2X13 Todestrieb (englisches Transkript)
| Transcribed by Roni
Edited by Libby, Used with kind permission from Libby (www.chelonium.plus.com)
Janelli-Heller Funeral Home
A teenage girl stands at a pulpit, delivering a difficult eulogy.
YOUNG WOMAN: ...I think we all feel an empty place. Everybody loved Jennifer, not just because she was a special person...but because she was the kind of friend who was always there for you. We'll miss you, Jen. We'll miss your smile. We'll miss the times we would have spent together. We'll keep these memories close to our hearts until we meet again in God's kingdom.
Mourners file past the open casket while Satie's "Gymnopédia No. 1" plays. The deceased is a young teen with long blonde hair. Donnie Pfaster, an employee of the funeral home, enters through a door to the side of the pulpit. His eyes betray a fire of fascination. This look evaporates when Jackson Toews, his supervisor, enters near Donnie.
TOEWS: quietly The family has requested a graveside service now. I've rescheduled the burial to tomorrow afternoon. We'll keep the body overnight.
The mourners have left by now. Donnie approaches the coffin, looking at the girl.
DONNIE: sincerely Such a beautiful girl.
Donnie strokes the girl's hair lovingly, then closes the lid.
Jackson Toews enters a dark room, looking for something. He hears noise, turns, staring into the darkness.
The room is still. A sound of a coffin being closed. Toews is really spooked now.
TOEWS: Who's there?
A shadowy form is drifting through the coffins.
TOEWS: I said, who's there?
The form is a silhouette of a gargoyle-like, demonic, naked creature. Toews turns in terror, finds the light switch, flips it on. He's surprised by what he sees.
TOEWS: Donnie? What the hell are you doing here this late?
Donnie is looking disheveled but is fully clothed.
TOEWS: Working? At this hour?
He sees a pair of scissor in Donnie's hand, then a trail of blonde hair clippings scattered on the concrete
TOEWS: What is this? What the hell were you doing?
He opens the coffin, to find the dead girl's hair has been cut off.
TOEWS: Get out of here.
He closes the coffin.
TOEWS: You freak! Get out of here, and don't come back!
Donnie turns and walks away.
TOEWS: I should report you. Go on, get out of here!
Donnie walks down the corridor as Toews shouts at him.
In a graveyard, Mulder, Scully and Special Agent Moe Bocks are walking towards a gravesite.
BOCKS: I got the call from Minneapolis PD, saying they wanted the FBI to come out and take a look. Anything slightly freakazoid, that's the drill - call Moe Bocks. As if I'm tight with all the nut cases in town. So I shoot on down here to see what's-the-what and I'll be damned if I'm not knocked on my butt by what they show me. Twenty two years, I've never seen anything like it. I get one look at the corpse and I'm on the phone to my pal Andy Schneider down at the Mutual UFO Network. You know Andy?
MULDER: No, I don't.
BOCKS: Well, he knows you.
MULDER: Why'd you call Mufon?
The body, that of a woman, has been turned on to her front with her left arm behind her back. Her clothing and her hair have been cut.
BOCKS: I wanted to see if there'd been much UFO activity in the area.
MULDER: You think this grave was unearthed by aliens, Agent Bocks?
BOCKS: Well, it has all the telltale signs, don't you think? I mean, according to the literature.
MULDER: The literature?
BOCKS: Y'know. The way the hair and nails have been cut away. Sort of like they do in cattle mutilations.
Scully is clearly disturbed by the sight of the body.
MULDER: I hate to disappoint you, Agent Bocks, but this doesn't look like the work of aliens to me.
Bocks looks disappointed.
BOCKS: No? How can you be sure?
MULDER: I've seen this kind of thing before, when I worked at Violent Crimes. Whoever dug this up probably used a backhoe. If you take a cast of the ground in the area, you'll probably find fresh new tracks leading from here to a garage nearby.
BOCKS: You think?
MULDER: Yeah. He may work here, but it's not likely. Though he's probably worked at a mortuary or a cemetery at one time or another. Probably even been busted, but you wont find any record of that. Has to be bad for business when those kind of stories get around.
BOCKS: You're saying some human's been doing this?
MULDER: If you want to call him that.
Mulder and Scully move back to their car, Bocks stays behind.
MULDER: You okay, Scully?
SCULLY: Yeah... I've read about cases of desecrating the dead before, but this is the first time I've seen it.
