Subject: NEW: Failsafe (1/2)
Date: 18 Mar 1996

Failsafe. 1/11

Thanks to all those who replied to my plea for posting help,
guess Stef drew the short straw :)
This is my first attempt, having lurked on the group for
about 18 months, I thought I'd give it a shot. I think I'd give
it an "R" rating, (that's a 15 cert for all those in the UK) for
adult themes and liberal splashes of blood.
Being a Brit, the locations might be a bit dodgy, but I've
done my best.
The story assumes knowledge of The Erlenmeyer Flask and
End Game with a bit of Dod Kalm thrown in for good
measure. Confused yet? You will be :)
Thanks to Stef for posting this, to anyone whose name I
have stolen and to my little sis Helen without whom, I'd
never see Season 3! Any character you recognize belongs to
Chris Carter and 10.13 Productions, any that you don't
belong to me. No similarities to anyone living or dead
intended. Please don't sue me, I'm only a poor student.

Comments/flames welcome at fsucg@csv.warwick.ac.uk.
Don't write to Stef, this story is not her fault :) If anyone
does write, don't be offended if I don't reply straight away,
it just means I've gone home for Easter.
If anyone is still awake after all that, and actually reads the
story I'd love to hear from you. Take care,
Caroline.

Failsafe.

He listened as the echo of the scream slowly faded into the
darkness. His hand held the knife with the firm, unyielding
grasp a surgeon would employ; moulded and steadied
through years of practice and gradual distanciation from
the people who found themselves under his blade.

He was the same.
Distanced.
But only from the emotions of his victims. The intense
pleasure he gained from the gradual exploration of their
bodies; the sensation of the flesh parting smoothly, the
blood that ran out in a steady stream, was his to covet and
investigate. He looked down at the face of the woman, her
eyes were wide with terror, almost disbelief at the manner
in which her life had been terminated. Smiling softly to
himself, he wiped the knife clean before placing it onto the
tray.

FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 28th July. 9am.

Dana Scully walked briskly from the elevator, down the
murky corridor to the basement office that now seemed to
double as her second home. Her smart, no-fuss navy suit
and lightly curled hair, portrayed a woman with more
confidence and authority than her slight stature would at
first suggest. On this occasion, her appearance was
deceiving. Scully was tired and far too hot.

For over a week now, Washington, D.C had been
sweltering in an uncomfortably humid heatwave and, for
over a week, Scully had been trying to badger FBI
maintenance into fixing the basement air conditioning.
Scully shook her head ruefully as she opened the door and a
fresh wave of warm air greeted her.

"And Good Mornin' Agent Scully!"

Scully turned her head towards the voice, smirking slightly
at the sarcastic radio announcer's intonation her partner
had used. Fox Mulder was sitting in his shirt sleeves, the
back of his shirt was already sticking to him, and his tie
had been unceremoniously screwed up into his jacket
pocket. <Be thankful for small mercies> Scully thought as
she marvelled at the pattern gracing the tie, it was possibly
even more tasteless than the one with pink pigs on it that
Mulder only wore on "very special occasions". He had
obviously been awaiting her arrival, an empty coffee cup
and various configurations of sunflower seeds and
discarded shells adorned his desk.

"So Scully, what brings you in here at this early hour?"

Scully did not dignify him with a reply, instead she busied
herself with hanging her jacket up, dropping her briefcase
and preparing a much needed cup of coffee. She sat down
behind her desk, noticed for the first time a brand new file
that had been left there. She knew without asking that
Mulder had put it there and, as she opened it, Scully waited
for the steady monotone to tell her exactly what he was
getting them into this time. Scully's eyes widened as she
was confronted by the black and white photograph
preceding the report completed by the local officers initially
assigned to the case. Mulder began to speak.

"Linda Kavner. Age forty two, married with three children.
Disappeared four days ago after leaving the restaurant
where she works at 11pm. Her body was discovered last
night by a man walking his dog."

Scully held up her hand to stop Mulder in his tracks,
closing the file, she picked up from where he had left off:

"Over a period of three days, Mrs Kavner was repeatedly
tortured. Her body was found to have a number of deep
incisions, on limbs, chest and back. This trauma was not
substantial enough to kill her, her throat was eventually
slashed. Evidence of sexual assault but not rape. All cuts
were administered with a surgeon's blade and dexterity.
Around the wound that resulted in her death an, as yet,
unidentified substance had been injected into the tissue."

During this monologue, Scully had reached into her
briefcase, pulled out her own file and handed it to her
speechless partner. She resumed her seat to conclude. “The
manner of death and torture are identical to those found in
three previous murders, all occurring in or around the D.C
area. So far, any connections between the victims remains
unestablished and local law are, quite frankly, at a loss."

Scully took a sip of her coffee and relaxed back into her
chair, smiling at the quizzical look Mulder was giving her.
Mulder waited, allowing her to savour the fact that, for
once, she had him totally at a loss. Scully dug deep into her
briefcase and took out her own file, crossing to Mulder's
desk, she perched on the edge and handed it to him.

"I got a call at three this morning from Alan Bryce, he and
I used to work together at Quantico. He said that he had
this weird case that we might be interested in. I spent the
rest of the night doing the autopsy on Linda Kavner."

For the first time since she had arrived at the office, Mulder
took the time to actually look at his partner. Her eyes had
heavy, dark smudges under them and her hair had been
arranged in a hurry.

"You OK, Scully?"

Scully met her partner's eyes and saw both the concern and
the unspoken apology, she smiled at him.

"Yeh, I'm fine, she was just a mess. One of the junior
pathologists fainted so Alan and I had to finish it on our
own. The toxicology reports won't be in till later today, but
if they are anything like the results for the other three
deaths, then they aren't going to tell us anything. They just
don't know what the substance is, or even if it contributed
to the cause of death."

Scully gestured back to the file Mulder had left for her.
"Where did you get that?"

"It came down from Skinner." Mulder grinned; "too spooky
for anyone else, and besides, there's something you may not
know about the way each body was discovered..."

Scully shrugged. “A man walking his dog found Kavner,
what's so strange about that?"

She saw *the* look, the one that said <Scully you are not
going to like this>.Mulder's grin broadened.

"According to the young paper boy who found the second
body, it just appeared in front of him, out of thin air."

Mulder was right, Scully didn't like it, but he did not give
her the chance to argue. He held up his hand as she opened
her mouth to launch her complaint.

"Pardon me for saying so, but you look like hell, partner."

Scully nodded wryly, she was tired beyond belief, the
autopsy had been a particularly harrowing one and had left
them none the wiser, it was frustrating and only added to
her exhaustion. Mulder stood and handed her her jacket.

"Come on, breakfast is on me, then we have to see a paper
boy about a corpse."

Mike's Diner. 10.13am.

The greasy spoon, just around the corner from the FBI
Headquarters was a rundown, decidedly murky
establishment, but it also served the best pancakes in D.C
and the proprietor - who oddly enough was called Pat - was
a firm believer in all that was weird in the world.

"Hey Spooky!" the soft Irish lilt in the man's voice was a
dead giveaway, and Mulder could not suppress his smile as
the tall, dark haired man made his way towards them.

"How's it going Pat?"

The two men shook hands then Pat turned his attention to
Scully. Mulder was well aware of Pat's none too subtle
affection for his partner and he enjoyed watching her fend
off his advances.

"Y'know, you really shouldn't hang around with this fella,
he's bad for your image."

Mulder chuckled, trying to picture Scully hanging around
with Pat instead. Scully took it all in her stride.

"Yeh, well, he's buying, otherwise I'd have left him in the
basement."

Mulder feigned distress and followed Pat to their table. Pat
hurriedly wiped the table clean and handed the two agents
their menus.

