Mislead Tortures

Sun Nov 03 1996
*Authors notes: This is the rewritten edition of Mislead
Tortures, which I wrote roughly a year ago. I'm kind of
embarrassed to read the older version and like to *think*
(humor me here, okay? <smile>) I've gotten a little better at
writing in the last year. So, thanks to all those wonderful
people who have been here for me since that long ago date
when I came to the X-Files creative community. Your help,
even though I can't remember some of you, was very much
appreciated.

DW.VM.MKR.VL.KL.KA.LAW.JA.JZT.KW.T.MR.AS.AD.MH.ND.PB.MR

-Thanks-

*Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner and The
X-Files (all encompassing) belong to Chris Carter, 10-13
Productions and Fox Broadcasting Corporation. No serious
infringements intended.

*Warning: Rated (R) for a *bit* of language.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
By Charleyne Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part One

-----

The cold rain poured down over the windshield. Twin wipers
worked in constant rhythm, clearing the rain only to have
more replace it seconds later.

Fox Mulder squinted through the water streaked shield,
hunched over the wheel, as he drove. He strained to see the
road and any other vehicles that might obstruct his path.
His hands were cold, but he gripped the wheel so tight that
the knuckles turned white.

He moved once, snapping on the radio.

"Every move you make, every breath you take, every
single day, I'll be watching you..."

The song by the Police was loud and disturbing. It
reminded him of people who watched his every move, waiting
for that moment where he'd slip up...

He switched the radio off, unnerved. He let out a loud
sigh, then realized there was another sound filling the car.
His phone was ringing.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he fished in his jacket
for the phone. "Mulder," he declared, struggling to stay
focused on his driving.

"Mulder, it's Scully. Are you on your way over?" The
voice was soft. She sounded tired.

"Yeah," he answered. "It's a bitch driving in this
weather. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not long." She paused, then added, "Mulder, did
they tell you what's going on?"

"No, Skinner wouldn't say a word," he replied.

Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI, their
boss, had called about twenty minutes earlier telling Mulder
that he had a new case for them. Usually, when he called so
early--five o'clock in the morning--something was wrong.

"Okay, well, let's not get our hopes up, huh? I'll
talk to you when you get here," she said and hung up.

My hopes up? he thought. Guess I'll have to wait to
find out.

Slipping the phone back in his jacket pocket, Mulder
yanked the wheel hard to the right, pulling into the J. Edgar
Hoover building lot.

-----

Fox Mulder was rarely surprised by anything. He'd seen a
great many things in his years of working with the FBI. He
was in charge of his own special group of cases entitled X-
Files. These cases dealt mostly with paranormal phenomenon
and alien abduction stories.

His partner, Dana Scully, often had trouble swallowing
some of his outlandish theories. She was skeptical,
sometimes trying to make Mulder look at the more "scientific"
explanations for their cases. There was no denying, however,
that she'd had her own share of brushes with the paranormal.

Despite their differences they made a good team. She
kept him in line while he introduced her to new and strange
things, nearly every case.

Stepping out of the car into the pouring rain, Mulder
hurried towards the complex of offices. He passed several
agents in the hall, all wearing identification clips carrying
the bold blue FBI letters. Some of them regarded him
strangely, but others merely ignored him.

Mulder tried not to think about it as he turned the
corner which lead to the elevators. He'd have to take one
down to the basement, where his office was situated.

He reached the office and burst through the door,
sopping wet. He peeled off his jacket and hung it behind the
door. When he turned, he realized that he wasn't alone.
Dana Scully was sitting at his desk, her gaze fixed on a case
report. She brushed a strand of auburn hair away from her
face, seemingly engrossed in the file. She didn't look up as
he took a seat across from her.

He noted that her hair wasn't damp, but slightly messed
as though it had once been wet. She looked as tired as she
had sounded on the phone. She wore a gray colored pantsuit
which, as usual, was immaculate.

It occurred to him that his own brown hair was matted
to his head, and that he must look disheveled. He raked a
hand through his hair, dragging the wet strands away from his
forehead, where they'd plastered themselves.

Sighing, he sat back and waited for her to tell him
what was going on. It had to be fairly important if Skinner
had called them in so early.

Finally, Scully looked up. There was a gleam of
confusion in her eyes that made Mulder sit forward.

"What's going on, Scully?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, Mulder. This doesn't explain much.
It's just a preliminary police report." She frowned, turning
her attention back to the file again.

Mulder glanced around the office. Every inch of it was
a mess and only he could find half of the things that were
kept here. On the wall directly behind his desk was a poster
that read, "I want to believe". To the left there was a
bulletin board with newspaper clippings and various pictures
of cases that he and Scully had been working on.

Gazing back at Scully, Mulder saw that her frown had
deepened. Still, she didn't look up.

"Scully?" he asked, eyeing her reactions carefully.

Before he could say another word, Scully closed the
file and raised her eyes to his. He could discern one
emotion quite clearly--anger. There was another there as
well. What was it? Pain, maybe?

"What's the matter?" Concern crept into his voice. He
stood up and walked around the desk to stand beside her.

She didn't move. She stared at the spot where he'd
been sitting.

"Scully?" he asked again.

"I didn't know..." Scully whispered finally. "I
didn't think I'd know anyone who was there."

"Where? Scully, what are you talking about?" He was
at a loss.

Scully just nodded silently at the folder. She vacated
his chair, turning her back to him.

He almost asked her to tell him herself, but he noted
the way her shoulders had hunched forward. Deciding that
he'd better find out what was going on, since Scully
obviously wouldn't--or couldn't--tell him herself, he reached
out and snatched the file.

Curiosity broke through the haze of worry. He opened
the file and began reading.

Hundreds of missing people. A convention for believers
of the paranormal was being held. People who were fascinated
by things such as ghosts, psychic abilities and various other
things of that sort had put up displays. Mulder had almost
gone himself. Now he was glad he hadn't.

Every single person in the Harrison Convention Center
was missing. No one saw anyone leave, they just vanished.

There was a tentative list of names. It showed people
who were verified as having been there, and some that were
supposedly there. Out of the entire list, he only recognized
one.

Melissa Scully.

Jesus, Mulder thought. He glanced at Scully again.
She was staring at the wall. He realized why she'd been so
upset. Having been reading the file, in her detached manner
that comes with training as an FBI agent, she'd been slapped
with the shock of seeing her sister's name on the list.

"Scully--" he began, but she whirled around and held
up a hand.

"Don't say a word, Mulder. I'll be okay," she said.
Her gaze dropped from his again and she walked quickly out
into the hallway beyond the office door.

For an instant, Fox Mulder remembered a time when he
was a young boy. His sister had been taken, too. She had
been nine and he twelve. The vivid memory of the shimmering
light that had engulfed her, while he was paralyzed, stayed
with him. It haunted his dreams at night.