MULDER: Nothing can prepare you for it. It's almost unimaginable.
SCULLY: Why do they do it?
MULDER: Oh, some people collect salt and pepper shakers. The fetishist collects dead things. Fingernails, hair... no one quite knows why. Though I've never really understood salt and pepper shakers myself.
Scully looks curiously at Mulder.
SCULLY: Sometimes you surprise me, Mulder.
He opens car door for Scully, then goes around the car to get in.
SCULLY: How that didn't shock you back there.
MULDER: I prepared myself for it before we left Washington.
Scully gives him a look.
SCULLY: You knew this wasn't UFO-related from the start?
MULDER: I had suspected as much, yeah.
SCULLY: It took us three hours to get here. Our plane doesn't leave until tomorrow night. If you suspected, why -
Mulder pulls two tickets from his pocket.
MULDER: Vikings versus Redskins, Scully. Forty yard line, in the Hubert H Humphrey Metrodome. You and me.
Ficicello Family Frozen Foods. Marilyn sits behind a desk, interviewing Donnie Pfaster.
MARILYN: Have you lived in the Twin Cities area long, Mr. Pfaster?
DONNIE: I grew up here. I was away for a few years.
MARILYN: What kind of work were you in before?
DONNIE: Cosmetology. Hair and makeup.
MARILYN: Oh, that's interesting.
DONNIE: If you don't mind my saying, that's a lovely color lipstick you're wearing. Is that Indian Summer?
Marilyn is flattered.
MARILYN: Yes. Yes, it is. Now, you're applying for the job as a deliveryman?
DONNIE: To put myself through school. I've gone back to school.
Marilyn smiles, and writes this down.
MARILYN: Oh, and what are you studying?
DONNIE: Comparative religions.
MARILYN: Oh. Are you a religious person yourself?
DONNIE: Yes. Very.
Marilyn smiles again, and leans forward.
MARILYN: You know, I probably shouldn't say this, but Mr. Ficicello feels very strongly about religious backgrounds. He prides himself on the honesty of his employees.
DONNIE: Can you put that on the application?
MARILYN: I'll attach a little note.
DONNIE: Thank you.
Agent Bocks is sitting in his office, watching the Vikings vs. Redskins game. Scully and Mulder enter. Bocks turns the TV sound down.
BOCKS: Sorry you had to miss your game -
Mulder stares longingly at the mute screen. Bocks hands a file folder to Scully.
BOCKS: We found more bodies dug up.
SCULLY: Did you get your forensics report on the first one?
BOCKS: There was somebody was down there in the grave. Cut the hair with a pair of pinking shears. Gotta wonder about this guy.
MULDER: Well at least he wasn't down there with his dippity-doo and his blow-drier. How many bodies does that make?
BOCKS: Three in the last two days.
MULDER: What else can you tell me about the desecration of the corpses?
BOCKS: The hair was cut from the heads of two of the bodies. From the third one, the fingernails were pulled out with what looks like a pair of needlenose pliers.
Scully looking at photos in the file, and sees herself as one of the victims! A wave of nausea comes over her. She lays the file on the desk and leaves the room. Mulder notices this.
MULDER: Alright, I want you to draft an eyes-only memo to everyone in this office, and to all law enforcement agencies in the metropolitan area.
BOCKS: Saying what?
MULDER: That the Twin Cities may have an escalating fetishist on their hands.
BOCKS: A what?
MULDER: An escalating fetishist. Security should be tightened around city cemeteries. Mortuaries, funeral homes and hospitals should be notified. A story should be issued to the press warning of a possible stalker in the area.
BOCKS: This isn't New York, Agent Mulder. People still keep their doors unlocked here. This is going to scare them.
MULDER: All right, well then you can leave out the more gruesome aspects in your press release.
BOCKS: Why do you want to alarm folks if this guy only preys on dead people...
MULDER: Because his compulsion is growing. He may resort to homicide to procure his corpses. Once he gets a taste of a warm body, he's probably going to want more.
Bocks shakes his head.
BOCKS: Maybe I've been isolated up here in the great white north too long.
MULDER: What do you mean?
BOCKS: People wondered why it took them so long to catch this kid in Milwaukee. Thought someone should have noticed he was killing all those young boys. Truth is, no one ever believed it could happen.
MULDER: If you catch this guy before he kills, maybe they can go right on believing that.