Five minutes later, Mulder heaped the pancakes onto
Scully's plate and gasped at the amount of syrup she poured
onto them.

"A moment on the lips..." He whispered to her. She poked
her fork in his direction, but could not think of a retort
quickly enough. As he drowned his own stack, her thoughts
turned back to their case.

"Mulder, this paper boy, how old is he?"

Mulder swallowed half a pancake. He's twelve and he is
completely convinced of what he saw."

"A twelve year old child discovering a murder victim is
going to experience some considerable stress. It's likely that
in order to cope with this he is putting the trauma into a
scenario he can understand. I mean, maybe it's easier for
him to give it this fantastical element to detach himself
from the horror of what he has been through."

Mulder nodded, spearing another pancake. "That sounds
reasonable enough, but it doesn’t account for the fact that
Jody Clark, the woman who reported the first body, claims
exactly the same thing."

Scully shook her head and savoured the taste of the pancake
to disguise her annoyance. He always did this to her, he
would give her a percentage of the information, allow her
to attempt to rationalise it, then crash her theory into the
dust with a final detail he had conveniently omitted.

"Come on, let's go." Mulder's voice roused her from her
introspection and she drained her cup as he headed for the
counter with the check.

"Take care of her, Mulder." The teasing tone was no longer
evident in the Irish man's voice, and Mulder nodded to him
as he guided Scully towards the door.

Walker residence. Washington, D.C. 11am.

"D'ya wanna piece?"

Scully shook her head with a smile as Jason Walker thrust
the Tootsie Roll in her direction. Mulder accepted gleefully
and sat down on the sofa in the Walker's living room. Jason
Walker filled his mouth with the candy and squatted cross-
legged in front of the two agents. Scully looked at the boy,
he was a slight child with blonde hair and no front teeth, he
did not *seem* at all phased by their presence.

"So, you want to know how I found that guy?"

At Mulder's confirmation, Jason began to recount a story he
had obviously told many times to various people. His
delivery was flat and his eyes distant as he played with the
wrapper of the candy.

"I was on my way home from my morning round. I took a
short cut through the field, mom always told me not to go
that way, but it saves a lot of time and I was going for a
swim after my round. I must have walked for about five
minutes when this guy just appeared."

Scully noticed the tremble in the boy's voice, but she did
not want to interrupt to offer reassurance, she had a feeling
that any disruption to his story would leave him unable to
carry on. Jason steadied himself with a small, impromptu
coughing fit, then continued.

"His face was all cut up and he was still bleeding and..."

The small face looked up, met Scully's eyes then turned to
Mulder. "I'm not making this up, I keep on dreaming about
it and it's always the same, he's just there in front of me."

Mulder leaned forward and placed his hand on top of
Jason's. "I believe you Jason, we don't think you're crazy,
OK?" He was rewarded with a small nod which encouraged
Mulder to continue. "Is there anything else that you can
remember? Did you hear or smell anything strange?"

"No. I don't think so. Am I done now? I'd like to go out and
play now."

11.47am.

Mulder pulled out of the street and rejoined the main
stream of traffic. Scully tried in vain to operate the air
conditioning in the car then gave up and opened the file on
her lap. Mulder tapped out the rhythm of the Blues song
playing on the radio, marking the time until Scully began
the questioning.

"Mulder...?"

He stopped the drumming and glanced at Scully. "What?"

She seemed to be having trouble finding the right words.
"Jason, what did you think?"

Mulder shrugged neutrally. "He seemed like a nice kid, bit
on the jumpy side but that's understandable. He reminded
me a bit of me when I was that age, the look in his eyes,
that 'I know I'm telling the truth, why the hell won't you
listen to me' look." Mulder turned his attention back to the
traffic and tried to keep his mind on the present case
instead of on an unsolved one from twenty three years ago.

Scully swallowed, watched the freeway. In her heart, she
wanted to tell Mulder that she had believed everything that
Jason had said, sometimes it was draining always to have to
offer the plausible explanation. But she couldn't turn her
back on everything she had been taught and, as Mulder
turned into the parking lot of the FBI building, it was to
science that she turned, seeking an explanation within the
realms of possibility, for a case that seemed to be defying
the rational at every junction.

She watched them from a safe distance, sensed their
confusion. The tall man was trying to erase a memory that
persisted in plaguing him; a brown haired girl drifting from
his reach, the sound of her cries ringing in his ears as he
struggled to hold his father's gun. The petite, auburn haired
woman beside him was fighting with a different demon,
one that she had confronted often and usually succeeded in
subduing: a need to believe. <Well, she might just get her
chance> The unobserved spectator chuckled sadly then
choked back a pained gasp. She knew that the woman
would be the hardest to convince, she also knew that she
didn't have an awful lot of time to waste worrying about it.

----------- End part one -----------

===========================================================================

From: Steph <100573.2252@CompuServe.COM>
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: FAILSAFE 2/12
Date: 19 Mar 1996 20:34:18 GMT

Subj: Failsafe, part two.

Failsafe. Part 2/11.

FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 12.15pm.

"So what happens now?"

Scully threw her briefcase down beside her desk and ran
her fingers through her hair, trying to ignore the
perspiration that had gathered by her hairline.

Mulder was attempting to open a packet of sunflower seeds,
whilst simultaneously switching his computer on and
manoeuvring the mouse into the necessary position. He was
not having the best of luck. Scully watched him,
amused, debated helping him then decided against it, he
was having too much fun on his own. She opened her
mouth to repeat the question when he finally registered the
original inquiry.

"We speak to Jody Clark, see what she has to say and wait
for the tox reports to get back from the last victim." His
flippant tone masked the irritation he was experiencing, he
hated being at a dead end, hated the feeling that he was
dependent on other people to do their jobs before he could
continue with his .

Scully had seated herself behind her desk preparing to go
through the files on the victims again. Mulder flexed his
fingers and launched himself into the task of profiling
the...Mulder hesitated to think of the perpetrator as a
person, it was difficult to conceive that a human could have
been responsible for such atrocities. Mulder paused as he
remembered Pfaster, no-one had been willing to accept that
a human could have defiled the women in the way he had.
The reality had been a bitter pill to swallow. Mulder
chanced a glance at Scully, she continued to read, oblivious
to the thoughts that had brought her partner out in a cold
sweat. Brutally forcing his mind to concentrate, Mulder
looked at the screen of his computer and began to type.

X-File. 1118 2X08.

After reviewing the evidence presented so far in this case, I
have arrived at the following conclusions. The five victims
have ranged in age from nineteen to fifty five, three males
and two females. The age and size of the male victims lead
me to conclude that the killer is most likely to be an adult
male, estimated age, early thirties. The bodies have been
discarded almost immediately after death (usually in a
public place) suggesting that they had been held captive
close to that location, but searches of the surrounding
buildings have revealed no evidence of this.

Each of the female victims had been sexually assaulted but
not raped, the tearing and bruising recorded during the
post-mortems, suggest a forced examination as opposed to
intercourse.

Post-mortem analysis revealed that similar injuries were
suffered by each of the victims. Each appears to have been
subjected to a series of tortures over a number of days
(average; three). Wounds are knife wounds, precise and
varying in severity, a substance found in the surrounding
tissue has so far defied identification and no weapon has
been recovered. Agent Scully believes that the killer is
using surgical tools and may have training or experience in
this profession.

