DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the characters and
situations created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten
Thirteen Productions.  As such, the characters named are the
property of those entities and are used without permission,
although no copyright infringements are intended.  The
following work is for the distribution and entertainment of
fanfic members only.  Any further distribution of this work
without the author's consent is in violation of international
law.  Completed 9/3/98.

THANKS: To my beta readers, Jo-Ann Lassiter, Helen Wills,
nikki, Yvonne Richards, Macspooky, steffi, and Ten.  (Hey, it
takes a village...)    :-)   SPECIAL Thanks to Jo-Ann for the
ending!

SPOILER WARNING: Minor references (and a large tip of
the hat) to the episode "Bad Blood," and oblique reference to
"Redux II"

RATING: PG-13 for some language, violence, sexual
innuendo

CONTENT WARNING: This story assumes that Mulder and
Scully share more than platonic feelings for each other, so
no-romos be warned!

CLASSIFICATION:  Mixture.  Story, X-File, with Romance,
Humor, Angst.  UST.

SUMMARY:  Although Mulder is injured, the partners must
confront a vampire.



TIMEOUT FROM THE ALIENS   (1/4)
by Gerry Hill   (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

Early March in the suburbs of Washington, D.C.
2:42 PM

Special Agent Fox Mulder wasn't feeling so "Special" at the
moment.  He and his FBI partner Dana Scully had been
interrogating a suspect named Daryl Wallup, when Daryl had
unexpectedly taken off like a bat out of hell.

Without more than a glance between them, Scully had gone
for the car to see if she could head the guy off, while Mulder
had sighed and then sprinted after him on foot.

The second back yard that he cut across while in hot pursuit
was the agent's undoing.  With a sickening "squoosh" his left
foot, encased in expensive leather wing tips, sank into a
large-sized mound of dog poo.

Swearing horribly, he launched himself with a vengeance at
the six- foot-high wooden fence over which Daryl had just
disappeared, but managed to land badly on the other side.
When landing on his left foot, slick with doggie do, it shot out
from under him, and Mulder wound up flat on his rump,
hitting so hard that his teeth hurt.  He couldn't move for a second.
Groaning pitifully, he finally rolled onto his side, wincing at
the sharp pain in his back.

The screech of brakes and Scully's voice encouraged him to
get to his feet and limp in that direction, this time discreetly
using a gate he found in the fence.

"Federal agent!  Raise your hands and place them on the
wall!" floated to his ears.  Ahhh, such a shy, retiring little
thing.

Scully glanced over at her approaching partner as she
efficiently frisked the suspect.  A frown appeared on her face
and she asked, "What happened to you, Mulder?"

With a dirt-streaked suit, the fragrant substance on his shoe,
and a limp, Mulder supposed that he didn't cut a very suave
figure at the moment.

"Would you believe that I was just abducted by space aliens,
joined them in a huge battle against other, more horrible space
aliens, and then was returned without losing any time?"

"In other words, you fell on your ass."

"That, too."

They spent the next two hours taking care of Wallup's arrest,
lock-up, and the forty-two pounds of paperwork that those
things always seemed to require.  Mulder stoically ignored the
officers' pinched noses and "stinky" comments; he had
thoroughly scraped his shoe of all the offending substance he
could see, but the memory lingered on.

Scully insisted on accompanying her stiffly-moving partner up
the front entrance steps to his apartment building, up the
elevator, and down the hall to his apartment, hovering like a
mother hen.  She was going on about placing moist heat on
his back, taking ibuprofen for the pain, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Mulder was pretty much ignoring her, and began removing
and dropping articles of clothing as he crossed the room.

First, his shoes.  Then, his jacket and tie.  Then his shirt.
When he unbuckled his belt and began unzipping his pants,
Scully stopped talking for a second and asked uncertainly,
"Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Shower," he muttered, as he disappeared through a doorway.
Scully shrugged and went to rummage around in his kitchen,
looking for some juice or soda pop, but found nothing she
even wanted in the same room with her, much less drink.
And speaking of not wanting something in the same room
with her...she put his shoes into a plastic bag until they could
take care of the odor problem.

As she walked toward his couch, she heard a sharp cry and
then a thud coming from the general direction of the
bathroom.

"Mulder?" she called.

No answer, but she heard a groan from behind the door.

"I'm coming in!" she warned, and slowly pushed the door
open.  It didn't go far, but bumped against something resilient
that responded with an "Ow!"

Peeking around the edge of the door, Scully saw the profile of
a nude Mulder on his knees, facing the right-hand wall, a
white knuckled left-hand grip on the towel bar above his
head, a world of pain etched on his face, while he swore a
blue streak.

"Mulder!  What happened?"

Teeth clenched together, he managed, "Well, obviously I'm
not having a religious epiphany here."

"*That* I'm sure of.  Not with language like that coming from
your mouth."  She squeezed into the small room and crouched
behind him.

"Let me help you, Mulder."

"I don't know how we're going to do this.  My back goes into
painful spasms if I move."

"Well, I'll try to support your upper body while you pull on
the towel bar and maybe we can get you upright long enough
to make it to the bed."

Looking dubious about the plan, Mulder hesitantly nodded his
agreement, and then asked, "Could you put a towel around
my waist?"  He tried to sound nonchalant about the request,
but she could see he was embarrassed.

"Sure," she replied, secretly wishing he hadn't remembered
that he was naked.  Like he would forget that little detail
when I'm panting down the back of his neck here.

She moved her arms around his waist, holding the two ends of
the towel in her hands, and tried tucking one end of the cloth
into the other without being able to see what she was doing.
Kneeling behind him, she was leaning against his broad, nicely
muscled back, intent on properly fastening the makeshift
clothing, when he sighed and murmured, "A little higher,
Scully."

She gave a start when she realized just how low she was
fastening the towel, and quickly moved her hands higher, up
around his navel.  Thankful that he couldn't see her blushing,
she finished the job and stood.

In a wistful tone of voice, Mulder said, "I really wanted a
shower; the moist heat would be good for my back.  Scully?"

She moved so he wouldn't have to twist his neck to look at
her.

"Would you get warm water running in the shower and help
me in?"

"I'd have to take a shower with you, then, so I could give you
some support.  You could hurt yourself a lot more than you
are now if you fell down in there."

He took her seriously and said, "OK.  I'll face the shower
head and hold on to the soap bar while you stand behind me
to make sure I don't fall."

She could only stare at him, at a loss for words.  For ten
seconds, anyway.

"Mulder, I doubt that you could even step over the side of the
tub, much less stand there while I wash you down like I
would my car."  And the image of a soapy, happy Mulder
standing there while she ran her hands, with a washcloth of
course, she quickly added, all over his body...

A smile tugged at his lips and she knew that he'd seen her
reaction.

Coming up with an alternate solution, she said, "OK, how
about a compromise?  I could fill the tub with really warm
water and you could lie in it and soak.  That would help your
back more than a shower, anyway."

"That wouldn't be as much fun, though," he said, with a look
from under his lashes.

Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that.  He thinks it's funny and
does it to tease me, and probably doesn't realize the effect it
has.

"Aaaaahhhh!"  Mulder's teasing came to an abrupt end when a
particularly vicious spasm hit his lower back, and he went
rigid, suffering through the pain, hoping that the muscle
would eventually be merciful and relax.

Years later, but less than a minute in Earth time, the pain
eased to a dull throb and he became aware that Scully was
right there beside him, kneeling on the cold floor, a small hand
on his shoulder.

"To hell with the bath; let's try to get you off the floor and
into bed."

Oh how he had wished to hear those words or something
similar for years.  But he didn't even have the energy to leer at
her, much less make an off-color remark.

Obediently he tightened his grip on the towel rack and
cautiously tried to get his right foot under him on the floor so
he could push off it and try to stand.  Scully got an arm
around his waist for support.  The maneuver worked, to their
amazement.

Moaning intermittently, he shuffled to his bed, leaning on the
slender but surprisingly solid redhead glued to his side.  Once
there, he toppled like a felled tree, emitting a
quickly-terminated girly scream as he hit the surface.

After an interval of fearfully waiting for the spasms to resume,
Mulder finally noticed that Scully had disappeared.

"Uh, Scully," he ventured.

"Right here, Mulder," she called as she quickly moved
through the doorway.  "I looked in my bag and found several
medications which will help you until you can see your
doctor."

His eyes widened as he took in the handful of prescription
bottles and drug sample packets she was juggling.  A couple
of the pills looked as big as those cherry-bombs he used to
light and explode at Fourth of July picnics.  No way he was
going to swallow those.  Huh uh.  She could sit on his chest
and try to shove them down his throat with a broom handle,
and knowing Scully she probably would; but no way, Jose.

She dropped the medicinal load onto the bed next to him and
poked at the small pile with her forefinger.

"We've got pain-killers, muscle relaxants, and..."

"Scully, you know how I hate to take pills of any kind.  Can't
I just rest and let this heal on its own?"  He was ashamed to
detect a whining tone in his voice.

Her look told him, "We've been through *this* before, you
hind end of a baboon," but maybe he was reading more into it
than was really there.

Or maybe not.