BOCKS: We don't have the manpower or expertise to move on this with any speed. It's going to be hard to round up anybody on a Saturday. Could be Monday or Tuesday before we get our ducks in a row.
In the hallway, outside the office, Scully sits alone, with a disturbed look on her face. She's startled when Mulder leans out the door, but she's not looking at him.
MULDER: We've got some work to do here. I'm going to cancel our flight out.
Scully stares forward, still not looking at him.
SCULLY: I'll be right there.
Mulder ducks back, while Scully remains there, shaken
Later. In Bocks' office. On a computer screen, there's information regarding all sorts of murderers and maniacs, accompanied by photos of them.
SCULLY: V.O. A complete model or psychological profile of the death fetishist does not exist. The compulsion is the result of a complex misplacement of values and a deviation from cultural norms and social mores. He is more likely to be white, male and of average to above average intelligence. Cases of fetishists with IQs over 150 have been documented. The progression of the pathology can be traced from the fantasy stage to the eventual acting out of fetishistic impulses, including opportunistic homicide. Agent Mulder believes strongly that the suspect in this case is escalating towards this action. Once he begins to murder, it is the killing that draws attention away from a deeper motive. A motive which most people, including law enforcement professionals, dare not imagine. It is somehow easier to believe, as Agent Bocks does, in aliens and UFOs, than in the kind of cold blooded inhuman monster who could prey on the living to scavenge from the dead.
Donnie Pfaster is cruising in his car, down a street lined with working girls. He stops near two hookers, one of them, Satin, bends down, leaning on the car.
SATIN: Are you looking for a date?
SATIN: Why don't you pull up around the corner there.
DONNIE: Actually, I was thinking about a couple of hours.
SATIN: Where do you have in mind?
Donnie's apartment. Donnie and Satin enter. Normal apartment. Satin hugs herself.
SATIN: Don't you have any heat in here? It's freezing.
DONNIE: The forced air unit is broken. I'd like to run you a bath.
He heads towards the bathroom.
Donnie's bathroom. Little bottles with shampoos and soaps neatly placed on the side of the tub. The water is running, Donnie's adding bubble bath into the water. Satin enters.
DONNIE: Is your hair treated?
DONNIE: Do you need a shampoo for chemically treated hair?
SATIN: You want me to shampoo my hair?
DONNIE: I'll pay extra, if that's something out of the ordinary.
SATIN: Nobody's ever asked me.
Satin looks at him, then reaches down to take off her high-heeled shoes. Her fingernails are long and painted bright red.
A phone rings from another part of the house. Donnie starts to walk out of the bathroom.
DONNIE: Excuse me.
Donnie's bedroom, he's answering the phone.
MARILYN: Is this Mr. Pfaster?
MARILYN: Hi, this is Marilyn at Ficicello Frozen Foods. Sorry to bother you so late, but I'm calling to say you've been hired, Mr. Pfaster. We'd like you to start right away.
Satin comes down the hallway.
SATIN: Hey, what's going on here? The water's ice cold.
She enters the bedroom, with only a towel wrapped around her. Her expression changes to one of terror
SATIN: What kind of sick freak are you?
Donnie's bedroom is full of funeral sprays, most of them are wilting. He looks calmly at Satin.
SATIN: Oh my god.
MARILYN: on the phone Mr. Pfaster...?
DONNIE: Yes. That's wonderful news. Thank you so much.
He hangs up the phone, looking at Satin, as she backs away into the hallway.
SATIN: Don't you come near me! I mean it! Don't you touch me. Stay away from me!
Donnie's getting up, moving towards her. Satin runs down the hallway.
SATIN: Stay away from me!
Donnie walks after her. Off camera, Satin screams.
Night. An alleyway. Police cars are all around, there's a body covered with blue satin sheets. Bocks approaches with Mulder and Scully.
BOCKS: We're still waiting for someone to ID the body. Judging from the area, I'd say she was probably a working girl.
The prostitute that was standing with Satin when Donnie picked her up, is approaching, seeing the body, becoming hysterical.
PROSTITUTE: Oh my God! Oh my God! Who did this to her? Who did this?
She's being pulled away.
MULDER: Was it him?
BOCKS: It looks like it. Knife wound the length of her torso. Cut all her hair off. He took her fingernails. This time, he took some fingers, too. Do you want to see the body?
Mulder starts moving towards the body, Scully doesn't follow. He looks back at her.
SCULLY: I need a minute.