Mulder shook his thoughts back to the present. He
couldn't compare Samantha with Scully's sister. For one,
they didn't have any evidence to prove anything and secondly,
they didn't have the entire story.

While Samantha's disappearance had happened so many
years ago, Melissa's was new, and if they were careful they
might be able to get her back.

Mulder closed the file and left the office, intent on
following Scully.

-----

Mulder found Scully outside the women's bathroom, leaning
against the wall. Her face was expressionless and fatigued.
He smiled, gently, and offered her his hand. After a minute,
Scully took it, squeezing.

He regarded her carefully, but she wasn't allowing her
emotions to break through the solid mask she'd created that
covered her pain. Sighing, Mulder let go of her hand.

-----

Dana Scully had heard her partner describe his sister's
disappearance several times. She'd even heard the tapes that
were made of his hypnosis sessions, the ones where he
revealed his helpless feelings as she'd drifted up and out
the house, surrounded by shimmering white light.

Scully had never known what to say to him. She didn't
know how to tell him that she believed him. Well, believed
that he believed he was right. He thought his sister had
been abducted by aliens. For all she knew, he thought her
sister had been, too.

Melissa was always more open to extreme possibilities
than Dana herself had ever been. That fact alone lead to
this whole situation. Melissa was missing because she'd gone
to that stupid convention.

Hundreds of people had disappeared. Just... gone.
Impossible, she thought. She felt Mulder loosen his grip on
her hand. It was strange, she seemed to draw a sense of
security from the man she'd been partnered with.

Their partnership had been rocky at the very start.
Mulder thought that she had been sent to "spy" on him, as he
put it, but Scully hadn't thought of it like that. She was
supposed to write reports, file them and be done with it.

It wasn't until much later that things were revealed to
her. Things that showed her that not everything was as it
seemed. People were watching Mulder and her. He'd
apparently stepped on toes by revealing some things that they
didn't want revealed.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at
him.

"Come on, Scully, I'll drive you home," he said.

She nodded. He told her to go grab her coat and keys
and that he'd meet her out at her car. Scully wanted to ask
him what he was going to do, but she saw his expression and
decided to let it go.

-----

Fox Mulder watched Scully walk around the corner. Only
when she was out of sight did he remove his cell phone.

"Skinner." The voice was clipped and distinguished.

"Why the hell didn't you warn her?" he asked.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir," he said, conjuring his snottiest voice.

"What are you talking about? Warn who about what?"

"Why didn't you warn Scully about her sister, Skinner?"
Mulder spat into the phone, ignoring the strange glare of a
passing agent.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Mulder.
What's this about Scully's sister?" Skinner's voice
softened, he seemed almost concerned.

"Damn! You didn't even look at that case, did you?"

"I noted that it seemed paranormal enough to send to
you, but beyond that I didn't feel it necessary to read
through the whole thing, no."

Mulder was furious with the man, but he knew Skinner
had a point.

"Sorry, sir," he said. He punched the END button and
slipped the phone angrily into his pocket.

He made his way down to the basement office, grabbing
his coat.

-----

End Part One

__________________________________________________________________________

XAngst Anonymous Member T h e
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From drakkar@bconnex.net Sun Nov 03 19:12:16 1996
*Disclaimed in Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
by Char Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part Two

-----

Mulder slid into the drivers seat of the car, the rain
having soaked his coat even more than when he'd gone in. He
shook his wet head, sending droplets of water everywhere.

Scully looked at him for a moment, wiping the stray
water from her face. "This is the worst rainstorm I've seen
in a long time," she commented.

"Yeah, this is pretty bad," he said. With that he
started the car and slowly drove out of the lot. He would
have to come back and get his own car later that morning.
Hopefully the weather would be better by then.

As he drove, Mulder couldn't think of anything but
their case. How did hundreds of people just disappear? They
don't, unless... Unless what, Mulder? Unless they were
abducted.

Mulder had an uncontrollable urge to go to the scene
and see just what had happened. He needed to see for
himself, so that he could draw his own conclusions.

"Oh no you don't," Scully said. He hadn't realized
that she had been watching him.

"What? Don't what?"

"You're not going there without me, Mulder," she said.
He could feel her staring at him, knowing that she would
insist that she come with him, that she was fine.

"You can't come, Scully."

"And why the hell can't I?" she asked, her tone so
sharp that it just dared him to defy her.

"Because you're in no condition to go anywhere, except
home to bed." He chanced a glance at her. She was still
staring at him.

"Hey, who's the doctor here?"

"Seriously, Scully. You can't come. You're too close
to the case," Mulder said, mustering his most authoritative
voice.

"Mulder, there's nothing you can do to stop me and you
know it. Now don't waste time arguing. If you're going, so
am I."

-----

Mulder stared at the building that was bathed in the pale
headlights of the car. The big gray blocks that made up the
outside of the building looked close to fifty years old.
They were worn and rain streaked, stained from years of
exposure.

Scully stood beside him, looking in the opposite
direction and probably noticing the same things. Both of
them were getting drenched as they surveyed the outside of
the building.

Mulder didn't think anything looked out of place, not
that he really thought anything would. He began to move
towards the front entrance of the building, but Scully tugged
on his sleeve.

"Mulder, look!" She had to shout to be heard over the
rain.

She was pointing at a door, that was slightly ajar, at
the far side of the building. Mulder nodded, and began to
move toward the door, following Scully. Maybe they just
walked out after all, he thought, as they reached the door.
Shaking his head, Mulder peered through the opening.

"Power must've been cut," he said. It was completely
dark beyond the door. No security lights, nothing. "I'll go
get a flashlight," he told Scully and was off before waiting
for an answer.

Reaching the car, Mulder opened the drivers side door
and shut the vehicle off, taking the keys around to the
trunk. He tried multiple times to get the key in the hole,
without any light, and finally managed to succeed. Lifting
the lid of the trunk, Mulder was able to feel around for the
huge, heavy flashlights. His hand closed around one and he
hefted it out, being sure to take the keys before slamming
the trunk closed.

When he returned, he found that Scully was no where to
be seen. A controlled panic rose in his stomach as he called
her name. No answer. Damn!

"This is ridiculous... Scully!?" Angered, he flicked
the light on and slowly walked through he door, which slammed
behind him. As he walked, he swung the light left and right,
discovering that he was in a small service hallway which was
probably off the main hall. There were double doors at the
end of the hallway, and a few doors to the left and right
along the way. "Scully?" Mulder called again as he walked
forward, using light to illuminate his way.

Mulder could feel the presence of imminent danger, but
he couldn't pinpoint it's source. It was like his instincts
were trying to tell him something. With that in mind, Mulder
pulled out his gun, making sure the safety was off.

His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. He walked
slowly, poking his head through some of the doors that were
open. None of them, he noted, had locks. Halfway down the
hall, Mulder came across the fuse room. He decided that it
would be a good place to start.