"You know better than that," she sighed, exasperation evident
in her tone of voice and her stiffened body.  Girding for battle,
he figured.  Well, he'd make this easy for her, just this once.

"All right," he ungracefully muttered.

Astonished at not going through all the usual arguments, but
not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, Scully grabbed
one of each pill and placed them into his unwilling hand.  She
helped him prop his head high enough against the pillow to
get them down without choking, then stood back with a
speculative look on her face.

He finally noticed and asked fearfully, "What?!"

"You can't wear that towel to bed."

He didn't like where the conversation was going.

"And that's because...?"

"People don't wear towels to bed.  It needs to come off."

He glanced down at the offending garment and smirked, "You
plan to take it off and leave me bare-assed, Scully?"

Calling on her bland "doctor's" expression, she replied, "No.  I
plan to remove it, slip some sweat pants or pajama bottoms
on you, get a hot pad under your lower back, cover you up,
and let you rest."

"You and what army?" he snorted, picturing this small woman
handling his much larger body...hmmm, that scenario held
certain intriguing possibilities...But no, he'd suffered enough
indignities already.

"If you'll get a pair of boxers and my sweats from the top
drawer over there, I'll put them on myself."

Shaking her head doubtfully, she did as he asked, smiling
evilly at finding a godawful puke-green-colored pair of boxers
at the bottom of the pile.  The sweats were his old blue ones,
laundered repeatedly until they were nearly gray.

He gave her a look when he saw the boxers, but refrained
from making a comment.  In his helpless position, he didn't
dare antagonize her needlessly.  But he could still tease.

His fingers reached for the tucked-in edge of the towel, ready
to pull it aside, saying, "Maybe I should be charging
admission."

She flushed and turned away, saying, "Don't flatter yourself.
I'll leave you alone for ten minutes, so call me if you need any
help."

Although several mysterious thumping sounds were heard,
which were accompanied by clearly enunciated blasphemies,
Scully steadfastly remained in the living room.  At last a
triumphant "All done!" floated in from the bedroom.

She smiled at him, enjoying the debonair figure he cut.  His
sweat pants were slightly askew, an inch-wide band of
puke-green was jauntily peeking out at his waist, and the
sweat shirt's label was blatantly obvious under his chin instead
of being where it belonged, at the back of his neck.

Mulder grudgingly admitted that he'd had to lie on his back,
stick his legs up in the air and then try to snag his boxers with
his feet as he swung them up with his hand.  At her raised
eyebrow, he protested, "Hey, it worked!"

She located the heating pad in a hall closet behind a pair of
hiking boots, plugged it in, then helped him roll onto his side
while positioning it under his lower back.

He sighed hugely when the heat began to sink in, and she
knew that the pills had begun working as well.  His brow was
smooth and his eyes drowsy.

But when she turned to leave him, he spoke up.

"Scully, I have a big favor to ask you."

He was using his most sincere look, along with the husky
voice that meant he was going to try to get her to do
something she wouldn't normally agree to.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she steeled herself.

"What?"

That lower lip thing again.  Damn.

"I left a case with Skinner for approval this morning and there
hasn't been a minute to tell you about it."

"What case?"  She wasn't giving him an inch.

"Uh, well, it's sort of two cases, really.  In the first, there have
been four strange incidents near Catholic University recently.
I've been in touch with the D.C. Police about them, and the
details are unusual enough to involve us.  In the second case,
an elderly woman died, apparently of heart failure, in Rock
Creek Cemetery last night..."

"You're linking the two cases, aren't you?"

His eyes widened as he jokingly said, "God, how do you do
that?  It's downright spooky!"

"Ha, ha.  Before you fill me in on the details, what sort of
favor are you asking?"

"Right for the jugular every time."  He began to fidget, a sure
sign of nervousness.  Then he decided to try a new tactic;
telling her the truth.

"I need for you to drive me to the cemetery tonight so I can
catch the...bad guy."

She didn't say anything for a few seconds, but her look clearly
told him that she thought her partner had finally lost his mind.

"In your condition, Mulder?  The perp would have to be a
hundred-year-old guy with crutches for you to stand even a
chance of catching him.  And what about the police - you said
they were working on this case?"

Before she really got into it, he interrupted.

"They're not pursuing it.  And there'll be another attack
tonight if I'm not there to stop it.  Look, let me explain.  Four
people who all happen to be enrolled at Catholic University
are telling the same story.  Each one says they're missing a
few hours."

Forestalling her comment, he quickly added, "No, not an alien
abduction scenario, Scully.  They each have bite marks on the
sides of their necks, and are lethargic after the incident."

Her eyes narrowed as she said, "Please don't tell you you're
talking about vampires again.  It's worse than the alien
theories.  And how the hell do you connect it to the little old
lady in the cemetery?"

Although feeling vaguely offended at her attitude, he
supposed it was justified to some degree.

"If you really want to hear what I've got to say..."

She nodded to continue, her eyes bright with impatience.

"I think that the vamp...uh, perp has been attacking people
near his 'lair' and has realized the necessity of some diversion
to guide the authorities into another direction.  Thus, the
attack on the woman in the cemetery.  Witnesses have
described the same 'tall, fair-haired young man in dark clothes'
at both scenes."

"What witnesses?" she asked.

"Well, in the cemetery, there was a kid who was taking a
short-cut home who saw this man near the crime scene at the
time of the death."

She sighed and said, "First of all, is there anything to show
that the woman didn't just have a heart attack and die with no
help from an outside source?  Were there any bite marks like
in the other cases?  It doesn't seem to be at all similar to the
other MO.  Other than this kid seeing someone near the body
in a dark cemetery...have you checked this kid out, by the
way?"

Mulder looked away, licked his lips, and muttered, "Yeah."

She patiently waited for the punch line.

"He's a known crack user."

"What?!"

He smiled sheepishly and nodded.

Scully turned away from the bed and he could see her
shoulders slump.  When she turned back around to face him,
there was a resigned look on her face.

"You're planning on going out there tonight whether I help
you or not.  Right?"

He simply held her gaze for a long moment, darkened hazel
eyes affirming her fears.

Scully stared at her partner for a very long time, but he
refused to back down.  There was a stubborn tension about
his jaw and his eyes steadily held her glare.

"You do realize that I wouldn't hesitate to handcuff you to
that bed if I had to," she growled.

Unfortunately, Mulder did know that, but continued his silent
battle of wills, with no flicker of outward reaction to her
threat.  He also bit back the obvious innuendo, showing a
little uncharacteristic discretion for a change.

Exasperated, she demanded, "Why the hell can't you just tell
the cops to be there instead?  I don't see what's so important
about your presence at the scene."

This time there was a reaction to her statement; he looked
guilty.

Reluctantly he admitted, "I...kind of pissed them off.  They
didn't believe me about the vampire, or that there's a
connection between the two cases.  As a matter of fact,
Detective Palmer was fairly explicit about where he would
stick his gun if he ever saw me again."

"Hmmmm.  And that doesn't deter you in the least from
poking your nose further into the cases?  Of course not.
What a stupid question."

"I'm going there tonight, Scully, with or without you."  The
stubborn set to his mouth told her that this argument was a
lost cause.

That had never deterred her before, however, and she
continued to try and wear him down.  Finally, without getting
him to budge an inch in his determination, she realized that he
had fallen asleep in the middle of her latest eloquent listing of
"Reasons Why This Is A Bad Idea."

"Fine," she muttered, and huffed out into the living room,
leaving him sleeping peacefully with that damned stubborn
pout on his lips.

(Continued in Part 2)


TIMEOUT FROM THE ALIENS (2/4)
By Gerry Hill    (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

Catholic University of America
The Previous Night

Raymond Foster was a vampire.  Barely a year ago he had been
certain that such creatures didn't exist.  Talk about rude
awakenings he mockingly thought, as he idly sat in front of his
computer in a corner of the huge, gloomy room.

A few months ago, bored to tears, he had poked around and
discovered a connection for a telephone line upstairs.  Running
it to his computer here in the sub-basement hadn't been too
difficult and now he was able to use the university's account to
log on and surf the net. The computer had come from his
apartment, which he had burglarized right after the "change"
before his relatives cleaned the place out.

Bunch of vultures had hardly waited until the ink on his fake
suicide note had dried.  He'd made up a story about how he'd
jumped off a bridge because he couldn't have Angela.  Ha.
Angela was a slut; let Jimmy Baker find that out on his own.

This "lair" of his was located in the lowest level of the oldest
building at the university.  Spanish language classes were still
held on the main floor, and Government classes on the floor
above that, with the topmost floor abandoned to dust and
decay.  They'd been talking about tearing it down for ten years
and nothing had been done yet.  He figured there was plenty of
time before worrying about having to move.

Becoming a vampire hadn't magically given him a higher IQ; he
was still just average in that department.  On the plus side, his
strength had quadrupled,  he could see in the dark, his hearing
was incredibly sharp, he could change his body into a couple of
interesting things...oh, yeah, and he could now live forever if he
was careful.  He wasn't so sure about that last item, however, if
it meant he had to listen to the endless Spanish lessons several
floors above his head all day.  He slept during daylight hours,
but it was a sleep that left him aware of what was happening
around him.  So he could now repeat, "Hola, Sanchez.
Vamanos al centro."  And so on, and so on.

