Title A Life Unknown Author: Philiater Category: MSR (oh my), case file, angst aplenty. Rating: NC-17 Spoilers: Everything Disclaimer: Not mine, never were. They still belong to Carter and friends. Feeedback: philiater1@yahoo.com. More fanfic at my site: http://www.geocities.com/philiater1/ This is dedicated to Msnsc21, and to the ladies at this past Wed. chat at IWTB. Piper, Shelba, Tess, Jess, Char, Carol-- have I forgotten anyone? s***************************************** ********* Job 33:22---Yea, his soul draweth near unto the grave, and his life to the destroyers. ****************************************** The little cemetery was over-grown with scrub grass and tall weeds. Tiny headstones were scattered about and decorated with the remnants of wild flowers long dead. The inscriptions engraved on them were heart breaking in their simplicity: Grace O'Brien born April 7, 1958, died July 12, 1958. John Williams born September 25, 1954, died December 22, 1958. There were more like that, small children ravaged by a killer flue nearly forty years prior. Scully thought she had never seen a sight as poignant as those graves in a place no one ever came to visit. "This used to be an orphanage." Her partner reminded her. She nodded mutely, studying the gravestone of a little girl named Mary. An angel with white marble wings stood guard over the tiny mound of earth. Despite the date, something about the grave seemed newer, more modern than those it shared the space with. "Scully?" She turned to meet the unease in his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry Mulder." "You looked about a million miles away." She knew he was more concerned than his tone would suggest. It always showed in his eyes, and he could never hide his emotions effectively from her there. "Are you ready to go?" She nodded and followed him to the car. They'd come out to the remote Illinois prairie town on an x- file about a murder in the area. A body was supposedly found in a building that no human had entered in more than fifty years. The windows had been covered with iron plates, doors were welded shut, and any opening at all had concrete poured in to seal it closed. It had been made into a giant sarcophagus, entombing everything inside it. It had been a textile mill when the town was alive and booming. Later is became an orphanage that closed when the state highway bypassed the town, effectively killing it. The richest family in the county owned the building, and an eccentric son had it sealed in that strange manner. It was found open several months prior with the fresh body of a man inside the main entrance. He was unknown among the town's people, and a state wide search turned up no information at all. His fingerprints were not on record, and no I.D. had been in his expensive wool suit. His face was older, but handsome. Someone had to be missing this man somewhere. The FBI was called in when the search turned nationwide, and arsenic was found in the man's blood. It was not a routine murder and the circumstances surrounding it were strange indeed. But weeks went by and the man's murder was never solved. He was labeled a John Doe and buried in the local cemetery, not the little forgotten cemetery Scully had found. The case languished until Mulder hit on it one day. He thought it deserved x-file status because nothing but dynamite could have opened the main doors, but no one had heard or seen anything. In fact a farmer who lived less than a mile away slept through the prior night undisturbed. *************************** Scully watched the flat landscape speed by the window of their car. She hated this kind of weather; too late for fall, but not quite winter either; a starkness not hidden by the purity of snow. The land was dying, but not yet dead. That's how she felt; dying, but not quite dead. She was so lost in thought; Mulder had to ask her twice if she wanted to stop at the Dixieland Truck Stop for dinner. "The Dixieland Truck Stop? Aren't we too far north for a diner called the Dixieland Truck Stop?" "Why Miss Scully, this part of Illinois is at the same level as Kentucky and parts of Tennessee." She actually smiled at that, which both pleased and surprised him. "Mulder I hope that wasn't a southern accent you were trying affect." He feigned a hurt expression. "What's wrong with my southern accent?" "What's wrong? What's right?" He put on a wounded expression which made her roll her eyes. At least she wasn't brooding any more. He hadn't known about the orphanage's little cemetery. He still couldn't figure out she was able to locate it so quickly. It was down a steep hill and behind a row of tall shrubs. But she had