Part 08 of 08. Holiday Inn Scully's Room 8:19 p.m. Scully tried to rest, but her thoughts kept wandering toward the door. Every time she heard a noise, she keep thinking it could be Mulder. She kept praying it was Mulder. No such luck. She sat up and rubbed her weary eyes, knowing that sleep was what she needed, but also knowing she would never get any. She grabbed her badge and gun off the dresser and headed out the door. She would find Kennedy or Mulder. Hopefully she would find Mulder first, because if she found Kennedy first, she didn't want to know _what_ she'd do. 13 2nd Street 8:35 p.m. "Why are we at number 13 again?" Sam asked as he crept behind Mulder, hand on his gun. "He was 13 when his sister was taken," Mark replied, before Mulder had a chance. Mulder nodded in agreement, as a hollow sound of metal dropping echoed through the thin night. He turned to Mark, his face still pale in the moonlight, and nodded again. "He's here. He's toying with us." "Toying?" Mark asked, as he gripped his gun even more tightly than before. If Mulder said he was here, Mark didn't doubt it. Mulder turned, wincing in pain as he did, and stared up toward an open window. Sam caught his glance and started to shake his head. "There is no way in _hell_ that you are going to climb through that window! Even if we did help you, you are in no shape-" "Who said that I was going to climb through it? I was just _glancing_ at it," Mulder said innocently, as he walked toward it. "It's only about ten feet up, though...." Mark was already walking toward it. He sighed. "Well at least be careful. Scully's going to kill me if you get back in worse shape than you already are. Oh, hell, she'll probably kill me anyway. I'll help you up." Sam watched in awe as Mark gave Mulder a boost up toward the window. "You guys are nuts!" "Well, nuts or not, if you don't help me here, Scully will have both your hides," Mulder said with a grin. "Yeah, well, as soon as you got out of traction, she'd have your hide, too," Sam grumbled, but helped Mulder up toward the window. Mulder peered in and saw an empty room, with nothing on the floor, except for a few boxes. A door was ajar, propped open by a box. The room was deserted and dusty, but Mulder knew that someone had been there. He just _felt_ it. A sudden wave of dizziness decided to rear its ugly head and Mulder felt himself teetering. He grabbed the window sill to steady himself He felt himself stumble, and prayed he wouldn't fall. He was grateful as the dizziness passed and he was able to see straight again. He hands reached the window and pulled. Sure enough, it was open, just as he expected. his logical mind told him, but Mulder rarely listened to his logical mind. This bastard had already killed 17 times. He be damned if he made it 18. "Lift me up higher," Mulder instructed and he tried to climb through the window, gasping in pain as his ribs were rammed into the window ledge in the process. It didn't stop him and soon he was in the house, a bit woozy, but still in one piece. His head throbbed as he called out the window that he would let Mark and Sam in. He walked through the door, and surprisingly managed to descend the chairs with out passing out. He reached the front door and could hear Mark's voice just outside it. Mulder glanced around, somehow thinking this was all too good to be true. And as he laid his hand on the door knob, he realized that it was. "Nice running into you again, Agent Mulder." VCS 8:55 p.m. "Any word, sir?" were the first words out of Scully's mouth as she entered the office. "Agent Scully, I sent you back to the hotel to _rest_," Skinner said as Scully sat across from him. "Well, sir, I couldn't sleep," Scully said simply. Skinner eyed her for a minute but let her off, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get her to sleep into she saw Mulder, safe and sound and dragged him kicking and screaming back to the hospital. "There's been no word. Chambers and Fuchs are looking, so maybe we'll have something soon." Scully nodded and got up. "Well, I'm going to find them." Skinner rose and grabbed her arm before she could leave the room. "Agent Scully, Kennedy got you once, I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to take you again." "But, sir, he doesn't want me, he wants-" "Mulder." A voice finished for her. Skinner looked up and saw Mark and Sam, both out of breath standing in the doorway. "And he got him," Mark said as he began to catch his breath. "What?" Scully asked. Mark sat down and Scully waited for him to completely catch his breath. "We found Mulder. At 17 Second Street, looking for Kennedy." "You what?!" Scully turned toward him. "Is he all right?" "He was doing, ......ok," Mark said hesitantly, and Scully knew right away that that meant he looked like shit and probably felt like it too. "And?" Scully urged, getting impatient. "We went to number 13-" "After Mulder conned us into it," Sam interrupted. Mark nodded, Scully resisted her anger, and urged him to continue. "Well, he saw an empty window and before we knew it-" "You were hoisting him up into it," Scully finished for him tiredly. Mark nodded again. "And well, Kennedy was inside, and-" "Oh my God," Scully whispered, and had to sit down. Skinner brought her a glass of water. He turned to Sam and Mark. "Let's get some back-up." 13 2nd Street Los Angeles, CA 8:40 p.m. Kennedy had already taken Mulder's gun and had him cowering in a corner