It was like those recordings that you played during your sleep
on the theory that you were receptive to absorbing information
while in that restful state.  It wasn't the Spanish that he minded;
it would be nice to learn a second language.  What bugged him,
though, was the deadly sameness of the routine lessons.  They
needed to teach a few swear words in Spanish to liven things up
once in awhile, or at least teach something that would be more
useful to him.  "I want to drink your blood," would have been
nice to know.

Not a soul ever ventured down to the dank, musty, dusty,
creepy place deep in the earth under the run-down building.  He
had felt fairly safe until he himself had recently jeopardized it
all, through laziness.  Up until a month ago his main blood
source had been the various blood banks in the city.  They never
missed the few bags he stole, and he made sure that he never
took from the same one twice in a row.  He also treated himself
now and then to the pleasure of taking blood from "the source."
He would go to one of the run-down parts of town, find a
young child or baby who slept alone in a room, and then take
enough blood to satisfy himself, yet not harm the child.  The
parents would more than likely chalk it up to rat bites and set
out traps.

There didn't seem to be any other vampires around.  He'd never
sensed nor seen one.  The bitch who had made him a vampire
had taken off for Europe right after she'd turned him.  So he
finally figured that no one would notice if he progressed to
adults for sustenance.  That's where the laziness came in.  He
began taking students right in his own area instead of hunting in
distant parts of the city.

The cops had been all over the campus investigating the attacks,
but hadn't checked out his building yet.  They were getting
closer, though; a diversion was needed.

Around midnight he had wandered away from the university
until he had come upon the Rock Creek Cemetery.  Doubtful
there'd be any live people around at that hour, he nevertheless
decided to cut through a portion of it.  An appropriate setting
for what he had in mind, the place was something out of a
horror movie on that particular night.  The ground fog made
everything from the knees down indistinct and muffled his
footsteps against the concrete footpaths.  Gravestones
ominously loomed out of the fog to his right and left.  To tell
the truth, he wasn't actually too crazy about the location.  Now
that he knew firsthand there were such things as
vampires...what else might be lurking in the dark?

Raymond grinned unpleasantly, dismissing his overactive
imagination, when he saw a figure up ahead, walking toward
Webster Street on their way out of the cemetery.

Several quick strides and he was grabbing the person's arm.
The woman, an elderly lady, surprised the hell out of her
attacker by turning sharply out of his grasp and taking off up
the path like an Olympic sprinter.

"Shit," he growled, and moved to catch her before she reached
the too-public street.  When his hand closed around her arm
once more, she again surprised him, this time by clutching her
chest, gasping, and then sagging to the ground.  Given her past
antics he assumed that she was faking it, but when he leaned in
close it was obvious that she was having a heart attack or
something.

"Oh, to hell with it," he complained, and left her there, partially
concealed by the overgrown shrubbery.  He'd try again the next
night.  He needed to leave his mark on a living throat to divert
the police, not run around giving old ladies heart attacks.  What
was she doing in a cemetery at midnight anyway?

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


Back to the Present Time
Mulder's Apartment

Mulder had slept for several hours and Scully kept checking to
make sure that the heating pad wasn't getting too hot.  The pills
had apparently knocked him out, giving him a much-needed
rest.  She was still somewhat resentful of his monumental
stubbornness, and muttered under her breath while tending to
him.

She had discovered some tabloids lying on his coffee table.  At
first she had turned her nose up at them but after eyeing a few
of the more intriguing article headings, she wound up in a chair
at Mulder's desk, thoroughly engrossed in reading an article
titled "Aliens Sucked My Pool Dry." The victim, who had been
swimming in the pool at the time, had just begun telling about
the weird sound coming from the sky, when a noise from
Mulder's bedroom reached her ears.  It wasn't a subtle sound,
nor was it from an alien spaceship.  As a matter of fact, it
resembled the bellow of an irritated FBI agent.

"Scully! You let me sleep too long!  It's almost dark already!
Shit!  Where's my weapon?  I'll need a flashlight, ID, and..." his
list trailed off into a mumble as he used his arms to push himself
into a sitting position on the side of the bed.

Once sitting up, Mulder tried to look like a man at ease but
Scully could see the beads of sweat forming above his upper lip
from as far away as the opposite side of the room.

Crossing her arms and leaning back against the doorframe, she
said, "I won't take you over there if you can't get dressed and
walk to the elevator without my help."

"OK, that's fair enough," he tightly responded.

She could see his whole body tense as he prepared himself to
stand up.  Pressing his hands onto the tops of his thighs and
leaning slightly forward, he was able to make it in one massive
effort, give or take a verbalized "ah!" of pain or two, quickly
suppressed.   Wobbling slightly, he shuffled toward the closet
and grew more confident with every step.

"You cured me, Scully," he announced.

"I somehow doubt that," she sighed.  "The pills numbed the
pain, the muscle relaxant helped the back muscles quit spasming
so they can heal, and the heat helped begin that healing and
soothed the painful parts.  It's not over yet, Mulder."

That was proven when he reached for the doorknob on the
closet.  He stifled a cry as the muscles protested once more.
His right hand flew to the small of his back and his spine arched
in agony.  Biting his lip, he rode out the spasms, taking a deep
breath of relief when they ceased.

Scully was moving toward him, but he held his left hand up in a
gesture for her to stop.

"It's OK.  I can do this," he insisted through gritted teeth.
"Just...give me a minute."

She did as he wished and left him to it.  Under the earlier
teasing tone, she knew that he had been uncomfortable with
depending on someone else.  He was a very private and
independent man, despite his recent apparent openness to her.

Sitting on the couch in the next room and feeling useless, she
could hear painful-sounding thumps and bumps go on seemingly
forever.  That man has a serious flair for cursing, she decided.

Then everything got very quiet.

Several minutes of this creepy silence unnerved her so she
moved toward his bedroom.  Entering the doorway, she saw
that he was standing in front of the closet mirror, trying to knot
his tie.  Her eyes met his in the mirror and he gave her a
confident smile.

God, he looked great!  He had managed to get completely
dressed in a dark suit with a pale green dress shirt.  His
tie-knotting attempt was not going so well, however, and he
finally dropped his hands to his sides with a deep sigh of
resignation.

Scully took the hint, stepped up to him, and took over the task.

"I'm impressed, but isn't this a little formal for
vampire-hunting?"

"We fearless vampire hunters must always look professional."

She still wore the burgundy work suit which was beginning to
look quite wrinkled after twelve hours on her body.  Next to
him, she felt seriously frumpy.  Quickly finishing the knot and
straightening the tie, she stepped back and said, "All done."

Her eyes followed the line of his body downward, double
checking in case he missed anything she told herself, and finally
came to rest on the untied shoelaces.

He gave a chagrined look and shrugged.  "Couldn't reach 'em.
Besides, I thought I would save the vampire the trouble."

That got a smile from Scully as she recalled the obsessive-
compulsive traits he claimed the vampires in Chaney, Texas,
had of untying knots, particularly shoelaces.

She quickly bent down on one knee and took care of the
problem.  Thank goodness he had several pairs of these things,
since the ones in the plastic bag would kill more than a vampire
with the fumes.

When she finished, he cleared his throat and asked her to
retrieve a duffle bag from the floor of his closet that he wanted
to bring along.  She noticed that it clanked and was fairly heavy.

"Don't tell me this is what I'm thinking it is..."

Eyes full of mischief, he nodded happily.

She closed her eyes momentarily and groaned.

"Wooden stakes and mallet, holy water, crosses, garlic, the
works!" he told her, then carefully made his way to the front
door.  "We'd better get going; it's dark already," he added over
his shoulder.  He let her help him into his long overcoat since it
would be chilly outside, and then she grabbed her own.

She made him wait a few minutes longer to open the door,
handing him more pain pills and a glass of water.  She knew
that the earlier dose would be wearing off soon.  Finally ready,
she grabbed the duffle bag and followed him out the door and
to the elevator.  He was walking very stiffly she noticed, but at
least he wasn't incapacitated at the moment.

Getting into the passenger side of Scully's car was an ordeal, he
discovered.  He finally accomplished the feat by holding onto
the door and roof and allowing himself to fall down into the
seat.  Then he grabbed the left knee and lifted his leg into the
car, followed by his right.

At his partner's skeptical look, he grinned.  "No points for
grace, but it worked."

The next half hour was obviously pure misery for him.  With a
death-grasp on the hand grip above the door, Mulder managed
to survive the torture of pot holes, cornering, and the
stop-and-go of traffic lights.  Scully tried to take it easy,
without much success.  In a way, she was thinking that it served
him right; he deserved the discomfort of the ride since he
shouldn't be doing this to begin with.  Then a wave of guilt
washed over her for feeling so uncharitable toward her partner.

As they approached the cemetery Scully noticed that the fog
was thickening.

Great, just what we needed for this sort of a case, she thought.

They parked in a deserted lot near the cemetery which wasn't
too far from where the woman had died.