Daytime, a nice neighborhood. Donnie Pfaster, wearing a delivery man uniform walks out of a delivery vehicle, with a frozen food container. He walks up to one of the houses, and knocks the door. A woman answers.
DONNIE: Hi. I'm your new delivery man.
ELLEN: Oh, hi. Come in.
They both enter the kitchen. Donnie starts placing the food in the freezer, while Ellen is spooning out cookie batter onto metal cookie sheets.
ELLEN: Did they give you Skip's old route?
DONNIE: Yes. I think so. I just started with the company.
ELLEN: Skip's been delivering to us for so long, we almost took it for granted he'd always be around. Since before the kids were born.
Lisa, Ellen's daughter, enters the kitchen.
ELLEN: Lisa, this is...
DONNIE: Donnie. Donnie Pfaster.
ELLEN: He's taking over for Skip.
LISA: Oh, hi.
She turns to her Mom.
LISA: I'm going to go over to Steve's now, OK?
ELLEN: Okay. You have a good time.
LISA: to Donnie Bye.
He stares at her leaving.
ELLEN: We have three daughters.
He smiles politely, as he closes the freezer door.
DONNIE: Pardon me, may I use your washroom to wash up my hands?
ELLEN: Oh, sure. There's a washroom just off the service porch.
Bathroom. Donnie, thoroughly washes his hands. He dries them, and looks down at a waste-basket. He reaches down, picks it up, and puts his hand inside. He retrieves a hairball, looks at it lovingly, and brings it to his face to feel its texture. He then puts it in his pocket, and puts the waste-basket back down. He turns around to exit, and when he opens the door, he finds himself face to face with Ellen.
ELLEN: I just wanted to tell you, if we're ever not home, we always leave the back door open here.
DONNIE: Oh, thank you. I'll remember that.
County Morgue, Minneapolis, Minnesota
A group of medical examiners, police officers, stand around the body of the dead hooker on the autopsy table. One man unzips the body bag. Scully walks in to perform the autopsy, all the men silently make room for her.
SCULLY: V.O. Death is a recorded event. For reasons natural or unnatural, when a body ceases to function, the cause of the effect can be clearly reconstructed. A body has a story to tell.
She pulls the satin sheet back, and turns on the microphone above the autopsy table.
SCULLY: The time is eleven fourteen AM, Monday, November 14th. The deceased is a female in her twenties...
Her voice fades.
SCULLY: V.O. If the victim was strangled, an examination of the veins in the eyes will reveal this. If the victim was shot, entry wounds and gunpowder residue can be used to reconstruct the events leading to death and help to establish a possible motive. Hair and fibers, slivers of glass, plastic, even insect casings can serve to recreate the circumstances under which death occurred.
Scully is now seated at Agent Bocks' computer, the heard words are written on the screen by her.
SCULLY: V.O. It may be an irony only understood by those of us who conduct these examinations that death, like life itself, is a drama with a beginning, middle and end. It is my opinion, having conducted this examination, that the victim died a wrongful death for the express purpose of extracting her hair and fingernails.
Scully's voice-over continues, but now Mulder is reading a document from Scully's computer.
SCULLY: V.O. The time of death cannot be accurately determined due to what I believe must have been immersion in a cold environment, most likely water. For the record, it is also my opinion that, outside of child homicide, which may be more tragic and heinous, this is one of the most angry and dehumanizing murders imaginable.
Mulder looks up from the page, he's now in a lineup observation room. He stands with Agent Bocks, and the 2nd prostitute.
PROSTITUTE: Mmm, I just don't know.
BOCKS: to prostitute Look at each man carefully.
The prostitute shakes her head.
PROSTITUTE: He's none of those guys. He was ordinary. He didn't look like no freak.
BOCKS: Do you remember what kind of car he was driving? What color it was?
PROSTITUTE: I think it was white.
BOCKS: Okay, you can go. Just leave a number and address where you can be reached.
PROSTITUTE: Are you gonna catch this guy?
BOCKS: We'll catch him.
Bocks is unconvincing.
MULDER: Might be a good week to take that paid vacation the boss owes you.
PROSTITUTE: Yeah. Right.
She leaves the room.
BOCKS: If this guy looks regular-like and he doesn't have a record, he's gonna be near impossible to find.
MULDER: Until he kills again. Or until we can determine what's driving him.
BOCKS: I read your profile. Sounds like a guy who can't make it with women. Which would explain the hooker.