after only five minutes of being in the same room as him. "So, Mr. Mulder," Bryan Kennedy said. "Actually, I'm a doctor," Mulder said. He nodded his head weakly and continued on, knowing he sounded stupid, but was willing to try anything to delay Kennedy until Mark and Sam returned with back-up. They _had_ to notice that Mulder was missing, so they should be coming soon, right...? "Yeah, a doctor," he continued. "Not a medical doctor, that's my partner, the medical doctor, but I'm a doctor of.... the mind. You know, I have a degree in psychology." "Is that so, Mr. Mulder?" "Mm hm. I'm glad I have a psychology degree cause then I can go up to people and say, 'Hey, excuse me, it's _Dr._, not Mister.' Mulder, I mean. Yeah, it comes in handy when I'm profiling too. When I've got a sicko killing 8 year olds, something like that." Mulder was pretty sure he had begun rambling but he was too scared to care. "All right, _Dr._ Mulder?" "Yes?" "Shut up, Dr. Mulder," Bryan said. "Now, how about we talk about your father." "How about we don't? Let's talk about your tendency towards killing innocent little girls because of something that happened _a long time ago_." Mulder felt dizzy and reached a hand out towards the wall to brace himself. "Well you see, _I'm_ the one with the gun, _you're_ the one in the lower position. Now, we're going to discuss what _I_ want to discuss. Got that?" 13 2nd Street Los Angeles, CA 9:17 p.m. Sleepless nights, various injury, too much worry of his partner: they were all catching up with him. Mulder had to fight to stay conscious as Bryan Kennedy continued to interrogate him. "I told you, I don't know," Mulder replied weakly. His head was spinning and pounding at the same time and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the cold cement floor and pass out. "Well you know what, that's just not going to do it," Bryan said. "I need some answers." "That's gonna be hard because I don't have any," Mulder said. He was unprepared for Bryan's response. Kennedy lunged at him with a large kitchen knife (one that looked remarkably like the one Scully had attacked Kennedy with earlier). Mulder managed to duck the first time, but Bryan was there when he looked up again and scratched the knife high along Mulder's cheek, coming dangerously close to his right eye. Mulder guessed that he _had_ been aiming for his eye but had just missed. Bryan lunged again and Mulder ducked, falling to the ground in his attempt to flee, and cracking the back of his already pounding head hard against the wall. He opened his eyes and the world spun around him. "Pay attention when I speak to you!" Bryan commanded him. Mulder struggled to focus his eyes but apparently he wasn't quick enough. Bryan grabbed him by his shoulders (the previously dislocated one caused Mulder to scream) and yanked him to his feet. Mulder's brain couldn't catch up with all of this sudden motion and he fell down to his hands and knees, vomiting on the hard floor. "Asshole." Bryan kicked Mulder in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. As he was trying to recover, Bryan continued to kick at his torso, knocking around the old injured ribs. He was still kicking Mulder when the door bust open. "FBI. Put your hands in the air," a female voice commanded. Bryan looked up and saw his worst nightmare. What looked like the entire LAPD as well as various detectives, G-men and women and others that were holding up badges stood in the doorway. And, with a gun pointed in his direction, was Agent Mulder's partner. Hospital Three days later 11:47 a.m. Everything ached. The idea of opening his eyes was totally unappealing at this point. His head was _killing_ him and his side ached. His throat hurt. Add these to his list of previous injuries and the only word he could properly use to describe himself was "mess." "Mulder." The voice sounded far away, though Mulder's mangled brain told him it was close by. "Mulder, wake up. Please." The last word pleaded and had a slight hint of worry to it. Mulder recognized the voice immediately. But the worry in the voice began to worry him. Finally he pried his eyes open, and was met by a blurry swirl of colors, all mixing before his very eyes. The effect was so dizzying that Mulder was afraid he would throw up. "Just take some deep breaths, Mulder. It will help the dizziness go away," Scully instructed in her always calm voice. He followed her instructions and soon the room came into focus, along with Scully's concerned face. "Scully," he managed and was surprised how rusty his voice sounded to his own ears. "Here," Scully said, as she fed him a spoonful of ice chips. He accepted them gratefully. He settled back after taking three spoonfuls and got his first good look at Scully in days. She looked healthy. Her hair felt loose, more wavy than he ever remembered it. She had some make-up on, and if not for the black circles under her eyes, he'd say she looked fine. She was okay. The sentence seemed to only register then, and without thinking, he reached his hand up. It fell short as he tugged the IV line. "You're okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Scully took his hand in her own and settled on the edge of his bed. "I'm fine," she said, stroking his hand with her finger, careful not to dislodge the IV. For a few minutes the two partners just stared at each other, almost as if completely entranced by each other. And that's how AD Skinner found them. As