definite pout. It made me laugh harder. I sat down, holding my stomach. He finally cracked a smile. "O.K., maybe I am pouting ... a little bit. I enjoy taking care of you, Emma. I ... WANT to take care of you." "There are other ways for you to take care of me. And I've liked you taking care of me too, because I needed help. But I don't anymore." "What do you mean ... other ways to help you?" "I've got a little problem I'd like you to take care of." "What's that?" he asked eagerly. "Anything, name it." "I want to eat dinner and then ..." "Then?" "How do you feel about fucking my brains out?" I asked calmly. He froze, stunned for about two seconds and then he let loose with loud, vibrating guffaws that echoed off the walls. I laughed with him, glad to see him smiling again finally. He'd been such a worrywart for the last three weeks. He finally got his mirth under control and said, "I think I can handle that." "You do?" I asked innocently. He grinned at me. "Only I refuse to fuck you." My smile dropped, waiting for him to say something about me not being strong enough. "Sam, you need to ..." He cut me off. "I'll make love to you though." I felt the soft smile creep across my face. "It's a deal." "No more rough stuff." I nodded. "Maybe sometime down the road, but right now ... yeah, slow and gentle would be nice." "I feel totally equipped for the task," he deadpanned. I reached over and put my hand in his lap, feeling his cock twitch under my palm. "Yes, feels like you have all the right equipment." He snorted and then gently pushed me back into my seat. "Eat." "Yes, Sir!" I mocked. He chuckled. "I have an assignment and I want to get to it as quickly as possible." I smiled and began to eat. It was going to be a fun night. I stopped for a second and realized I'd never apologized to him. "Sam." "Yeah?" "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I still feel horrible about that." "Don't worry about it. I can see how why you did." "Still ... I should have trusted you ..." "We'd only been dating a couple weeks, Emma. You had no reason to really trust me, and besides, I'd been rough with you. I'm sorry about that. I'll never hurt you again. I promise." "Shall we call it even?" I asked. He smiled softly. "More than even. Now eat up so I can ravish you." I did ... and he did. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx RICHMOND REGENCY HOTEL RICHMOND, VA ROOM 205 9:30 AM We were packed and ready to go. "Ready?" I asked. Mulder gave me that look that told me he was up to something. "What?" I asked suspiciously. "We don't have to check out until 11:00 AM," he offered. Uh oh. Non-sequitur time again. "Meaning?" Without cracking a smile, he said, "I was hoping I could get into your pants." He surprised a huff of laughter out of me and approached me like a stalking cat, bending over and weaving his head. I laughed and backed away, playing the game. "And what makes you think I'll let you into my pants?" I asked. "A hunch," he said, continuing to stalk me around the bed. "You and your hunches," I teased. He sprung and wrapped his arms around me, twirling with me in his arms and pushing gently, causing me to fall onto my back on the bed and bounce with the impact. "Ooofff," I puffed out. He laughed and ripped his tee shirt over his head. "Get naked, Scully," he commanded. "Awfully confident, aren't we?" I continued to tease. "You have two minutes and then I'm ripping those damn jeans off your body. And if you value that blouse, I suggest you have it off in less than sixty seconds." I held up my hands in mock surrender and shock. Then I began divesting myself of my clothes. In two minutes flat, we were both naked. He stared at me as I lay on the bed. He stood at the foot of the bed in all his naked glory, his magnificent cock standing up and reaching out for me. I still always had a moment of shock when I saw it, hard and erect ... for me. And it wasn't just the considerable nine inches and delicious thickness, it was that I excited him that much ... that I had ever excited him that much ... but especially that I still did, now that the newness had worn off our romantic relationship. He pounced onto the bed on all fours, bouncing the mattress. He actually growled and I chuckled again. His eyes were nearly black with desire, his pupils dilated fully. Just that look of unadulterated desire never failed to make me wet. I felt moisture flood my nether lips and sucked in my breath. He gave me a predatory smile, said, "So gorgeous." Then he attacked. