TITLE: An Instrument of Torture to the Flesh
AUTHOR: Cathy
DISTRIBUTION: Archive at will with my name and email intact
SPOILER WARNING: None
RATING: R for strong language and descriptions of grahphic
Violence.
CLASSIFICATION: X, S
KEYWORDS: None
CHARACTERS: M, SK O-M

SUMMARY: Third season. A.D. Skinner requires Agent Mulder's
Assistance with an annoying case of demonic possession.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prologue

The room was quiet and still as a tomb.

Darkness settled over the second floor bedroom like a
shroud, broken only by the scant moonlight drifting in from
the window. The bare branches of the tree outside the window
whispered in the gentle autumn breeze, causing shadows to
dance within shadows across the far wall of the silent
chamber.

A tall oak dresser stood as the stoic sentinel near the
door, facing the matching antique four post-bed. The lace
canopy had long since disappeared but the original satin
coverlet still resided in the steamer trunk squatting at the
foot of the bed.  Flanking the bed on the right side, a worn
but comfortable Queen Anne chair nestled next to a bedside
table. The table hosted a brass lamp with a green banker's
shade and a telephone. To the left of the bed, a nightstand
supported a haggard looking wind-up alarm clock and a pair
of glasses. The glasses belonged to the bed's sole occupant,
one Walter S. Skinner, assistant director for the Federal
Bureau of Investigations. The closet set in the wall to the
left of the bed, its door standing ajar, an inky well even
darker than the rest of the room; untouched by the soft
beams of moonlight.

Rolling onto his stomach, Skinner turned his face toward the
closet. He sighed and snuggled deeper into the pillow.
Suddenly, a frown crossed his sleeping face and his eyelids
flew open, jarring Skinner instantly awake. He remained
perfectly still, peering about the darkened room. His heart
hammered in his chest and a feeling of unaccountable terror
seized his brain. There! Skinner's eyes narrowed to slits,
trying to focus on the blackness emanating from the closet
like an evil presence. He gasped as a pair of red eyes
peered menacingly back for a split second before winking
out. Rubbing his eyes, Skinner sat up and grabbed for his
glasses, fumbling them onto his face before turning to
switch on the lamp and stare back into the closet. There was
absolutely nothing there. Skinner wondered if he had
imagined or even dreamed the entire incident. The feelings
of terror and panic began to fade away giving credence to
the idea that this episode was nothing more than a bad
dream. He considered searching the closet, even went so far
as to sit up on the side of the bed. At the last moment,
Skinner decided it was ridiculous to allow nightmare to ruin
his sleep. Removing his glasses, he lay down on the bed
pulling the covers tightly around his neck. Sighing, Walter
S. Skinner chided himself for a fool but whipped back the
covers, darted across the room to slam the closet door
closed and rushed back to dive into the warmth and safety of
his bed before turning off the lamp.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hoover Building Washington, D.C.  FBI Headquarters:
Assistant Director Walter Skinner's Office

After the first night when I had seen...correction, dreamt I
had seen red eyes glowing from the bedroom closet, I had
considered consulting Agent Mulder's expertise. One week and
six virtually sleepless nights later, I asked Kimberly, my
personal secretary, to summon this vibrant young man to my
office.

Fox Mulder is the agent assigned exclusively to investigate
cases involving paranormal or supernatural activities. I
must say, Mulder is perfectly suited to his job, although,
you would never know just by looking. He is tall, lean, well
dressed and from what I overhear Kimberly discussing with
the others from the steno pool, Mulder is quite handsome. A
shock of dark and unruly hair frames his thin face. Bright
hazel eyes and a longish nose balanced by a full mouth and
an easy smile. He is clever, quick witted and bordering on
genius. For some reason, Fox W. Mulder left a budding career
as a profiler in the violent crimes division to pursue
aliens, monsters and things that go bump in the night.

Sitting across the desk from Special Agent Mulder, I watched
his intelligent eyes glow with excitement and anticipation
and realized I had made a gross error in judgment.

"I managed to sleep the night through." Even as I spoke the
words, the false ring in my tone struck my already jangled
nerves. I had not slept a single night through in over a
week, and the strain was showing. Glancing over my
companion's shoulder to break eye contact, I continued to
embellish the truth somewhat, "I think I overreacted and
asked for your for help when it isn't really needed, Mulder.
Why don't you just forget the entire matter?"

Leaning forward in his chair, Mulder rest his elbows on his
knees, "No, sir! I mean...you haven't forgotten the matter,
obviously."

Mulder had unbuttoned his jacket when he first sat down, so
now his tie hung loosely between his legs. Mesmerized by the
sight, I could not to take my eyes off the length of silk
suspended from his neck. I wondered fleetingly why most men
never wear tie tacks any more before coming back to the
matter at hand. Reaching blindly for the stack of files to
my right, I selected a folder at random and placed the
contents in front of me on the desk as an excuse to continue
to avoid meeting Mulder's eyes, "Well, I will forget in
time."

Sliding even farther forward in his chair, Mulder placed his
hands upon the desk surface. He peered at me with a look of
shock and disbelief, "Sir?"

His tie swung gently as if brushed by a soft breeze. I felt
my eyes following the swatch back and forth, like a
pendulum. God, I really have to sleep soon. My concentration
is for shit. Forcing my gaze back to the file before me, I
perused the document without registering a single word. I
finally cleared my throat and closed the folder resting my
hand firmly on the cover. Without conviction I stated, "I
spooked myself, Mulder. That is all. It will pass and I'm
sorry I bothered you over such a foolish notion."

"With all due respect, you don't believe that load of crap
and neither do I," Mulder lowered his dark head, staring
willfully at my face until I met the intensity of his gaze
in self-defense. I felt a blush warm my cheeks as Mulder
smiled gently. "There is no reason to be embarrassed, Sir.
You are not crazy and I will not tell anyone about this
assignment. It stays between you and me." Lifting his right
hand in the familiar three-finger salute, Mulder swore,
"Scout's Honor, sir."

It was hard to resist the sincerity so blatantly evident on
Mulder's face and nearly impossible to refuse his offer of
help. Returning his smile, I shook my head. "I feel like a
batty old woman, Mulder. I mean..." I pinched the bridge of
my nose and sighed.  Climbing from my chair, I began to pace
nervously around the narrow confines of my office sparing
Mulder a glance each time I passed his chair. "I'm a grown
man. I am a decorated Marine veteran. I served two tours,
active, in 'Nam." The more I spoke, the more agitated I
became waving my arms as I circled the room, "I have worked
in law enforcement for more years than I care to state."
Sighing again, I paced back behind my desk and slapped the
folder solidly, "Suddenly I'm scared to sleep in my own bed
because there is a boogey man hiding in my closet, for
Christ's sake!"

If possible, Mulder's smile widened. "What could be more
perfect, sir? Look at you. You are the most credible person
I have ever met." He stood up to face me and moved around
the desk. Resting his hand easily on my forearm, Mulder
asked softly, "Why would anyone disbelieve your story? You
have no motive to tell lies, Sir. You have nothing to gain
by creating a hoax of this nature." He squeezed my arm and
laughed good naturedly, "It would serve no purpose to try
and discredit me, because everyone in the Bureau already
believes old Spooky Mulder has a screw loose!"

I stared again into Mulder's sincere and sympathetic hazel
eyes and felt ridiculously close to tears. "I would never
make up a story like this, Agent. You are certainly right
about that much but I'm not so sure anyone else would be so
quick to believe my claims."