his footsteps hit the floor, the two people separated and Scully blushed, and nervously tucked a hair into place. "Hello, sir," she said. "Hello, Agent Scully. Nice to see you awake, Agent Mulder." "Awake," Mulder repeated, his voice still rusty. "How long have I been out?" His question was directed to Scully and she answered it. "Three days, Mulder," Scully said with a smile. "But three concussions in the course of two days didn't help that at all." She gave him a disapproving smile. Mulder recognized the dull ache in his head, and realized that he must be on the _good_ drugs, because he knew from experience that one concussion wasn't fun, let alone _three_. "I'm lucky I have a hard head," he said, grinning, but the grin turned into a frown as a spasm hit his side unexpectedly. Scully turned toward the door. "I think you're due for another shot." The last thing Mulder wanted know was another needle, but as another spasm hit he was happily excepting Scully's offer with open arms. Five minutes later he was fighting to stay awake. Skinner excused himself and left Scully alone with him. "Mulder, don't fight it. You need some rest." "I slept three days," he mumbled. His mind was jumbled and the events of the last 4 days were fuzzy, but just as he was ready to close his eyes, one thing stuck out in his memory. "Scully," he said, his eyes closed, "what's Kennedy got to do with my father?" Scully opened her mouth to answer but Mulder was too tired to hear her. Hospital The next day 2:34 p.m. The next 24 hours were a blur for Mulder. Nurses and doctors in and out, countless shots, and tests. He vaguely remembered Skinner coming back and Mark and Sam visiting to ask how he was. But the one thing he remembered most was Scully's voice, staying at his side the whole time. God, he hoped she was getting some sleep. He hoped Mark or even Skinner was persuading her to get some at the hotel. Even as his consciousness wasn't always there, Mulder keep reliving that moment in his head. (...Let's talk about your father...) His father? Why? His mind couldn't put that together. He was never lucid enough to really think about it. The next time he awoke, Scully was at his side again, in different clothes than he remembered, so she must have been back at the hotel. He smiled when he saw her and she smiled back. She was safe. And hopefully she would stay that way; Mulder knew he would never survive without her. But as he watched her sit in a chair next to his bedside, he knew he wanted the answer to the question he'd asked before. "Scully?" "Yes?" She looked up and her cross caught the light, causing her to reach toward her neck to adjust it. That simple gesture reminded Mulder about how he never wanted to lose her. "My father? Why?" The words were jumbled, the thought not clear, but Scully knew exactly what he meant. She had dreaded telling him this since she discovered it. But he had a right to know. She got up and went to the window sill. She picked up a folder, and carried it over to him. "Mulder, when I was going through some papers that were recovered from Bryan Kennedy's first...." She paused. "...dwelling, I found this." She opened the folder and took a piece of paper out and handed it to Mulder. She helped him sit (quite painfully) make sure he didn't disturb the stitches his newest blow to the ribs had earned him, and helped him hold the paper(quite awkwardly) in his left hand, seeing his right was immobilized by a dislocated shoulder. Mulder blinked at the paper, almost impossible to read without his glasses. Scully saw him squint, smiled, and placed his reading glasses into his left hand. Careful of the IV, he put them on and glanced back at the paper. The content of the paper may not have been as important, but as soon as Mulder saw Valerie Kennedy's name he knew it meant something. And he went pale at the sight of his father's signature at the bottom of the page. He was involved. That's why Kennedy asked all those questions about his father. He thought that William Mulder was somehow responsible for his sister's abduction. And according to this single piece of paper, it looked like Kennedy was right. "Mulder-" Scully started but Mulder's own voice interrupted hers. "I have to find out why my father's name is on this piece of paper." It was a statement, not an idea. It was past being an idea. It was a plan. Scully carefully laid her hand on his, knowing she could never tell him not to look for the truth. It was part of who he was. It _was_ who he was. And he had every right to know why his father's name was on that piece of paper. "Well, what if you don't like what you find?" Scully asked, carefully, her eyes meeting Mulder's determined hazel ones. Mulder was silent for a moment, almost of if he didn't want to answer the question. Finally he spoke his voice low but determined: "Well, no one ever seems to like the truth. But I know it's out there, and that's enough to keep me going, even if means find out some things I don't like. I have to know, Scully. It's not the answer I'm afraid of, it's the questions I discover on the way." End Part 08 of 08. "The end" Okay, okay......before you start sending us countless e-mails saying "How could you leave it off like that??", there _is_ a sequel in the works. So look for "Pieces of the Past II: Searching" (it's a working title) coming soon to a website near you. :-) Oh, and any feedback goes to JenR13@aol.com, and JRDG1013@aol.com.