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I didn't think I'd ever get over the sight of naked Scully. I was once again transfixed by the sight of her peaches and cream skin that I knew was smooth as silk. You would think some of the awe and reverence would have worn out by now, but it hadn't. That she allowed me to make love to her was still the eighth wonder of the world, as far as I was concerned. I didn't think I would ever get over it. I muttered, "So gorgeous." She squeaked as I lunged forward and spread out over top her. Her legs parted and I slid between them like I belonged there. I guess now I did. I propped myself on one hip and reached down to test her readiness. I moaned, "Awww, God, Scully, you're so wet." I felt her juices sluice over my fingertips and I pushed two digits inside. She arched her back and moaned. I would never get over the fact that she reacted like this to me. "Ready?" I croaked. "Yeah, fuck the preliminaries," she whispered. I chuffed in amusement, always surprised as well when Scully cursed. I braced myself on my forearms, taking my weight on my elbows. My cock nudged her entrance, following the heat and needing no guidance from my hand. In a ridiculously short amount of time I was rampant and my cock felt like it was going to explode. I thrust hard and rammed deep into her belly, letting loose a bellow of sheer pleasure as I felt my shaft enveloped by her tight heat. "Aaaaahhhhh, Naaaaa," I uttered incoherently. She groaned after a couple of seconds and pushed herself onto my cock, wiggling her hips. Her soft alto was rugged and deep with arousal when she croaked out, "Oh yeah, fuck me, Mulder." The last thread of my control snapped and I lanced my cock in and out of her moist cavern. I levered up onto my knees and watched as I plowed inside and pulled back till just the head of my engorged, throbbing cock was still inside and then plunged in again, like I might never get another chance. I was mesmerized by the sight of it as my cock pushed her outer lips in as I thrust in deeply and then pulled her glistening, moist inner lips out as I retreated. Her copious fluids coated my hot, throbbing shaft and I groaned like I was dying. I watched in utter amazement as she writhed under me, grinding her clit against my pubic bone and hunching her hips up, pushing her stretched little pussy against my cock. She started making the little grunting noises that signified she was on the brink of an orgasm. It was an endearing sound that I'd come to love hearing, knowing it meant that I was once again going to give her release and pleasure. I lifted one hand and slid it onto her chest, lightly pinching a turgid nipple that stood out like a perfect pencil eraser. With an almost painful cry, she literally screamed as her orgasm overtook her. I felt her velvet walls clamp down on me like a vice and then squeeze in a rapid staccato vibration as I continued to pump into her. My balls tightened and then spasmed. Before I knew it, I was firing my release into her like a fire house, shouting, "Oh God, Ssscccuuulllyyy!" XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX We shivered in the aftermath, and remained locked together until my cock finally deflated enough to slip out of her. I whimpered and she chuckled. We panted a little and then I kissed her languidly, realizing I hadn't even kissed her this time. What a dope, I thought. She responded with the same post-coital lethargy and finally we drifted apart as I rolled over and looked at the ceiling, still basking in the glow of another mind- blowing orgasm courtesy of the sexiest redhead in the world. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx JAMIE LEVEAU'S TOWNHOUSE RICHMOND, VA "Congratulations!" I cried out as I set out the cake on the table. Jamie laughed as he saw the chocolate cake with a pink snowball on top and a sparkler in the center. "Oh, jeez!" he muttered. He pinched out the sparkler and carefully removed the snowball from the cake, setting it on a napkin. "Thanks, Daryl. This was sweet." We'd just finished dinner. "Don't mention it. Mulder & Scully said to say 'congratulations', by the way." "Yeah, he called earlier. You'd think I'd won a Gold Medal." "Well, it is quite an accomplishment." "For a former drag queen, you mean?" he teased. "For anyone," I said sincerely. He leaned over and kissed me squarely on the lips. Without hesitation he blurted out in a playful voice, "I love you so much." I unexpectedly felt tears sting my eyelids and I blinked rapidly, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this man's love. I didn't deserve his unconditional acceptance, but I was greedy and I would take it, since he offered. Softly, I said, "I love you too, Jam." He stopped as he was reaching for the cake with a knife. He still wasn't used to hearing me say it. I'd turned over a new leaf. I was determined to become comfortable with the words. Despite his protests, he needed to hear them. I knew he did. He needed the reassurance and I wanted to give it to him. He hadn't said a word, but he knew I was trying. I was attempting to be more affectionate in general, holding his hand, touching his hair, putting my arm