Mulder's smile brightened and he sat his hip familiarly on
top of my desk, "All right." He smoothed his tie against his
shirt, and propped his elbow on his elevated thigh, "You
need to leave early and get some sleep, Sir. I suggest you
check into a hotel where you won't be disturbed. First, I'd
like you to tell me every single thing you can remember
about what you saw in your closet."

Closing my eyes, I summoned my memories and suppressed a
shudder. "Every night for the past week, I've been awakened
at 3:59 a.m. I am lying on my stomach with my head turned
toward the closet." Staring hard at Mulder I tried to keep a
defensive tone from creeping into my voice, because there is
absolutely nothing I hate worse than whining. "The last
thing I do each night is to make sure that damned closet
door is closed firmly. I swear it by my good name, Agent
Mulder."

Nodding, Mulder waved a hand, unconcerned by my declaration,
"Understood. Please go on, Sir."

Resisting the urge to pace the room again, I settled my butt
firmly in the chair and continued, "Anyway, when I wake I'm
staring directly at the closet. The door is open and a pair
of red eyes is staring back at me." A chill crawled up my
spine and this time I was unable to prevent the shiver that
ran through my shoulders and neck. "As soon as I see them,
they're gone. Just like that, Mulder." I snapped my fingers
for effect.

Mulder sat on the desk silently chewing on his thumbnail.
His eyes held a glassy, unfocused look as if his mind was
thousands of miles away from the rest of his body. He gave
himself a little shake and glanced at me again. "Have you
added anything new to your bedroom recently, Sir?" He
shrugged as he explained, "A piece of furniture or something
of that nature?"

I glanced quickly down at the folder again. Clearing my
throat I made two false starts before I managed to admit,
"Well, yes." I sighed heavily and reluctantly confessed, "My
wife and I are currently in the process of a divorce, Agent
Mulder. I moved out of our house and rented an apartment in
Crystal City."

Leaping from the desk Mulder grinned, "That's got to be it,
Sir! Either the manifestation was already present in the
apartment or was attached to the bedroom furniture." He ran
his fingers through his hair again causing the dark spiky
bangs to stand at attention, "Did you buy your furniture
second hand, Sir?"

"No. I inherited quite a bit of furniture when my parents
died; several superior quality antique pieces, actually. I
brought most of my mother's things out of storage to furnish
the apartment rather than buy new."  When I received the
promotion to Assistant Director, Sharon, my wife, had
consulted a decorator and re-furnished our home. After my
mother passed away, Sharon insisted that there was
absolutely no room in the house for my mother's things.
Besides, why would we want moldy old museum pieces in our
thoroughly modern and pristine dwelling? We placed my
mother's things in storage, end of discussion.

Shaking his index finger wildly in my direction, Mulder
became more agitated by the second. "This has to be our
source, Sir." His grin grew wide enough to show molars and
his eyes positively gleamed. "Something you brought into the
apartment had this...this entity...for lack of a better
description, attached to it, Sir." He leaned over me,
placing his hands on the arms of my chair. His face was
close enough to mine for his breath to fog my glasses
slightly. He spoke in an urgent whisper, "We need to know
every last detail of your family history, Sir."

Scooting back to a more comfortable distance, I interrupted,
"Stop. Please, just calm down, Mulder." Removing my glasses,
I cleaned them on the trailing end of Mulder's silk tie,
"Stop calling me Sir, okay? Since we'll be working outside
the confines of the office, why don't you call me Walter?"

Mulder laughed and resumed his seat on the desk, "Sorry,
Si...Walter. I tend to get a bit exuberant at times." He
folded his arms across his chest, "Sorry." He began to gnaw
on his thumbnail again, taking time to regain his train of
thought. "Seriously, it would be of great help to know your
family history. Which of your ancestors purchased the
bedroom furniture? Where and when?" He moved on without
waiting for an answer, "I'd like your permission to consult
a psychic, Walter. This man is a personal friend and
completely trustworthy, Sir." Standing he headed toward the
door, "Get some sleep and I'll talk with you later this
evening." He whipped back to face the desk, "May I have your
house keys, Walter?" Grinning again Mulder explained,
"Keiren always insists on an initial walkthrough without the
client present. He prefers to absorb the atmosphere of the
surroundings, devoid of the emotions and perceptions of the
person who requested his services."  Mulder glanced at his
watch, "We'll wait for you at the apartment. Say, eleven
o'clock?"

I fished in my pants pocket for my key ring, fixing Mulder
with a baleful stare, "You're sure about this Keiren? You, I
trust implicitly but Keiren I don't know from Adam. I have
never laid eyes on him. Hell, I don't even know his last
name."

Mulder laughed, easily catching the key I tossed at him.
"Keiren is true blue, Walter. I'll swear on my good name,
just like you did earlier. Okay?" He turned back toward the
door, "Eleven it is, Walter."

I stopped him, just as his fingers wrapped around the
doorknob, "So, uhm...Mulder? Is Keiren going to divine the
location of my apartment? Otherwise, maybe you'd like to
wait while I write out the directions?"

Mulder had the good grace to blush as he turned back toward
the desk a final time. "Uhm...directions? Yes, sir, it would
probably be a good idea to wait for directions." Mulder
blushed brighter and fidgeted as his thumbnail snaked
quickly back toward his teeth.

I idly wondered whether Mulder had a problem with thumb
sucking as a child and then immediately decided some serious
sleep time was in order. I jotted the directions and address
of my building on a scrap of paper, "There is an underground
parking garage and elevator to the lobby. I'm on the second
floor, Apartment 2C. You'll have to be buzzed in." Handing
the paper to Mulder, I concluded, "I'll call ahead and let
the concierge know to expect you and...Keiren."


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

Ambassador Hotel, Washington, D.C.

I checked into the Ambassador Hotel less than an hour after
Mulder left my office. A company expense account does have
its uses.  Luckily, I had managed to stay awake long enough
to ask the bellhop to have my suit pressed and shoes shined.

I took a long hot bath in the decadently enormous porcelain
tub before climbing naked between the clean crisp sheets of
the king-sized bed. I must have fallen asleep the very
instant my head hit the pillow.  When I regained
consciousness at approximately 9:30 that same evening, I had
fresh clothing as well as a fresh outlook on life. Dressing
quickly, I ignored my rumbling stomach. I would barely have
time to make Crystal City by eleven if I took the freeway.
Maybe if traffic cooperated, I could manage a drive-through
burger to eat while I watched Keiren and Mulder exorcise my
new apartment as the dinner show.

On the drive to Virginia, I became self-conscious about
Mulder and his friend wandering around my apartment. Had
they searched through my personal things? Were they making
long distance calls on my telephone, or renting pornographic
movies on my cable account? I reached to turn on the radio,
feeling stupid and vaguely disloyal by entertaining such
thoughts. Mulder was a professional, trained at Quantico and
fully capable of behaving himself without direct
supervision. He had been kind and supportive when I had
burdened him with my problem and leapt at the opportunity to
help. Even if I did not know this Keiren character, Mulder
vouched for him. He had sworn an oath and assumed my trust,
by bringing a stranger into my home. Unfortunately, all my
justifications and reasoning did nothing to alleviate my
fears. I still had visions of Mulder and his friend sitting
on my couch dialing those 1-900-SPANK-ME numbers that I
always see advertised on late night television.