The killer seeems to harbour a fascination with the biology
of his victims. The wounds are inflicted to cause pain but
not instantaneous death. The torture appears to be without
motive (none of the cases involved ransom demands or
similar threats) with the victims selected arbitrarily, no
connection has so far been established between any of the
deceased. The cold disregard for human life points me
towards the consideration that the perpetrator is inhuman,
whether figuratively or literally. It is unclear at this stage
whether the victims died as a result of exposure to the
unidentified substance or as a result of their cummulative
injuries. The random nature of the victims renders
establishing any pattern or predictions futile. The manner
in which witnesses have described discovering the bodies
leads me to suspect the possibility of extraterrestrial
involvement, a conclusion that Agent Scully would
vehemently oppose. It is my opinion that the most
important factor in this investigation is the substance that is
still undergoing analysis. Further conclusions will be
possible once the origin and structure of this element have
been ascertained.

Mulder stared at the computer screen, read and reread the
report then printed a copy for Scully to go through. Scully
was still immersed in the files, her brow furrowed in
concentration as she searched for clues they may have
missed.

Mulder jumped as the phone rang, Scully raised her head
querulously, the sharp, insistent noise shattering her train
of thought. Mulder snatched the receiver up.

"Mulder."

Scully watched as her partner's face first drained of all its
colour then became animated with an expression of
incredulous surprise.

"You're absolutely sure?...And this is the same for each
victim?...No! No! Don't do that, Agent Scully and myself
will come over and arrange the transfer. Thank you.
Goodbye." Mulder put the phone down and turned towards
Scully. "You're not going to believe this Scully."

His smile told her he thought it was the greatest thing since
the launch of 'Celebrity Skin'.

"What?"

Mulder paused for dramatic emphasis.

"The substance that they found in the bodies, they brought
in someone from Boston, someone who had worked with a
Doctor Anne Carpenter. The substance Scully, its design
and structure are almost identical to that found in the
Erlenmeyer flask."

4.35pm.

Mulder drove in silence, the radio switched off, no tapping
on the steering wheel to distract his racing imagination.
Scully stared out of her side window, few words had been
exchanged since the phone call. A simple agreement to go
to the lab at Georgetown, Scully, almost subdued, had
followed him to the car without question. The scenery
passed unnoticed, Scully's mind was intent on a memory
<"Under any other circumsatnces, my first call would have
been to the Government."> Scully had resisted the
conclusion that what she had experienced during that case
was, indeed, connected to tampering with something
extraterrestrial in origin. Denial was the easiest solution to
something she had no plausible explanation for. Deep
down, Dana Scully consciously admitted to fooling herself.
The evidence was overwhelming and continued to mount
<The experiments in Wisconsin. The bounty hunter
viciously hurling her against the wall, the dazed
astonishment as the face of her partner shifted into that of
someone she did not know> Mulder heard Scully exhale
sharply and knew what was troubling her. He rarely
gloated, opting instead for self-deprecation to try and make
her more at ease with phenomenom she longed to refute.
He wanted to tell her that he understood, he would have
said anything to break the tension in the air, but he found
himself lost for words <First time for everything, right
Mulder?> Instead, he contented himself with finding a
parking space then, still without speaking, they made their
way to the laboratory.

Georgetown University Microbiology Department. 5.50pm.

"Dana, thank you for coming."

Scully shook hands warmly with the small man who
greeted her from across the other side of the laboratory.
"Alan Bryce, this is my partner, Fox Mulder."
Mulder nodded, shaking Bryce's hand and simultaneously
trying to get the measure of the man Scully spoke so fondly
of. Bryce was not much taller than Scully, his face was
haggered, with black shadows running deeply beneath
bloodshot eyes. The stress evident on the man's face had
aged him considerably, and Mulder was left to wonder what
horror the man had discovered that could have had such an
effect. Scully too, looked worried, she exchanged a few
hushed words with Bryce then approached Mulder.

"Simon Stave, the man who knew Anne Carpenter will be
here in about five minutes, he'll be able to tell us more
about what's going on." She turned towards her friend.
"Alan meanwhile, is going home to get some rest. Doctor's
orders." Her tone gave no outlet for debate and Alan
nodded his assent, Scully kissed him lightly on the cheek,
smiling at Mulder's raised eyebrows. "Give my love to
Helen."

5.57pm.

Simon Stave was not the cheeriest of men. If anything, he
acted even more highly-strung than Alan had, his hands
shook as he consulted his notes.

"Er...Cell cultures and DNA sequences have proven
conclusively that the substance found in the victims is an
amalgamation of the Erlenmeyer fluid and a retrovirus of
unknown origin. The behaviour of the substance is
unpredictable but it does appear to be inhibited by cold
temperatures."

Scully felt her face flush, she spun around to look at Mulder
who was standing equally as stunned. Stave cleared his
throat.

"You've encountered this before?"

Mulder smiled at the man's unintentional irony. Yeh, he'd
had a pretty damn close encounter with it before.

"Y'know, I'm risking my job just telling you this. Doctor
Carpenter lost her *life* dealing with something like this."
Stave's voice had risen a pitch. "The bodies should be
transferred to a Government safehold for further
examination but Bryce...He said that I should call you guys
first."

"Doctor Stave, we work for the Government, this is our
case and you were absolutely correct in calling us. Now, do
you think we could have a closer look
at the data?" Mulder fervently hoped that he had sounded
calm and in control.

Stave was obviously scared to death and he knew it was
only a matter of time before this information would get into
the wrong hands and mysteriously disappear. If he and
Scully were going to make any progress they needed to act
fast.

8.05pm.

Scully peered into the microscope, the recognition flooded
her senses as she gazed at a sample there was no earthly
origin for.
"This appears to be the same as the Erlenmeyer fluid. The
structure is almost identical apart from these smaller cells
which are the retrovirus."

Mulder took his turn to look.

"Scully, we have no evidence of what we found in Berube's
lab."

Scully frowned as if he had wasted time by stating the
obvious.

"The extra nucleotides have been detected, we still have
your blood samples in your medical files. We don't need a
comparison sample, this does not..."

<Exist in nature>. Scully lowered her eyes. "Look, more
work needs to be done, but I think the results so far are
pretty conclusive. What we have to figure out is why the
hell we are finding such a thing in murder victims all over
D.C"

"Why weren't these results found in the autopsies?"

It was a good question, the blood around the wounds had
congealed in a manner consistent with the hyper-viscosity
syndrome that had almost killed Mulder, but something had
slowed down the process.

Scully gave it her best shot.

"It's my guess that the substance was introduced post-
humously. If the bodies were cold at the time then the
reaction would have been delayed."

Mulder whistled softly. "More experimentation?"

Scully's voice was soft, sickened. "That's what it looks
like."

"Jesus." Mulder spoke in a hushed whisper. Scully turned
her head sharply in her partner's direction. She could
almost hear the cogs whirring as his mind accelerated
smoothly into a gear she could never hope to fathom. He
saw the case files of each victim, his eidetic memory
recounted every minute detail of the victims, their families
and their lifestyles. There hadn't been a connection purely
because this *was* the connection. Each of the victims was
vastly different either in race, gender, build or age, almost
as if a cross-section of the population was being sampled.
What better way to study the machinations of the human
body? Mulder felt nauseous, was this the work of alien
curiosity? He thought of Sam, taken as a child and he
remembered the bodies that had been found, the bruises and
scars on the women...Tears filled his eyes, threatened to fall
and he dimly heard Scully's cry of alarm as he swayed in
front of her. Her steadying grip on his arm allowed him to
focus.

"Mulder, what the hell was all that about? Are you OK?"

He looked down into her concerned face and took a deep
breath.

"Yeh, sure."

He motioned to her to sit down. He didn't think that she
should be standing up while he told her what he had just
been considering. It was more than a mere consideration
though, call it instinct or just a gut feeling, Mulder knew
his conclusions were not too far from the truth. He also
knew that Scully was going to fight them every step of the
way.