Twisting the handle, he was able to open the door
easily. He saw that this was the only door with a lock.
Probably to keep people from cutting the power, he thought.
His gaze fell on the dark gray fuse boxes that lined the
walls of the room.

Inspecting one carefully, Mulder ignored the danger
warning sign and opened it. Thinking that maybe someone
didn't cut the power after all, Mulder flicked the main
switch on, waiting to see if the lights would come on.
Nothing. Ah well, he thought.

Opening the next box, Mulder reached forward. Suddenly
a huge crash startled him. He whirled on his heel and raced
out the door. Now, in the middle of the hallway, Mulder
shone his light towards the double doors at the end.

"Scully?" he shouted, sprinting for the doors.

Bursting through, Mulder stopped when he noticed the
enormous size of the building. It looked so small from the
outside. Numerous tables, arranged end to end to create long
rows, were housed here. Displays upon displays were set up,
providing large amounts of information to intrigued
audiences--had there been anyone here, it really would have
been a spectacle.

Mulder took a step, and heard a sickening crunch. He
swung his light down to find a pair of reading glasses
beneath his foot. Mulder's initial thought was that they
were Scully's, but as he slowly trailed the light along the
floor, he discovered millions of things littered the floor.
Purses, watches, glasses, wallets... Millions of personal
items, just littering the floor.

Suddenly his flashlight caught something that made his
heart skip. At the end of one long row a shoe was poking out
from beneath an exhibit. Mulder swallowed uneasily and
started in that direction.

Mulder kept his light focused on the shoe as he
approached. Any sign of movement would have been nice.
Reaching the exhibit, Mulder saw that the shoe was indeed
attached to an ankle, and the rest of a body. Scully's body.

"Scully?" he asked, kneeling beside her where she'd
crumpled to the ground. Setting down his gun and grasping
her ankle, he pulled her out from beneath the table. She
felt like a dead weight. "Jesus." He could see the blood
which stained her already red hair. His fingers
instinctively reached for her neck, checking for a pulse.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed, finding a strong pulse.
She's unconscious, he thought. Relief washed over him.
Until he saw the a shadow cross in the beam from his
flashlight. He made to grab his gun, but it was too late.
He felt something crash against the back of his head and
everything swam into darkness.

-----

Dana Scully was unaware of how long she'd been sleeping. She
groaned and tried to roll over in bed. Small problem, she
thought as the feeling of something hard beneath her back
flooded her, you're not in bed, Dana. Suddenly the pain
that'd been waiting for her to wake up crashed over her body
and she realized she'd been lying on the floor.

The pain throbbing in her temples was so strong she
thought she just might pass out again. Slowly she regained
more of her senses and it was shortly after she regained her
hearing, that she heard the soft breathing of someone else.
Moving her arm carefully, so as not to make the pain in her
head any worse, Scully felt around herself. She could feel
the cold concrete beneath her clammy flesh, but then her palm
came to rest on something else. It felt to her, although she
was in too much pain to be quite sure, like someone's arm.

Instead of risking movement again, Scully tried to open
her eyes. At first it felt like they'd been glued shut with
some type of rubbery cement. Finally she was able to pry
them open, only to reveal darkness. Closing them again,
Scully's thoughts swam in and out of focus. She was unable
to discern where she was. With the pain in her head, she
could feel herself sliding back into the unconscious state
from which she'd just emerged.

-----

"Scully, is that you?"

A voice swam into her head, tugging her back to the
cold, dark room that she'd awoken in earlier. She was
reluctant to go, but the stiff feeling beneath her back was
enough to change her mind.

The voice, she recognized, was Fox Mulder's. How had
he gotten here? Right. The case. "Yeah," she managed,
although her mouth felt pasty and dry.

"Scully?"

"Wha--what?" she whispered. She could tell that
nothing was going to come out of her mouth right. She wanted
to tell Mulder that she thought she had a concussion. She
could feel herself slipping into sleepiness, close to losing
consciousness again.

"Damn! Scully, your voice is slurring. Listen to me,
you can't go back to sleep. Okay? I know it probably hurts
to talk, but just keep talking to me. It's important, okay?
Scully?"

Scully grunted. "W-whatever, Mulder," she said. She
understood what he meant. If she kept talking to him, he'd
know that she hadn't succumbed to her injuries.

"Do you remember what happened?" Mulder was asking.

"Uhm, Mulder... I--" Scully began, but stopped when
Mulder lifted her head from the floor.

"I'm going to lift you up a bit. My jacket will keep
your head off the cold concrete. Now, Scully, this is
probably going to hurt and I'm *really* sorry," he said,
gently grasping her shoulders and propping her up.

"Ouch!" Scully cried as shooting pain soared through
her body, beginning with her head.

"Sorry," Mulder whispered. She could almost imagine
him shrugging apologetically. "Can you move on your own?"

She hadn't tried. "Maybe," she croaked. Even as she
said it, she had been trying. Her leg moved to the left
without much pain. Thank God. "Yeah, I can move."

"It sounds like your voice is going back to normal.
You probably just needed to adjust to the fact that you're
still alive," he said. She could hear the smile in his
voice. Yeah, I'm alive, she thought. Too bad.

"I got smashed in the head too," he continued, "took
me forever to get myself going again. From what I saw before
I got slammed, it looks like someone did a dandy. I'm pretty
sure it's worse than my own injuries."

Scully didn't speak. Instead she listened to Mulder's
voice. For the first time, she noticed the way his voice
boomed through the room. She assumed it was a room they were
in. It felt closed in, although she couldn't be positive.
Assumptions make asses of us all.

"Mulder, where are we?" she asked, quietly, trying
desperately to ignore the protest of pain from her head.

She heard a shuffling noise, felt him move away from
her. "I don't--" he stopped. What the hell was he doing?
Then she listened harder, straining against the pain to make
out the noises. They were distant, as though coming through
a closed door.

Scully heard Mulder moving again.

Suddenly a blindingly bright light scorched the room.
Scully squeezed her eyes shut. The drumming in her head
increased, causing her thoughts to swim again. She swallowed
hard and opened her eyes. His image floated into focus.

A dirty looking man stood before her, rubbing his hands
eagerly together. He ran his tongue over what was left of
his teeth. The remaining few were black and rotting. His
clothes were torn in several spots, the knees of his jeans
were non-existent. His brown hair was tangled and a sloppy
mess. He had large hand prints of dirt over his face. He
had a gun.

Scully cringed without even realizing it.

"What a purty s'prise I get me here," he said. His
voice slurred, probably caused by a cheap bottle of whiskey.

Maybe he'll share a shot, Scully thought. It was a bit
of dry humour and it really wasn't helping her. Shit. We're
in for it now. It occurred to her that Mulder had moved
away. She let her eyes move from the man at the door,
focusing on Mulder. He was standing behind the door, waiting
for the vagrant to walk into the room so that he could make
his move.