A.D. Skinner's Apartment, Crystal City, VA

I entered my apartment with the aide of the concierge and a
passkey. Not knowing what to expect, I carried the sack of
burgers to the kitchen and placed them on the table, still
finding no signs of Mulder or the psychic's presence.
Opening the refrigerator, I snagged a bottle of Guinness
before making my way to the master bedroom. I knocked softly
on the open door announcing my presence, "Agent Mulder? Have
you managed to solve the mystery?"

Mulder turned to me and smiled. He was standing just outside
the open closet door, "No, not yet, Walter." He stuck his
head inside the closet, "Keiren? Come out and meet my boss."

A short, wiry man stepped out of the closet and blinked at
me with the most intensely blue eyes I had ever seen. He
appeared to be around thirty and stood no more than 5'6". He
was thin enough to box as a bantamweight, so I would guess
Keiren weighed maybe 130 pounds soaking wet. "Hullo, I'm
Keiren Duinne. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Skinner."

I extended my hand and smiled, "Nice to meet you too,
Keiren. Please call me Walter."

Stuffing his fists into his jeans pockets, Keiren vigorously
shook his sandy blonde head. "Sorry, Walter, I don't shake
hands. I'm a touch clairvoyant."

I withdrew my hand promptly and nodded as if I actually
understood what this whipcord thin Irishman was talking
about, "No problem." I took a drink of ale to cover the
awkward silence and glanced at Mulder. "Thanks for
suggesting a hotel, Mulder. I slept like a rock for the
first time in a week." I nodded my head toward the door, "I
brought some food. Nothing fancy, just burgers-but they are
hot. There is cold ale in the ice box, if either of you are
interested."

Both men nodded and headed toward the hallway. Mulder smiled
as he passed me, "Thanks, Walter. Keiren and I have been
busy. Neither of us thought ahead about dinner."

I led the way to the kitchen, "Grab a chair. Who wants
Guinness?" I pulled two more bottles of ale from the fridge
and placed them on the table. Mulder passed out the
sandwiches and we tore into our food.  We ate in silence,
nodding or pointing if we needed a napkin or condiment.
Finally, I leaned back in my chair and glanced back and
forth between the two men, "So, what have you been doing all
this time?"

Keiren wiped his lips primly with a paper napkin and placed
it back on the table, "I've been getting to know the essence
of your home, Walter." He smiled mysteriously and helped
himself to another bottle of ale. "For the most part, the
apartment is peaceful; the entire building in general, for
that matter." He sat down, resting his elbows on the table,
"But your bedroom is another place altogether." He stared at
me intently, his blue eyes gleaming with an inner light,
"That closet is the most chaotic and evil place I have ever
encountered."

"You're preaching to the choir, Keiren. Each night when I
wake up to see those red eyes staring back at me I feel like
running from the room screaming at the top of my lungs." I
blushed after making such a cowardly admission.

Mulder climbed from his chair and fetched the last two
bottles of Guinness, setting one in front of me. "I thought
Keiren was going to do just that when he opened the closet
door, Walter." He nodded at his friend, "He jumped back so
fast he bumped right into me." Mulder laughed gently to take
the sting from his words and rubbed the end of his nose,
pretending it still smarted.

I smiled at Keiren and reached to clink the neck of my
bottle against his, "A man after my own heart."

Keiren smiled back easily, nodding toward the bottle, "In
more ways than one, Walter. Tell me, how did you come to
acquire a taste for such a fine Irish brew?"

I sipped at my ale before replying, "Both my parents were
first generation Americans. My mother's people are from
England and my Dad's folks from Scotland. Since no red
blooded Brit would be caught dead drinking the piss America
passes off for beer, Guinness stout was the one and only
spirit allowed in my mother's home. Well, that and a single
bottle of Jameson's each Christmas Eve."

Keiren chuckled again, "Irish stout and Irish whiskey? You
said your old Da was a Scot?"

I laughed along with Keiren, "Yeah. Dad said that whisky
made in Scotland has too much of a smoky flavor. Has
something to do with the way they dry the malted barley. I
really don't know the details. He liked the Irish better, so
Jameson's is what I drank whenever I could sneak a sip here
and there. Once I got older, I just never bothered to try
any other brand."

Keiren laughed and tipped his bottle at me, "Well, your old
man raised you to have good taste in liquor, Walter. That's
good enough for me."

Mulder cleared his throat, indicating the dinner
conversation was about to come to an abrupt halt. He stared
at me, his eyes sparkling, "So, Walter. Tell us where the
bedroom furniture came from. We need some sort of a clue,
here."

I glanced mournfully at Keiren, "I guess break time is
over." I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table,
"Mulder? Before I even get started, I want you to keep your
mouth shut. Understood?"

Grinning, Keiren shook his head in disbelief; "I'll lay ten
bob that the wily Fox can't go for one whole minute without
interrupting you, Walter. Are you willing to lay your money
on the table?"

I smiled grimly at Keiren and shook my head, "Fortunately, I
know better than to throw my money away. When Mulder hears
what I have to say, his head will explode if he tries not to
speak."

Staring keenly at my face, Mulder's hazel eyes gleamed with
excitement. He copied my movements, resting his elbows on
top of the table. Leaning forward he whispered, "I'll do my
best to stay quiet, Walter. Just don't keep us in suspense
any longer. Please?"

Feeling the sudden need to move, I stood and opened the
refrigerator again to look for more ale. "This will be a
thirsty tale, boys. Let me see what I can find to wet our
throats." We had finished off the last of the Guinness with
our meal, so I turned to the cabinet and pulled out the
bottle of Jameson's kept there in case of emergencies. I set
the bottle on the table and went back for glasses, pouring
two fingers for each of us.

Keiren chuckled, "You sure have the way of the Scot about
you, Walter. You draw out a story until your listeners are
begging for more."

Laughing, Mulder folded his hands beneath his chin, "I'm
begging already, Walter. Please? Won't you tell us the
story, now?"

I sipped at the whiskey and cleared my throat, "Yes. Now I
that I have run out of diversionary tactics, I guess I will
tell you the story. I mentioned that my grandparents were
immigrants, but I didn't give you names." Staring at Mulder,
I mentally willed him to remain seated if not silent. "My
maternal great grandfather was Inspector Edward Reid."

His jaw flapped comically as Mulder whipped his head back in
surprise, "THE Inspector Edward Reid? Jack the You Know Who,
Whitechapel, that Inspector Edward Reid?"

I nodded and rubbed my forehead, "The very same, Mulder." I
took a healthy draught of the Jameson's and poured more into
my glass.

Keiren began to nod, accepting my admission with much less
excitement that Mulder. "Your name is Skinner. Is Keith your
brother?"

"Cousin," I muttered. Not by coincidence, my paternal cousin
Keith had collaborated with two other investigative
researchers a few years ago to write 'Jack the Ripper: From
A to Z'. Originally published in England the book received
quite a bit of critical notice. Keith never failed to
express his disappointment in me because I refused to break
my oath and provide him with inside information.

Mulder scowled darkly. He took a token sip of his drink and
pronounced, "We've worked together all this time and you
never bothered to mention that your great grandfather headed
the investigation for the most sensational serial murder
case of the last two centuries?"

Keiren laughed, "Whatever were you thinking, Walter? Don't
you know this laddie's sole purpose in life is to find the
truth?" He sobered, "So, I guess you probably know the name
of our mysterious Jack, who delighted in killing those poor
unfortunates, don't you?"

