Part 05 of 08. Holiday Inn Mulder and Mark's room 3:45 a.m. Mulder awoke with a start. He blinked in the blinding overhead light and looked around. He realized he was back in his hotel room in his bed. He sat up straight, a little dizzy from the sudden moment, but not caring. He had to find her, he had to- "Take it easy, Mulder." Mulder looked up and found himself staring into the concerned face of AD Skinner. he thought, as he pushed the covers out of his way. "Sir, Scully, she's-" "I know, Mulder. You told me about three hours ago. We're getting a team together that planning their search of 2nd Street. It should begin at 500 hours," he added, throwing a little military lingo in there. "5 a.m.! But sir, we have to go now!" Mulder got up out of the bed, surprised at how dizzy that movement made him. Black spots threatened his vision, and he realized he tired he was, even after that night at the hospital. Of course, it would have helped if he slept at the hospital instead of _pretending_ to. "Not so fast, Mulder. You don't want to pass out on me again, do you?" Mulder took a deep breath, and tried to get up again, slower. This time there were no black spots. He looked around the room. "Where's Mark?" he asked. "He's with the now assembling team. We can join him whenever you're ready." Well, that's all Mulder needed to hear. He was out the door before Skinner even finished his sentence. On the road Los Angeles, CA 4:00 a.m. "Shit, sir, we only have ten days." Mulder bounced frantically in the passenger’s seat; dying to just get out and run to the VCS office. "Mulder, would you calm down? I don't want you to pass out on me again. Now, please, explain yourself?" Mulder took a deep breath then started into his lengthy explanation. "Okay, Kennedy keeps the girls for sixteen days and kills them on the sixteenth day. Sixteen day cycles. He was only on day six of Samantha Ingber, his latest victim, before he picked up Scully, so he's still got 10 days on the cycle. If we don't find Scully in ten days, sir," Mulder choked on the word. "Scully's going to die in the hands of this bastard." An uncomfortable silence filled the car for the rest of the ride and when they pulled up to the VCS office, Mulder jumped out of the car and ran into the office, all but colliding with Mark who was holding a cup of coffee. "Whoah," Mark said, raising his hand with the coffee way above his head so it didn't get jarred. "Hey Mulder, how are you doing, man?" Mulder gave a curt nod and dropped down at the big table in the center of the room. "What have we got here?" he asked the VCS team who looked about ready to drop. A young guy at the other end of the table handed Mulder a Polaroid. "Samantha Ingber's body was found at the corner of Main and 2nd street at about ten last night." "Probably the same time Scully was taken," Mulder said under his breath. The guy nodded and continued, "Samantha Ingber appeared to be killed in the same manor as the others, severe head injury, and was-- like the others-- seemingly attacked and tortured on many separate occasions, but so far no fibers, hairs or fingerprints have turned up." "Like the others..." "Exactly. Now he's got Agent Scully and we've got sixteen days..." "Ten," Mulder corrected. "He needs a complete cycle. He had Samantha Ingber for six days and to finish that cycle up, he takes Scully for ten." The guy nodded. "All right. By the way, I'm Sam Fuchs, I'm with the VCS here. No Washington, nothing fancy, I'm local. But I know my way around, so they sent me." "That's good... Sam?" "Yeah, call me Sam. All right, who's ready to scout the area?" Sam stood up, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Mulder stood too. "Mulder..." Skinner stood behind his agent. "Are you sure you're okay to--" "Yes, sir. Let's go. Mark?" Mark nodded and followed Mulder and Sam out the door. 17 2nd Street Los Angeles, CA 4:28 a.m. "It's like deja vu all over again," Mulder whispered when they were walking through an old house, backs to the wall, guns out. "Tell me about it," Mark said. "Looks like every house on this street has been abandoned for at least twenty years." "Spooky..." Sam said. "There it is." Mulder walked cautiously over to the post-it stuck on the wall. "Tsk, tsk, Agent Mulder. You're impressive but not that impressive. You'll need to sharpen up your math skills if you ever want to see your partner again. Now, find that number. You've only got ten days you know..." Mulder, shaking his head in a mix of frustration, anger and plain exhaustion, handed the note to Mark. Mulder, Mark and Sam sat on the curb of second street in the thin morning light, heads cradled in their hands, deep in thought. "So it's not 4 second street and its not 17 second street," Mark said. "Right. What