"I'm a federal agent," Scully said, quietly. "Don't
try anything. You'll get caught. I promise you that." Not
bloody likely, she added to herself.

"Oh, I ain't carin' 'bout that, wee'un. I's probaly
better off spendin' me times in the jail." He sauntered
through the door, his drunken stupor causing his feet to
tangle a bit. He caught himself and righted, pausing to suck
in a deep breath. Scully swallowed and willed Mulder to make
his move. She didn't want this freak touching her.

As if responding to her wish, Mulder jumped out from
behind the door, slamming his weight into the man. Both of
them crashed against the wall to Scully's left. Mulder
struggled with the man. Their breathing sounded loud to
Scully's sensitive ears. She wondered how long it would take
Mulder to gain the upper hand.

A grunt escaped Mulder as they toppled away from the
wall, landing on the ground. Scully had to scramble to get
out of their way. She watched in relief as Mulder finally
managed to pin the man to the ground, holding his gun arm
firmly against the floor. If Mulder tried to move, however,
the man would easily throw him off. Maybe he'd even have
time to aim and fire.

Ignoring the pain in her body, Scully struggled to her
feet and made a very unstable grab for the gun. In the end,
she had to step on the man's wrist, driving the heel of her
shoe down on it, in order to get him to drop the weapon. She
grabbed the gun and lifted it to check the clip. Finding a
whole one loaded in the gun, she aimed it at the man. Her
hands were shaking. The vagrant only laughed. His attention
was on Scully, allowing Mulder an opening. The blow was
enough to knock the man out, but Mulder had to shake the pain
out of his hand afterward.

Mulder jumped off the man, his own head swimming, just
in time to catch Scully as her knees gave out on her.

"Too much for one night, I'd say," Mulder noted, his
forearms hooked under her armpits. He propped her against
his chest while he shifted his position. He lifted one of
her arms around his neck so that he would be able to slip his
own around her waist. "Okay, let's get out of here."

Scully nodded. "Mulder, what about him?" She was too
tired to really be worried about him, but...

"Leave him, he's not going anywhere."

"What if he wakes up?"

"Okay," he sighed, easing out of his hold on Scully.
"Can you stand by yourself? Promise you won't turn rag doll
on me, huh?"

Scully nodded weakly. Mulder let go of her and walked
over to the man. He slapped one cuff on the man, then
dragged him across the floor and secured the other cuff to a
pipe that ran down from the ceiling. "Happy now?" he asked.
She squinted her eyes at him, but didn't bother to answer.

"I need some aspirin," Mulder said. "How about you?"

-----

End Part Two
--
__________________________________________________________________________

From drakkar@bconnex.net Sun Nov 03 19:14:34 1996
*Disclaimed in Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
by Char Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part Three
*Disclaimed in Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
by Char Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part Three

-----

Two hours later, Scully was propped against a pillow in a
hospital bed. Mulder sat in a chair and beside him, much to
Scully's revolt, sat Frohike--one of the Lone Gunmen.
Frohike grinned at her, but in turn she did her best to
ignore him.

"Does it hurt?" Frohike asked.

Scully shot Mulder a sour 'what is this toad doing
here?' look, but he grinned, his white teeth shining in the
florescent lighting above.

"What do you think?" Scully retorted, sarcastically.
She sank back against the pillows, as though trying to
disappear into them. She wished Mulder had never let the man
into her room.

Mulder finally caught on to Scully's relative
discomfort and tactfully removed Frohike from the room. When
the man finally took the hint and disappeared, leaving a tiny
stuffed bear on the bedside table, Scully was nearly bursting
with anger.

"Why did you let that--" She struggled to come up with
a *nice* word, "--person in here, Mulder?"

"Oh, come on, Scully, he wanted to make sure you were
feeling better. He really is a sweet guy on the inside."
Scully's response was to curse and throw her pillow at him.

"Hey! Not so violent, partner!"

"Well, it's bad enough that I have to stay here when
all you got was a bruise," Scully responded, then added, "as
usual," under her breath.

"It's not as though you had to go in there when I left
to get the flashlights." He paused, narrowing his eyes at
her. "In fact, I think that was a rather stupid move on your
part."

"I heard some noises. I guess it was just that... bum.
Stupid, yes. I'll admit that," Scully said, then thought of
something else. "I want to know what happened to those
people, Mulder. Have you come up with one of your brilliant
theories yet?" She emphasized the word 'brilliant', almost
mocking him. Then she saw that he'd put a lot of thought
into it, she could tell by the way his eyes were dancing.

Instead of answering Scully's question, Mulder just
held up his hand and waved passively. "Not now. I'm going
to leave. It's time you got some sleep, anyway. Your gun,"
Mulder patted the gun as he set it on the table beside the
stuffed bear. He held up her car keys, "and keys."

Scully watched, passively, as Mulder gathered his coat
over his arm. She wondered if he knew he was still clutching
her pillow. Apparently not, because he'd disappeared out the
door. "Hey!" Scully cried, waiting patiently.

Five seconds later, he poked his head back around the
door. "What?"

Scully smiled. She grabbed the bear from the bedside
table, holding it up. "Trade ya?"

Mulder's brows furrowed, then he looked down when she
nodded and saw that her pillow was still tucked under his
arm. "Nah," he said, tossing her the pillow. "There ya
go." He disappeared again.

-----

The rain had stopped by the time Mulder reached the curb
outside the hospital. Morning had already started in DC and
Mulder found himself watching the cars on the street. He
sighed, sticking his hands deep in the pockets of his trench
coat. From the hospital, Mulder would have to walk back to
the Hoover building and get his own car.

He already knew what he would be doing this morning.
Running on very little sleep was something he was accustomed
to, but he could feel it in his muscles, lack of sleep making
them stiff and sore. Not to mention the dull throbbing in
his head.

Mulder shrugged and drew his coat tighter around
himself.

By the time he reached the building, Mulder was bored
to tears and at a dead end with his thoughts. He wished he'd
taken Scully's keys and promised to bring them back to her.

Locating his car in the mess they called a parking lot,
Mulder fished his keys out of his coat pocket. He slipped
into the front seat and leaned back. He started the sedan
and flipped the radio on, listening for a brief moment to
some music he'd never heard before. Shrugging his tension
tightened shoulders, he yawned. He put the car into gear and
laid rubber as he pulled out of the lot.

-----

The lights were on in the building this time. He stopped to
inspect the door which he and Scully had gone through earlier
that morning, finding that it hadn't been forced open. He
nodded. So the bum was telling the truth, Mulder thought,
remembering back to a conversation he'd had earlier with the
man before the police had put him in a cell.

After questioning him briefly, Mulder learned that he'd
gone into the building the same way that they had. He said
it was open. What the man wouldn't explain was why he'd
knocked both agents out and kept them in the storage room.