apparently been drawn toward it, as if someone had told her it was there. At first he didn't know she was gone. He'd been busy examining the heavy iron doors out front. No sign of blast material, tool marks, or tinkering of any kind marred their heavy surface. Just as he turned to remark about their pristine condition, he found the courtyard empty. In a panic he'd gone calling for her, but she wouldn't answer. He berated himself for bringing her here so soon after--- On instinct he'd descended the hill behind the former orphanage and found her standing among the tiny graves. His heart stopped to see her surrounded by so many dead children; a grizzly metaphor for the children she could never have. He'd felt a terrible urge to put his arms around her, but knew she wouldn't want him to. Somehow he'd have to find a way to get her out of there and away from the haunting memories. "I'm not hungry Mulder," she said interrupting his thoughts. "You sure?" He always thought it was a bad sign when she wouldn't eat. "I'm sure." ************************ At first he didn't know what woke him. The motel was silent except for the humming of an ancient space heater in his room. Then he heard a scream, and realized it must have been what woke him the first time. It sounded like Scully. He was up and running to the connecting doors when she screamed again. "Mulder!" Her voice was full of terror. "Help me, Mulder!" He burst through to find her pounding on her own front door. Was she awake? Her small fists beat on the wooden door with fury, and he could see blood on her hands. "Scully, I'm here behind you." He spoke gently to her in case she was still deep in the throes of a nightmare. As he moved slowly toward her, she seemed oblivious of his presence, and only beat harder with the flat of her palms. He touched her shoulder. "Scully?" He was unsuccessful at keeping the hoarse rasp out of his voice. Suddenly she stood stock still and turned around. Her eyes were wild, but awareness slowly infused them. Her breathing became hitched and the expression on her face changed from terror to pain. "Mulder?" There was no mistaking the hurt in her voice. He cupped her face in his hands and bent down to stare intently into her frightened eyes. "I'm here Scully. Right here with you." To his surprise she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face between his bare chest and right arm. He felt her whole body shake while the aftereffects of the nightmare drained away. Feeling ineffectual, he murmured soft words of nonsense into her hair, and rubbed her chilled arms with his hands. He tried not to feel the sticky blood her hands smeared on his back, or the choking guilt of bringing her here. When it came to Scully, he thought he would never be free of that emotion. "I dreamed I was trapped inside the orphanage, and I couldn't get out," she stammered. "The door was sealed shut and I screamed and screamed for you, but you couldn't hear me." A fresh onslaught of tears overtook her, causing him to hold her tighter. "Scully, I heard you. I'm here. I'll always come when you call. Always, I promise." She seemed to calm a little at the sound of his voice. He found himself rocking her, swaying from side to side like some bizarre slow dance. "It's because of Emily," she said in a calmer voice. "It's only been a week since---" "I know." "But Mulder, if I hadn't found her she would have died alone just like those other children." "She didn't die alone Scully. You were with her. She had you." She pulled back a little and looked into his eyes. "How many more Emilys are out there? How many children is the Consortium producing, only to die?" He had nothing to say, because he didn't know the answer. There were probably a lot more Emilys, but he couldn't allow her to think about it. "Scully, you can't let them do this to you. You can't think about what they might do because we don't know what they *are* doing." "What's the answer?" she asked quietly. "How do we defeat them?" He cradled her face in his hands again. "By living." She stared up at him with such trust; he felt pain in his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, he bent forward and kissed her sweet mouth. She opened up under him like a flower, returning the caress. He was lost in her, a man drowning. When he felt himself harden against her belly, he broke away. "I---I'm sorry Scully." Her eyes clouded over, a frown crease forming on her forehead. She tried to make him kiss her again, put pressure on his spine to make him come back into physical contact with her. "I'm not." She breathed. "I can't take advantage of you." He traced her eyebrow with a finger, unable to keep