I stared directly into Keiren's eyes and stated, "Jacks.
There was more than one man. Of course, I never met Edward
Reid personally, but according to my grandfather's account,
a select group of Freemasons committed the murders. That is
why all the witnesses' descriptions were so varied."

Mulder moaned softly, "My god, Walter! You have to tell the
whole story. I insist." He reached into his jacket pocket
for a pen and grabbed the remaining clean napkin from the
table. "Go slow. I want to take notes."

Removing my glasses, I rubbed my eyes and stretched my back,
"There isn't much to tell, Mulder. You have heard all the
theories. Most of them hold some elements of truth." I drank
again. "Okay, like I said before: I never spoke with the
Inspector, he died long before I was born, but his son -- my
grandfather -- explained it to me this way."  I began my
story without further preamble.

"In 1888, Prince Edward Albert Victor, grandson of Queen
Victoria fathered a child by a prostitute, Ann Crook. To
make matters worse, the prince married Ann in a small
Catholic church and legitimized his heir, a girl named Alice
Margaret. When rumors reached Windsor Castle, the Queen
contacted the Special Branch to investigate and rectify the
situation with due haste.  On the heels of this scandal, the
Court Physician, Sir William Gull immediately assaulted the
royal personage with more serious blow: Eddy was dying from
syphilis, the disease process far too advanced for
treatment."

I paused for another sip of whiskey. I noticed Mulder's
glass sat barely touched in front of him. "If you'd like
soda instead, there's Coke in the ice box, Mulder."

Mulder jumped up from the table, "Great. I'm not much into
hard liquor." He snagged a can of soda and resumed his seat.
Sliding the glass toward me, he popped the top of his can
and drank heartily, "Thanks."

Keiren poured Mulder's drink into his own glass and grinned,
"No need to let good whiskey go to waste." He sipped
appreciatively and nodded to me, "Please go on, Walter. This
story has always fascinated me...well, me and everyone else
in the free world, I'm sure. Have you ever told it before?"

Running a hand self-consciously across the top of my balding
head, I glanced down at my glass, suddenly interested in the
light reflected in the swirling amber liquid.  "No. I
promised my grandfather never to tell what he shared with
me. This was the only condition he would accept in return
for telling me the whole story. If it weren't for
that...that...whatever you call that thing in my closet, I
would never break my promise. I would have taken the
knowledge to my grave."

Mulder placed his hand gently on my arm. "It's okay, Walter.
If your grandfather knew what you were dealing with right
now, he would tell us the story himself. You're not breaking
your word to him."

Taking a ragged breath, I nodded and resumed my tale, "The
head of Special Branch, Michael Kidney and Doctor Gull were
high-ranking officials in the Freemasons' Order, and as such
had opportunity to discuss the dire state of affairs in
utmost privacy. Gull and Kidney consulted Robert Anderson,
another Freemason, recently appointed Secretary of the
Prison Commissioners. The three men devised a plan and
approached several trustworthy, yet less prominent members
of the secret society."

"Special Branch disposed of Ann Crook as decreed by Her
Royal Highness Victoria, as well as Ann's parents and infant
daughter. Dr. Gull spirited Eddy away, sending his ward
across the Isles and eventually to the Continent, making
sure the prince was not in the vicinity when the plan was to
be enacted."

"James Kenneth Stephen was Eddy's closest friend. Gull
approached and entreated Stephen to act in Eddy's stead.
Gull insisted that Stephen eliminate the woman who infected
the prince and signed his death warrant.  Stephen readily
agreed."

Keiren took this opportunity to interrupt, "But I thought
that Eddy was a homosexual, Walter. That he and J.K. Stephen
were actually lovers and the prostitutes were just a cover
to protect their secret."

I nodded and smiled, "You know a bit more about this that
you're letting on, don't you? The prince and Stephen were
lovers. Evidently, Eddy decided to take a walk on the wild
side. He did marry Ann Crook and fathered her child; at the
very least he accepted responsibility and acknowledged
paternity of Alice Margaret."

Keiren rubbed his chin, his eyes focusing inward,
"Right...therefore, that explains why Stephen was so easily
convinced to join Gull and his cronies. Wait...did your
grandfather mention whether Stephen contracted syphilis,
too?"

Mulder jumped in with a tremble of excitement in his voice.
"No one seems to know for sure! Stephen's family claimed he
suffered a serious head injury in 1886 and his behavior grew
increasingly more erratic. If he did contract syphilis from
the prince, this would explain the onset of insanity."
Mulder blushed and grinned turning to me, "Sorry, Walter.
This is your story. Please go on. We'll try not to interrupt
any more."

I smiled easily at Mulder. The Jameson's had given me just
enough of a buzz to make me far more tolerant of the
excitable young agent than I would ever be at the Bureau.
"No problem, Mulder. Ask as many questions as you like. If
it will help us nail down what is residing in my closet, you
and Keiren can sit here and interrogate me all night."
Pouring more courage into my glass, I sipped while regaining
my train of thought. "After an intense investigation, Mick
Kidney provided a list of five prostitutes. These women
attended the wedding of Prince Edward and Ann Crook and had
knowledge of the child, Alice. Kidney contacted Anderson
immediately. Stephen received the first name on the list and
traveled to Whitechapel under the cloak of darkness. He
botched the job by murdering Martha Tabram or Turner by some
accounts, on August 6th, 1888.  Stephen mistook Martha
Tabram for Mary Ann Nichols."

Mulder tapped his pen on the table, "That explains why
Tabram was raped and tortured, but not mutilated like the
other five women! Stephen was not a member of the
Freemason's, right?"

I agreed, "Right. Gull did not insist that Stephen perform
the ritual mutilations, because it would require him to
betray the Order and its secrets. He simply ordered Stephen
to kill Mary Nichols and cut her up a bit. If Stephen had
completed the job properly, no other volunteers would have
been required. Gull would have given Stephen the names of
the other women one at a time. The Freemasons would never
have been implicated, if things had gone as planned."

Keiren reached for the bottle and poured himself another
drink. "The plan was absolutely brilliant. If the police
caught Stephen, no one in his or her right mind would have
believed his story. His family and circle of friends knew
Stephen was not sane after the head injury. The Judge would
convict and sentence him to hang and no one would be the
wiser as to Gull's involvement."

I began to clear the table. Placing the empty bag and burger
wrappers in the trash, I needed to move around a bit before
going on with the sordid tale. "The plan still worked
brilliantly. No one was ever caught or convicted, so Gull
and his Lodge brothers got away with murder and treason." I
walked toward the kitchen door, "Let's go into the living
room. My butt is tired from sitting in that hard chair. Both
of you have scrawnier asses than mine, I know you are
uncomfortable, too."

We moved into the front room. I sat in an armchair similar
to the one in my bedroom while Mulder and Keiren flanked the
arms of the sofa like mismatched bookends.

"Go on, Walter; I know this is an awful story but the
details are crucial to Keiren's investigation." Mulder
propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and cradled his
chin in his palm, "Tell us the rest."

I kicked off my shoes and crossed my ankles on the coffee
table. Wiggling my toes happily, I considered removing my
socks, too. I settled for loosening my tie and opening the
top two buttons of my shirt. Finally, I began to speak
again. "This mistake had an unexpected effect on the
Whitechapel community. All of London read about the lurid
rape and murder in the daily papers. Pressure from the
public as well as the Police Commissioner heightened the
intensity of the investigation led by Inspectors Edward Reid
and George Abberline."