Mulder found to his surprise that, once he was out of the car, he
was able to maneuver quite well.  He presumed that his back
hadn't cared much for the jackknifed position into which it had
been forced while riding in Scully's compact car.

His partner retrieved the duffle bag from behind her seat and
asked, "Now what?" with a wary expression.

"Give me one of the stakes, the mallet and...um...the vial of holy
water."  He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at this
bizarre request.

Rummaging in the bag, she soon came up with the items and
handed them over without a word.

He tucked the small vial of water away into his coat pocket and
set off into the fog, swinging the stake and mallet by his side.
The pole lighting in the area struggled to penetrate the hazy
atmosphere but was only intermittently successful as the gauzy
mist billowed and swirled.  She followed him into the cemetery,
wondering for at least the tenth time what the hell she was
doing here.

Mulder was clearly looking for a specific spot, peering through
the thick fog for landmarks.   He spotted a small marker for
Section E and headed that way, then suddenly disappeared.
Scully's head had been turned for a second, and now she stared
at the spot where his tall figure had been just a moment before.

"Mulder?" she whispered, a mixture of annoyance and concern
causing her tone to rise on the last syllable of his name.

"Shhhh," came his admonition from behind some thick bushes
to her left.

She walked along the barrier and soon found the opening into
which he had slipped.  Scully couldn't help but give a start when
she saw the indistinct bronze statue of a shrouded woman
staring blankly into space.  Her face seemed weary, empty
somehow...it gave her a chill.

"Marian Adams is supposed to haunt this area, you know,"
came a voice behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Mulder, don't sneak up on me like that," she blurted, although
relieved to see that it was her grinning bastard of a partner.

He tilted his head toward the vaguely disturbing statue.  "It's
called 'Grief' and it was commissioned by the historian Henry
Adams in memory of his wife, Marian, who died mysteriously.
But they didn't have the X Files then, so the mystery was never
explained."

He wandered over to a bench near the statue and gingerly sat
down, holding himself very stiffly, and patting a space next to
him.

"How's your back doing?" she asked as she sat down.

"OK, but I think we'll need to stay out in the cemetery proper.
This place is too cut off and we can't see anything from here.
On the other hand, I don't think we should split up in this kind
of limited visibility.  Let's go out there, but stick together."

She readily agreed, not wanting to be alone in the cemetery for
reasons she didn't want to examine at the moment.

He gave a little grunt of pain as he got to his feet, but seemed
steady enough as they made their way back to the break in the
shrubbery.  Scully walked through first and headed for the main
walkway with her partner one step behind.

Mulder heard it then; a dry flapping sound, coming from the air
around them.  He reached out to grab her arm but was a second
too late.  His fingertips brushed her sleeve, and then she was
gone.

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

Raymond had found it so simple to grab the woman and pull her
away from her companion.  Floating in the moisture-laden air
with a four-foot wingspan of a large bat, he had spotted the two
a few minutes earlier and made a quick decision to take the
woman.  He had changed back into his human form
instantaneously when touching ground next to the pair.

His victim struggled a little more effectively than most, landing
a few blows to various parts of his anatomy.  He felt his interest
aroused at her strength, seeing for the first time what a lovely
woman she was.

He didn't take her far, having sensed that the man had an
infirmity of some kind and was probably not much of a threat to
him.  Raymond pulled the struggling woman even closer, tilting
her head to the side, and sank his sharp fangs into her neck
where the pale skin pulsed with a faint, seductive movement.

"Mmmmm," she murmured.

"Scully!!!" the man screamed.

As the blood filled his mouth, Raymond instantly tasted the taint
of cancer.  Not an active, growing kind, but a lurking, furtive,
inactive disease which had once been powerful but now was
content to bide its time.  And something that was even worse
than the cancer...the thin gold chain he could see at her throat
held a crucifix.   Although it lay under her blouse, out of sight,
he knew.  The vampire shoved the woman to the ground and
turned toward her companion, deciding to take his blood,
instead.  Her blood wouldn't hurt him; it was a matter of
personal preference.  As far as the crucifix went, he didn't want
to take a chance with it.

Now that he had tasted blood, Raymond's thirst raged, but he
could sense that there were a couple of other people in the
cemetery, still a distance off, but coming their way.  His sense
of urgency heightened and he moved swiftly toward the man.

***********

After Scully had disappeared,  Mulder frantically called to her,
desperately peering out into the fog and taking unsure steps into
the direction in which they had been moving when he lost her.
The agent was finally able to make out two figures in the mist,
about thirty yards away.  He tightened his grip on the stake in
his right hand and the vial of holy water in his left.  The mallet's
comforting weight nestled in his coat.

Forgetting about his back for a moment, his first step was taken
too hastily.  He felt a wrenching pull accompanied by a sheet of
pure agony wash through his lower back.  With a cry of pain he
went down hard, furious at his body's failure when his partner's
life might very well depend on him.

From the damp ground he winced with the stabbing muscle
spasms while seeing the indistinct figure bend its head to
Scully's throat...

"Noooo!!  Get away from her or so help me God I'll kill you!"
He was beside himself with fear for the one person who meant
everything to him.  "Leave her alone, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Suddenly Scully was a dark crumpled figure on the ground and
her attacker had changed victims; he was right next to Mulder,
fangs gleaming, saying, "OK."

A cold hand closed around Mulder's collar and, as he was
effortlessly pulled upward, the helpless man's eyes traveled over
black trousers, black pullover, some serious fangs, and finally
his gaze was fixed by intense, midnight blue eyes.  It was at that
point that his pain and fear were forgotten and he tilted his head
to offer his throat to the creature.  The stake clattered to the
concrete sidewalk, followed by the clink of the vial.

Raymond smiled.  It was so easy to control their minds.
Usually his strength alone was sufficient, but with other humans
nearby he wanted this feeding to be a quiet one.  This man
didn't strike him as one to easily submit.  Somewhat like his
companion.  Interesting pair...especially since they seemed to
have come equipped to hunt for vampires.

Leaning his head closer to his prey, Raymond let the point of his
fangs break the skin, then savagely sank them into the well of
blood he tasted.

Aaaahhh, the blood was delicious.  After a first taste, Raymond
savored another mouthful, delighted with his decision to change
his victim.  There was something about this blood he'd never
run across before.  Not a taint, but something...alien.
Something exhilarating.  His prey gave a shudder and a moan
but remained in the vampire's thrall.

Never dropping his guard, always keeping a sharp awareness of
his surroundings, Raymond detected the movements of the
woman, who still should have been unaware, if not
unconscious.  Yet she was now screaming something at him
about being a federal agent and releasing his captive.  Sure.

He was suffused with an almost sexual satisfaction from the
blood entering his body, but he wasn't so far gone that he didn't
notice the bullets smashing into his shoulder and thigh.  Shit,
that stung!

He stopped feeding to swivel his head toward the source of the
shots and saw that the woman was lying prone on the ground
facing his way, gun hand propped on her forearm.

She had shot him, the little bitch - actually shot him!  He was
getting thoroughly fed up with these two.  The bullets were no
more than a nuisance but the noise of the gunshots would
attract the attention of other humans.  He could hear voices and
someone was calling the police on a cel phone.

Well, it was likely that he had accomplished his goal of drawing
the local authority's investigation away from the university and
over into the area of this cemetery.  After all this commotion,
they would have to be deaf and blind to not pick up on it.

Still unsatisfied, he would have liked a little more blood, but, oh
well.  At times like this he wished there were "fast food" places
for vampires.  All this ran through his mind while looking
speculatively at the man dangling by the collar which was
bunched in Raymond's fist.

Ignoring the woman's increasingly hysterical demands, he came
to a decision and easily tossed his "dinner to-go" over his
shoulder in a fireman's carry.  In practically the same movement
he was running swiftly down the path.  He knew that the
woman was following, but it was a simple challenge to
outdistance her.  When he was finished with this human, he
would leave what was left of him back here in the cemetery
when the place was a little quieter.


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

(Continued in Part 3)


TIMEOUT FROM THE ALIENS   (3/4)
by Gerry Hill   (fox42@ix.netcom.com)


Scully didn't see how the perp could have gotten away from
her, especially when he had been trying to carry Mulder over his
shoulder and run at the same time.  She may have been a little
woozy still from the half-remembered attack, but that didn't
explain how the guy had easily left her in the dust, so to speak.

Knowing further pursuit on foot would be a useless endeavor,
she hurriedly retraced her steps with a feeling of fear for her
partner.  She absent-mindedly rubbed her neck where a tight,
itchy feeling persisted.  In the dark, the dried blood on her
fingertips went unnoticed.

Long before reaching the place they had been attacked, it was
evident to her that the police had arrived from the excited sound
of voices and the flashing lights.  Then with a suddenness that
stole her breath, she found herself directly in the path of two
uniformed policemen as they came barging down the walkway
with flashlights and guns at the ready.  That she didn't get shot
was a miracle, since they were both jumpy after hearing the
witnesses' stories.

She took charge with her FBI identification, telling them to
secure the scene and keep the witnesses handy while she called
Detective Palmer.  She explained to the two officers that the
detective was working a similar case and would want to be
involved with this one as well.  Meanwhile, they could get in
touch with their own precinct.