MULDER: The hooker was just convenient. He's after trophies. His victim was a young attractive woman. The corpses he dug up were all young women. So what's fueling his need? What is important about the hair and fingernails to him? It's almost as if it's not enough that they're dead but he's also got to defile them. There's a deeper psychosis at work here. It's an unfathomable hatred of women, probably going back to his mother.
BOCKS: I'd say she'd be pretty fried at him, too.
MULDER: I think the next thing we have to do is call all the psychiatric facilities in the area and ask them if they have any records of patients with similar pathologies. This kind of monster isn't made overnight. He's been developing this fetish for years.
A classroom, at night.
TEACHER: The necessity of the story, myth, in a culture is almost universal. We think of myths as things that entertain or instruct, but their deeper purpose is often to explain, or make fanciful, desires, wishes or behavior that society would otherwise deem unacceptable. Because they are conveyed in a wrapping of untruth - the story - these thoughts become harmless fiction.
Donnie is seated in the back of the classroom. He stares at a pretty short-haired blonde coed in the front row. She touches her neck, her fingernails are filed, long and colored. The teacher continues.
TEACHER: Take, for example, the stories we recite to our children, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland. The subtextural themes where the Queen orders "off with her head", or the prince awakens Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, are what Freud would describe as death-wish imaginings.
Parking lot. The pretty coed is walking to her car, and opens the door. Donnie appears on the other side of the car and surprises her.
DONNIE: Excuse me. I'm in your mythology class.
DONNIE: My name's Donnie. I sit a couple rows over. Maybe you've seen me.
COED: I-I don't know. I -
DONNIE: I know. You sit up front. I just...
He moves to her side of the car.
DONNIE: You see, I was going to my car, and I saw you, and... did he ask us to read chapters ten and eleven, or eleven and twelve?
COED: Oh, I think it was...
She reaches into her bag, to check in her notebook.
COED: It was chapters ten and eleven.
DONNIE: Oh, thanks.
The coed puts the notebook back in her bag, in the meantime, Donnie's got closer to her, and has her penned in the tight V made by the open door
COED: I have to go now.
She tries to pull the car door from Donnie's grasp, and fails.
DONNIE: Don't go.
COED: angrily Let go of the door!
Donnie takes a step closer, and she knees him in the groin, followed by a punch, which sends him to the floor. Then she screams.
COED: Help!!! Someone!!! Help!!!
County morgue. The body is lying on the autopsy table, covered with a satin sheet. Agent Scully walks in, wearing her autopsy uniform, and moves to the body. She removes the sheet from the body, and with a horror expression on her face, she sees... Herself! Lying on the autopsy table. From the dead Scully's point of view, we see the demonic figure from the beginning, where the examining Scully stood before. Phone begins ringing.
Motel room. Scully's bolting upright in bed, waking from a nightmare. She answers the ringing phone.
MULDER: Scully, it's me. They've arrested somebody they think may be our guy.
Scully is still shocked by her nightmare.
SCULLY: I'll get dressed.
The bedside clock shows 11:21.
Jail block, at night. Scully, Mulder and Bocks walk down the jail corridor, heading towards a cell.
BOCKS: He's got a history of assault. A 911 call came in from a security officer who saw it happen. She hurt him pretty bad.
They arrive at the cell, look inside. The man inside is not Donnie. He has a knife wound across his cheek and nose.
BOCKS: He's definitely our guy.
MULDER: Who cut him?
BOCKS: A working girl. They're all carrying knives since what happened.
They enter the cell. Behind them, in another cell, Donnie is standing, his face pokes out of the bars. He's staring at Scully with the same look we've seen before.
MULDER: I'm Agent Mulder. Have you been read your rights?
The agents are interviewing the suspect in his cell. While they converse, which we barely hear, the camera pans over from this cell to the one opposite where Donnie is standing against the bars, trying to hear the conversation. A guard then opens the suspect's cell door and the agents exit.
MULDER: He's not our guy.
BOCKS: I thought we had him.
MULDER: We're back to square one.
They start leaving, as Donnie keeps staring at Scully. She turns around, feeling his look. She looks at him, then turns away, shaken. They all reach the door.
SCULLY: Mulder, can I have a minute with you?
Scully looks at Bocks, she wants to talk to Mulder alone. Bocks gets the message.
BOCKS: I'll wait outside.
SCULLY: I think I might better drive this investigation if I could focus on the evidence.
MULDER: What are you suggesting?