else could it be?" "What about eight?" Sam asked. "Since all the girls he abducts are eight years old..." Mulder looked up. "That's a good idea, actually. Where's number eight?" Sam pointed to a house down the block a little and they stood up and walked down to that point. "Scratch that idea," Mark said. The house was completely boarded up and all the doors were locked. "Guys, we're the police for crying out loud! Are you telling me we can't break down a little board?" Sam demanded. "Uh... all right, worth a shot. Come here, Mark," Mulder said. He lifted Mark up on his shoulders so he could reach the window, and Mark banged and banged at the boards, but they didn't budge. "Gimme your gun," Mark called down. Mulder, his back and shoulders straining under Mark's weight, managed to hand up his gun without completely dislocating his shoulder. Pow Pow "Shit, Mark, what the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded. "One sec..." Mark banged at the boards again with his forearm and they fell in. "Works every time." He grinned down at Sam then got the message that he should hurry up from the shaking of Mulder's shoulders under his legs. "Okay, I'm going in." With a bit of difficulty, Mark climbed in through the window. "Is the floor sturdy?" Sam called up. "Yeah. Go to the front door, I'll go down and unlock it," Mark said. "Okay." A minute later, the three of them were inside a house, twice as dusty and decrepid as the first two, and walking down steep cement stairs to a dank basement... Mulder held his gun to his side, ready to shoot at the slightest noise. Mark gripped his own gun behind him and Sam wasn't far behind. The ceiling grew low and Mulder found himself ducking a few times. But he didn't care. He had one thing on his mind: Scully. Suddenly Mulder found himself turning at the sound of metal falling. He gripped his gun tighter and ran off in the direction of the sound. He heard Mark call his name and footsteps lightly follow him, but he didn't pay much attention to it. He just ran in the direction of the noise, as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't even notice the slick floor beneath him, as he ran across it and soon found himself laying on it, fighting the dizziness he felt each time he moved his head. "Mulder!" he heard Mark call, but the voice seemed distant, as if it was coming from far away. Mulder vaguely noticed Mark and Sam kneeling beside him. He moved his head and catch a glimpse of yellow out of the corner of his eye. He sat up, fighting the dizziness(though not very successfully), and struggled to his feet. Mark offered him a hand up but he pushed it away. He closed his eyes till the dizziness seemed to subside. Then he climbed to his feet. What a mistake. The dizziness came back, full force. "Maybe we should go back. You could go see a doctor. That floor is really hard," Mark said, and Sam nodded. Mulder shook his head, and the dizziness seemed to dissipate, replaced with the usual "I-want-to-throw-up" feeling that most concussions he had brought. He ignored it and walked, though unsteadily, toward the flash of yellow he had seen. It was a note. Neatly written, and not too old, like the others. My, my Agent Mulder. You are close. The basement has always been a favorite place of mine.... He was close. Maybe she was here. He looked around the room, and spied an open door that seemed to lead to an even lower part of the basement. He only took one step toward it when he found himself on his knees, Mark keeping him from falling to the floor. "Mulder, I think you should get checked out," he said, a worried expression on his face. "I'm fine," Mulder answered, pushing himself back into a standing position. "It's his note. He was here. Maybe he still is." Mulder handed the note to Sam, and he and Mark read it over. Sam nodded. "I think you're right." Both knew Mulder was only a stone's throw away from collapsing(probably closer), but they also knew taking him out of this house know wasn't going to help Scully. So Mulder continued to walk, wobbling on the way. Mark grabbed Mulder's shoulder to steady him, but Mulder brushed his hand away. He headed toward the door, and found another post-it on the doorknob. Ah, basements! The lower the better! A low basement has some many possibilities. Think about it......you can't hear someone scream if they're 15 feet down! Mulder handed the note to Mark wordlessly and he nodded. Mulder started down the door, hands on the railing to steady himself. This part of the basement was lower, with no windows. Mulder noted in his mind. He reached for his gun, but realized it wasn't there. He turned, the nausea threatening again, to look for it, but Mark handed him it. "I pick it up when you....fell," he explained, and Mulder continued his walk down into the basement. 