The Truth


Dana Scully looked across the desk at her handsome partner, Fox Mulder. Tilting her head, she once again examined his bent figure; he was up to something, of that she was sure. He had been gone for most of the morning and had returned with a worried frown. When she had questioned him, he had denied that anything was wrong, but he had disappeared shortly before lunch and only returned a few minutes ago.

"Mulder," she began, her fingers playing with the pencil she held, but his attention was totally fixed upon the file that he held in his hands. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Mulder looked at her, then back at the file. Finally he answered, "This has nothing to do with work."

Scully considered his words, then said, "Why, Mulder, you never told me you had a private life." This earned her a steely look, and Scully looked down to hide the smile that filtered across her face. They had been partners for only a short while and, although she had not been too keen about the idea of becoming associated with Mulder's X-Files, she found that she was beginning to like the intensely dedicated man who ran the project.

Mulder pulled a face and returned his attention back to the file, which he read avidly for a few more minutes.

Scully watched him until she could contain herself no longer. Clearing her throat, she finally asked, "If it's a private matter, how comes you're reading a Bureau file?"

Mulder ignored the question for perhaps forty seconds before he realised that the young woman who was now his partner was not about to let the matter drop. Slowly he closed the file and tapped it gently while he considered his answer. Finally he began, "Howard Trent, serial murderer, killed five people in Washington state."

"Yes, I know - he was executed eight days ago..." Scully interrupted, knowing that if she let him, Mulder would take another eight days to get to the point. "And?"

"He followed me to work this morning," Fox said, as coolly as if he were just reporting the weather.

Dana blinked a few times, opened her mouth, then closed it slowly before she asked, "A dead man followed you to work?" The disbelief was clear to hear in her voice.

"I know how it sounds," Mulder admitted. "That's one of the reasons why I didn't want to tell you," he finished as a mutter.

Throwing her pencil down, Scully explained slowly and clearly, as if to a slow-witted child, "Dead men do not usually follow people to work, especially FBI agents who had nothing to do with the case; it was purely a local matter." She paused as she thought back over the case that had gripped the nation, and Washington state in particular. "Our only involvement was with the evidence that the local boys sent for us to analyse and draw a profile."

"I know," Mulder said. Then, tapping the file in front of him, he added, "It's all here, including the profile... Agent Peter Wood did that."

"He's good," Scully began, before she paused. Remembering the young agent's death the week before, she swallowed and finished, "Was good."

"He died in a car accident seven days ago, exactly twenty-four hours after Trent's death."

"Excuse me?" Scully asked, her attention caught and held by the coincidence.

"You heard," Mulder answered. "He was driving in to work, and the car went out of control on a nearly empty road." He reached for a sheet of paper that lay under the file and began to read from it: "The car had only been serviced the day before, and when it was checked after the accident no fault was found - although some witnesses stated that Peter just seemed to lose control and swerved across the road into a lamppost." Looking up, he added in a grim voice, "He died instantly."

Scully spent a few minutes considering the facts that Mulder had presented to her before she shook her head and, picking up her pencil, stated, "It's coincidence; the person you saw this morning just looked like Trent, that's all."

Mulder leant back in his chair and smiled; it was a self-satisfied smile and Scully knew that he was about to supply her with a vital piece of information that he had purposefully withheld. "I saw him in the rear-view mirror, Scully, then he appeared in my car... he was sitting in the back of my car - as clearly as I'm looking at you, I saw him. I swerved, but managed to gain control before I hit anything. By the time I stopped the car and looked in the back, he was gone."

Scully resisted the urge to throw a heavy object at him; he was always doing that to her. "Maybe," she began, frantically searching for something to explain his words, "maybe you just thought you saw him. I mean, his picture's been pretty well-advertised during the week before his execution."

"Scully, I know what I saw."

Dana pulled a face at that one, before she asked, "Why would Trent want to harm you? After all, he might have had a reason against Peter; the profile he gave the local police was spot-on and was instrumental in finding Trent. You had nothing to do with detailing the profile, did you?"