"Kidney insisted that Stephen be replaced as their
'instrument of torture to the flesh' and immediately
recruited several lesser ranking brothers from the Order to
carry out the remaining murders. Secrecy was of the utmost
importance. No one would know the identities of the other
conspirators except Kidney. He contacted each man
twenty-four hours prior to his assignment, providing the
name and description of the intended victim and her most
likely whereabouts. Doctor Gull provided instructions
detailing the mutilations. After reading and memorizing the
information in the presence of Michael Kidney, he burned the
paper to destroy any evidence."

"As summer gave way to autumn, Mary Ann Nichols, Annie
Chapman, Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddows suffered
excruciating and horrible deaths at the hands of the
Freemasons. Letters from self-professed Jack the Rippers to
the press and constabulary brought the police no closer to
catching the murderer."

During the course of their investigation, Reid and Abberline
uncovered several details of the conspiracy but could not
provide concrete evidence. They approached Police
Commissioner Sir Charles Warren with their suspicions.
Warren insisted the inspectors terminate this line of
investigation immediately."

Mulder stopped me, "Wasn't Sir Charles also a Freemason? He
had ample reason to discourage any further probing by the
police in this direction." He scrubbed his fingers through
his mass of dark hair, remembering something important, "As
a matter of fact, didn't Warren even go so far as to destroy
evidence? He washed away a chalk message written on a wall,
presumably left by the killer of Catherine Eddows, right?"

"Yes, Warren did exactly that. Two officers had time to
record the message in their notebooks, but no photographer
had the opportunity to take pictures."

Keiren added, "That is one of the first rules of the Masonic
Order. Protect your brother and cover his wrongdoings, if it
means perjuring or even incriminating yourself."  He gave me
a puzzled glance, "Didn't the message say something about
the Jews, Walter?"

"It spoke of Juwes with a U, Keiren. 'The Juwes are the men
That Will not be blamed for nothing'. Reed suspected the
killer meant to implicate the Freemasons involvement in the
murders. The Masonic Order steeped in antiquity, tells of
the construction of King Solomon's Temple. Jubela, Jubelo
and Jubelum were guards of the temple. The story goes that
the three ruffians murdered the Royal Architect, Hiram
Abiff. When King Solomon learned of their crime, the three
killers expressed great remorse and begged for death.
Jubela's execution involved having his throat cut across and
his tongue ripped out. The executioner slew Jubelo by
tearing open his left breast, his heart and vitals removed
and thrown over his shoulder. The final execution of Jubelum
was the most gruesome of all; his body severed into two
parts and burned to ashes."

Keiren frowned and puzzled aloud, "The message might have
been left by the killer, but more likely, someone suspected
what was going on and left the clue to alert in the police.
Sir Charles erased the message, not to prevent violence
against the Jews in the community but to protect his Lodge
brothers from exposure."

Mulder sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He
carried the idea even farther, "It might have been a
Freemason who recognized the ritual mutilations but was not
in on the conspiracy. He might have been trying to warn off
the murderer, by revealing his knowledge but not his
identity."

I shook my head and sighed, "It doesn't really matter who
wrote the message, because it was never investigated.
Besides, by November 9th, the grisly undertaking was
complete. The final Ripper victim, Mary Kelley, was found in
a lodging house mutilated almost beyond recognition. Her
body had been cut nearly in two. The organs ripped from her
abdominal cavity and placed around her on the bed. Her face
was slashed repeatedly." I sat in silence for some time,
contemplating my next statement. "Mary Kelly's heart was
never found."

Mulder's eyes widened until I thought they would fall out of
his head, "The killer took her heart with him?"

"There was no evidence to prove otherwise, Mulder." I closed
my eyes and rubbed my forehead. "Any way, it didn't make any
difference in the end. There was no conclusive evidence and
no one came forward to confess. The case was at a
standstill. The murders stopped and the public soon moved
past Jack the Ripper to other worries. Doctors diagnosed Sir
William Gull insane and placed him in an asylum under the
name Thomas Mason, where he died in 1890. J.K. Stephen and
Prince Edward Albert Victor died in 1892. Robert Anderson
retired from his position as Assistant Commissioner, CID in
1901. In recognition for his years of loyal service to crown
and country, he received the honor of knighthood. He died
peacefully in his home in 1918. Not much is known about the
private life of Michael Kidney."

I drained my glass and glared at my feet while I concluded,
"I'm the only descendant of Edward Reid to pursue a career
in law enforcement. It seems the Inspector has passed down
his legacy of unsolvable cases. Doesn't it?" Glancing
steadily at Keiren while pouring more whiskey, I finished,
"We still have no idea what possesses my closet, how it got
there or how to get rid of it."

Keiren smiled and finished off the last of his drink. "Let
me take care of the detective work, Walter. I'll root out
the sidhe from your closet, right proper." He set his empty
glass on the coffee table. "We have plenty of time to wait.
You say when you wake, it's nearly four?"

I stood, picking up our glasses and Mulder's empty soda can,
"Yeah, 3:59 a.m. on the dot." I carried the lot to the
kitchen and fussed around a few moments before returning to
the front room. "I don't feel like watching television and
thanks to Mulder and the Ambassador Hotel, I'm not sleepy.
Do either of you mind if I play the stereo? I'll set the
volume low."

Mulder smiled, "That's fine by me, Walter. I'm going to
close my eyes for a bit, if no one objects. I don't want to
be fuzzy when the witching hour arrives." He kicked off his
shoes and removed his jacket, sliding down to rest his head
on the back of the sofa.

I opened the hall closet and removed pillows and two light
blankets, "No problem at all, Mulder.  Here, at least make
yourselves comfortable." Tossing each man a pillow, I
dropped the folded blankets on the coffee table. "I'll turn
off the overhead light in just a minute. The lamp will be
enough for me and won't bother you much, hopefully."

Keiren readied himself for sleep wriggling and settling in,
reminding me of a dog nesting before a nap. I had to smile
at how comfortable both men seemed in the home of a complete
stranger. Now that I thought about it, I was surprised at
how nice it was to have company for a change.  I stood by
the wall switch, waiting for Mulder and Keiren to give me
the signal. "Lights out, soldiers. I'll wake you at three if
you're not up on your own."

Both men nodded sleepily and I shut out the lights. I moved
to stand in front of the stereo, reaching automatically for
Pink Floyd's 'Momentary Lapse of Reason'. I set the volume
just loud enough to distinguish the lyrics and returned to
the armchair. Sitting in the darkened room with David
Gilmour's guitar to keep me company, I thought about all the
things we discussed over the course of the evening. I
wondered if it was truly possible for a human soul...or
spirit...essence, whatever Keiren chose to call it, to
attach to an inanimate object. If so, why would the essence
suddenly manifest itself to me? My father and grandfather
before him never mentioned a single word about red-eyed
monsters hiding in the closet of their respective bedrooms.

I was distracted from my musings as 'No More Turning Away'
began to play. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the
lyrics, figuring I would forget all about Freemasons,
murdered prostitutes and ghosts in the night, for the
moment.

On the turning away
From the pale and downtrodden
And the words they say
Which we won't understand
"Don't accept that what's happening
Is just a case of others suffering,
Or you'll find that you're joining in
The turning away"

It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And casting its shroud
Over all we have known
Unaware how the ranks have grown
Driven on by a heart of stone
We could find that we're all alone
In the dream of the proud

I breathed a sigh of relief as the track ended, wondering if
I would ever listen to any song's lyrics innocently again.