around him. He almost seemed amused by the change, but definitely enjoying the hell out of my struggle, or the results of it anyway. "You're a wonderful man, Daryl." "I don't deserve you, but I'm glad I have you," I said sincerely. He smiled. "Stop it. You deserve me. I feel like the luckiest person on the planet right now." "Do you now?" I teased. "Yes, I do." "Do you feel lucky? Or do you want to GET lucky?" I teased again. He laughed. "Both, but first let me have a piece of this cake." He cut into it and dished us both up a good sized piece. We ate in companionable silence. When we were finished, we cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwater. Then he said, "Did you want to watch a movie?" "Movie? I thought you wanted to get lucky?" I asked, pretending to be hurt. He wrapped his arms up around my neck and said, "That offer still stand?" "Sure does," I said and leaned down to cover his mouth with mine. His soft lips were warm and pliant and he tasted of chocolate and coffee. I sank my tongue into his velvety mouth and kissed him deeply. His moans vibrated in my mouth and sent the blood rushing to my cock. I hardened against his belly, tenting my sweatpants. He nudged me with his hips and said, "Want to take this party to the bedroom?" "You bet," I responded and hiked him up by the thighs. He yelped and wrapped his legs around my waist, grinding his pelvis into mine. My knees bobbed at the sensation that caused and I said, "Stop that if you want to make it upstairs." He grinned like a little imp, showing his dimples and I felt a lump form in my throat. "So fucking beautiful," I whispered. He lost his smile and blinked at me. "Well, get moving you big stud," he teased. I smiled and made my way across the living room and up the stairs as quickly as I could without banging into something. I felt his breath on my neck and when his mouth sucked on my pulse I thought I was going to collapse, each suck making my cock jerk and reach for the sky. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX He set me down next to the bed, and we ripped our clothes off. I turned toward the bed and he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He stepped into me and I felt the tip of his penis press against my tight bottom. He slid his hands down to my bony, slim hips and grunted as he pushed the head against my rosette, but he didn't enter me. He turned me around and kissed me and then coaxed me to sit on the bed and then lay back. He stood up and began stroking his cock that was near to fully erect but not quite. The veins of his enormous cock stood out underneath his fingers and he squeezed and used his other hand to tug on his balls, moaning as he fixed me with a lust-filled gaze. "Sit up," he said. I did and he approached me, sticking himself in my face. He touched my bottom lip and slowly traced my mouth from the right to the left. I opened my mouth but he slid it down along my cheek. It was so soft, and he pressed his hot flesh against my skin, which felt cool next to the raging heat of his erection. He traced the column of my throat and then returned to my mouth. He pushed gently, his immense cock finally parting my lips. I grasped his hips as he slid into my mouth. He thrust himself to the back of my throat and then began pumping his hips. His width stretched my mouth wide and stretched my lips. He looked down, staring and groaned, "Oh fuck yeah." Guess the sight of that did something good for him. After a couple of minutes he almost seemed delirious, moaning and weaving on his feet. He was muttering, "Oh yeah, your sexy little mouth, those pouty soft lips. Oh man, so good. Suck me, baby, oh God, suck me." I sucked harder and felt his cock grow thicker in my mouth, swelling to his full immense size. He was SO thick. My little dick was hard as granite and pressing up into my stomach. I stroked myself lightly, not wanting to come yet. "Oh Jesus, Jam. Stop!" I reluctantly retreated, swirling my tongue along his shaft and he hissed with pleasure. He grasped my shoulders and indicated the bed. I scooted back and said quietly. "What do you want?" "What do you want?" he repeated. "I want you to fuck me." He groaned. "How?" I turned over onto my stomach, flexing my hips and consequently, my hard on into the comforter on the bed. He grabbed the Astroglide from the bedside table and crawled in behind me. He squeezed out a blob and began working my ass, sliding his thick fingers in and out to prepare me. I concentrated on relaxing my muscles and was moaning by the time he stopped and coated himself with lube. He straddled my legs and parted my ass cheeks, his large hands nearly covering my entire cheek. He touched the leaking head of his cock to my back entrance and pushed gently. I felt a warm shiver as his glans spread my muscle, slowly but steadily. Finally, he pushed the huge