Now it was Mulder's turn to pull a face. "No, I hardly knew Peter Wood. I worked with him once on a case, that's all. He was good at his job and I know for a fact that he knew how to act under pressure, that's why I find it so hard to believe that he just lost control of his car." As he finished, he opened the file again and sat looking at the smiling face of Trent, the killer executed for the murder of five young people. "I think that Trent appeared in Agent Wood's car, just like he did in mine, and that was why he lost control."

"Skinner is just going to love that," Scully replied in a dry tone. "Just let me get out of the building before you spring it on him, okay?"

Mulder leant back in his chair and gave Scully a hard look before he continued, "I wasn't planning on just dropping this in his lap. After all, he might not believe me."

"Not believe you?" Scully repeated in a tone of shocked horror, as she raised her hand and held it to her mouth. "Why would he not believe you, Mulder?"

"You know, Dana, you missed your calling - you should have been on the stage," Fox shot back dryly as he fumbled about in his drawer until he pulled out a small tape recorder. Checking the batteries, he pressed the record button and counted to five in a whispered voice, then, rewinding, he played his voice back.

"Are you going to get Trent to talk on tape?" Scully asked, fascinated by Mulder's actions despite herself.

"No, I'm going to the hub of the FBI building; a place where no secrets are safe, all matters are discussed, even the ones concerning strange happenings such as ghosts appearing in agent's cars."

Scully wondered at his words before she asked, "And where is this citadel of all knowledge?"

"The rest room," Mulder shot back as he left the office.

"The rest room!" she exclaimed, following him out. "You're not going to go standing in the men's toilets, taping the conversation... you're mad," she gasped, unable to hide her smile at the idea.

"You, Scully, have no imagination," Fox said, moving past her as she stepped to block his path. "And that," he added, "is what's going to make you such a good investigator for the X-Files."

"Mulder," she hissed after him as he moved further down the corridor towards the elevators, "the rest rooms are that way." She pointed in the other direction, away from where Mulder was heading.

"The rest rooms on this floor are that way - but the ones on the eighth floor are this way, and they're best for what I have in mind," he hissed dramatically back at her before he disappeared into the lift.

She stood still for a few moments before she self-consciously let her hand drop back to her side and mumbled under her breath, "I've always found the Ladies' on the third to be the best." She moved back into their office.

***

For the next two days Scully hardly saw her partner, except when he rushed into the office to renew the batteries or exchange one handful of tapes for another.

On several occasions, Scully moved as if to pick up one of the little tapes, her hand hovering just inches from the pile, the urge to listen in on some of the conversation almost overpowering her determination not to.

In the afternoon of the second day Mulder came back into the office and, throwing himself down in his chair, he dropped the overheated little tape recorder down on the desk.

"What, are you finished with toiletgate?" Scully asked with some interest.

"Skinner threw me out," Mulder confided with total disgust. "Said he'd have me up on charges if I was found in or around the eighth floor rest rooms any more."

"Well, to be honest, Mulder, it's been two days."

"Yes, but there have been at least nine sightings of Trent...." Mulder leant forward with sudden fire and began to sort through the tapes, setting aside certain ones.

"Make that ten," Scully interrupted, refusing to meet the man's look. Then, sparing him a quick glance, she confessed, "I overheard a woman in the toilet."

Mulder broke into a wide smile as he answered, "We're going to make an agent of you yet."

"Gee, thanks Mulder, now I can consider myself a real life FBI Agent," Scully shot back sarcastically. Then, wanting to know what the man had really discovered, she pressed, "So what do you think these nine... er, ten sightings are trying to tell us?"

Mulder looked down at the tape he was slowly turning within his grasp and said in a low tone, "I think that they got the wrong man."

"What?" she gasped, leaning back in her chair in shock. "Mulder, the evidence against him was...." She stopped, unable to put her feelings into words, but she did add, "They got the right man. Anyway, if he was innocent... then why did he kill Peter Wood?"