About 2.45, I went to the bathroom to splash water on my
face. I returned to the living room and tapped the soles of
Mulder's feet, "Wake up. We have just over an hour to go,
Mulder."

Mulder groaned and rubbed his face, "Yes, sir." He sat up
and stretched before shaking Keiren's shoulder, "Up and at
'em, Duinne. It's almost show time." Rising slowly from the
couch, Mulder shambled toward the bathroom. "I'll be right
back. Don't start without me."

Keiren vigorously scratched his head, peering around the
room like a myopic owl. Finally recognizing his
surroundings, he glanced up at me, "Morning, Walter." He
yawned hugely and began to fold blankets and fluff pillows.

I quickly took the bedding from his hands. "Don't worry
about that, Keiren. I'll just toss them back in the closet.
Depending on how adamant that thing is about staying in my
closet, you and Mulder might be parking on the couch again
tonight."

Laughing softly, Keiren stood and stretched. "Let's hope I
can talk some sense into the wee ghostie. Make it understand
it's being evicted and we'll not take no for an answer."

Mulder wandered back to the living room by way of the
kitchen for a fresh Coke. "So, what's the game plan?" He
resumed his seat on the couch, "Do you need anything
special, Keiren? Bell, book or candles?" He grinned wickedly
at his friend as he popped the top of his soda can.

Keiren returned Mulder's grin, "No, but if the ghostie
requires a blood sacrifice, I expect you to be the first to
volunteer, Fox me lad." He chuckled all the way down the
hall to the bathroom.

Suddenly, I felt nervous and worried. What if the
manifestation didn't occur tonight? I removed my tie and
rolled up my shirtsleeves. Casting a glance at Mulder from
the corner of my eye, I wondered aloud, "I just hope this
thing isn't shy. I'm the only one who has seen it. I don't
want to look like a fool, if nothing happens."

Mulder stared at me in exasperation. "Walter, will you give
it a rest? I believe you. Keiren believes you. He already
said that he senses something chaotic and evil in your
closet, didn't he? Do you think we're setting you up?"

As if on cue, Keiren came back into the room and saved me
from having to answer Mulder's question. "We should probably
go into the bedroom, soon. I guess the best thing would be
for you to lie down on the bed, Walter. Fox can sit in the
armchair and I will stand near the closet. If this thing
comes out of the closet, I want you both to leave the room
immediately. Don't wait for me. Just go. Understand?"

I started to protest but Keiren cut me off,  "Trust me,
Walter. This isn't something you can protect me from. You
can't shoot it. You can't physically overpower it. I know
what I'm doing. I will be okay."

Slapping me on the back, Mulder agreed, "I've seen Keiren
work before, Walter. He's a professional...if there is such
a thing as a professional in this business."

I didn't like the situation at all but I was outnumbered. I
tried using my best surly assistant director's voice,
pointing my finger in his face for good measure, hoping for
a concession on Keiren's part, "If you don't follow us
immediately, I'm coming back for you. Is that understood?"

Without batting an eyelash, Keiren turned to Mulder as if I
hadn't spoken. "You're to wait outside the building, or in
the parking garage. I'll catch up to you when it's
finished."

To give him credit, Mulder did an admirable job trying to
hide his smirking grin. "No problem, Duinne. If you don't
make it out alive, I'll send the customary fee to your
mother." He peered anxiously down the hallway, "Are we ready
now?" Let's go bust a ghost, shall we?"

Keiren led the way, smiling and unconcerned. Mulder was his
usual vibrant self, totally engrossed in the prospect of
witnessing a spectral visitation. I grew increasingly
nervous as we approached the bedroom, unable to decide
whether I was more concerned about the red eyes appearing on
schedule or nothing happening at all.

Keiren stopped just inside the bedroom door. He turned to
face Mulder and me and whispered, "Go lie down on the bed,
Walter. Fox, sit yourself in the armchair and for the first
time in your life, keep quiet."

Mulder made a face at his companion but followed orders. He
flopped lazily into the Queen Anne, propping his elbows on
the chair arms, his fingers laced over his belly, his long
legs straight out in front of him crossed at the ankles.
I stared at my subordinate in amazement and made a mental
note to get with Keiren once things had settled down and
find out his secret for making Mulder behave. Feeling
foolish, I stretched out on the bed rolling to lie on my
stomach. I left my glasses on even though it was
uncomfortable. I had to be able to see in case action was
required. I turned my face toward the closet and made a
concentrated effort to relax.  Keiren padded silently to
stand before the closet, just far enough away not to be
struck by the door if it did open on cue. With effort, I
pulled my gaze from the wiry Irishman and glanced at the
clock: 3:56. Three minutes to go.

I heard Mulder shifting behind me but could not look away
from the closet to see what he was up to. I felt a coil of
tension tightening in my gut and my breathing quickened.
There was a sudden chill in the room. I could actually see
Keiren's breath. Lifting my head from the pillow, my heart
seized in my chest as the knob on the closet door began to
turn of its own accord. The door swung open ever so slowly,
a soft creaking sound accompanying the motion. I sat up
unable to draw adequate breath.

As the malevolent red eyes glowed from the depths of the
closet, I heard Mulder gasp softly. I was absurdly relieved
and gratified, knowing that someone else could see them and
found them just as terrifying. I jumped and nearly screamed
as Keiren spoke.

"Who are you? Why do ye tarry here?" He stepped closer to
the closet. I could still see the condensation of his
breath. I couldn't tell if his body trembled from cold or
from fear but it was probably a little of both. Keiren
cocked his head to one side listening to the silence. He
nodded and then stepped further into the darkness, "You'll
not find him here, lass. The one you seek has passed, long
ago." Keiren disappeared from view, now completely inside
the closet.

I stood and immediately felt Mulder grip my arm. He hissed,
"You can't go in there, Walter. You'll only distract Keiren
and break his concentration if you try to help."

I whipped around to face Mulder, my fear rapidly turning to
frustration and anger. "We can't leave him alone with that
thing, Mulder. For God's sake...you saw it. How can you call
Keiren your friend, and let him...."

Mulder smiled grimly, "I do call Keiren my friend. I call
myself his friend, too. That is why I do as he asks, Walter.
There is nothing we can do. If things get out of hand we're
leaving. I don't like it any more than you but we both
agreed."

The closet door muffled Keiren's scream only slightly. I
started forward, only to be hauled back by Mulder. "We're
leaving, Walter. Right fucking now!" He tugged on my arm
grunting with exertion, "You have to do as Keiren said.
Follow orders, soldier."

I allowed myself to be pulled from the apartment feeling
cowardly and small. "If he dies, Mulder...I'll never forgive
myself."

Mulder mumbled softly, "You have nothing to forgive yourself
for, Walter. Keiren ordered you...us from the room."

In the dull glow of the elevator light, I felt something in
my chest loosen when I caught a glimpse of Mulder's face. I
started to speak but he turned away from me. "He'll be fine,
Walter. Let's just go wait in the parking garage. It's too
fucking cold to stand outside. I left my shoes in your
living room."

I draped an arm awkwardly around Mulder's shoulders as we
exited the building into the dank underground parking lot.
"We can sit in my car, Mulder. I'll run the heater to keep
us warm while we wait."

He walked silently beside me making no effort to shrug away
from my arm but drawing no strength from me, either. He
stood passively by the passenger door while I unlocked the
vehicle and dropped into the seat with a soft sigh, leaving
the door standing open.