While the policemen were busy, Scully walked over to the spot
where Mulder had been attacked.  She tried to ignore the dark
stain on the sidewalk as she picked up the vial that had slipped
from his fingers.  By some miracle, the glass container hadn't
broken when it hit the concrete.  She pocketed the evidence,
feeling a twinge of guilt at the unprofessional action, but knew
that Mulder's life or death could hinge on something this small.
She took the stake as well, with a mirthless smile.  Her belief in
science was being stretched thinner on every case she shared
with Mulder, but if it would save her partner, she'd just have to
stretch it a little farther.

She called the detective on her cel phone, reaching him via a
patch-through to his home.

"Yeah?"  He sounded sleepy or grumpy, or both.

Scully explained who she was, then went over the events of the
evening in detail, all to an unnerving dead silence.  After she
had finished, a few seconds hung heavily between them before
he replied.

"I thought there was only one of them."

"One what?" she asked impatiently, anxious to go search for her
partner.

"Nutcase.  At the Bureau."

She fought the flare of anger, knowing that she may have to
depend on this man's help and it wouldn't do to antagonize him.

"Detective Palmer.  Whatever you may think of Agent Mulder
or myself, the fact is that he's wounded, has been kidnapped,
and is in mortal danger."

A slight pause, and then, "I'm listening."

"I understand that the vampire-like attacks took place in and
near Catholic University.  Had you narrowed their origin down
at all?  I believe that's where this guy took Mulder."

Sounding very reluctant, he grudgingly suggested, "Why don't I
meet you at the university's admissions building with a couple of
officers right now?  It'll save time and we can get started on
finding him."

Not caring whether he was happy about all this, she agreed and
ended the call.  Taking a minute to tell the policemen she was
going in pursuit, she also made another quick call to notify the
Bureau official on duty of what was happening, asking for a few
agents to assist.  Then she sprinted for her car.  She could feel a
heightening sense of urgency, with visions of what might be
happening to Mulder tormenting her thoughts.

***********

Mulder didn't think he had ever been more uncomfortable in his
life.  He was lying on a cold concrete floor, with his back
sending flares of pain out to remind him of the back injury.  If
that weren't enough, he had a terrific headache, along with a
strange, deep throbbing in his neck, under his left ear.  A
tentative touch and the throbbing changed to pain.  Wincing, he
pulled his hand down, noting the blood, and remembering.
Great.  Now I'm lunch to some asshole.

Above his head in a murky twilight were heavy floor beams and
planks.  He must be in a basement somewhere.  A *big*
basement, he thought, as his eyes tracked left and right.  There
was a light source over to his left that was woefully inadequate
for the large space and a clutter of crates, boxes, junked office
equipment and furniture were barely visible in the
semi-darkness.

He remembered being in the cemetery with Scully...Scully!!  He
groaned as his back protested the sudden movement he made, in
an attempt to get to his feet.  He lay still again, hoping the
spasms would subside, when a dark figure suddenly loomed
over him.

Although frightened, Mulder's first words were, "Did you hurt
my partner?"

Raymond was surprised.  He'd expected screaming and
cowering, but not concern for someone else.

With his most ferocious expression, he growled, "What does it
matter, when you're about to die? "

"Why kill me?  You only took those other people's blood."

Since Raymond had seen the stake and holy water that the man
had been carrying, he wasn't surprised that this man knew about
his other victims.

The vampire finally answered, his fangs glistening in the murky
light.  "You are the first to see where I hide.  Do you think I
could let you live, after that?"  He slowly and menacingly bent
down toward his mesmerized prey.

Suddenly the vampire's snarling features were transformed into
amusement as he began laughing.

Thoroughly confused, Mulder used this moment to pull his
weapon from the waist holster and bring it to bear on his
captor.

This seemed to tickle Raymond even more, and he clutched his
stomach as he laughed helplessly, staggering back a step or two.
He finally managed to calm himself down into an occasional
chuckle.

"I was only kidding - the look on your face was priceless!  You
won't remember any of this later, so it doesn't matter if you've
seen my 'home.'  By the way, that gun is useless.  Your partner
shot me several times and the wounds immediately healed."  He
fingered the hole in his pant leg to illustrate.

"So what do you intend to happen?"

"I take some more of your delicious blood, then return you to
the cemetery where I found you."  He shrugged, emphasizing
the simplicity of it all.

Mulder shook his head, saying, "You won't get to me without a
fight, you asshole.  And I still want to know what happened to
my partner."

A flash of fangs as he sneered, "I ripped her throat out."

If Raymond had wanted to hear his victim scream, he was now
afforded the opportunity.  Accompanying the scream of rage,
however, were loud gunshots, one following the other in rapid
succession.  They slammed into the vampire, shoving him back
against a support post.

The silence in the aftermath of the gunfire was broken by a sob
from the agent on the basement floor.  Through his grief, he
watched in shock as the being who had just taken five kill shots
stood upright and walked menacingly closer.

"I was only kidding about the woman, you idiot!  I *hate*
getting shot.  It stings."

With a move so swift that Mulder didn't see it coming, the gun
was slapped away and it skittered across the rough concrete
floor into the shadows.

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," the vampire growled, and he was on
Mulder before he could blink.  In a vice-like grip, the agent's
head was turned to the side, exposing his neck, but then nothing
happened.  A minute crawled by and Mulder gritted through his
teeth, "Admiring my manly physique or do you just like to
torture people?"

Raymond abruptly moved away, releasing his captive, saying,
"Shut up.  I heard something."


Mulder tried to shout a warning both to alert whoever was
coming and to let them know his own location, but the pressure
of a foot on his neck effectively silenced him.

The vampire realized that what he had been hearing were
cautious footsteps on the ground floor, and they were headed
for the upper basement entrance.  He would meet them up there
and have a little fun.  He'd never killed anyone before, being
fairly new yet at the game; however, this situation might push
him into it.  He felt a thrill at the thought. But first...

"Let's put you where you can't cause any trouble."

He grabbed Mulder around the waist and literally tucked him
under his arm.  The agent bit back an anguished moan at this
mistreatment of his back, and of the undignified position.  He
felt like a sack of potatoes that needed a chiropractor.

Raymond was chuckling again, and Mulder soon found out
why.

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

Scully had been the first to reach the admissions building and
she waited impatiently in the car for the rest of the team to
arrive.  Soon two pairs of headlights were turning into the
parking area, momentarily blinding her.

Detective Matt Palmer turned out to look like an ex-wrestler.
He was about 45 years old, had short dishwater blonde hair,
piercing blue eyes, and a sturdy, stocky build.  The two
uniformed officers who exited the patrol car were both young
and, judging from the snickers and glances at the federal agent,
they held the opinion that the night's operation was bogus.

Fine, she thought; so long as they did their job.

The detective extended his hand and grasped hers, saying,
"Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, Agent
Scully."  The grip was firm, his blue eyes boring into her own
for a second, and then he turned back toward the men following
him.

"This is Officer Jim Kamen."  The tall blonde hunk nodded.
"And that's Officer Tony diSilva."  The shorter, dark-haired
man simply looked her over.

"What's the best place to begin?" she asked Palmer.

"Well, to be honest with you, we really haven't spent much
effort on finding this perp.  He wasn't killing anyone - yet.  We
questioned the residents in the surrounding area whenever
someone could be spared to do it.  I covered a couple of
buildings on campus where most of the sightings occurred, and
talked with a few students and faculty.  That's about it."

A man from campus security joined them at that point,
introducing himself as Pete Williams.  He held a rolled-up
drawing, which he spread out on the hood of Scully's car, under
one of the pole lights.

"I brought the diagram of the campus buildings like you
wanted, Detective Palmer.  I've thought about it, and there are
only three buildings that might meet your criteria of unused
spaces where someone could hide over a long period of time."

Scully was impressed.  Palmer hadn't been idle while on his way
to meet her.

They wound up separating into three groups; the detective on
his own, Scully and Williams together, while diSilva went with
his partner, Kamen.  Williams gave them keys to the appropriate
buildings.  The Bureau's reinforcements hadn't shown up yet
and they couldn't wait any longer.

Before they broke up, Scully hesitated, then said, "Be careful of
this guy.  I put two bullets into him and it didn't slow him down.
I don't know what we're dealing with, but it's better to be
cautious."

Williams looked apprehensive at this, but Palmer and his
officers clearly had a "let's humor her" expression on their faces
when they turned to get started.  Scully was glad they didn't see
the stake she took with her from the front seat of the car before
following the security officer.

The building that Williams led her to was an older one, with ivy
covering most of the brick exterior.  He found the switch and
suddenly everything was brightly lighted, making their
flashlights unnecessary.

"They only use this floor; the upper ones are vacant, as is the
basement.  I can quickly check the upper floors while you begin
with the basement.  Light switch is just inside the door on your
right."

With that, he went bounding up the stairs.  She was glad he
seemed to sense the urgency of the situation.

The basement turned out to be a disappointment.  It had
recently been cleaned from the looks of it, and the fluorescent
lighting lit up all corners of the place.  There was nowhere to
hide.  The separate rooms at the far end held nothing but old
parts from a dismantled furnace.