Mulder took a deep breath and considered the question posed by his partner. "Maybe... just maybe, he didn't."

"He didn't?" The question was clear in the other's tone.

"No. What if..." now the answers were beginning to come together and tumble out of his mouth, "what if he just appeared and Peter just flipped?"

"Wait a minute," Scully said, holding up her hand to prevent the man from going on. "Just two days ago, you were telling me that Agent Wood was the coolest man under pressure you've ever met."

"That was two days ago; since then we've found out there have been ten sightings, and in every other case the agent was not hurt or injured... surprised, confused, scared, but not injured... and it would seem that I was the only one who saw him in the car." As he spoke, he opened up a small book and, flipping through the pages, he said, "He appeared three times in separate bedrooms, once in a kitchen at breakfast time, and the rest of the times were in this building. But," he went on, "what is interesting is that it always happens at six in the morning."

"And that's when he was executed," Scully confirmed.

"Yes," Mulder replied, holding the book up to his lips, his eyes suddenly aglow. "You know, I might just give the Trent murders a further investigation."

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed, shocked. "You can't do that; it was strictly a local police matter, and I doubt that they will take you sticking your nose in too kindly," she added for good measure.

The handsome agent just smiled and then winked. "I have my sources," he replied as he stood up and grabbed the jacket from his chair.

"Mulder," Scully said as he headed toward the door, "remember what Skinner said about the eighth floor rest room!"

He paused, his hand resting upon the frame as he shot her a sweet smile and replied, "That's all right, I've been using the Ladies' down the hall, and Patty was right - you can tell a lot about a man by the amount of money he tips."

"Mulder!" she screeched as she remembered her conversation with Patty Miller in the Ladies' rest room that morning. She reached for something to throw, but he was out of the door before she could find anything heavy enough. Instead, her hands rested upon the small pile of tapes. She felt her eyebrows rise as an evil thought crossed her mind, then standing, she gathered up the tapes and headed over toward the corner of the room where Mulder had the headphones for the machine that would play the tapes back. You never knew when a little bit of information might come in handy, especially in this particular building.

***

Mulder spent the rest of the day tracking down his more friendly sources in the Washington police force. Two would not even talk about the case with him, but his third contact was more laid back; knowing the FBI agent's involvement with the unknown and realising that the man was not going to let him finish his lunch, he allowed him fifteen minutes' access to his computer. It was all that the agent needed and, by the time he'd finished, he was leaving the department with most of the relevant information on the case.

What had surprised him was the amount of involvement the FBI had actually had with the apprehension and conviction of Howard Trent. Like Scully, he had believed their assistance to have been minimal, but it had turned out that most of the evidence had been passed along to the Bureau for analysis, and it was this damning analysis that had given Trent the death sentence. Maybe Trent did have a reason for haunting the FBI, after all.

The coroner's reports on the victims had been a little harder to get hold of, but Mulder was nothing if not determined and, by the time he shut his front door behind him that night, he had a pile of information concerning the five deaths and the man who had been convicted of the crimes.

Slowly the clock ticked on. Mulder forgot about dinner as he read more and more about the killings and the police findings in the case. It appeared that they had had Trent as a suspect from pretty early on in the investigation, and Peter Wood's profile had fitted the man to a Tee: he was a loner who had been rejected during his high school years because of his fascination with anything concerning death; he spent most of his adult life either at work or in his one bedroom apartment; he was into horror and the occult - it was this last item that gave the murders the satanic aspect, the grisly spectacle of the deaths being linked with the brutality of the man's supposed worshipping. All through the trial, Trent had proclaimed his innocence, even in the face of overwhelming DNA evidence that had been found at the scene of the last murder, and for which he had no explanation.

Mulder paused, his hand stilling over the page he had been about to turn. Moving to another report, one he had gathered from his own computer, he checked who had dealt with the DNA testing at the Bureau. The names of the doctors were impressive; most of them he knew, but it was the one near the bottom of the page that caught and held his attention, causing a cold shiver to slip down his spine: Agent Peter Wood.