I closed Mulder's door and then hurried around to climb into
the driver's seat. I turned the key in the ignition, "It
won't take a minute to warm up." Mulder rolled his head to
stare out the window without bothering to answer. I had
absolutely no clue how to offer comfort to this miserable
young man. Gripping the steering wheel I growled, "Do you
want to go back for him, Mulder? What's Keiren going to do?
He can't take the both of us. We'll drag his scrawny Irish
ass outside and tomorrow I'll start looking for a new
apartment. What do you say?"

I heard Mulder's voice catch, sounding suspiciously like a
sob. He continued to stare out the window for several
moments, then spoke softly, "If we go back, we put Keiren at
greater risk. He needs all his energy and focus to save
himself, Walter. He can't take care of us, too. Hell, Keiren
may already be dead. I don't know. We stay put until he
comes out or the sun comes up."

I squeezed Mulder's shoulder firmly. He reached up and
gently pushed my hand away, "Don't. If you feel sorry for
me, I'm gonna start crying. I don't want to...at least until
I know for sure...please, Walter?"

I let my hand drop uselessly onto my lap. There was
absolutely nothing to say, so I said nothing. Staring
straight ahead at the gray concrete wall, I wondered if
faced with Mulder's decision, would I be able to put my
personal feelings aside and do the right thing. Judging from
my actions just moments before, I had serious doubts. Fox
William Mulder had demonstrated the ability to remain cool
headed and objective. He had earned my respect, yet it
seemed a hollow victory since he probably lost a close
friend in the bargain.

I was startled from my reverie by the soft ding of the
elevator bell. Turning quickly, I watched as Keiren
staggered toward the car and fell to the pavement. Whipping
the car door open, I shouted, "Mulder! There he is!" I
sprinted toward the fallen man, my legs feeling weak and
wobbly. If Keiren managed to make his way down here just to
die in Mulder's arms I don't think Mulder would recover from
the blow.

Mulder passed me easily, dropping to the ground to lift
Keiren's head onto his lap, "My God, Keiren. Why do you
always have to make an entrance?" His voice was reedy and
thin, his face pale, dark circles ringing his too bright
hazel eyes.

Keiren's eyelids fluttered. He spoke so softly I had to lean
in to hear his words, "Just look at the reaction I get, Fox
me lad. What other reason do I need?" He chuckled and then
coughed before struggling to sit up, "I'm fine, really. Just
weak."

I knelt beside them carefully pushing Keiren back onto the
ground, "Stay down. You're very weak. Are you injured? Do we
need to take you to a hospital?"

He offered no resistance and lay back on the cold concrete,
"No, I'm fine, really. I just need to rest. Just mentally
and emotionally depleted, Walter. Stop worrying, the lot of
you."

Mulder visibly relaxed. "Is it safe to go back inside,
Duinne? You'd probably recover must faster lying on Walter's
couch instead of the pavement."

Keiren licked his lips and opened his eyes with some
difficulty. "It's perfectly safe now. She's gone. She won't
be back, either. The only problem is, I don't have the
strength to walk back inside, Fox. I'll just lie here on the
cold stones with you as my pillow until I feel fit." He
grinned evilly and snuggled in as if he intended to stay a
while.

Rolling my eyes, I lifted Keiren easily into my arms. "Go
hold the elevator, Mulder. I'm not freezing my ass off a
minute longer, while you two banter back and forth."

Keiren chuckled, "I can walk, Walter. Please put me down."

I stood with Keiren cradled against my chest, "Shut up. I'm
in charge now. Mulder? Have you lost your hearing? I said:
Get the elevator and be goddamned quick about it!"

Mulder rushed to slap the button, still pale and looking
rather confused. I'm certain he was in shock. I had no
intentions of leaving either of them out here in the cold if
the apartment was safe. "Keiren? When we get inside, your
ass is on the sofa. Mulder? You get blankets from the
closet. I'll pour the whiskey. Once he's feeling better,
Keiren will tell us just what the hell went on in that
fucking closet. Until then, I want your mouths closed, your
asses in your seats and both of you doing exactly as you're
told. Am I making myself clear?"

Mulder nodded and mumbled, "Yes, sir." As I passed him to
stand in the back of the elevator, I caught Mulder wiping at
his eyes with his shirtsleeve. I glared down into Keiren's
face, unreasonably furious with the small man, "Are we clear
on this, Keiren Duinne?" Realizing the sudden shift in
authority, Keiren nodded. He squirmed once in my arms but
did not ask to be put down again.

When the elevator door opened onto the second floor, Mulder
darted ahead to my apartment. The front door stood open to
the hall. I couldn't really blame Keiren for not taking the
time to stop and lock it behind him as he used up his
remaining strength to stagger out to meet us, although I
really wanted to. I carried the slight Irishman into the
living room and settled him on the sofa and then went back
to close and lock the front door.

Mulder fetched the blankets and spread them over Keiren. "Do
you want a pillow too, Duinne?"

Replying in a much more subdued tone, Keiren declined, "I'm
fine. Sit down before you fall, Fox."

I went straight to the kitchen and poured Jameson's into
three glasses. Carrying them back to living room, I handed
one to Keiren and held one out to Mulder. "Drink it down,
Mulder, all of it. I know you don't like the taste but you
need it."

Mulder took the glass from my hand his fingers icy cold to
the touch. He took a deep breath and tossed the whiskey back
in one swallow. He cringed but kept it down. I was relieved
when I saw some color creeping back into his face. "Thank
you, Mulder. You'll start to feel better now." I took the
glass from him and set it on the coffee table. I still felt
restless and angry, so I wandered into the bedroom to see
for myself if there was any evidence of a struggle. The room
looked just like we'd left it. The bed slightly rumpled,
closet door standing open but absolutely no feeling of fear
or malice. It was just a bedroom again. Scratching my head,
I turned back to the living room and sat down in the chair
opposite Mulder. Both men seemed much improved. Keiren's
blue eyes had regained their intensity and Mulder's face
some of its natural animation.

I would be lying if I denied that a small but distinctly
wicked thrill coursed through me as they sat silent, waiting
for permission to speak. I tried to keep in mind the
protective feelings I'd experienced for the two young men,
especially Mulder. This only served to refuel my illogical
fury with Keiren. Turning to face the sofa, I leaned on the
arm of my chair and stared belligerently into the Irishman's
blue eyes, "So, what in Hell were you doing in the closet
all that time, Keiren? Did that thing try to hurt you or
not?"

Duinne pressed his elbows into the cushions in an effort to
sit. "Did I tell you to get up, Keiren? Lie down and answer
my goddamned questions." Whipping off my glasses, I pinched
the bridge of my nose, doing my level best to stem my anger
and frustration. "I'm sorry. I was absolutely terrified
earlier, Keiren, and then almost sick with worry over
you...and Mulder. Now that everything has settled down, I'm
furious with both of you." I took another cleansing breath
and tried to keep my voice calm and level, "Please, just
tell us what happened and I'll try to tone down the drill
sergeant routine. Deal?"

Keiren's face fell. He nodded and leaned back onto the sofa,
"I understand, Walter. I'll cut the blarney and tell you
straight."

Mulder remained silent staring at the floor but I swear to
God he was pouting. Needless to say, I felt like a complete
asshole.

Glancing at Mulder, Keiren's eyes gleamed with amusement
when he turned back to look at me. He kept his word about
sticking to the facts but his voice grew in volume and his
hands fluttered quickly as he explained, "It wasn't a thing,
Walter. It was Mary Kelly!" He paused dramatically. "She's
been trapped on this side of the veil for over a hundred
years," he added unnecessarily.