Feeling more apprehensive by the moment over her partner's
welfare, she met Williams on her way back up.  They decided to
join Detective Palmer at his assigned building, which was just
next door.

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

As Detective Palmer had entered the vestibule, he patted his
hand along the wall, trying to find the light switch.  He
abandoned his quest when he suddenly heard muffled gunfire
coming from somewhere in the building.  Probably the basement
from the sounds of it, he thought, using his flashlight to find a
way down.

Weapon in hand, he cautiously opened the heavy wooden door
near the main stairway and peered into the darkness.  With the
help of his flashlight he was able to locate the basement light
switch.  It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the harsh glare
that lit up the stairs, and then he descended as quickly as
possible.

At the bottom, the room opened into a massive area, some of it
partitioned into smaller rooms.  It was apparently used for
storage, but there was a spacious clear section in the middle.
That's were he spotted the young man, who looked extremely
out of place in these surroundings.  And who had evidently been
standing there in the dark.

Pocketing the flashlight, he brought his ID case out with one
hand and held his gun ready at his side with the other.  He
approached with caution.

"I'm Detective Matt Palmer from the D. C. police department.
Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The man's eyes locked on Palmer's, and the older man's brain
functions seemed to slow.  It was mesmerizing to gaze deep in
those limitless depths...

Above them, the door at the top of the stairs banged open and
two pairs of footsteps resounded on the heavy wood as they
descended.

***********

Scully immediately zeroed in on the two men in the basement as
they came into view.  Detective Palmer appeared to be frozen,
holding his ID up and staring at...shit!  It was the guy who had
attacked them in the cemetery!

Raymond had rather a similar reaction at seeing her.

Shit!  The red-head from the cemetery!  And she's carrying that
frigging stake with her.  Won't these people ever quit?  He
wasn't worried, but was pissed off about having to relocate his
hideaway.  He was well-prepared to do so, but still hated to
actually have to pull up "stakes," he punned with an inner smile
at his own cleverness.  Game's up for now, but first we need to
lighten up.  Everyone looks so grim.

He noticed that the woman - Scully? - had now unholstered her
gun and was aiming at his head.  He sighed.

"Federal officer - Put your hands out where I can see them!
Now!"

He solemnly did as she asked and waited to see if she'd say
what he had bet himself she would say next.

"Where's my partner?!  What did you do with him?!!"

He looked her in the eyes and deliberately said, "I sucked him
nearly dry and then turned him into one of my kind."

Raymond was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier and had
just told his last joke to the wrong person.

The holy water came out of her pocket, she flipped the lid off
with her thumbnail, and splashed the contents across his face
and chest in one very swift move.

"Son of a *bitch*!!!" he shrieked, as the stuff began to eat away
at his exposed skin.  He did the only thing he could to escape
the agony, and that was to dissolve into a mist and float wispily
up to the high ceiling. Seething with anger, he watched the
flurry of activity below him.  From the way they were acting,
the humans thought the water had completely melted him.

Good.  He could plan in peace for awhile.

***********


Scully was asking a confused Detective Palmer if he had found
this guy here in the basement.  At his nod, she said, "Then
Mulder has to be around here somewhere.  Help me find him,
please!"

Gathering his vacationing wits, the detective radioed his two
officers and told them to join in the hunt.  He was told that
Agents Ruiz and Hillman had arrived, and said, "The more the
merrier.  Bring 'em along."

Williams was trying to get Scully to listen, following her to a
locked, partitioned door, which she smashed open with one
kick.  While he talked, she checked the cluttered room; it hadn't
been entered in years, from the look of the dust everywhere.

"This is the only building with a sub-basement..." Williams was
saying.

"What?!  Why didn't you say so before?" she cried and
motioned for him to lead her to it.

They found that the thick wooden trapdoor in the floor was
padlocked, and none of Williams' keys would work in the
mechanism.

The impatient agent pulled out her gun, took careful aim, and
fired a couple of rounds into the device.  That did the trick.
Detective Palmer appeared as though shot out of a cannon,
since she had failed to warn him of her lock-picking method.
"Sorry," she muttered at seeing his panic.

He and Williams helped her lift the heavy cover and saw more
stairs leading down into a dark pit.

Muttering, "My turn to get the mutant," Scully set a foot on the
first step, snapped on her flashlight, grabbed the stake from
where it had fallen to the floor, and disappeared into the
unknown.  Though not eager to follow after what they had
recently seen, both men descended behind her.

As Scully drew closer to the dim corner where the large
mahogany coffin rested, the hairs on the back of her neck were
persisting in standing up.  She had been in creepier situations,
but this case was really doing a number on the logical part of
her brain.  After hitting Mulder's attacker with two rounds fired
from her weapon and observing no discernable effect on him,
and then seeing that same man upstairs dissolve into a wisp of
smoke after the holy water had touched him...Scully's
near-inexhaustible capacity for rationalization was just about
maxed out.  She was scared to death of what she'd find in the
coffin that she now was slowly approaching.

She saw that there were two metal latches securely locking the
lid in place.  Did she really want to open them and see what was
inside?

Drawing a shaky breath, she lay the stake on a nearby box and
set about releasing the catches.

If this thing creaks when I raise it, I'm not promising I won't
lose it entirely, she muttered to herself, getting a firm grip on
the satiny wood and lifting the large lid.

It was surprisingly easy to raise, and it silently swung all the
way open.  Forcing her eyes to look downward into the casket,
the world stopped entirely for her.

Mulder.

Mulder was lying quietly in the shadowy confines of the coffin,
a thin layer of what looked like dirt under him, his hands on his
chest, and his eyes closed.  A dark smear on his collar was
probably blood.

Hesitantly she reached in and brushed her hand over his cheek.
Before she could register that it was warm to her touch, his
eyes abruptly opened and locked on to hers.

"Ah, lunch," he said.

Scully gave a little shriek and jumped away from the casket.
Her hand found the stake as she brushed against the box where
it lay, and she brought it up in front of her.

But there was no fanged Mulder waiting to pounce on her.
There was only the unmistakable sounds of laughter coming
from the depths of a shaking coffin.

Not having noticed Detective Palmer's arrival, she jerked in
surprise when a hand closed on her arm.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking nervously toward the
coffin.

"I'm not sure, but I'm about to find out," she replied, seeing that
her audience was growing.  Williams was now standing next to
the detective, his eyes as big as saucers, and she could hear the
rest of the team heading their way from the far end of the room.

Pulling herself together, she took a few steps forward and
demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Mulder?"

He was wearing a smug smile as he said, "You should have seen
your expression, Scully.  So vampires are on your newly begun
list of exceptions to scientific laws?"

His smile died as he noticed Detective Palmer peering curiously
over the coffin's rim at him, followed by five other men.

"Don't need pallbearers yet, thanks, but could you help me up?"
he asked hopefully.

Several pairs of willing hands helped him out of his macabre
bed, and Mulder found that his back wasn't quite as bad as it
was earlier.  Having a vampire use you as a floor mat, a sack of
potatoes, and as weights obviously had some chiropractic value.

"Are you all right, Agent Mulder?" one of the new arrivals
asked.  Scully recognized the man.  It was Stuart Hillman, an
agent she had dated once about a year ago.  He flashed a smile
at her when he noticed her look of recognition.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mulder thoughtfully replied, not missing one
bit of the interplay between his partner and the tall, handsome
newcomer.

Detective Palmer told diSilva to round up a forensic team and
some paramedics for the two agents, then turned to
contemplate the pair.

"We'll take care of this area, Agent Mulder.  You and your
partner should go up and get those wounds on your necks
looked at.  Now that the perp is dead..."

"Dead?"  Startled, he interrupted the detective with his
exclamation.

Scully reluctantly admitted, "When I threw that water from your
bag on him, he kind of..." she looked at the detective for input.

"Dissolved.  Poof.  Up in smoke," Palmer supplied.

The two police officers and the two newly-arrived agents stared
at Palmer, obviously thinking he was joking.  But Mulder
became highly agitated and grabbed Scully by her shoulders.

"He's not dead.  In fact, he's probably still hanging around."

A silence greeted that statement, some from confusion and the
rest from incredulity.

He tried again.  "You saw him disappear; why is it so hard to
believe he could re-appear?"  Looking around him, Mulder
knew when he couldn't win, and sighed.

"All right, Scully.  Let's go up, get checked out, and give our
statements to whoever wants them."

Suspicious that he would back down so easily, his partner
preceded him up the stairs, leaving the evidence-gathering and
other work in the detective's capable hands.

(Concluded in Part 4)


TIMEOUT FROM THE ALIENS   (4/4)
by Gerry Hill   (fox42@ix.netcom.com)


When they emerged from the trapdoor into the first basement,
Mulder's head had turned and Raymond could have sworn he
looked right at him.  Suppressing an urge to float back up to the
dark rafters of the ceiling, the vampire maintained his foggy
appearance at the back of the room.

Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, the agent had appeared
lost in thought for a few seconds, until his partner called his
name from the foot of the stairs that led to the upper floors.
He'd shrugged his shoulders and followed her up to the main
entrance of the building.