It was testament to the exhaustion Scully was feeling, that
she could not even attempt to formulate an argument
against what Mulder was telling her. She reluctantly
acknowledged that much of what he had said actually made
sense, which gave Mulder a clear indication that she really
did need to get some rest.

Mulder stood up and held his hand out to her.

"Come on Scully, I'll drive you home. We can fight this out
tomorrow. I don't like having you at such an obvious
disadvantage."

The grin on his face was contagious and despite the strain
of the case, Scully
smiled with him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull
her to her feet. As he steered her towards the door, she
turned to him, stifling a yawn.

"Tell Stave to send a copy of the tox results to the office, I'll
be in first thing to go over them."

Mulder continued to usher her to the door.

"Scully, I promise those results will be waiting for you, but
you're not going to be doing anyone any good if you can't
think straight."

Scully thought of the amount of sleep Mulder usually got in
a night, but bitback the retort amidst another yawn, leaving
her partner to revel in the last word as usual.

----------end part two----------

===========================================================================

From: Steph <100573.2252@CompuServe.COM>
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: FAILSAFE 3/12
Date: 19 Mar 1996 20:35:22 GMT

Subj: Failsafe, part three.

Failsafe. 3/12

Disclaimer and intro the same as in part one.
Comments/flames/criticism of the constructive kind to:
fsucg@csv.warwick.ac.uk
Stef is just posting this for me, don't blame her if you hate it
:)
Caroline.

Dana Scully's apartment. Washington, D.C. 10.14pm.

Scully pulled back the comforter from the bed, trying to
decide whether to have a shower or just collapse and worry
about it in the morning. Personal hygiene triumphed and she
set the water running while she gathered her toiletries. A
sudden noise behind her made her start, it was not loud, more
of a faint scuffling, but past experience had taught her that
home was not exactly a safe place, and she reached for her
gun. Walking stealthily from her bedroom to the darkened
room where her computer sat idle, Scully could hear her
heart pounding inside her chest. Forcing herself to breathe
deeply and slowly, she walked through to the kitchen towards
the place where she had heard the noise...

The light flashed brilliantly in her eyes and she gasped,
squinting against it and trying to locate the source. She
aimed her gun in the direction of the intense beam, but the
rays were too strong and she found herself weakening.
The kitchen floor rushed up to meet her and the last thing
she felt was the cool surface of the tiles pressing on her
cheek.

>From the midst of a nightmare, Scully heard a voice calling
her, beckoning her back from the void, but it was not a voice
that she recognised.

"Agent Scully, can you hear me?"

Scully groaned as, through cracked lips, she managed to
whisper; "Yes, where am I?"

The voice was not threatening, instead it filled her with a
feeling of calm and Scully relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry Agent Scully but there was no other way that I
could contact you. I'm not going to hurt you, you just have to
listen to what I have to say, and believe it. That will be the
hardest part for you, I fear."

Scully could see a figure now, it was faintly outlined and it
approached her with hands outstretched in supplication. It
appeared to be a female with whispy brown hair and a
wizened, kind face, but the eyes were not those of a human's.
Scully shuddered as a cold hand touched her, helping her to
sit up and steadying her as she regained her bearings. She
looked into the eyes of the creature.

"This is just a dream" she murmured to herself, "working
with Mulder...it's warping my mind." But a nagging thought
in the back of her memory recalled the light from her
kitchen, and fear threatened to consume her once again.

"Don't be afraid, please, we need your help. You and your
partner, we can't do this alone."

A thousand questions circled Scully's mind but she contented
herself with asking just the one.

"Who exactly are 'we'?"

The creature sighed and settled down at Scully's side.

"The case that you and your partner are working on, the man
behind it all is one of us. We came to this planet to study,
much as you will examine the animals and plants here. Our
work involved humans."

The fear nestling inside Scully's stomach seemed to be there
for a lengthy stay.

"You killed and experimented on humans?"

The reply she received was so forceful that Scully leaned
back, trying to shield herself from the creature's anger and
pain.

"NO! Our tests were benign, the subjects knew nothing of
them and were returned without harm. It was him...He turned
everything. We need your help to bringhim to justice."

Dana Scully stared, mouth open. This was just too much to
try and swallow, and she found herself shaking her head. The
creature smiled ruefully.

"We knew that you would be the hardest to convince, that is
why we chose to come to you and not to Mulder."

"How do you know his name?" Scully's head was beginning
to ache, she closed her eyes, but found herself being
bombarded with images; images of a knife slicing through
the air and the screams of a woman, the cries of a man, then
finally, sickeningly, the sobs of a child. Vials of fluid were
stacked in a basement and a faceless being worked on a body
lying on a table. Scully knew the face of the body, it was
Linda Kavner.

"He has betrayed everything we stand for and he has to be
stopped. He takes pleasure from killing, from taking the life
that we can only envy and observe."

"Why can't you find him and stop him yourself? Why do you
need us?"

The face was fading before Scully's eyes.

"We cannot survive here any longer, our time here was
complete. I am the last remaining and I am dying now."

Scully could hear the wheeze of the creature's respirations
and knew she was speaking the truth.

"All we know is that he was going by the name of Logan,
Paul Logan. We lost him...Please Agent Scully, stop him."

Scully winced as she was assaulted by another array of
images; the anonymous face of a child weeping and choking
for air.

"He knows no restrictions, could never grasp the concept of
guilt, we should have been able to see it. Agent Scully, he's
reached the children."

Scully looked down at her hands, they were tightly clasped
together and onto them the creature pressed her own. Their
eyes met and Scully saw an unfathomable depth of sorrow,
and of hope, hope in her. She didn't know what else to do,
nodding her head slightly, biting back her own tears, she
whispered; "I'll tell Mulder. This, he is just going to love."

The creature smiled wearily and stood up.

"You do have the ability to believe Agent Scully. Don't hide
from that need all your life. Admitting to yourself is the easy
part, telling him is what you have to work on."

The faint light that the creature had been emitting dissipated.
Scully had no time to contemplate what she had just
witnessed before the darkness claimed her once more.

10.35pm.

Scully moaned against the hand that was trying to shake her
back to consciousness. She could hear Mulder's voice
somewhere above her, but could not for the life of her
summon up the energy to open her eyes. Besides, she had
gone home to get some rest, why was he here bothering her?
Why did her head feel like she had been hit by a truck? And
why the hell was she lying on herkitchen floor?

Scully forced her eyes to co-operate and stared foggily into
the anxious face of her partner.

"Jesus Scully, what happened here? Are you alright?"

She nodded tiredly and placed her hand on her forehead, felt
the congealed blood there, and realised that she had hit her
head when she had fallen. That seemed to spark a memory
and her mind reeled suddenly as the events of the past few -
she checked her wrist watch - minutes, came rushing back to
her.

Mulder helped her to sit up, his hand firmly resting on the
small of her back as she fought back the nausea.

"I...I heard a noise in the kitchen and..."

"Someone attacked you?"

"No! She..." Scully's voice trailed off and she hauled herself
to the sink, retching quietly

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital." Mulder tried to take
her arm but Scully resisted.

"I'm OK. We have to talk Mulder."

Mulder filled a glass with water and handed it to his
dishevelled partner. She accepted it gratefully and sipped at it
as she walked slowly into the living room. Mulder rooted in a
cupboard and emerged with a first aid kit before following
Scully into the next room.

"Are you sure that you're alright Scully? You know doctors
make the worst patients."

Scully smiled briefly <you think I'm concussed *now*, just
wait till I tell you all about this>. But she sat patiently as
Mulder cleaned the gash on her forehead and covered it with
a piece of gauze, when he sat back to admire his handiwork,
she gestured to him to take a seat. Hesitating only for a
second, she began to tell him everything.

10.56pm.