himself from touching her. To his vast surprise, she put a small hand on his chest and mimicked the movements of his finger. When his hand dropped, she reached forward with both hands to retrieve it. She traced the lines in his palm, and looked up questioningly into his dark eyes. Never breaking eye contact, she brought his hand forward to cup her breast. An electric shock ran up his arm. She was so soft, so warm to the touch; better than he ever dreamed. When the nipple hardened through the thin cotton under his palm, he tried to pull back, but she held him fast to her body. "Please---" she whimpered, and rose up to kiss him. Her bloody palms made contact with his face and it shocked him back to reality. "Scully, your hands--- we need to take care of them." He stepped away and pulled her with him to the bathroom. Turning on the harsh fluorescent light, he guided her to the edge of the bathtub to sit. She was strangely quiet now, allowing his ministrations without comment. He ran warm water into the sink, and soaked one of the coarse washcloths in it. Gently he began to run the cloth over her hands, erasing the dried blood and soothing the abrasions that marred her white skin. The cloth turned from white to pale red as her blood soaked into it. He felt a surge of guilt again to see her hurt, his lust turning to shame. When he looked up, he saw anger in her face. It seemed unexpected after the intimacy they'd just shared, and he stopped. "I don't need your pity Mulder." Her face was tight, and her voice as cold as the porcelain he sat on. She jerked her hands out of his grasp. "I think you should leave." Bewildered at her sudden change in behavior, he complied. Without looking back he retreated through the connecting door to his own room. On slightly shaky legs he walked into his own bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He loved Scully, and she had to know that. So why was he so uncertain about her now? Because when he shut the door between their rooms he heard the metallic slide of a lock being turned into place. Scully had just locked him inside his own sarcophagus. ****************************************** The next morning she woke early and showered. While the hot water cascaded over her, Scully mentally berated herself again. She'd thrown herself at Mulder and he'd responded. But when she'd seen guilt on his face, bitter bile had risen up in her throat. He responded out of pity not love. He would have slept with her out of some misguided idea of obligation. She finally knew the meaning of the phrase 'mercy fuck'. When he knocked on her door, she opened it to find him looking sheepish. "Is it okay to come in?" She sighed significantly. "Yes, Mulder it's safe for you to come in." She stepped aside to let him pass. The fragrant odor of coffee accompanied him inside. "I brought breakfast." He held up two Styrofoam containers. "Don't tell me, from the Dixieland Truck Stop?" "How did you know?" His goofy grin made her smile. She could never stay angry with him for long. "There are bagels in the car." "Where are we going?" "To interview the farmer that lives near the orphanage." "After you," she said, taking one of the cups, and gesturing with her hand toward the door. Outside it was frigid, causing her to feel the sharp pain of cold air entering her lungs. The car was warm, however, and she was grateful for that. It looked as if they could ignore last night and concentrate on the case. "Plain or Poppy seed?" "Plain." It was a short drive to the farmer's house. They had to pass the orphanage on the way. Scully looked at its forbidding red brick exterior. She wondered what horrors had occurred behind its walls to cause someone to seal it up. Why go to all that trouble? Why not just have the place raised? She felt Mulder watching her and turned away. No matter what happened now, she knew he would watch her every time they passed it. "What's his name?" "Who?" Caught you Mulder. "The farmer we're going to see." "Uh---Calvin Kline." "Like the jeans?" "Different spelling." "Tell me about him." "Calvin Kline, age 67. Born here in Wakemore and inherited the family farm. One wife Eleanor, deceased. No children, lives alone. He told police and the FBI that he was asleep at the time the murder of John Doe took place, and his body was dumped inside the Wakemore Home for Orphans. He also claims he had good hearing and would have known if the doors were opened." "Had he ever seen John Doe before?" "No." Mulder drove through two rusted gates announcing their arrival to Sunshine Farms. The long gravel drive was overgrown with weeds and the wooden fence bordering empty cornfields was in need of