He said it was open. That meant that the police hadn't
been very careful when they'd closed up shop and gone home.
Why? Mulder had a strange feeling that he was doing the
dirty work again. They hadn't found any worth while
evidence, so they called the FBI to come and see what they
could do. Of course, the case was paranormal enough that it
was handed to Mulder.

Mulder sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair.
This case seemed different to him. He couldn't figure out
why. The police had done a terrible job of investigating, as
far as Mulder was concerned. The question he was going to
have to answer was why. Why had they blown this one off.
Why was it handed immediately to him? What was special about
this case and what was it that was bothering him so much
about it.

Pushing through the double doors, Mulder was once again
confronted with the vast auditorium. This time he would have
more time to poke around and turn things about. He would
make this visit worth something, and hopefully find out what
was nagging at him.

-----

Dana Scully lay in the hospital bed, staring at the white
ceiling and wondering how terminally ill people could stand
it here. They know nothing else, Dana, that's why. She
shrugged her shoulders, feeling much better than she had
twenty minutes ago. Her headache had subsided to a dull
throb, but it hadn't kept her thoughts from snapping back to
Melissa.

Now, Scully's fingers curled around the cruciform on
the necklace her mother had given her when she was fifteen.
Scully could remember sitting in a coffee shop with Melissa,
talking about her partner. It was then that Melissa had
brought up the topic of Dana's abduction. That day, Scully
had learned that Mulder had been waiting in his apartment for
a moment when her abductors would break in and ransack it.
He was waiting to kill them. Except that Melissa had shown
up. Melissa had convinced him that he should be at Scully's
side, instead of bowing to the urge for revenge.

Scully knew she had to the thank Melissa. She should
have done it long ago. Now it may be too late, Dana, she
thought. Biting her bottom lip, Scully dried the tears on
her cheeks with the back of her hand.

No one was better to help her than Mulder. He would
find out what happened to Melissa, even if it wasn't an X-
File. Scully had already decided, by the time she pushed
herself out of the bed, that she was going to call her mother
and then get the hell out of the hospital.

Scully was standing at the end of the hallway on the
payphone, speaking in hushed tones with her mother when she
first spotted the man in the black suit. He walked past her
room twice, before disappearing again. Scully was afraid of
what his appearance meant, but forced the issue from her
mind.

"Mom, I love you. We're doing all we can, I'll call
you back, okay?" she said into the phone. "Love you, bye."
She hung up the receiver and padded back down the hallway to
her room. She grabbed her soiled clothes from the chair
where they had been folded.

Once in the bathroom, changing back into her normal
clothes, Scully began to feel a little better. She used a
small brush to straighten her hair out as well as she could
manage, before ducking out of the tiny cubicle the hospital
dared to call a bathroom. Glancing around the hospital room,
Scully spotted a pen and quickly scooped it up.

Finally, she walked to the end of her bed, where the
doctor had hung her chart. She smiled as she picked it up
and signed it, dismissing herself. With that finished, she
took her gun, car keys and the stupid little bear. She
wanted to get out of the hospital before anyone caught her
and questioned her signature.

-----

The man watched Dana Katherine Scully as she fumbled with the
door to the sedan that served as her mode of transportation.
He didn't resist the smile that spread on his face when he
saw her wince in pain. He knew that she really wasn't as
recuperated as she'd led herself to believe, that she would
be nothing but weak should he try to get her now.

But he'd already decided that it would be easier to do
both, her and Fox William Mulder, together. Get both
subjects out of the way at the same time. Much easier. He
nodded, smiling when Scully put her head on the steering
wheel. He could tell that she was already kicking herself
for leaving the hospital.

She had gumption, though. He admired that. He liked
to stalk people with gumption. It provided more of a
challenge for him. Maybe he'd let them live long enough to
feel pain--know pain.

His superiors had provided him with a perfect
opportunity. One which he couldn't pass up. One which also
provided him with privacy to do whatever he wanted.

He licked his lips, watching as the beautiful red-
headed woman drove out of the hospital parking lot. His grin
faded, but a tingling sensation--the one caused by the fact
that he was near to feeling the power of death--replaced it.
He started the car, his hands shaking with delight, and
followed Agent Scully.

-----

End Part Three
--
__________________________________________________________________________

From drakkar@bconnex.net Sun Nov 03 19:16:27 1996
*Disclaimed in Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
by Char Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part Four

-----

Mulder stood in the middle of the auditorium, scratching his
head. He turned slowly, pivoting on one foot, and took in
all the information he could without inspecting up close.
With the lights illuminating the place, Mulder felt eerie.
The room seemed so much bigger than it really was. Probably
because it's empty, Mulder thought. He fought the urge to
cringe at the silence.

He knelt down to take a look at one of the purses that
had littered the floor. He opened it, feeling like a thief,
and dumped it's contents on the floor. He began to sift
through it, finding the usual things. Lipstick, papers, a
compact, a wallet, and even various other things. He opened
the wallet, looking for a name. He saw a drivers license and
gingerly lifted it out of it's place behind the plastic
shielding in the wallet.

Ginger Holloway.

He recognized the name as one of those on the list. He
carefully put everything back in the purse and picked up
another wallet that happened to be near by. A man this time.

Thomas Gore.

Another wallet belonging to Adam Small.

That's weird, Mulder thought. None of these people
seemed to have girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands,
friends or relatives. Standing, Mulder dragged a hand
through his hair again, putting one hand on his hip as he
tried to think. "Okay, Mulder, don't people usually carry
pictures of other people in their wallets?" he asked
himself, frowning.

You're fucking right they do!

Mulder quickly rounded up as many wallets as he could,
taking some out of purses, but gathering most from the floor
around him. Bundling them in his arms, Mulder walked to the
end of one of the long rows of display tables and dumped them
on a low table.

Feverishly, Mulder pulled everything out of the wallets
and studied each piece of identification carefully, trying to
discern if his hunch was right.

-----

Dana Scully cursed when she dropped her car keys for the
second time. She stood just outside the Harrison Convention
Center, and had been just about to go through the same door
she and Mulder had entered when they first came.

She stooped to pick them up, shoving them deep in the
pockets of her trenchcoat. She reached a shaky hand out and
pulled the handle of the door, easing it open. Brushing a
lock of red hair out of her eye, she slipped through it and
this time made sure it was closed behind her. She was
completely unaware of the man who had been watching her from
a distance.

Wandering down the hall, Scully came to the auditorium
where she had been attacked earlier that morning. She
touched the back of her head where a huge welt had formed,
grimacing at the memory. She clenched her teeth together and
forced the memory out of her mind.

Absently, Scully ended up staring at the exhibit she'd
been straining to see when the bum had hit her. In the
florescent light of the auditorium, the exhibit looked boring
and lifeless. Despite herself, Scully crouched down and
looked under the table. Just as she suspected, there was a
large red stain. Her blood.

Scully wrinkled her nose at the thought of having lost
so much blood. No wonder I'm so exhausted, she thought. She
straightened up and glanced around the auditorium, wondering
if she'd been wrong and Mulder wasn't here.