SCULLY: That I take the body back to Washington. I could run it through the fingerprint lab there. You know those guys, they can pull a print -
MULDER: Scully, if you're having trouble with this case, I want you to tell me.
SCULLY: I'm not having trouble, Mulder.
MULDER: I'd understand, I mean it's not exactly easy to stomach.
SCULLY: I'm fine. Really. I just think we're a long way from catching this guy. If we could get a print, we'd have something to focus on. But, right now we're at a standstill.
Mulder knows she's hiding something.
MULDER: I think it's a good idea.
He puts his hand on her shoulder.
MULDER: I just don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I've seen agents with twenty years field experience fall apart on cases like this.
SCULLY: I'm fine. I can handle it.
Gently, she pulls away from his touch, and they both leave.
Donnie speaks to the guy who the agents had been questioning.
DONNIE: Hey, what's your name?
SUSPECT: You talking to me?
DONNIE: Yeah. Were those FBI agents?
DONNIE: What were they asking you?
SUSPECT: They thought I was some freak who's been digging up corpses. Man, I'm in enough trouble already.
DONNIE: What were their names?
DONNIE: The younger agents.
SUSPECT: Um. I don't remember his name, but she was Scully, like that baseball announcer.
A jailor approaches, and opens Donnie's cell.
JAILOR: Let's go. Mr. Pfaster.
DONNIE: Go where?
JAILOR: Lady's dropped the charges against you. They're letting you out as soon as you talk to a psychiatric social worker.
FBI headquarters. Fingerprint analysis lab. An examiner studies a piece of satin through magnification eyeglasses.
EXAMINER: At first glance, there's not much to work with. Satin doesn't hold a print real well. There may be a latent somewhere in these blood stains, but I suspect the killer wore gloves.
SCULLY: Well, the body was shipped on my flight, so it should be here within the hour.
EXAMINER: We'll take a look. How long are you in town for, Agent Scully?
SCULLY: I have a flight back to Minneapolis booked for tonight. But I might cancel.
EXAMINER: I've put all other work aside.
Scully nods and exits
FBI headquarters. Scully is walking down a hallway. She reaches a door marked: "Employee Assistance Program, K. Kosseff L.C.S.W.". Scully looks around to see no one's looking, then enters. Scully's seated across Karen Kosseff, struggling with her emotions.
SCULLY: You think that you find a way to deal with these things. In med school, you develop a clinical detachment to death. In your FBI training, you are confronted with cases, the most violent and terrible cases. You think you can look into the face of pure evil. And then you find yourself paralyzed by it.
KOSSEFF: Are you aware that you've been talking about yourself in the second person?
SCULLY: No. Was I?
KOSSEFF: Do you know why?
SCULLY: Um, probably as another way of trying to detach myself from it.
KOSSEFF: You're a very strong person. You've probably always felt you can handle any problem by yourself. But you feel vulnerable now. Do you know why that is?
KOSSEFF: Is it your partner? Is there a problem with trust?
SCULLY: firmly No. I trust him as much as anyone. I trust him with my life.
KOSSEFF: Can you talk to him about the way you're feeling?
SCULLY: I don't want him to know how much this is bothering me. I don't want him to feel like he has to protect me.
KOSSEFF: I know you lost your father last year. And I read in your file that you were very ill recently, that your life was threatened. These exposures can leave you extremely vulnerable.
Tears well up in Scully's eyes, but she's not crying.
SCULLY: I know these things. I'm conscious of them. I know that the world is full of predators, just as it has always been. And I know that it is my job to protect people from them. And I have counted on that fact to give me faith in my ability to do what I do... I want that faith back... I need it back.
FBI headquarters. Fingerprints analysis lab. Scully enters.
EXAMINER: to colleague That's great.
EXAMINER: to Scully There you are. I've been looking for you.
SCULLY: I had a meeting.
EXAMINER: I've got good news.
SCULLY: What did you find?
EXAMINER: Well, as I suspected, there was nothing on the sheets. But we pulled something nice off the body. The guy cut her fingers off, right? But not all of them. On her right hand, he left a thumb.
He hands Scully a print of the fingerprint.
EXAMINER: I pulled this off the nail polish. There must have been a struggle before he killed her. Before he put the gloves on.
SCULLY: I've got to call Agent Mulder.
She goes to the phone.
EXAMINER: Oh. Somebody called for you.