4:59 a.m. Place unknown Darkness. For the last three hours it was all Scully saw. The darkness surrounded her like a cloud, and she desperately wanted it to go away. she thought, as she tried to feel her way around the prison the darkness seemed to hold for her. Dust. She felt it come across her fingertips as she ran her hand across a tabletop. At least she hoped it was a table top. She had awoken in this place three hours ago, yet she never once met her captor. She felt her way across a bed, and soft blankets. The place she was in didn't seem frightening. In fact if not for the darkness, it might not be bad. But the darkness, an enemy that remained. She ran her hands across another table top and was greeted by an object. It was in the shape of bottle, and she felt its side. Some sort of switch greeted her, and she flipped it, hoping it would end the darkness. A round light lit the wall, and Scully realized what she had discovered: a flashlight. She shined it around her surroundings. She saw a normal bed, dresser, and a table and two chairs in the corner. A digital clock(one she failed to notice before) read 5:02 in big red numbers. Whether is was a.m. or p.m. she wasn't sure, the room had no windows. She shined the flashlight over to the wall and grew sick at what she saw. Seventeen pictures of little girls, covered in blood, dead. A noise turned her attention from the wall and she turned the flashlight toward it. A man, over six feet, stood there, a wicked grin on his face. He smiled and walked toward Scully. She backed away, instinctively reaching for her gun, but realized he must have it. She thought he would grab her, but he stopped just a few feet shy of her. "Don't worry, Agent Scully. You're just bait. I've got a bigger fish to catch." 5:04 a.m. 17 2nd Street Mulder looked around the room, the feeling to throw up growing with each second. Nothing was here. It was a dead end, they would never find her, they would never find her, he would never find her, hewouldneverfindher.... Another piece of yellow caught his eye, and he walked toward it. With a trembling hand he picked it up and read it. Well, Agent Mulder, seventeen is favorite number of mine, but it's not the right answer to this math problem. But, I'm a man who believes in second choices. I suggest you brush up on your math skills, before you try again, though. 10 days can go by like the blink of an eye, just watch! Mulder let the note drop to the floor, and Mark scooped it up. Mulder didn't know what to do. Math, math! Why didn't he pay more attention in his algebra class in high school? Jenna Masters was why, a memory told him, but he ignored it. Jenna was the past. Scully was his future. But if he didn't find her soon, she's have no future to speak of. VCS Los Angeles, CA 10:17 p.m. "Ten, maybe," Mulder suggested half-heartedly. Sam and Mark exchanged looks. Since they had left the house, Mulder had been hunched over a pad of paper, all the materials spread in front of him, pen poised in hand, but nothing written down. Mark knew he had received quite a blow from that floor, and wondered if he didn't have a concussion. The constant brief closing of his eyes to steady himself, and the Mulder's green pallor did nothing to convince Mark otherwise. "Why ten?" Sam asked, and finished his fourth cup of coffee. "You're right," Mulder said. "Why, precisely. Why, why, why..." Mark again looked at Sam and caught his eye. "He's rambling," Mark mouthed. "I'm getting Skinner." Sam nodded and turned to distract Mulder while Mark left. "Hey, Mulder, what about 16? I mean, that's how long the 'cycle' is, right? And when we were at house number 17, he said we were close, so, how about 16?" Mulder studied his fingernails intensely then looked back up at Sam. "I think that's a possibility. That may be right." He stared at the wall for a minute, then stood abruptly, almost knocking over his chair. "Damnit, why didn't _I_ see that? I mean, it's my partner that the freak's holding hostage, _I_ should've gotten that! We could've saved Scully by now! We could've saved her by--" "Mulder, sit down before you fall down," an low, even voice said from the door. Skinner stepped into the room, took his agent by the arm and pulled him outside to sit on the bench outside the door. "Yes, sir?" Mulder said tersely. He fidgeted with his hands, then kicked at the ground with his shoes before squirming once in his seat and letting his gaze rest on the plain wall before him. "Mulder, listen to me. We are going to pack up our stuff, and Sam and Mark are going back to the hotel to get some well-deserved sleep, and you and I are going to the hospital because you have a concussion and you know it." Mulder didn't