repair. "Doesn't look too sunny does it?" Mulder asked by way of commentary. Scully didn't answer. She was too busy eyeing the muddy front yard of a peeling farm house. It looked like it hadn't been painted in years, and the front porch sagged at one end. "Somebody lives here Mulder?" "Yeah, I know. I keep waiting for Mr. Haney and Fred Ziffel to drive up." Scully suppressed a giggle. "Well, I----" She turned to look at Mulder's smiling face, and suddenly stopped when she saw his eyes. Something burned behind them that shot straight through her. He seemed to be looking into her mind, to her most secret of places kept carefully hidden from him. Time stood still when he leaned forward. "Scully---" "Can I help you folks?" A wrinkled man in faded overalls stepped out of the house. Mulder blinked, and the moment was gone. He and Scully stepped out of car and pulled their badges out to show him. "I'm special Agent Mulder and this is special Agent Scully with the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions if you don't mind." "I've already talked to you people. I don't know what else I can add that would make a difference to that poor man. He's still dead." "Yes, we realize that," Scully said, "but we're more interested in the circumstances surrounding the open doors on the orphanage." The farmer looked surprised, but quickly covered it up. "Well, why don't you come in the house?" Mulder automatically put his hand on Scully's back while they walked. She tensed for a moment, and he almost removed it, but she slowly relaxed into the touch. He helped guide her around the muddy ruts that pockmarked the front yard. Mr. Kline led them through a house that was as neglected on the inside as the outside had been. Newspapers were stacked in corners, boxes littered the floor, and dust coated nearly everything. "Would you folks like somethin' to drink?" "Nothing for me thank you, " Scully said looking around for a clean spot to sit on. "Water for me." "I'll be right back. You folks make yourselves comfortable." Mulder flopped down next to Scully on an ancient sofa, and a faint cloud of dust shot up around him. Mr. Kline reappeared with a cloudy glass of water that Mulder drank without a comment. Scully decided to start the questioning herself. "Mr. Kline, can you tell us what you did the night John Doe was murdered?" "Well, I did what I do most nights. I watched the news and an old picture show on AMC. Then I watched Ted Koppel for a while. Fell asleep on the couch there until Blue woke me up about midnight." "Blue?" "Ma dog." "We didn't see a dog when he drove up." "He died about a month ago." "Did he usually wake you up when you fell asleep on the couch?" Mulder was faintly appalled by the idea. "No, I thought he must have heard somethin' so I went outside to check. Didn't hear a thing. I went back in and went to bed." Scully pulled out a ream of papers. "The Coroner's report put the time of death between eleven p.m. and two a.m. You say you didn't hear anything during that time period?" "Not a thing. You know, the way the valley is situated; I used to hear the children playing up at the orphanage. If those metal doors had been torn open I certainly think it was somethin' I'd a heard." "The police said you discovered the body, is that correct?" Mulder asked. "Yes. I took Blue for a walk that mornin' and he made a beeline for the orphanage. You coulda knocked me over with a feather when I saw those doors opened up. And then I saw that fella just lying inside--- Well I tell ya, I'm not scared a much, but I lit on outta there but quick and called the sheriff." "Did you check to see if he was still alive?" "Miss Scully, I wasn't sure of nothin'. I thought the authorities oughtta handle it in any case." He paused for a moment and took a drink from his own glass of rusty water. "You know, the strange thing is I did hear somethin' that mornin' that I didn't tell nobody about." "Why not Mr. Kline?" "Well, me livin' her all by myself I was afraid I was hearin' things, and nobody'd believe me anyway." Mulder leaned forward. "What did you hear Mr. Kline?" The old farmer looked at his hands, and rolled the glass of water between them for a moment. "Well sir, I thought I heard someone laughin' like a maniac up there." "What do you think, Scully?" Mulder asked once they were back in the car. "I think I know what your house is going to look like in forty years." "No, do you think he's telling the truth about not hearing anything that night?" "I don't know Mulder. He seems genuine. What do you make of the laughter he heard?" "I don't know either. It doesn't seem to fit." "So what now?" "Now we go to see Charles Wilson Miller