Moving to yet another file, he checked who had instigated the first contact with the FBI by the local police force. It was not a total surprise to see that Agent Wood had, in fact, contacted the detective in charge of the case and offered the Bureau's assistance.

Mulder spent the rest of the night moving from one file to another, gleaning the information that he needed, and he discovered that, now that he knew what he was looking for, the details were starting to slip out of the paperwork with increasing ease. By early morning, he had over two pages of instances where Peter Wood had assisted in the investigation, and each time it had led to a large leap forward for the police.

Suddenly he felt the room go cold and, spinning about, he saw Trent standing over by the window. He was barely visible, a waving shadow of contracting colours that just gave a hint of presence. Mulder knew that he could just be seeing what he wanted to see, after having spent a sleepless night. He gave the clock a quick glance and noted the time; just after six in the morning. Swallowing hard, he spoke, saying, "You didn't do it... did you?" The apparition just smiled slightly, and then was gone.

Mulder sat still for a few moments, going over the recent events. He was now almost certain that Trent had not been guilty of the crimes he had died for - but, if that was the case, then who had committed them and why had Agent Wood gone to such lengths to prove Trent's guilt?

Shortly after the visit of Trent's restless spirit, Mulder left his apartment and made his way over to Wood's. The early morning was misty, and it only took a brief flash of his FBI ID to a sleep-weary caretaker to gain him access to the flat.

He began in the living room and slowly made his way about the apartment. By ten in the morning, he had searched the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and was now in the bathroom. Still he had not found what he was after, and he was starting to give up hope of ever proving what he suspected.

In defeat, he sat back on his heels and realised that, whatever he was looking for, it was not here. He had hoped to prove a connection between Trent and Wood, but he had not been able to find it, that thin line of contact that would tie the two men together. With a sigh of growing frustration, he slammed closed the cupboard door and made his way back into the living room. Glancing at his watch, he knew that he would have to leave soon. As he moved across the room towards the door, his foot caught at something under the small table in the middle of the room. Reaching down, he picked up the book he had accidentally kicked; it had been used to support a shorter leg on the table. Flipping it over in his hand, he saw that it was an old high school yearbook. With shaking fingers, he flipped through the pages until he came across the picture entry for Wood; he swallowed hard as he saw the picture two rows along - it was Howard Trent. Slamming the book closed, he gripped it tightly to him as he left the apartment. Now there was only one piece of evidence to gather.

***

Scully looked up in surprise as Mulder burst into the room. "I thought you weren't coming in today," she offered as he slipped into his chair.

"He didn't do it, Scully," Mulder stated before she could continue.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, raising an eyebrow at his agitated movements.

"Trent... he was innocent."

"Really...? Mulder, have you actually read the police report? The evidence against him was pretty damning, you know."

"Yes, but he was innocent, Scully."

"You got all this from spending two days in the Men's rest room?" She gave him a knowing smile. "I can just see that going down well in the appeal court, Mulder."

"Oh... I know that I can't prove it... but Scully, he didn't kill those five people and I think I know who did."

Scully didn't say a word. She just sat there waiting, knowing that Mulder would not be able to contain himself for much longer. After a few minutes, she asked, "Who?"

Mulder smiled at her; he knew that she had been waiting for him, but he had been determined to out-wait her this time. "Peter Wood," he finally answered.

"Oh, come on, Mulder... Peter Wood was instrumental in helping the police to apprehend Trent."

"Did you know that he was involved with the police right the way through the investigation?"

"That's not so unusual," Scully commented, sitting back in her chair, determined to fight her partner on this issue.

"He was also involved with the DNA testing." Mulder pulled out a file and, opening it at the appropriate page, pushed it under Scully's nose. He also gave her the sheet of paper that contained the evidence that he had compiled the night before; it showed just how deeply Peter had been involved with the case.