Seconds later she spotted him, reclined in a chair
before a pile of drivers licenses. His eyes were closed and
his feet were crossed at the ankles, as if he'd fallen asleep
while thinking. As she neared, she realized that was exactly
the case. She could see his eyeballs moving rapidly beneath
the lids. His face twisted into a look of horror and she
knew instantly that he was having another one of his
nightmares.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, planning on
waking him, but suddenly he jumped and cried out. She had to
step aside to avoid his fist as he tried to punch a demon
within his nightmare.

His eyes snapped open finally.

"Mulder?" she asked.

"Scully, I'm sorry, I--" he stopped.

"Forget about it, Mulder," Scully said. She gestured
towards the wallets. "What's this?"

"What are you doing here?" Mulder asked, ignoring
Scully's question.

"Don't change the subject--"

"Answer the question."

"I signed myself out. Now, will you answer my
question?" Scully was about ready to fix Mulder with a look,
when she saw that his face had paled and he was staring past
her shoulder. It was then that she felt the hairs on the
back of her neck rise. Someone, she realized, was standing
behind her.

"Sorry, Agent Scully, I'm afraid Agent Mulder won't be
answering that right now," a calm, definitely male, voice
said. She felt the man slip his arm around her waist and she
felt the gun that he now had pressed against the base of her
skull. From the look on Mulder's face, she knew it had to be
the man she'd seen back at the hospital. With that
realization came anger. Scully started to struggle at the
same time that Mulder's hand crept into his coat.

Scully heard the deafening click of the gun's hammer
cocking. She froze.

"Easy, Agent Mulder, you don't want me to plant this
tiny silver piece of shit in your partner's head, now do
you?" the man asked. Mulder's lips thinned into a tight
line. "Right. Now, hand me your gun, handle first."

Mulder slowly complied, his actions deliberate and
stiff. "Good," Scully heard the man say. "Now, reach into
Agent Scully's coat and pull out her gun too."

Mulder did as he was told.

"Okay. Now, Agent Mulder, I'm going to let Scully here
tie you up. If you behave, she won't end up with a hot
little jumping bean in her brain." The man loosened his grip
on her waist, handing a small bit of yellow rope to her. He
was quick to tighten the grip again, though. "Stand up,
Agent Mulder. It shouldn't be too difficult. I'm sure
you've been tied up before," the man said, a snicker
following. Without being told, Scully slowly wrapped the
rope around Mulder's wrists, using a sailor's knot--her
father had taught her to make them when she was a little
girl--to secure the rope.

"Ooh! The lady has initiative. I like that. Pull on
the ropes. I want to see that they are tight. That's it,
yank on it," he said as Scully pulled on the rope. "Good.
Agent Mulder, you're going to walk with us. Remember, funny
stuff equals brainsplatter." The man jerked his head in the
direction he wanted Mulder to take.

-----

"Well, we're back in this room again," Mulder said. The
darkness enveloped them like a second skin, leaving Mulder
with the feeling that he'd really like to look at Scully and
make sure she was okay. Besides, it would be easier, in the
dark, for Scully to lie in her answer to his next question.
"You okay, Scully?"

"Fine, Mulder. Really." The expected answer. "My
headache is back, but I'm sure I'll live."

"The excitement never ends, huh?" he asked.

"Not with you around, Mulder," Scully said. He could
tell that she wasn't in the mood for joking, and closed his
mouth before he could slip and make another joke. Instead of
talking, Mulder rubbed his wrists together, trying to loosen
his bindings.

"Any luck?" she asked. His eyes widened, then he
realized that she could hear the ropes rubbing together.

"No," he said. His voice held a flat, almost hopeless
tone. "Listen, Scully, I'm really sorry about this. I--"

"For what? Mulder, for crying out loud, why do you
always have to take the blame for everything?" Scully said.
Mulder cringed at the sound of her voice. "I saw the bastard
at the hospital, Mulder. I saw him and I pushed it out of my
mind. Maybe if I'd paid more attention we wouldn't be here
now."

Mulder heard her sniffle, and realized that she had
begun to cry. "Scully," he whispered. "This wasn't your
fault either. Try not to cry, please?"

"I'm not crying, Mulder," she said, stubbornly denying
the tiny sniffle he'd heard. "Besides, I'm fine. I'm just
fine."

"Keep repeating that, Scully, and maybe you'll
*finally* believe it," Mulder said. "You're not all right.
You just lied through your teeth twice. What I want to know,
Dana, is if you're going to crack."

"Fuck you, Mulder."

He listened as she shifted further away from him. He
guessed that he deserved it, but he was sick of hearing "I'm
fine, Mulder" all the time.

He let the silence spread between them until he
couldn't stand listening to his own breathing and heartbeat.
He took a chance and said, "What're you thinking, Scully?"

"That you're an asshole sometimes," Scully said, but
her voice didn't hold any of the coldness that he would have
expected to hear. He thought he could imagine her smiling.
"Actually, I don't know what to think. I'm still trying to
figure out how I feel about being in this room again."

"Join the club. I've been running through a bunch of
scenarios in my mind, Scully. Do you want to know what I was
doing with those wallets, Scully?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I was examining them all. I looked in a few
wallets and realized that no one had pictures of family or
anything. So, I looked at the licenses together. Any wild
guesses on what I found out?"

"No. Tell me, Mulder. What did you find?"

"All of the people, twenty four that I looked at, were
born the same year. Each of those drivers licenses are
fakes, issued the same date of the same year." Mulder was
shaking his head as he talked. "All fucking fakes."

"What are you suggesting, Mulder? That this was all
just an elaborate set-up to get us once and for all?"

"If it is then where the hell is Melissa?"

Scully didn't answer and Mulder instinctively knew that
he'd just pinched a nerve. He didn't speak again, for fear
of choking on his foot.

-----

The man sat outside the door listening as the conversation
within the room faded to a stop. He had heard a few words
here and there, only catching one whole sentence when the
woman had told her partner to fuck off. Such a wonderful
friendship, he thought, chuckling.

After locking them in the room, the man had unzipped
his duffel bag and had spread it's contents carefully out on
the floor. He thread the silencer on his gun. He took more
pleasure in the silence of the weapon than he did in a loud
bang. He set the gun down beside a vial of a clear blue
liquid.

He had a special treat for the man. If these two were
as good of friends as his superior pointed out, then this
could be fun. A hallucinatory drug that would make the
tiniest of things seem monstrous. He licked his lips,
savoring the excitement that had built in his gut. Fun.
Fun. Fun.

He hadn't worried about tying the woman up, she was
much too weak to be anything but a minor pain anyway. His
self defense classes would help him to counter anything she
might try.

His hands were steady as he picked up the vial of
liquid and unpacked a syringe that had been tucked in the
side pocket of the duffel bag. He carefully filled the
syringe half full.