Mulder leaned back into the armchair and whistled softly
between his teeth He brought himelf forward in his seat and
looked directly into the eyes of his usually composed and
*sceptical* partner. At the moment she looked anything but;
her face was pale and her hands were clenched viciously, but
the fire in her eyes told him that she absolutely believed in
what she was saying.

He didn't know whether to be afraid or triumphant. He
moved over and sat beside her on the sofa.

"Scully, do you realise what you are saying?" Mulder was just
beginning to, and his heart was pounding fiercely against his
rib cage. Scully looked into his hazel eyes, shaken by what
she had had to recount.

"I know what you must be thinking, but it happened Mulder.
Would I make something like this up?"

<Not in this lifetime> Mulder shook his head. "So what
happens now?"

"We try and locate Paul Logan. It's the only way to prove this
thing." <And my sanity> Scully mused ruefully. She looked
back at Mulder sharply. "What are you doing here anyway?
Exercising your sixth sense?"

This time it was Mulder's turn to try and explain the
seemingly inexplicable.

"I don't know Scully. I just found myself heading back here.
When you didn't answer your door, I let myself in." He
shrugged, acknowledging the flimsiness f the explanation.
"Maybe you weren't the only one *they* touched tonight."

Scully yawned in spite of herself, and Mulder looked to see
her practically alling asleep where she sat. He moved over to
her and helped her to her eet, gnoring her protests as he
steered her towards her bedroom. He drew the comforter
further down the bed and Scully lay down, sighing gratefully
as he placed the covers over her and turned to leave.

"Mulder?"

Scully's voice sounded unusually small and Mulder realised
that she was probably still in shock from whatever she had
experienced earlier.

"Yeh Scully?"

"Um, you know that my couch is just as comfortable as yours
is..."

Mulder grinned in the half light from the open doorway.

"Well, seeing as all my fish are dead anyway..."

"Spare blankets are in the closet." Scully mumbled, as
Mulder quietly shut thedoor and made his way back into the
living room.

29th July. 6.12am.

The shrill, persistent ring of the phone roused Mulder from
an uneasy doze.

He initially reached over to try and kill it, and when that
failed, he attempted to answer it before it disturbed Scully.

"Schmulder." Fox Mulder was not a man renowned for
coherence first thing in the morning. What he heard from the
other end of the connection soon drove the lassitude from his
mind.

"I'll tell her. We should be there in about forty minutes."

Scully appeared in the doorway, her hair still tangled and her
eyes drowsy.

"What was it?"

No reply.

"Mulder, what was it?"

Mulder forgot to be coy about the fact that he was staring at
his partner whilst dressed only in a pair of, leave nothing to
the imagination, boxer shorts.

"That was Bryce. The body of a seven year old girl was
discovered this morning. Same distinguishing marks as
previous victims, body discovered in the same manner. He
wants you to assist with the autopsy."

----------end part three----------

===========================================================================

Date: 09 Apr 96 12:47:42 EDT
From: ANDREW DAVIES <100573.2252@compuserve.com>
Subject: Failsafe 4 - 12

Failsafe. 4/12.

Disclaimer and intro same as in the first part. Be warned,
there is an autopsy in this part that some people may find
disturbing. Comments/flames and criticism, constructive or
otherwise to: fsucg@csv.warwick. ac.uk Caroline.

FBI Academy. Quantico, Virginia. 7.07am.

"Subject is a caucasian female. Seven years of age." Scully
willed Bryce not o see the tremble in her hand as she
removed the sheet from the tiny body ofEmily Patterson. The
child's eyes were closed as if in sleep. Her hair, dark and
matted, framed the thin face, making its pallid tone all the
more apparent. Scully began to examine the body, her voice
concisely registering the trauma that the child had subjected
to. "Bruising and contusions around the throat suggest
strangulation with a rope or chord. Larynx has been crushed
but this is only a possible cause of death. Injuries may have
been inflicted posthumously." Scully manoeuvred herself
around Alan Bryce who silently took X-Rays and
photographs, then collected fibres from the body using
something not altogether dissimilar to a miniature vacuum
cleaner. The incongruity of such a description never failed to
give Scully the creeps. "Several deep knife wounds about the
torso, varied in both depth and length.Blood has congealed
around the wounds, taking on an almost jelly-like
consistency. Samples have been sent for further analysis, but
it is my opinion that the results will concur with those taken
from previous victims. Time of death is, as yet,
unestablished, but should be compared with the results from
the blood tests. The advanced nature of the viscosity suggests
that the cause of death may have been the introduction of the
virus into the bloodstream, something that is anomalous with
the previous cases."

Scully took a deep breath and, after confirming with Bryce
that he had completed his tasks, she made the first Y shaped
incision about the small neck.

After four hours, Scully knew enough about what Emily
Patterson had been through during the three days of her
captivity, to fuel her nightmares for weeks to come.

The child's stomach had been empty, five of her ribs had
been shattered. The skin had been rubbed from her wrists,
suggesting heavy restraints and there was a fracture along
her skull severe enough to have rendered her blind. Scully
peeled the blood streaked gloves from her hands, and waited
until Bryce

had untied the apron from around her waist before returning
the favour. Wrenching the septic cap from her hair, she
splashed water onto her face, trying not to watch as the
morgue technicians endeavoured to make the child's body
presentable enough for an open casket. Bryce had already
left, making his way down to the labs to supervise the blood
analysis. Scully picked up the small cassette onto which she
had been dictating and, without a backward glance, she left
the autopsy suite.

FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 12.42pm.

The mood in the X-Files' basement office was unnaturally
somber. Mulder slumped at his desk, peering at photographs
taken only a couple of hours previously by Alan Bryce.
Scully was methodically typing her report into her computer.
Both were waiting for news from the offices of The Lone
Gunmen, whose mission it was to try and locate a Mr Paul
Logan.

Scully took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
She looked over to Mulder, sensing what was bothering him.
He clenched a photograph between his fingers, staring
intensely at the image indelibly preserved for some perverted
concept of posterity. The similarities between Samantha
Mulder and Emily Patterson were unmistakeable, and while
Scully knew that Mulder's pursuit of the Truth behind the X-
Files was no longer exclusively linked to the abduction of his
sister, she also knew, that in cases such as this one, her
partner had a persistent struggle not to become personally
involved. Scully saved the work she had completed, sipping
at a bottle of iced tea as she walked over to Mulder's desk
and perched herself on the edge of it. Mulder snapped
himself from his reverie to meet her seeking gaze.

"Don't say it Scully, please. I know that she isn't my sister.
It's just... They promised me they wouldn't harm Samantha."

His voice trailed off as Scully touched his arm gently,
searching for the right words and failing miserably.

"Mulder, you can't think like that. We have no proof that
these crimes are being committed by anyone other than a
psychotic with a penchant for exotic chemicals. What I
*thought* I saw last night and Patterson's death could have
been a coincidence."

Mulder couldn't help but smile. Give Scully a few hours and
she could rationalise anything into a plausible occurance.
But the defeat in her eyes acknowledged the inadequacy of
her words. Mulder was planning a sneak attack on Scully's
iced tea when the phone jarred him from his battle strategy.

"Mulder. No Langley, I still don't think that the current
climate is due to a secret Government contract with the
manufacturers of sun block. And no, Frohike, Agent Scully
is not wearing a bathing suit. What have you found?"

Mulder snathced up a pencil and swore as the lead snapped
on impact with the paper. Scully thrust her pen into his hand
and craned her neck around in an effort to see what he was
scribbling.

"PAUL LOGAN. Prev arrest for suspected
arson. Skip bail. Six weeks ago. Last known
address: Apt2, 33 Gateslock Road, Baltimore.
Searched, no trace. Employ: Factory worker;
Jame's Surgical Appliances. LTD" Mulder placed the
receiver back into its cradle.