She read it in silence before she said, "This still doesn't prove a link between Trent and Agent Wood. As far as this case reads, the two men never met until the trial." Mulder reached into his briefcase and pulled out the old yearbook; opening it to the correct page, he also pushed that over toward the young woman, who took it with reluctance. "It's a mighty fine link, Mulder." Her tone did not hold the same conviction as before.

"I found that in Agent Wood's apartment."

"When?" she gasped, turning to the front of the book and seeing that it did, indeed, have Peter Wood's name in the front. "This isn't proof, Mulder, not the kind that you need to stand up in court. Besides, all this is nothing when you take into account the DNA evidence that was against Trent... they found a pretty large quantity of blood splattered about the scene of the last victim," she began to read from the file, but Mulder interrupted.

"Yes, I know, the police surmised that the victim had fought back, cutting Trent to such an extent that he had bled profusely." He was also quoting from the file, but for him it was from memory.

"And that coincided with the death of the victim who was knifed repeatedly, instead of tortured like the previous victims," Scully pointed out, slowly closing the file.

"Trent gave blood on a regular basis," Mulder offered, pulling out the small card he had 'borrowed' from Trent's local hospital. "Did you know that he gave blood the same day as the last killing, and that Agent Wood took time off to give blood on that day as well...? Also, the last killing was out of synch with the previous murders, which usually happened on the night of a full moon."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that Wood was watching Trent and knew that he was going to give blood; it would have been a relatively simple matter for him to obtain Trent's batch of blood, and then he used it when he killed his last victim."

"Mulder, you've been spending too much time in those files of yours... I mean, you know the psychological tests we have to undertake before we are accepted as agents, not to mention all the other analysis that we have to undergo."

"And you can't tell me that an FBI agent hasn't gone bad. It might have been swept under the carpet, away from public inspection, but we both know it's happened."

Scully took a deep breath and held her hands together as she reviewed the evidence before her. Finally, she admitted, "And you know that, for the reason you just gave, this will never become public knowledge - and if you try, you'll be stopped."

Mulder leapt up from his seat, throwing his pen angrily to the desk as he did so. "I guess it's a lucky break for us, then, that Trent didn't have any family, or anyone who cared whether he died or not, isn't it?" he stated with disgust.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but with both Trent and Wood dead, there isn't much point in pulling this out into the open and ruining your career."

"And what about justice, Scully? You know, that blind old lady who sits up there with a set of scales and a blindfold," Mulder ranted against the injustice of it all.

Scully sat quietly for a few seconds before she replied in a clear, precise tone, "I think that Trent already got that the day after he died... don't you?" Mulder froze, knowing that she was referring to the death of Agent Wood.

"It's still not right," he offered as a last token thrust of battle.

Standing, Scully moved toward him, saying, "Unfortunately Mulder, life isn't fair... but then, I thought you knew that?" Then, taking pity upon her partner, she reached out and gripped his shoulder, continuing, "At least the murders have stopped."

Mulder nodded his head in agreement, then pulling his jacket back on, he said, "I was up all night so I'm going home to hit the sack."

"That might be a good idea," Scully said, moving aside and watching him as he left the room.

***

The apartment was shrouded in darkness; the cold night was slowly slipping into the light of a new day. Mulder sat in his living room, looking toward the spot where Trent had appeared the morning before, hoping that the apparition would appear again. He glanced up at the clock and licked at suddenly dry lips as six o'clock slowly approached.

"I know that you didn't kill those people," Mulder said, surprised at himself for being able to speak so calmly to the apparition of Trent when it appeared. "But with Wood dead... I can't prove it...." He let his words trail off, knowing that nothing he said could justify his helplessness in the face of reality. The local police considered the case closed, and the Bureau would never allow Mulder's evidence to come to light. If Trent had had family, then Mulder would have found a way of getting the evidence to them, but the man had had no one; nobody cared if he lived or died.

The ghost just stood watching him for a few moments before it opened its mouth, and - while Mulder could not actually hear the words the apparition spoke - he felt a gentle, hissing whisper of breath against his ear, like static against the background of night; "Someone knows the truth...." Then he was gone.

THE END


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