Despite his best attempts to remain cranky, Mulder was drawn
in by Keiren's story. His eyes flashed with excitement at
the revelation. "Mary Kelly? You are so full of shit your
eyes are brown, Duinne. Walter might fall for your tricks
but I know you. What was really in that closet?"

I put a stop to the shenanigans before the dynamic duo could
get started again. "Okay, I'll bite, Keiren. It was Mary
Kelly. But, why did you scream? If she wasn't trying to hurt
or kill you, what in God's name did happen?"

Keiren slid up to rest his back against the arm of the sofa,
his face aglow with the untold knowledge. "She possessed me,
Walter. Just slipped inside my body, without so much as a
how do you do. Then, Mary showed me the end of her life." He
stopped, some of the animation slipping from his face with
the memory. "I guess that's when I started to scream. It was
like I was Mary, Fox; it was all happening to me." He turned
to share a look with his friend. "I was lying on that filthy
cot sound asleep, when suddenly the closet door flew open. I
lifted my head and turned to look when he fell upon me."
Keiren began to tremble, pulling the blankets tightly around
his neck. "It was absolutely horrible." He fell silent.

Mulder and I exchanged a glance and waited while Keiren
regained his composure. "Any way...she's been looking for
her killer for all this time. She had no idea who he was or
why he attacked her. The bleeding arsehole didn't even
bother to tell Mary why she had to die."

I spoke softly, pulling Keiren away from the visions, "What
was Mary Kelly doing in my closet, for crying out loud?"

Giving himself a mighty shake, Keiren replied,
"She...Mary...or her essence was still in the lodging house
when your grand da came to investigate the murder scene,
Walter. She tried to talk to him. She couldn't understand
why he wouldn't reply or answer her questions. The alarm
clock sitting on your nightstand came from Mary's room.
Everything was collected as evidence. When the Inspector
retired, he took it with him as a reminder that he never
closed the most important case of his career. Mary attached
herself to the clock to stay near your great grandfather."

Mulder slipped forward in his seat, "You sleep in your great
grandfather's bed and even use his clock, Walter. You're a
policeman after a fashion. Mary must have thought she'd
finally found Inspector Reid again! It's perfect reasoning,
when you stop and think about it."

Keiren beamed at Mulder like a teacher would a star pupil,
"Exactly right, my friend. Mary thought Walter was Inspector
Reid. She'd open the closet door each night, at the exact
time the killer did, trying to give you a clue, Walter." He
grinned, "If you hadn't told Fox and me the whole story,
things probably would have ended quite differently. With
what you'd explained about the Ripper murders, I was able to
give Mary Kelly peace. She's accepted her death and crossed
over finally. She'll not be haunting your closet or your
sleep again, Walter Skinner."

I sat quietly for a few moments, glancing from Mulder's look
of astonishment to Keiren's self-satisfied grin. "I thank
you both for what you've done. I'm truly grateful, don't
think I'm not." My eyes hardened as I continued, "But...the
two of you were grossly irresponsible. Don't even try to
deny it, Keiren. You had absolutely no idea what you would
face in that closet. By forcing Mulder and me to agree
blindly to your terms, you nearly died tonight." Turning my
burning glare on Mulder, I let him have the full force of my
anger, "And you, Mulder. You're a trained professional. You
know better than to send anyone into an unknown situation
without backup. Instead of following procedure, you didn't
bother to question Keiren's instructions. You laughed at me
for my concern. Well, you weren't laughing so hard in the
car, were you?" I had gone too far. I regretted my last
words. They were spiteful and mean, but could not be taken
back now. I stopped shouting and continued to meet Mulder's
eyes only by sheer force of will. Mulder looked away first,
blinking rapidly.

Keiren cleared his throat. "You're right, Walter. I
apologize." Turning to Mulder, his voice literally dripping
with remorse, "Fox, I'm truly sorry. I didn't think things
through because I was excited. I won't ever put you in a
situation like this again."

Fox nodded, still studying his feet. "S'okay, Duinne. I
wasn't thinking so clearly either." Peeking quickly at me
before dropping his gaze again, Mulder mumbled, "Sorry, sir.
I guess you've had good reason to chew my ass so many times
for doing exactly the same thing." He swallowed hard,  "I
kept thinking about what I would say to your mother,
Keiren."

I couldn't resist twisting the knife just a little deeper.
"I've thought the same thing myself, Mulder. How to tell
your mother that you died in the line of duty." Mulder's
shoulders slumped even lower. Did I mention that I am a
horse's ass on occasion?  I sighed, "Okay, that's enough.
We're not accomplishing anything. Keiren, you're already
bunked in on the sofa. Mulder, you take my bed. You both
need sleep and I need to just shut the fuck up."

Mulder started to protest, "I should go home, Sir. I..."

I stopped him dead in his tracks, "You should do as your
superior officer orders, Mulder." I stood and folded my arms
across my chest. "Get up and go to bed. There are fresh
sheets in the middle drawer of the dresser."

Wisely nestling in, Keiren pulled the blankets tightly
around his chin and rolled onto his side to face the back of
the couch.  "You're on your own, Fox."

Mulder whipped around to scowl fiercely at the back of
Keiren's head and then turned back to try it out on me. I
chewed the inside of my cheek to prevent a smile and pointed
toward the hallway. "Go."

I heard a distinct snicker issue from somewhere near the
couch and had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from
laughing. "Can it, Duinne."

Mulder climbed up from the chair, grumbling and grousing as
he made his way to toward the hall. He stopped and turned to
shout back at me,  "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a
kid, Walter!"

I broke finally and began to laugh. "Yes, I know, Mulder.
Get some sleep. I'll stop picking on you."

Mulder blushed and ducked his head. "Thanks." He closed the
bedroom door softly behind him and that was the last sound I
heard from Mulder.

It took less than thirty minutes for Keiren to run me out of
the living room with his snoring. I settled at the kitchen
table with some files brought home from work. I must have
dozed off not long after I sat down. When I finally woke up
my back was stiff from sleeping in the straight chair. At
some point I'd rested my head on my folded arms and my
shoulders ached abysmally. I stood in increments, bending
and stretching to work the kinks from my no longer young or
flexible body. Wandering into the living room, I was only a
little surprised to find the couch empty and the blankets
folded neatly on the coffee table. I made my way to the
bedroom to find my bed empty as well.

My door key rested on the bedside table covering a folded
scrap of notepaper, actually the same one I'd given Mulder
yesterday. God, was it really only yesterday? Mulder thanked
me for trusting him; glad he and Keiren could help...blah
blah blah, but at the bottom, almost as an afterthought,
he'd added that he really appreciated how well I had looked
after him and would try harder to follow procedure now that
he thoroughly understood my point of view. I folded the
paper and slipped it into my shirt pocket feeling an almost
paternal sense of pride in young Agent Mulder. I really need
to stop thinking of him as young. There is less than ten
years difference in our ages but I think even as an old man,
Fox Mulder will retain a very youthful spirit.

I lifted the alarm clock and began to wind it. I didn't even
bat an eye when I realized it had stopped dead at 3:59 this
morning. Turning to the bathroom, I let a hot shower beat
the rest of the stiffness from my back and shoulders. I
returned to my bedroom for fresh clothes. I noticed the old
brass clock still wasn't ticking. I guess when Mary Kelly
left my apartment she took the spirit of the clock with her
because it never worked again.

Finis