"Scully, what would you say to a trip to Baltimore?"

3.53pm.

Dana Scully squinted against the sunlight coming in through
the windshield of the Bureau car. It was late afternoon and
the temperature had not had the decency to dip below eighty
degrees. Scully had insisted on driving, arguing that Mulder
could go over the file on Paul Logan that had been faxed
through to them by the Baltimore PD. In truth, she was
uncertain as to whether Mulder was actually in a fit state to
try and concentrate on driving, and he had given in to her
request without a fight. Scully slowed the car down as she
approached a set of traffic lights, and glanced over at the
mugshot of Logan resting on Mulder's knee. The man was
small but well built, with a shock of

dark brown hair and eyes that seemed transparent, their
colour not registering onto the print. He had been arrested
for burning down a large, abandoned factory, the police had
never ascertained a motive. Scully had her own suspicions of
what he had been attempting to destroy. He held his criminal
number with disdain, smirking for the benefit of an
unappreciative audience. Despite the heat, Scully suppressed
a shiver.

33 Gateslock Road. Outskirts of Baltimore. 5.25pm.

The street was quiet. The sound of a car door slamming shut
behind Mulder, seemed to be the first noise to interrupt the
silence in years. Scully waited for him at the side of the road,
and they made their way towards the house together. It was a
detached house, uncared for and apparently deserted. The
entire area looked to be abandoned. Dust blew across the dirt
track that served as an access route and a haze of heat
shimmered, illuminating the ruins of what looked to have
been a profitable estate at some earlier time. A dog howled
disconsolately in the distance and Mulder twitched
involuntarily. "After you, Agent Scully."

Scully knocked at the door of number thirty three, not
expecting an answer. She did not receive one. Pushing the
door gently, she took a deep breath as it opened. Both agents
drew their weapons and, after silently communicating their
strategy, they entered the house.

Apartment two was as non-descript as the rest of the
building. A small, dingy room, barely penetrated by the rays
of sun, displayed nothing that would have suggested a recent
occupant. Coughing slightly against the dust, Scully moved
the mattress aside, wincing as it crumbled beneath her
fingers.

"Mulder, no one has been in here for years."

Mulder turned towards her holding a filthy toothbrush
between gloved fingertips.

"Well, the housekeeping certainly leaves a lot to be desired.
We should run this through for prints."

A slight noise suddenly caught his attention, and he whirled
around to try and identify the cause. Scully had heard it too,
and she walked quickly over to her partner. "What was that?
Water?"

Mulder mumbled something inaudible and dropped to his
knees beside the grimy sink. A thin trickle of water ran from
the piping underneath the bowl. Mulder gingerly lifted the
lid of the toilet and, holding his sleeve over his nose, he
peered inside. Through the filth and the stench Mulder saw a
slight smudge of brownish red. His stomach fluttered as he
leaned closer to try and confirm what Scully already
suspected.

"Blood?"

Her voice seemed to come from miles away as Mulder
scraped away the substance

into a sterile evidence bag, sealing it shut quickly as if that
alone would remove the horror and leave him untainted.

"We should get that to the lab and come back with a back up
unit to go over this place top to bottom."

Mulder nodded his assent. Reluctant as he was to leave the
scene, he also admitted to himself that he was uneasy.
Something wasn't quite right about all this and Mulder
realised that he was afraid. There was an ominous air to this
place, he had felt it before in a different apartment in
Baltimore, one located at 66 Exeter Street. A presence,
spirit, no description seemed adequate, but whatever it was,
Mulder was more than willing to go back to D.C and return
with a little more in the way of firepower.

Scully watched Mulder as he placed the bag into his pocket
and stood up to his full height. His face looked pale in the
gaunt sunlight and she motioned him towards the door. This
place, that smell of decay and desperation, was making her
stomach churn. Donnie Pfaster's face loomed large in her
imagination, the almost gentle way that he had taken hold of
her bound hands, raising them to inspect her fingernails.
The visions that she had experienced then, had haunted her
sleep ever since, and an identical fear threatened to consume
her as she stood in that room.

"Come on Scully, I'll drive."

Walking to the door, Scully took a last glance backwards,
her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she tried to remember
Mulder shutting the lid of the toilet, she could have sworn he
had left it open.

It was a relief for the two agents to escape back into the
sunshine. Scully could feel the tension leaving her body as
they made their way back towards the car. Mulder was
taking deep breaths of the stifling air, anything was
preferable to the smell of that room. He unlocked the door
for Scully and moved around to the driver's side, refusing to
look at the house as he started the engine.

7.30pm.

Mulder turned the car back out onto the highway. Beside
him, Scully tried to get comfortable, hampered by the
seatbelt as she wriggled about, attempting to find a sleeping
position. Mulder reached over and held the belt out as she
snuggled down in the seat, then allowed it to rest over her
again.

"Thanks Mulder."

"Well, you did pay for dessert."

He returned his attention to the road, fighting the satisfying
full feeling in his stomach that demanded he either go for a
jog or imitate his partner. He turned the radio on, humming
tunelessly along to the music. Dusk had fallen quickly,
leaving the sky in that nowhere stage between absolute
darkness and fading sunset. Mulder checked his speed and
accelerated slightly. The road was quiet, they were passing
through countryside, a roundabout route Mulder had selected
to avoid the rush hour traffic. Scully muttered softly in her
sleep, something about chocolate muffins and cream, and
Mulder stifled a laugh.

He didn't see the car behind them until it was too late.

Scully was jerked awake by Mulder's swearing. She felt the
gentle impact of the pursuing car as it urged them forward.
Coming awake with a start, she looked over at her partner
struggling to keep control of the wheel. The radio hissed
wildly, spitting static. There was no time for her to do
anything before their car was sent hurtling from the road.
Scully braced herself for the collision as she saw a tree
looming straight in front of them. Seconds later everything
went black.

Failsafe. 5/12.

Disclaimer still hasn't changed and neither has the intro (see
part one if you really want to!).
Comments/flames/constructive criticism and general hilarity
to: fsucg@csv.warwick.ac.uk That's to me, Caroline and not
to Stef who is just doing the posting thang. And be warned,
anyone who has ventured this far, this is where it starts to
get a bit icky. And there's plenty of good old fashioned angst
too :)

Location unknown. 7.51pm.

There was a terrible pain in her right arm, forcing her back
to lucidity. Scully tremulously raised her head. She was still
in the car. It was then that she realised she had only been
unconscious for a matter of seconds. Biting back the stabbing
ache in her head, she looked over to her partner.

"Mulder?"

Her voice was hoarse. As she spoke, she heard a car door
slamming behind them and footsteps quickly approaching.

"Mulder, we've got to get out of here." Her voice trailed off
as she saw the amount of blood on his forehead, he had hit
the steering wheel hard. Cursing the Bureau viciously for
not providing cars with air bags, Scully reached for her gun
with her left hand.

She was not quick enough.

Her door was wrenched open and a hand as unyielding as
steel grasped her wrist. Scully had no time to struggle. Her
assailant unbuckled her seatbelt and dragged her from the
car, throwing her roughly to her knees. Scully looked up
into the beam of the flashlight, she squinted against the
glare, trying to make out the identity of the man. With a
sinking feeling, she admitted to herself that she already
knew who he was.

"Allow me to introduce myself." His voice was gratingly
polite. "I believe you know me as Paul Logan."

Scully lowered her head and closed her eyes, she was
halfway through the Lord's Prayer when a blow from her
own weapon plunged her back into the darkness.

Location unknown. 9.17pm.