Their reports had been recorded first, while waiting for the
ambulance.

Raymond had continued to hang around while the agents were
examined by the paramedics, amused at their reaction to the
half-healed neck wounds.  The marks would remain for awhile,
but the wounds themselves tended to quickly heal, apparently
due to something in his saliva.

At long last the man and woman had been allowed to leave,
despite strong pressure to accompany the ambulance to the
hospital.  Samples of their blood had been taken, however, for
testing.

Transforming into a bat in the night sky, Raymond had no
trouble keeping up with the car driven by the woman.

While floating on the updrafts and skimming over rooftops, he
was contemplating what he would do with this pair of annoying
humans.  He was furious about how his looks had been ruined.
He thought the disfigurement would gradually correct itself, but
he wasn't sure about that.  Raymond wanted revenge.  If he
killed one of them, however, the other would never rest until
they caught and staked him.  If he turned them both into
vampires, their personalities would be retained and he knew
beyond a doubt that they would drive him crazy or kill him in
no time.  Therefore, he concluded, I need to kill them both.
The thought didn't repel him as he had expected it
to...instead, he felt a pleasant thrill of anticipation.

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

1:43 AM
In the Car, Outside Mulder's Apartment

Scully wanted to end the argument they'd been having ever
since leaving the university.  She was tired and didn't care at
that point who won.

"No.  I want to go home and sleep in my own bed."

"C'mon, Scully, I'm telling you it's too dangerous to split up.
That thing is still out there and might be feeling a little pissed
off at us.  Just until dawn, OK?"

"If I can't change your mind, how about we go upstairs, grab
some clothes and things for you, and then go spend the night at
my place instead?"

"Oooh, I thought you'd never ask," he leered.

Musing whether she should punch him on the nose or ravage
him, she ignored the innuendo and opened her door.  The night
was chilly and she pulled her coat closer before walking toward
his apartment building.

After a couple of steps she realized that she hadn't heard
Mulder's car door close or his footsteps behind her.  She had a
sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach as she slowly turned
around.

The tall vampire was behind her partner and held him against his
body.  With one hand under his chin, Mulder's head was forced
back and slightly to the side where it lay against the creature's
shoulder.

Although the street lighting was dim, she could see what she
had accomplished with the holy water; hideous scars and some
melted-looking flesh adorned the once-handsome face.

"Shall I break his neck or tear his throat out?  Decisions,
decisions."
Scully could see the light glint off the sharp fangs in his mouth.

"Don't..." she began, and moved closer to them.

"Get rid of your necklace or I'll kill him as messily as I can, right
in front of your eyes," he growled, and gave a small yank on her
partner's head.  Mulder's eyes closed for a second with the pain,
but opened wide when he realized that Scully would do as this
monster asked.  And then she'd be helpless against him.

"No.  No, Sc..." he tried to warn her, but a powerful squeeze
around his throat cut off his words as well as his air.  He tried
to kick but it was a feeble attempt and his blows weren't even
noticed by his captor.

Seeing his distress, Scully lost no more time hesitating.  She
swiftly unclasped the necklace, drew it into her hand, and tossed
it through the still-open door of the car.

"We're going inside now so the neighbors don't get all excited,"
Raymond said, releasing Mulder only to place a firm hand on
the back of his neck.

A more intelligent vampire might have kicked the car door shut
as he and the agents walked past.  But it never occurred to him,
and that's how, a few minutes later, a passer-by who was
walking his dog happened to see the car door hanging open, the
dome light on inside, and a cross necklace lying on the seat.

As a criminal lawyer, the fact that he was carrying a cel phone
was a given.  His first reaction was to call 911.  When the
police dispatcher received his call, there happened to be a patrol
car just around the block, so she sent them to the location
quickly.  They ran a check on the license plate, found that it
belonged to an FBI agent, and woke the agent's boss up at 2:00
in the morning to report the mysterious abandoned car
belonging to Dana Scully.  They hadn't been able to reach
anyone at her home number.  Having checked the computer,
they had also tied her name in with a police report about some
kind of manhunt going on over at Catholic University a little
earlier.

"I don't believe this," Assistant Director Walter Skinner
grumbled half to himself and half to the officer on the other end
of the line.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing.  I'm on my way to check it out; just leave the car
as-is.  Thank you for reporting it to me."  Having recognized
the address as belonging to his pain-in-the-ass agent's, and on
the off-chance his agents needed immediate help, he then
directed the officers to Mulder's apartment and asked them to
call him right back.

He disconnected with a sigh, wondering what he was going on
this time.

It took him just a few minutes to throw on some jeans, a shirt,
tennis shoes and a heavy jacket.  He made sure his weapon had
a full clip, and then left his apartment to see what new kind of
trouble they had generated.  Probably something with major
international repercussions, with his luck.

The call-back reported no answer at Mulder's door, so he told
them they could leave, since he was half-way there and would
take over.  At that hour of the morning, he should make it in
five more minutes.

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


The trio stood silently before the closed elevator doors in the
lobby of Mulder's building.  Raymond impatiently jabbed the
"up" button for the tenth time.  He finally exclaimed, "It's after
2:00 in the morning!  The elevator *can't* be that busy!"

They all finally heard the lumbering old car descending to the
ground floor and the door haltingly parted to allow them
entrance.  As the door closed, they didn't notice the police
officers hurrying into the building and running up the stairs
when they saw they had missed the elevator.

Standing in the brightly-lit interior, nowhere to look but at the
floor indicators above the door as the car made its slow ascent,
Mulder frantically tried to think of a way for them to escape.
He had a strong suspicion that the vampire was going to kill
them this time.

Scully was equally frantic to see a way out of their predicament,
but for some reason, her mind kept supplying the quintessential
elevator music that was missing from the scene; "The Girl From
Ipanema."  She forced her mind back to the matter at hand,
slanting a look out of the corner of her eyes at her companions.
The vampire was grinning at her with a smug expression, as if
he knew what was going through her head.  Scully refused to
follow that thought.

The elevator continued to make its slow climb upward,
maddeningly stopping on the way at the second and third floors
for no one.

She still hadn't figured out how to explain this guy's
disappearing act. The super-strength could be traced to
adrenalin or drugs, but reacting to holy water that way, and
then dissolving right in front of her...mass hypnosis?  But the
water apparently *had* ruined his face, and that wasn't possible
if it had been normal water and his skin was normal...

The sudden jerking halt of the elevator at the fourth floor
snapped her back to her surroundings.  The doors didn't move
for an eternity, then shuddered open at a snail's pace.  They
could all hear the clatter of footsteps and the stairwell door
close as they exited the car and they thought, "Kids!"  She led
the group down the hall to Mulder's door.

"Unlock the door and invite me in," demanded the vampire,
giving Mulder a shake for emphasis before releasing him.

Light dawned.  Of course, a vampire couldn't enter your home
unless invited, the agent realized.  He got his keys from his
pocket and motioned to Scully to follow his lead.

Fumbling a little with the lock, he finally felt it open.  He
stepped back slightly, saying "Ladies first" as he pushed the
door inward.

When Scully was halfway through the opening, he shoved her
all the way inside, dived in after her, tumbling both of them to
the floor.  There was a giggling sound from the doorway behind
them, which wasn't exactly the effect Mulder had been seeking.
He turned and sat up, a sinking feeling in his stomach, to see the
vampire laughing at them - from inside the doorway.

"Damn, you are so gullible.  And you've seen way too many
vampire movies," he added, shaking his head.  "We can do
'Interview With a Vampire' next, if you'd like.  You can be the
reporter and I can tell you my story before I kill you."

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

AD Skinner had reached Scully's car and found it unlocked.
The necklace still lay on the front seat, and he remembered it as
the one she always wore.  He had idly wondered recently if the
woman had any other jewelry, but figured it was none of his
business.  A fleeting thought touched his mind, then; he
wondered if his agents had finally succumbed to their obvious
attraction for each other, and they were in such a hurry to get
inside Mulder's apartment that they'd left the car door open...
Expunging the unwelcome thoughts from his head, he felt a
vague embarrassment for doubting their professionalism.

Rummaging further, he discovered Mulder's vampire-hunting kit
on the floor of the back seat.  At least, he was pretty sure it
would be Mulder's - he couldn't see his rigidly scientific partner
having anything to do with what it contained.  He was
concerned to find it there, but not really surprised, given who he
was dealing with.

Skinner sighed, looked up at the window to Mulder's
apartment, grabbed the bag and the necklace, and went to seek
some answers.

Even though burdened with the heavy bag, he climbed the four
flights of stairs with no trouble and soon was striding toward
his agent's apartment.

He noticed the door opposite Mulder's opening a crack.
Delaying knocking on apartment 42, he asked the old guy
peeking out at him, "Sir, I'm a federal agent.  Did you see
anything unusual here this morning?"

The door opened a little more and the elderly man replied, "A
couple of officers were here banging on his door and that woke
me up.  I'm used to all sorts of commotion from Mr. Mulder's
place; if he's not beating the shit out of someone, then someone
else is beating the shit out of *him*. But after the cops left,
there was more noise and I peeked out to see Mr. Mulder and
his lady friend looking like they were in trouble from this guy
they were with."