EXAMINER: He said he was an Agent working out of Minneapolis. I told him you were out, you had a flight booked back tonight.
Scully looks concerned.
SCULLY: Was it Agent Mulder?
EXAMINER: I didn't recognize the name.
SCULLY: Did you tell him about the print?
EXAMINER: I hadn't found it yet.
Mulder answers his phone.
SCULLY: Hi, it's me. We got a print.
MULDER: to Bocks Scully got a print.
SCULLY: on the phone I'm going to modem it out to you immediately to see if you can run a match.
MULDER: Are you staying on there, Scully?
SCULLY: No. I'm coming back tonight.
MULDER: Look, I know this is a pretty horrific case -
SCULLY: I'm okay with it, Mulder. Anyway, you could use my help.
Scully smiles faintly.
SCULLY: You or Agent Bocks didn't call here looking for me earlier, did you?
Mulder checks with Bocks.
MULDER: Did you call Scully?
Bocks shakes his head
SCULLY: Okay, well, I'll see you when I get there.
She hangs up.
Donnie Pfaster's apartment. The door is broken down by uniformed officers. Shouts of: "FBI!" "Move it, move it!" "Clear!" "We're clear at the back here!" The bedroom, just as before, flowers all over. No sheets on the bed.
OFFICER: Bill! I think it's human hair.
The officer holds out a pillow. From out of the zippered end protrudes a stuffing of long human hair. Bocks is walking down the hallway, talking on his walkie-talkie.
BOCKS: The suspect does not appear to be at home. Let's put out an APB on Donald Addie Pfaster, age twenty eight -
Mulder is standing in the kitchen in front of an opened freezer. He calls to Bocks.
MULDER: Moe. Take a look at this.
It's a box of frozen food, that contains Brussels sprouts, and also some fingers, and a long fingernail, painted bright red. Bocks sighs.
Airport, Charles Lindbergh Terminal, at night. Scully exits. She goes to the Lariat car rental company.
She exits the rental company. Drives off in her rented car. From another car nearby, a man is watching her. It's Donnie Pfaster.
Scully's in her car, driving. Behind her, a pair of bright headlights looms up behind her. The lights grow brighter and nearer, and Scully is taken totally by surprise, as her car is rammed from behind. She gets hold of the wheel, trying to correct the forced swerve, but her car is being rammed again.
Agent Bocks' office. Night. Mulder, worried, checks his watch.
MULDER: She should have been here.
BOCKS: She was on the plane. Landed three hours ago.
An FBI agent enters the office.
AGENT: We found Agent Scully's car.
A road. Scully's dented car lies on the side of the road. A team of FBI officers are around. Also Bocks and Mulder. Mulder looks inside, the airbag is out, and torn. He goes round to the back - there's a white scratch on the car.
MULDER: She was forced off the road. Looks like a white car. Get one of your men to get a sample of this paint and get it on a plane to Washington. If you hurry and we're lucky, we may get a make and model of the car by morning. We're gonna find her.
Donnie is in a dark house. A For Sale sign outside. He's going down a corridor, entering a bathroom. The bathtub is filling, we can guess the temperature of the water. There are little bottles of shampoos etc. on the side of the tub.
Donnie is again walking in a corridor, entering a bedroom. He opens the closet door. Inside is Scully, huddled in the corner. Her hands and feet are tied, her mouth gagged. Her face is bruised, her eyes are closed. She opens her eyes, and sees... The demonic figure from her dream. Donnie closes the door.
Bocks is on cell phone.
BOCKS: Nothing registered to Donald Pfaster? Right... right. Got it.
He hangs up and turns to Mulder.
BOCKS: The paint is called Ivory Bone. It's a two-step enamel used by three makers of late model mid-sized cars. They estimate there may be about sixty thousand cars that fit that description in the metropolitan area.
Mulder is on his cell phone.
MULDER: Nothing? No one saw her leave the rental agency? There was no attendant in the area?
He presses the 'end' button in frustration and turns to Bocks.
MULDER: You know, people videotape police beatings on darkened streets. They manage to spot Elvis in three cities across America every day. But no one saw a pretty woman being forced off the road in her rental car.
BOCKS: He could have taken her any place. How're we going to find her?
MULDER: Well, we've got to start at the beginning. You know, as nasty as it might sound, we've got to try and get inside this guy's head. Where would he go?
BOCKS: Anywhere but his mother's, right?
MULDER: Why do you say that?