head of his cock inside my warm ass. We groaned together. He didn't give me much time before he pressed forward hard, sliding part way in and spreading my ass like never before. He felt bigger and harder than I'd ever felt him. It was probably my imagination. But I was jazzed from a good dinner, a cake and him telling me he loved me. "Oh fuck, Jam. I want to bury myself," he moaned with agonized pleasure. "Do it, fuck me with that monster," I said, my voice warbling with intense anticipation. He grunted and let his weight fall on me, his elbows catching his weight as he slammed the rest of his staggering cock up my ass. "Awwwwwww, yeahhh, oh God, J." His large shaft pulsed in my colon as he held still for a moment. Then he hitched up onto his knees and pressed forward again. I yelped from the pleasure-pain of this extra insertion. He pressed forward until his balls were tight against mine. My ass stretched around his meat, struggling to accommodate him and I moaned as I felt my muscles give way. He began to stroke into me, in short, hard strokes, keeping himself buried as much as possible. He slowly increased the length of his strokes but kept his thrusts slow and steady. His balls slapped against mine as I felt every monstrous inch break me open as he shoved inside over and over again. My prick throbbed and slid on the bedclothes with every thrust, sending a shiver of arousal down my spine. He was panting in my ear and began chanting with every stroke, "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." He kept this up for a couple of minutes. I was going crazy and hollered, "Oh God, Daryl, make me CUM!" He grunted again and began slamming me with long, powerful strokes that ground my cock into the bed and mashed his balls against mine with every down stroke. He leaned back off his elbows and came up on his knees, spreading his legs wide so he could still penetrate deeply. His hands came down on the sides of my ass, and pressed my cheeks together, making an even tighter fit for his marauding cock. I went crazy as lightening bolts of arousal zipped up my spine. His hands left my ass and pulled my hips into the air. One hand gripped my hipbone tightly. The other slid around and grasped my rigid prick. He began pumping in time with ferocious thrusts. It was my turn to scream in agonized pleasure as I went straight into ecstasy. My cock jerked in his hand and began firing without mercy. I felt my muscles squeeze his cock and he bellowed as he began filling my ass with is warm cum with the speed of a freight train. My whole body jerked as it was washed with a vicious heat that took my breath away and I screamed his name. "Dddaaarrrryyyyllll! Oh FUCK, YES!" He let go of my cock in the throes of his orgasm and gripped both hips tightly, slamming home and holding himself buried deeply into my body, as his cock fired a huge load way up inside. We both collapsed and lay their panting. He leaned his body weight off to the side and turned us onto our sides, his cock still buried in my body. We stayed that way for long minutes as we worked at regaining our composure. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXXXX "That was outrageously intense," he whispered finally. I chuckled. "It was different tonight ... urgent." "I felt like I was staking a claim." "You did that a long time ago." He chuckled and kissed the back of my neck making me shiver. "Under the covers?" he suggested. "Yeah." He hissed as his cock retreated from my channel and I massaged my cheeks a little. We got under the covers and he said, "I hope I didn't make you sore." "I hope you did," I said. He laughed and squeezed me tightly, spooning up behind me. "You are the sexiest, little creature," he muttered. "Creature?" I inquired. I felt his lips smile against the top of my head. "It's a wonder I don't walk around with blue balls and a stiffy all day. Every time I think about you naked, I get a hard on." "And how often does that occur?" I asked, teasing. I was also curious. "About every ten minutes," he joked. We both chuckled. "Good night, sweetheart," I said, testing the endearment. I felt his chest roll with laughter but he didn't make any sound. "Good night, lover," he whispered in my ear. I snuggled into his chest and said, "I love you, Daryl." "I love you, Jam." "You're really here to stay?" I asked, slightly embarrassed that I still needed the reassurance. "I'm here to stay. You'll never get rid of me now. You're stuck with me." "Rather have you stuck IN me," I joked. "Shhh, go to sleep," he said between chuckles. We were silent for several moments and he said, "I'm here to stay, baby. I'm here to stay." I smiled even though he couldn't see me and drifted off into contented sleep, safe and secure in the knowledge that he would be there when I woke up ... and he would be there every day from now on. THE END.