say anything for a long time, then he said in an almost inaudible voice, "But, sir, she needs me." Skinner sighed tiredly. "Who?" he said, though he knew very well "who." "Scully," Mulder said, his voice breaking on the word. "It's my fault she was taken, and-- and, its my responsibility to get her back. I just need to know where he is!" Not wanting to let Mulder think about the case anymore, but knowing this was the only way he could get through to him, Skinner said, "What about the ages? Have you tried 8 + 12 yet? Or 8 + 4? What about (8 + 12) - (8 + 4) or (8 + 4) + (8 + 4)? We know this guy is a mathematician right? Maybe it's nothing to do with those numbers, even. Maybe it's some math theory or... I don't know, Mulder. C'mon, we'll discuss this in the car on the way to the hospital." "Wait a minute, sir." Mulder looked up. "What about the Quadratic Formula?" "Hm?" "Negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus four (A C), all divided by 2A." "Scuse me?" Skinner said. "_Mulder_??" "Yeah. Let's do it with A as the lowest number.... that's A=4, B=8, C=12. Follow me?" "Um..." "Good. So it's -4 plus or minus the square root of 4 squared minus 4 times 4 times 12. Divide the whole thing by 2 times 4..." "You're doing this in your head?" "More or less. Okay, that should be... shit." "I don't think it adds up to shit, Mulder." "No. It doesn't work. I got a negative number within the square root and, obviously, you can't find the square root of a negative." "Oh," Skinner said impatiently. He was fascinated by Mulder's work, but he knew that if he didn't Mulder checked out, he might not be able to work for the rest of the case. Hospital 11:04 p.m. "Yeaaaah, that's a nice concussion you've got there, Mr. Mulder," Doogie Howser said. At least, that's what Mulder called him. His name tag said Dr. Monaco. "Great. Can I go now?" Skinner sighed for the thirtieth time in twelve minutes and Doogie join in. "Mr. Mulder," Doogie said. "I'm going to need to keep you overnight. That's a pretty bad concussion, and I can tell you're not up to working anymore," he said with a glance at Skinner. "You're also suffering from exhaustion and general not-taking-care-of-yourself. You need to _eat_ on a regular basis. You've got about six gallons of coffee running through your system. That's not good, Mr. Mulder. And that cut on your arm is infected, are you aware of that?" Mulder, who had been glaring at the floor and grinding his teeth, looked up at the doctor. "Yeah, I've got medicine for that already." Doogie tapped his foot on the floor. "Are you _taking_ it, Mr. Mulder?" "Well, yeah. Well, I was. I guess I..." Doogie sighed, gave up on dealing with Mulder and turned to Skinner. "All right, I can see you need this guy for the investigation. If you want him to make it through this, though, you need to watch him carefully: make sure he gets sleep, food, and something besides coffee. Get him back on that medication, and I'll give you some pain killers cause, you can see, " he motioned to Mulder who was squinting and rubbing the back of his head where it had collided with the floor. "He's going to need them." Skinner exchanged a few words with Doogie then led Mulder out of the room and to the car. Mulder dropped into the passenger’s seat, to exhausted to argue when Skinner insisted on driving. Skinner started the car up and, in silence, they drove back to the Holiday Inn. In the parking lot, Skinner reached over to shake Mulder, thinking he had fallen asleep, but Mulder's quiet voice stopped him. "Pythagorean's Theorem?" "No, Mulder. No more on the case. You're going to rest now. I can see you're head is killing you. We'll talk about the case in the morning." Skinner said. He got out of the car, circled around and opened Mulder's door for him. "Let's go." "Four squared plus eight squared equals twelve squared." Skinner thought it over for a minute, then said, "No it doesn't." "Exactly." Skinner pulled Mulder out of the car by his uninjured wrist. "What are you talking about, Mulder?" "I'm saying that it doesn't work. Nothing works," he said blandly. Stiffly, he followed Skinner into the hotel room. Once inside, he sat down on the bed and turned to Skinner who was messing with the childproof top on Mulder's medicine. "We're never going to find her, sir," Mulder said tiredly. "I can't..." Skinner sat down on the bed next to Mulder and put a hand on his agent's shoulder. "Yes we will. We'll find her. Now you need to rest." He gently pushed Mulder down and Mulder's head relaxed on the pillow. Skinner briefly wondered if Mulder shouldn't take off his suit jacket or his shoes, but it seemed he had already fallen asleep so Skinner walked out and quietly shut the door behind him. End Part 05 of 08. ----------