BOCKS: Being that he's so pissed off at her, from what your profile says.
Mulder is interested.
MULDER: Do we know where his mother lives?
BOCKS: I don't know.
MULDER: Let's find out.
Donnie in that dark house, holding a knife, moving towards the closet and opens it. Scully is in there, very frightened.
Bocks' office. Mulder and Bocks look at a computer screen.
BOCKS: The mother lives in Boca Raton, Florida. Correction. She used to live there. She died a year ago.
Mulder looks disappointed.
MULDER: Did she have a car registered to her?
BOCKS: A late model white sedan.
MULDER: He inherited the car. Maybe Boca Raton was a winter house. Did she have a residence here in Minneapolis?
Bedroom. Inside the closet. Donnie's near Scully, he's inspecting her fingernails.
SCULLY: Get the hell away from me!!
He uses a sharp knife to cut the rope that binds her feet. Scully's mouth is still gagged. To her horror, she sees Donnie's face, transforming, and becoming different men's faces. Those are the men she saw before, in the computer files she checked. The figures then change to that demonic creature again, then back to Donnie.
DONNIE: Don't be afraid.
Donnie takes Scully, hands still tied, mouth still gagged. He leads her to the bathroom, where the tub is filled with water and bubbles. Donnie walks around her in the bathroom, to check the shampoos.
DONNIE: Is your hair normal or dry?
He turns around, as Scully backs out towards the door.
DONNIE: Where are you going?
Donnie moves towards Scully, grabs her, but she pushes him hard straight into the freezing water in the bathtub. Scully then rushes out of the bathroom. Donnie pulls himself, wet, from the tub, and starts chasing her. He walks out of the bathroom, and looks around. Scully has disappeared. He's moving around the house, looking for her. Scully reaches the front door. It's locked. She runs for a place to hide.
DONNIE: There's no way out, girly girl.
He enters a bedroom, and retrieves a gun from the dresser.
DONNIE: I know this house, girly girl. There's nowhere to hide.
He then hears a noise from one of the rooms, and rushes in that direction. He moves towards a closed door and opens it. Scully jumps forward, her gag removed, with a spray bottle in her tied hands. She sprays him in the eyes, and runs off, while he's stumbling backwards. Scully runs towards the staircase, Donnie after her. He catches her at the top of the stairs, and they both tumble down the staircase. As they hit the floor, Donnie's gun slips out of his grasp. Scully starts crawling for the gun, Donnie sees her, and leaps on top of her. As she's pointing the gun at him, she, again, sees the demon from her dream, which shocks her, and allows Donnie to snap the gun from her hands. At that moment, the door bursts open, Mulder, Bocks and a few officers rush in.
MULDER: Federal Agents! Hands in the air! Hands in the air!
Donnie slowly puts his hands in the air, and the other men take him forcefully. Mulder kneels down to Scully. She's dazed, as she's trying to get up.
MULDER: Let's get some paramedics here, now!
Scully insists on getting up and Mulder helps her.
SCULLY: Just help me get my wrists untied.
Mulder starts untying her. She watches Donnie being handcuffed.
SCULLY: How did you find me?
MULDER: His mother used to own the house, willed it to his sisters. A patrolman saw his car out back.
Her wrists untied, Scully rubs them. She doesn't want to meet Mulder's eyes. She's looking over at Donnie.
MULDER: Sure you don't want to sit down, Scully, until someone can take a look at you?
SCULLY: quietly I'm fine.
Mulder looks at her, and tips up her chin. She then meets his gaze, and that's all it takes. Her eyes well up, and she begins crying. Mulder's holding her now, though she keeps her arms crossed in front of herself. She then allows herself to hold him, to fully let her emotions out. Scully continues to cry in Mulder's arms, while he holds her tight and strong.
Photos of Donnie as a child, and his family, are fading one into the other, as we hear Mulder.
MULDER: V.O. The conquest of fear lies in the moment of its acceptance. And understanding what scares us most is that which is most familiar, most commonplace. That boy next door, Donnie Pfaster, the unremarkable younger brother of four older sisters, extraordinary only in his ordinariness, could grow up to be the devil in a buttoned-down shirt. It's been said that the fear of the unknown is an irrational response to the excesses of the imagination. But our fear of the everyday, of the lurking stranger, and the sound of foot-falls on the stairs. The fear of violent death and the primitive impulse to survive, are as frightening as any x-file, as real as the acceptance that it could happen to you.