This probably would be very quiet, but he was assured
that the bullet that pierced Mulder's brain after the torture
definitely would maintain the silence.

Before opening the door, the man flicked on the light,
setting his face with a stony half-grin.

-----

Dana Scully wondered if her life had suddenly been cut to a
short end when the light snapped on, forcing her to close her
eyes. Out of instinct she tried to press herself against the
wall.

The man was wearing the same black suit that she'd in
the hospital. His brown hair was slicked back so that it
made tiny little spikes. Probably a flammable type of jell,
she thought. If only I had a match...

It was a couple of seconds before Scully saw the
syringe in the man's hand. Little white spots from the flash
of intense light still clouded her vision. She saw a gun in
his hand too.

The feeling of relief she felt when the man started
toward Mulder with the syringe raised, faded quickly into one
of disgust at herself. Ashamed of her own thoughts, Scully
watched in horror as the man jabbed Mulder's arm through his
trenchcoat and shirt, pressing the plunger all the way in.
Mulder gritted his teeth, but, like Scully, he made no
movements.

"Sweet dreams, Agent Mulder," the man said, maniacal
laughter erupting from him as he quickly retreated, slamming
the door behind him.

To Scully's surprise, the man left the light on.
Scully quickly scrambled toward Mulder who sat against the
wall, dumbfounded. He leaned his head back, closing his
eyes.

"I wonder what that was," he said quietly, almost as
if it wasn't bothering him at all. "I keep expecting to go
into convulsions and die."

"Jesus! Sit tight, Mulder. I have no way of telling
what that was, but I don't think he'd kill you that way. It
seems to me that he'd rather enjoy watching us squirm before
he puts 'jumping beans' in our heads."

"Well, I always wanted to have a Mexican Jumping Bean
all my own. I guess this is close enough, huh?" Mulder let
a tiny laugh escape his lips, but his face was serious when
he said, "I'm just glad he didn't inject you. I don't think
I could handle that."

Scully felt her breath hitch in her chest. "You think
this is any easier for me?" she asked, pain mixing with the
words.

Mulder looked as though he was about to make some sort
of reply when suddenly he thrust his chest forward. He
squeezed his eyes shut and cried out in pain.

"Shit! It's started to take effect." Scully hurriedly
slipped her trenchcoat off her shoulders, stealing the thick
belt from the waist of it. "Mulder, sit still," she
commanded. He'd begun to writhe against the wall, making it
hard for her to get a purchase on his arm. She slipped the
cloth belt around his arm, above the puncture spot. She tied
it as tight as she could, cutting off the circulation. "I
should have done that earlier," she whispered, running a
hand through his thick, dark, sweaty hair.

"Too late, Scully," Mulder said in a dreamy voice,
just before he began to scream.

-----

End Part Four

--
__________________________________________________________________________

From drakkar@bconnex.net Sun Nov 03 19:18:04 1996
*Disclaimed in Part One.

T h e X - F i l e s
Mislead Tortures
by Char Hall
(drakkar@bconnex.net)

Part Five

-----

Mulder's vision blurred so much that he was forced to shut
his eyes. His thoughts scattered like a frightened school of
minnows, leaving him with little grasp on reality.

When he opened his eyes, Scully had disappeared. He
looked around, confused. Where could she have gone? And why
the hell did she leave me here? It was a few seconds of
incoherent thought before Mulder was finally able to focus on
a shape across the room.

Death's head! Oh, bloody fucking hell. He was looking
right at Death. He was sure of it. A bleached white skull
with pearly white teeth. Blood dripped from it's nose,
staining the perfect white with a sharp, contrasting red.
Out of its eye crawled a big bug. A praying mantis.

It was then that Mulder began to scream again.

He only stopped screaming when he felt bugs--millions
of tiny, gross, multiple-legged bugs--crawling all over him.
He fought to keep his stomach contents down, while he began
to beat at his legs and arms. He struggled to stand, hoping
that the bugs would fall off. They didn't.

He looked down at his legs. He saw the little clusters
of bugs on his legs. Ants crawled up under his pantleg.
Earwigs congregated on his sleeves, some of them managing to
find access to his ears. Turning frantic, Mulder screamed
again--a high-pitched, almost girly scream--and slammed his
rope-bound hands over his right ear, trying to deny the bugs
access. They'd eat his brain!

Through it all, Mulder suspected that it was the
death's head that was commanding them--driving them to eat
him alive. Oblivious to any the tiny bites, Mulder searched
frantically around for the skull. If he could kill it, the
bugs would stop.

-----

Scully felt her stomach clench into a knot when Mulder began
to scream again. She had to move away from him because he'd
not only begun to thrash, but he was also pounding his own
arms and legs.

She pressed herself against the right wall, watching in
horror as he struggled to stand. He looked as though he
were dancing. She knew better though. He kept mumbling
about bugs and death's heads. He clawed at his face and
blood began to trickle out his nose.

Scully clenched her teeth together. She winced when
Mulder stopped screaming. His breathing sounded labored and
watery, as though his lungs were full of a liquid. She
swallowed hard, when his eyes, blazing, fell on her.

She couldn't help whispering his name when he started
towards her, both of his hands curled into grotesque claws,
bound together in dangerous purpose. She could almost see
murderous intent in his eyes.

He stumbled forward, his hands managing to close over
her shoulder as she ducked away. She pursed her lips and
jerked out of his grip. She almost got away, but, for a man
who was hallucinating, Mulder was able to grab the back of
her blouse, holding tightly this time.

Scully heard the material rip as she struggled to get
away. Mulder kept his hold on her blouse, lunging forward.
His body slammed hers against the wall. Scully gasped as all
the air was crushed out of her lungs. She felt like someone
had put her in a vise and was slowly tightening it.

"Mulder!" she cried, gasping. She took a deep breath-
-as deep as she could--and grunted, ducking under his arms,
elbowing him in the side as she did so. Mulder was too
quick. Too damned quick. He grabbed for her blouse, missed
and stumbled forward. As he fell he managed to grab her
foot, taking her down with him. Scully tried to roll.
Mulder was there, though. She struggled to flip over on her
stomach so that maybe she could crawl away, but Mulder had
managed to straddle her.

He raised his bound hands high above his head,
clenching them both together to make one huge fist. Scully
sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut so tight that it hurt. She
waited for the blow. When it didn't come, Scully hazarded to
open her eyes. She saw Mulder, looking down at her, with his
hands raised high. Tears streaked his face, but she still
didn't see recognition in his eyes. Instead he began to
jerk, tiny convulsions racing through his body. His eyes
rolled back in the sockets and he fell sideways off of her.

Scully sucked in a shuddering breath, pushing Mulder
the rest of the way off herself. He twitched again, more
like a violent jerk, then lay silent.