Scully knew she was dead. She had to be, no one feeling this
cold could be alive. The weight of the chains around her
wrists and the very real need to vomit told her otherwise.
Opening her eyes cautiously, Scully was met with a
seemingly impenetrable blackness. The pain from her arm
effectively masked the dizziness caused by the blow to her
head, as, gritting her teeth, Scully felt around for her
partner, trying not to think what she would do if he wasn't
there. As her eyes gradually became accustomed to the
gloom, Scully was able to distinguish a dark shape slumped
off to her left. She reached over, gingerly feeling her way up
the person's body, letting out a choked sob of relief as she
realised that it was Mulder. She gently placed her fingers on
his throat, found his pulse, racing but strong.

"Mulder? Mulder, come on, you've got to wake up." She took
a deep breath. "Please wake up." Scully tried to keep her
voice steady, shuddering as she remembered the amount of
blood there had been on the steering wheel. She rested her
hand on his shoulder, keeping her injured arm close to her
body. She had been bound in chains, thicker and heavier
than handcuffs but also permitting a greater degree of
movement.

How long she remained like that, Scully could not tell. Her
entire body was numb with cold, and she had to fight to
remain conscious. After what seemed an eternity, she felt
Mulder stir. Scully's heart leapt into her throat as he moaned
softly.

"Ssh Mulder, it's OK. Don't try to get up."

He was struggling against her grip, attempting to sit. Scully
made her voice firmer.

"Mulder, lie still. You're going to make yourself sick."

It was too late, Mulder turned quickly to one side and
graciously emptied his stomach.

"Shit."

Scully kept her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it gently.
"You never listen to me, do you?" She could just see his
weak grin. "You're probably concussed. You've been out for
a while."

Concentrating on medical facts was keeping Scully's mind
off their situation. Mulder, on the other hand, was just
beginning to realise what had happened.

"Logan?"

He ran his tongue around his mouth, trying to get rid of the
bitter taste. Scully nodded, then calmly filled him in on the
details of what had happened since the crash. Mulder's face
turned an even paler shade of grey. "Are you hurt?"

Scully briefly considered lying, but instead, nodded again. "I
think my arm is broken. Other than that..." She shivered
involuntarily. "What the hell are we going to do?"

Mulder had no idea how to answer that. They were injured,
unarmed and close to freezing to death. That was not to
mention the psycho who was holding them hostage. The
odds were not exactly stacked in their favour. Scully was
shivering freely now, a combination of fear and the cold.
Mulder managed to sit up.

"Come here." Scully looked at him, tried to smile.

"I don't think this is exactly the right moment." She moved
slowly until she was sitting close beside him. He had been
bound in the same manner. Looping his arms over her head,
he pulled her close to his chest. Scully tensed then relaxed
into the warmth of his body. Taking care not to hurt her,
Mulder wrapped his arms around her.

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"Don't go to sleep."

"I'm not going to sleep. I know I have a concussion, Doctor."
That was not the reason he was not going to sleep, but he
didn't say anything else. Despite her fear, Scully was
exhausted. She felt protected, reassured by the knowledge
that Mulder was there. Mulder listened as her breathing
became steady, her breath was warm on his chest and he was
suddenly overcome by a feeling of terror. They were going to
die here, he wouldn't be able to protect her. Silent tears
coursed down his cheeks, leaving trails through the dried
blood and falling into Scully's hair. She stirred uneasily in
her sleep, her left hand tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
Mulder placed his hand on her forehead, stroked a steady
rhythm through her hair, driving the nightmares away.

30th July. 5.48am.

They had eventually agreed to sleep in shifts. Scully was
awake now, listening to Mulder's soft snoring, still
enveloped in his arms. She wondered why they had been left
alone, then decided not to tempt fate, the longer they were
alone, the longer they remained unharmed. She closed off
her memory, shutting out the images of the bodies she had so
recently examined.

Scully arched her neck around. From what little she could
identify, they were in a basement of some description. Water
dripped solemnly from some unknown source. The floor was
concrete, as were the walls and there was a silence as still as
death. But it was the smell that made Scully shudder
inwardly; decay and desperation. They were back at
Gateslock Road. The certainty of her conclusion made her
pulse race. The Lone Gunmen had given them the address,
all they needed to do was hold on until they got nervous. If
she had been thinking rationally, Scully would have realised
that The Lone Gunmen probably had other things on their
minds, a Global conspiracy or two. Mulder was not in
continuous contact with them, they did not demand regular
updates on all of his cases. But Scully needed to be able to
grasp a slender thread of hope, it kept her fear manageable.

Mulder shifted position slightly, inadvertently jarring
Scully's broken arm. She yelped plaintively and he opened
his eyes quickly.

"Scully, you OK?!"

She was trying to look at her arm, untangling herself from
Mulder's hold. "I'm alright, it's just..." She winced as she
moved, the chains rattling in a frightening melody. She
slumped forward, exhausted by the effort. Mulder steadied
her with his hand on her back.

"It hurts." Her voice was small, laden with tears. "I'm so
scared Mulder." Scully was gulping for air, her breath harsh
and heavy. She had, for so long, maintained a pretence of
being in perfect control. She hated the thought of Mulder
perpetually having to take care of her, even though she knew
the spoils were equally divided in that department. Somehow
having admitted her fear, Scully felt absurdly relieved.
Mulder's hand circled her back in a smooth routine, when he
spoke his voice only just reached her ears.

"So am I, Scully."

She looked around at him, fixed his eyes with hers. Neither
needed to elaborate. Scully touched his hand, felt the strong
fingers encircle her own, they were ice cold, but warmth
flooded through her. It was at that moment that she knew,
she could not let him risk his life for her. Even if he ignored
everything she was about to say, she had to tell him. Keeping
a firm grip on his hand, Scully turned to face her partner.

"Mulder." Gone were the tears, Scully had set her course and
would not be deterred. "The women...The bodies I examined.
You know what he did to the women."

"Scully don't..."

"I have to Mulder. You can't do anything. Please, promise
me, if he tries..." The tears forced their way back and she
struggled to form the words, to keep the panic from her
voice, he wasn't listening to her. "I don't want you to get
hurt, trying to protect me. Mulder, look at me."

He obeyed reluctantly. Even in the dark he could feel the
crystal blue of her eyes burning into his soul, pleading for
his consent.

"Maybe if we hold on long enough someone will find us. If
it's only you that they find..."

Mulder was shaking violently, trying and failing to hold
back his protests. "No!"

"Mulder, please..."

"No! I can't promise you that, I *won't*. You're asking me to
just sit back and watch? Scully, I saw those pictures, I read
the reports. I can't just let him hurt you, anymore than..."

Scully finished his sentence for him, "I could let him hurt
you, and do nothing."

Despite the weight of the restraints around his wrists,
Mulder lifted his hand to her cheek and with his thumb, he
tenderly wiped the tears away. She closed her eyes against
his touch, sighing in resignation

"Mulder?"

"What?"

"You're telling Skinner about this one."

"OK. Deal. " They fell back into a companionable silence,
nothing to do but wait.

8.18am.

They had searched the room inch by inch, and eventually
concluded that they were, indeed, in a basement. A flight of
stairs on one side of the room led to a locked door. There
was an assortment of tables and boxes scattered at random
and nothing else. The search had been a slow one, Mulder
still complained of dizziness and could not stand for more
than a few minutes at a time, Scully was hampered by the
injury to her arm. She had located the source of the water
dripping and deemed it safe to drink. That had quenched
their thirst. For the moment, their hunger was merely
inconvinient.

"Hold still, Mulder."

Scully used the damp handkerchief to clean the wound on
his forehead. How long ago was it, that he had performed
the same task for her? Scully wiped the blood from his
cheek, the wound needed to be stitched but there was not an
awful lot that she could do about that.