"I'd like for you to call the police, now.  All right?"

"Get 'em back up here?  Sure."  The old guy nodded and
disappeared.

After all the lock picking and break-ins suffered by the old door
on apartment 42, it gave easily when Skinner landed a solid kick
against it.

************
Raymond grabbed Mulder by the throat and pushed him up
against the wall, leaving the agent's toes barely touching the
floor.  He gasped, his fingers desperately trying to loosen the
stranglehold in which his neck was embraced, to no avail.  His
partner had immediately thrown herself at the vampire, but
Raymond didn't bother to look in her direction when he
disdainfully flung her across the room with his free hand.  Scully
hit the wall with a thud and slid to the floor.  She felt a sharp
pain in her back and head, and fought to stay conscious.

"Now I'll drink every drop of your blood, and then rip her
throat out.  After that, who knows?  I like rain and fog; maybe
Vancouver would be nice."

He loosened his stranglehold on Mulder's throat and shoved the
agent's head to the side, exposing his neck.  Raymond could see
the pulse beating under the skin, carrying all that delicious red
blood through the artery and veins.  He sunk his fangs into the
same marks he'd made before and began to drink deeply.  His
victim moaned and struggled, but the vampire took no notice.

Suddenly there was an explosion of noise, causing the monster
to interrupt his feeding.  A man had broken into the apartment
and stood at the entry to the living room, staring in shock at the
scene in the apartment.

Raymond then made his final mistake with these people.  He
saw no threat from the human and returned to finish his first
course before going on to this new second course so
providentially provided.

*********

Skinner had switched the light on as he entered the apartment,
and now held his gun steady on the astonishing sight
confronting him.  Scully lay crumpled on the floor across the
room and this really ugly guy was apparently draining Mulder of
blood.

"Freeze!  Federal agent!" Skinner bellowed, dropping the duffle
bag and getting a two-handed grip on his gun.

There was no reaction whatsoever, so he had no choice but to
fire, in an attempt to hit the guy in the leg and hopefully to miss
Mulder.

"Argghh!" came from his agent's mouth and Skinner realized
with horror that he *had* winged Mulder.

"To hell with this," he muttered and grabbed a stake from the
open bag at his feet, leaving his gun on the floor.  Mustering all
his strength, he flew at the ugly guy and rammed the stake into
his back with all his weight behind the blow.  He felt it enter the
man's body with surprising ease, making a sickening crunching
sound as it penetrated various organs and smashed through
bones.

Raymond stiffened, gave a horrifying scream, and dropped to
the floor.  He gave several more shrieks as he thrashed around,
and then lay still.   Mulder had managed to lean against the wall
for a moment, and then had slid to the floor next to Raymond,
limp as a dishrag.

As Skinner checked his agents' injuries, he could hear sirens at
some distance away, but they were growing steadily closer, and
hementally thanked the old man for following through with the
call.

**********
3:15 PM, The Next Afternoon
In A Hospital

Mulder's vision gradually cleared and the bulky, blurry figure
that blocked out one entire side of the room coalesced suddenly
into his boss.  Confused for a moment, he simply stared,
blinking, wondering why Scully wasn't there instead.  Every
time he woke up in a hospital - and this was clearly another
hospital room - his partner would be by his side, worried about
his condition.

At his puzzled look, Skinner said, "You've had several units of
blood, Agent Mulder, but you're out of the woods now.  How
are you feeling?"

"Uh," he croaked.

Skinner was fidgeting, which fascinated Mulder.  He'd never
seen his boss do that before.  Usually gruff and straightforward,
he couldn't be bothered to play games and would normally
come right to the point.

"Agent Mulder," he said, again hesitating.  He cleared his throat
and continued, "When I tried to stop your attacker, I took a
shot at him and, er, sort of hit you in the calf of your left leg."
He hastily added, "It's just a flesh wound, as it turns out."

It took a second for the meaning to register, and then a world
of blackmail possibilities opened up to the injured man.  He
smiled.  "That's OK, sir.  I'll live."

His smile faded as he asked, "Where's Scully?  Is she all right?"

"Yes.  Well, sort of.  She has a mild concussion and a pulled
muscle in her back, but is doing fine otherwise.  She tried to
come in here to check on you, but her back was so painful, it
wasn't possible.  I told her that I'd do the honors."

Relief that Scully's injuries weren't worse washed over Mulder's
face, but then a sudden realization hit him.

"Sir!  What happened to the vampire?"

"I, er, skewered him with a stake."

A delighted grin was the response, and Skinner shrugged.

"It seemed to work."

"And you *did* tell the M.E. to make sure no one removed the
stake?  Remember Chaney, Texas?"

Skinner looked guilty and admitted, "I didn't remember to tell
them in time, I'm afraid.  The...body has disappeared from the
morgue.  We're doing all we can to locate it."

Mulder just nodded, knowing that the guy was long gone.  He
doubted they would ever see him again.

"Well, I'm heading back to the office.  You and Agent Scully
should be released later on today and you can finish
recuperating at home.  She'll need bed rest, however, with her
back.  It should be painful until the muscle has a chance to
heal."

A furtive smile crept over Mulder's face.  "Oh, I'll see that she
rests.  She helped me when my back was out, and now it's my
turn."

Suddenly a big, blonde nurse every bit as tall as Mulder walked
briskly into the room and announced, "I'm Marge.  It's time for
your sponge bath."

Skinner took one look at the shapely Amazon and hastily
excused himself.

Mulder began to say, "But I don't need..."

"Nonsense!" she barked.  More softly, she added, "I'll be
gentle." Marge coyly looked at him through her lush lashes and
flexed the well-developed muscles in her arms.

Mulder's eyes grew big, his lips parted, and a vision of his
favorite video flashed through his mind.  But that was fantasy,
and this was...frightening.  He gave a little yelp when the nurse
from hell grabbed the top of the sheet at his shoulders and
announced, "Let's see what you've got!" before ripping it off.

A nurse down the hall thought she heard a strange sound, but
didn't hear it again when she listened.  It had sounded like a
muffled exclamation or a startled cry.  Oh, well, back to work.


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

Later
Dana Scully's Hospital Room

A very clean Fox Mulder wearing very clean, fresh hospital
pajamas, carefully walked from his room, into the hallway, and
directly into his partner's room.  At first he thought she was
asleep, but when he leaned over the bed to see, he noticed that
her face was buried in the pillow and her shoulders were
shaking.

"Scully?  What's wrong?" he worriedly asked.

Gasping for air, she turned her head towards him and he saw
that she was laughing.  Hard.

"Oh...Mulder...you smell like lilacs!"  And she was off again,
laughing and occasionally moaning when the laughter jarred her
injured back.

Suspicion narrowed his eyes as he asked, "Did you sic Godzilla
the Nurse on me?"

Wiping tears from her eyes, she nodded happily.

There was a dead silence, and Scully saw that his expression
was calm and undisturbed.

Sobering, she asked, "Is that your 'I don't get mad; I get even'
face, Mulder?"

"That would be it."

"Uh, what if I said 'I'm sorry?' "

"About what?" he blandly replied.

Uh, oh, this could be bad.  Really bad.  She knew he could be
terribly inventive in his revenge schemes, but she usually wasn't
on the receiving end of them.

"What are you planning to do to get back at me?" she came
straight out and asked.

He smiled generously.

"Why, nothing at all, Scully.  I understand that your back is
really painful, so I wouldn't be so mean and petty as to go
pulling practical jokes on you at a time like this."

Then he dropped the other shoe.

"I just figured that I'd stay at your place for a few days, helping
you out.  I already called your Mom and she thinks it's a great
idea.  We both have to recuperate, and you're going to need
some help."

"Help with what, exactly?"  Her voice and expression were
warning him off.

He got up and began moving toward the door.  "Dressing,
bathing, you know..."

Mulder was chuckling at her incredulous expression as he
re-entered the hallway, and he walked over to a smiling Maggie
Scully.

"I've got her worried.  Let her stew a little, and then you can tell
her that it's you who's moving in with her for a few days."

Maggie squeezed his hand and went to visit her daughter.

Mulder turned toward his own room and ran smack into Marge.

"Hi.  I was wondering where you had disappeared.  I still have a
couple of treatments for you, including a full body massage."
She winked.

Mulder, now in on the joke, gave her his best leer and said,
"Only if I can return the favor."

Marge's eyes widened as expected, but then she surprised the
smirk right off of Mulder's face by giving him a long, slow
smile.  Taking Mulder's arm in a very loving, yet death grip
nonetheless, she leaned over until her lips were brushing the
suddenly-very-worried agent's ear.  "I thought you'd never ask."

In Dana's room, mother and daughter gave a start at the
bloodcurdling, "Scullllllyyyyy!!!" that resounded down the
corridor.  Alarmed, Scully looked quickly at the woman sitting
demurely by her bedside.  "Mom, you didn't..."

Maggie smiled sweetly, smoothing the blanket covering her
daughter's legs.  "He's a nice boy, dear, but he's such an
amateur."

THE END