She hoped he was out of his misery, but had the
suspicion that where ever he was now, he was still in
nightmarish hell. She checked his pulse finding it to be
fast, but not unhealthy. She breathed deeply, then retreated
to sit against the wall. She drew her knees to her chest and
allowed the silent tears, which had welled in her eyes, begin
to flow.

The only sounds in the room was Mulder's ragged
breathing and occasional moan.

-----

The man enjoyed Mulder's screams. He had heard some
shuffling noises, a sure sign that Mulder had been seeing
very strange things indeed. He had heard the woman say a few
things, but he really wanted to hear her scream.

Maybe I can make her scream, he thought. The thought
made a smile come to his lips. He was getting tired of
waiting. He wanted to feel the electricity that he felt
whenever he took a life with his hands.

He sighed and looked down at the gun on the floor. He
let his fingers walk along the floor, until the tip of his
index touched the gun. The cold metal could very well have
bit him by the way he drew back. A spark lit in his eyes,
imagining that the gun had bit him.

He was determined. He picked up the weapon again,
caressing the muzzle as though calming a frightened horse.
He lifted the gun closer to his face, rubbing the stubble of
his chin on the chilly metal. He felt superior, in charge.
It was time to take his gift. The gift that a human being
gave to him in its death.

-----

Scully remained very still, pressing herself even
further into the corner that she'd managed to find. She kept
her head down when he opened the door. Even if she'd had the
chance to jump him before she got shot, she didn't have the
strength, that's why she hadn't attempted to wait for him to
enter.

She could hear his heavy breathing, it was the
breathing of a very excited man. Scully cringed and bit her
tongue to keep from crying.

"Dana, honey, you should come out of that corner," he
said quietly. She heard him shuffle around a bit. Finally
she could stand it any longer. The use of her first name had
made her stomach lurch, but the tone in which he'd used it
made the bile actually rise.

Scully lifted her head, her jaw set and her face so
incredibly red that she could have been a tomato.

"You shouldn't get so angry," the man said. He
stepped through the door, making sure it stayed open in case
he needed to make a hasty exit. He sort of swayed his way
over to wear Mulder was crumpled on his back. He used the
barrel of the gun to brush a sweaty block of Mulder's hair
away, before knocking gently on her partner's forehead. "How
about we put him out of his misery? Would you like to do it,
or would you rather watch?" He seemed to be asking Scully
what her choice would be, but instead, he shook his head and
continued, "I thought not. Okay, I'll let you watch. I
should have figured that a woman would be too weak to shoot
her best friend."

The words chilled Scully's heart, making it beat faster
than she thought humanly possible. She clenched her hands
together, the knuckles turning white and she moved forward,
using her legs to draw herself out of the corner.

Startled at her movement, the man looked in her
direction, catching the expression on her face. He obviously
misinterpreted it, shaking his head and laughing maniacally
before saying, "Or is he more than your best friend? Now
isn't that exciting," he said. "Makes his gift to me a
great deal better. To know that his woman watched him die...
Oooh, I like that."

Scully squeezed her eyes shut as the man's finger
tightened on the trigger. She heard the shot and jerked out
of reaction, letting out an anguished cry come out of her,
despite the fact that it would please him to hear it. She
bit her lip and tried to control her emotions.

When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she screamed
again and opened her eyes, fighting to get away. Except,
even as her vision cleared, she began to relax. He wasn't
fighting with her. He had moved back...

To her utter shock, Scully was looking into the hard
face of her boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He was
marine all the way and he definitely had no reaction--that
she could see--to having just shot a man.

Scully involuntarily began to shake again. It's over,
she thought.

-----

Dana Scully had slept in. She was wrapped comfortably
in scads of blankets, the chills of the events of the night
before making her cold despite the heat. The addition of
air-conditioning in her apartment added to the breeze that
assaulted her heart.

Yawning lazily, Scully slipped out of the blankets and
pushed herself to the edge of her bed. Just as her bare feet
landed on the floor, she heard the phone beside the bed begin
to ring.

It's not Mulder, he's in the hospital. Still a bit
unrelaxed and frightened, Scully wondered who'd be calling.
Settling on the assumption that it was her mother, she lifted
the receiver and said, "Hello," in her most jovial voice.

"Good guess, Dana," he mother said, laughing. "Do you
always think about who's on the phone before you answer?"

Scully shook her head. How the hell does she know
these things? she wondered. "No, mom. I just figured it
wouldn't be Mulder because he's in the hospital. But listen,
have they found anything new on Melissa? Skinner won't let
me near the case..."

"That's what I'm calling to tell you, Dana. She's
alive and well. They found her near the river, unconscious.
She's awake now and she wants to get the hell out of the
hospital. They said since there were no injuries, she could
go this afternoon..."

Scully wasn't listening any more. She was focusing on
the joy she felt at the news. She smiled and nodded,
flopping back on her bed as her heart filled once again with
happiness. It's not too late, Dana. Tell her you're
thankful that she stuck by Mulder.

"Dana? Are you alive? Heaven forbid if I'd killed you
with the good news." Scully's mother was obviously delighted
too, making such jokes at a tender time.

"Yes, mom. I'll meet you guys this afternoon, okay?"

-----

Mulder stretched out on his couch. His feet hung off the end
and his back ached, but at least the headache was gone. What
he really wanted to do was get a headache the *real* way.

He'd been out of the hospital for two days, had talked
to Melissa Scully, telling her that he was thankful that she
was all right. He'd also talked to Skinner and filed a
million and one reports before returning to his apartment to
live in the darkness and brood on the things that had
happened.

Just as he thought, Scully had immediately pushed the
incident out of her mind. She brushed it aside as though
it'd been just like any number of their cases. She refused
to talk about it, understandable as that was. He thought
maybe if he could spend some time with her, she'd feel better
and maybe talk about it.

Getting her half tanked was an idea too. It sure as
hell beat going to the bar by himself.

This thought still in his mind, Mulder picked up his
cell phone. He dialed the number and waited for her curt
response. She must think about who's calling and know it's
you, he thought, a smile touching his lips for the first time
in days.

"Scully, it's me."

"No shit, Sherlock," she said, her voice holding that
playful tone that he had not heard often.

"Hey, what are you doing?

"My laundry."

"No, seriously-"

"Seriously, Mulder."

He shook his head. Difficult. Did she always have to
make everything so bloody difficult? "Are you watching the
Redskins, Scully?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Well, how about we catch the end together at Mike's?"

She was silent for a moment. He could picture her
trying to decide between sitting on the washing machine and
reading a medical journal or coming with him to watch
football on TV. She arrived rather quickly at the decision.

"Sure, Mulder, I'll meet you there."

It was a start. "Sure. Half an hour, Scully. Seeya."
He pressed the END button, feeling a little lighter. They
didn't often spend time together outside work, but he
supposed that maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

Envisioning Scully, red faced and completely drunk
beyond the ability to control herself, Mulder headed for the
door. This could be fun. Definitely a way to forget. Even
for a little while.

-----

End

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