Mulder was more concerned about his partner. Her
movements had become sluggish and he could hear her
grinding her teeth in an effort to control the pain. When she
had finished fussing over him, he made her rest, his anxiety
heightened by her weary acquiescence. They huddled side by
side, not feeling obliged to talk, comforted by the close
proximity of each other.

"Think Skinner will have missed us yet?" Scully's voice was
slurred by the onset of sleep.

"He's probably enjoying the peace and quiet." Mulder had
been wondering the same thing though. Almost as an
afterthought, he looked at his watch, shook it gently,
scrunching his face with a grimace as the chains bit into his
flesh. Not surprisingly, it had stopped, not broken during the
crash, but affected by something else. Mulder kept his
discovery to himself, Scully had enough to worry about.

"I was going to call mom this weekend, invite her over for
Sunday." The tremble in her voice was unmistakeable.
Mulder squeezed her hand gently, his mind reeling; is this
what condemned men think about? Their lives? The people
they love? Their regrets? Mulder inevitably thought of his
sister. The recent revelations regarding her abduction had
served to ease some of the guilt he had borne since
childhood, but this only made it harder for him to accept
that, with the possibility of his own death imminent, he still
had not found her. Mulder was afraid to die, to leave so
many things still unaccomplished. He looked down at his
partner - now sleeping quietly - and he remembered her
words of comfort the last time they had stared death in the
face. <"As certain as I am of this life, we have nothing to
fear when it's over."> She had never told him more about
what she had experienced whilst lying comatose, but those
words replayed themselves over and over as Mulder listened
to her gentle breaths, and he felt oddly at peace.

It was then that he heard a key turning in the lock.

The harsh, grating sound pierced the silence, jerking Scully
awake with a start. Mulder tightened his arms around her
instinctively, as a thin beam of light seared through their
prison. The two agents watched the steady progress of the
beam as it descended the stairs, both trying to remain
composed in front of the other. With a silent touch, Scully
disentangled herself from Mulder's grasp, with their
diminished physical strength, they were less vulnerable
apart. He reluctantly allowed her to sit beside him, but he
maintained a tight grip on her hand. The light swept around
the basement and, for a fleeting second, Mulder and Scully
were able to discern their surroundings. With a sinking
heart, Mulder saw that the tables were the sort used in
hospital emergency rooms, the boxes had hospital
identification stamps on them. All Scully saw was the blood
on the walls and the floor. Mulder shielded his eyes as the
flashlight was played over them. Scully blinked but remained
motionless. A dark, shapeless silhouette stood before the
agents.

"Agent Mulder, I don't believe we have been properly
introduced. I don't hold much with names, but for now,
Logan is as good as any."

Mulder nodded non-committally.

"I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you, but there were a
few things that needed to be taken care of. None of which
really concern you, the Bureau may be a little pissed that you
wrecked yet another car. That's if they ever locate it." A
rough laugh. "I suppose that is the least of your worries at
the moment though."

As the light was lowered from their eyes, Mulder was able to
distinguish Logan's features. His appearance was
disarmingly ordinary, slightly small in stature with unruly,
dark hair. It was his eyes that gave the only indication of his
true nature, they shimmered, seeing to change colour and
depth at the slightest alteration of his position or mood. As
Mulder watched, he could have sworn that they vanished
from his face completely leaving only vacant hollows behind.

Logan smiled as he watched Mulder.

"You are very perceptive Agent Mulder - I know you don't
like to be called Fox - I am afraid that my time here on your
glorious planet is destined to expire shortly. We never could
quite create eyes that would endure until our departure. But,
at least I will be leaving behind a legacy."

"Is that what we are?" Scully's voice was tinged with anger.
"Your legacy? What about all the other people you have
murdered, what were they? Rehearsals?"

In two short strides, Logan was by Scully's side. He crouched
down to her level, spoke in a whisper next to her ear.

"They were recreation Agent Scully. They were the
opportunity to hone my talents and to truly experience
human life."

"By taking it away?" Scully was a doctor, trained and
educated to preserve life. The cold-blooded murderer
whispering insanity into her ear, defied everything she had
ever considered sacred . "We were studying life, studying the
workings of the human body. But it was dull, formulaic." He
remained close to Scully, his harsh breathing making her
recoil. "Agent Scully, have you ever killed anyone? Of
course you have. Remember the feeling? The rush pumping
through every part of our body? The exquisite feeling of
power and intoxication? It can be quite addictive."

Scully turned her face from his, seeking an escape and
finding none. "You are sick." The words forced themselves,
unbidden from her tightened throat.

The effect they had on Logan was immediate. Grabbing hold
of her broken arm, he hauled Scully to her feet. She
managed to stifle her cry of pain, determined not to give him
that much satisfaction, steeling herself for whatever he was
about to do. Mulder tried to move towards her and was
rewarded with a swift kick to the stomach, he was propelled
back against the wall, momentarily stunned.

Logan held Scully to his chest, keeping her upright with his
arm tight across her collarbone. Mulder slowly raised his
head to meet her terrifed gaze, the look in her eyes pleaded
with him not to do anything stupid.

"Your partner is very beautiful, Agent Mulder. They
promised me she was pretty, but she has surpassed even
*my* expectations."

Mulder's naturally paranoid imagination went into
overdrive. Who was he referring to? Cold dread settled, deep
in the pit of his stomach, but fear for Scully took precedence
over his analytic confusion.

Logan ran his fingers down Scullys cheek, moving them
lower to brush her breast. She closed her eyes, unable to look
at Mulder as he watched helplessly. <Please God, if you are
going to let him do this, don't let Mulder be here.> She could
feel Logan rummaging for something, and opened her eyes
tentatively. A glimmer of light teased its way over the blade
he now held in his hand. Shifting his hold on her slightly,
Logan pulled Scully's bound hands away from her chest.
Mulder opened his mouth, his hands began to move
forward, but he knew he would be too late. With a bark of
laughter, Logan kicked out at Mulder, catching him beneath
his jaw, sending him to the floor. Without pausing for
breath, Logan slashed the knife across Scully's chest and
abdomen, she cried out with fading consciousness, as two
long gashes opened up, the blood quickly staining her
blouse. Dropping her with disdain, Logan turned to Mulder.

"Tell her she was lucky this time."

Mulder coughed, dragging himself towards his motionless
partner, Logan's words barely registering. He heard the door
slam and the key rattle in the lock, but his focus was on the
small body curled up in front of him.

"Scully? Oh Jesus." There was a lot of blood. "Scully, come
on, don't give up on me now." He turned her onto her back,
gently unbuttoning her blouse, as her eyes flickered open.
She turned her head quickly, searching for Logan.

"It's OK, Scully, he's gone. Take it easy." Her left arm was
trying to push Mulder away. "Scully, I have to look, hold
still."

He pulled the blouse loose from her trousers and carefully
wiped the excess blood away with it. To his relief, the
wounds were not too deep. Scully moaned as he tried to
clean them. Despite the cold, her face was covered by a thin
sheen of perspiration, she was slipping into shock. With an
effort, Mulder managed to rip his own shirt free, tearing it
into strips to wrap tightly around her torso. That seemed to
staunch much of the bleeding and he allowed himself to
breathe easier.

"Not bad, Mulder."

Scully's voice was weak, strained, but to Mulder, it was the
sweetest sound. He tried and failed to stop his tears.

"Ssh, save your strength."

Scully nodded, relaxing a little. Mulder moved behind her
and, as carefully as he was able, he cradled her in his arms.

"Mulder?"

"What?"

"Do you think we were set up?"

He clenched his teeth, feeling the ache in his jaw.

"Yes."

---------end part five---------