the third." ****************************************** * End Part I A Life Unknown part 2 Rating, description, disclaimers, etc are in part 1. ****************************************** Mt 27:52: And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept, arose. ****************************************** Charles Wilson Miller III lived in a mansion on a tall hill over-looking the town of Wakefield, IL. The long, tree lined drive bordered with immaculate lawns, was a sharp contrast to Calvin Kline's modest farm. The house itself was an English Tudor style, three storied, and grotesque in its elaborateness. It was built during an early part of the century when men made unspeakable amounts of money at the expense of their workers. All men of that generation built homes designed to outdo the next millionaire in the most extravagant way possible; literally keeping up with the Jones'. Scully thought she'd never seen anything uglier. The kind of money it took to maintain the household would feed a small third world nation for a year. She knew there were women who were impressed by such things, but she was repulsed. Mulder let out a low whistle when they got out of the car. "Hey Scully, get a load of this place." "Yes, I see it." Scully couldn't keep the derisiveness out of her voice. The blank windows seemed to stare at them with contempt. She found the grandness both sterile and cheerless. She doubted many people laughed within its walls. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran up her spine as they walked to the door. "I know this sounds strange, but I can't shake the feeling that it reminds me-" She trailed off when Mulder rang the doorbell. The deep, musical notes of Westminster chimes could be heard echoing off the expensive Italian marble inside. "It reminds you of what Scully?" "Of the orphanage." Mulder snapped his head around to look at her. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a butler answering the door. "May I help you?" his counterfeit English accent asked with snotty disdain. Mulder and Scully went through the routine of flashing their badges and introducing themselves. "Is Mr. Miller expecting you?" Mulder shifted in his mud spattered dress shoes. "Uh, no, but we'd like to ask him a few questions if we may." "Mr. Miller does not see anyone without an appointment." Mulder could feel his temper rising. He was already on edge and it wouldn't take much to send him over the brink. All he would need is for Scully to step in and try to smooth it over. "Could he make an exception? This is important." He mentally cringed. Too late. He was about to demand entry when a deep voice behind the butler interrupted. "I'll see them Carlisle." The face of the man who issued the order was hidden in the shadows. After a few moments glaring, Carlisle stepped aside with exaggerated irritation. Mulder gave him a smile of triumph and swept past with Scully in tow. The owner of the voice was no where in the entryway. They were escorted down a long corridor with red velvet carpeting. Enormous oil paintings covered both sides, and Mulder assumed they were portraits of relatives. The house was deathly quiet, and seemed devoid of living creatures; almost a museum in its pristine condition. At the end of the hallway they emerged into a large den with a fire already burning in the fireplace. Above the mantelpiece hung the heads of exotic creatures such as African antelope and water buffalo. Their glassy eyes stared sightlessly into the vast room. "It's so dead here," Scully murmured. Mulder came up beside her. "I'll bet there're a few people Miller would like to put up there too." "To what do I owe the pleasure of the FBI's company this evening?" A deep voice said behind them. They both started at the sound. A man with silver hair and wearing an expensive suit stood silently behind them. Neither Scully nor Mulder had heard his footsteps cross the stone floor. "I'm Special Agent-," Mulder began. "I heard you earlier. I am Charles Miller, as you already know." "We'd like to ask you a few questions about the John Doe murder." "I thought that case was closed" "It's unsolved, not closed." "Does your partner have a voice?" Scully looked up surprised, and shot Mulder a look. "Yes, I have a voice." Charles Miller stepped closer, took Scully's hand in his, and kissed the back of it. "Such a lovely woman to be involved with the FBI." Mulder did not like the salacious look in Charles Miller's eye, or the fact that he continued to hold her hand long past a casual introduction. The beginnings of a deep and burning anger licked at the edges of Mulder's control. Scully could take care of herself, however, and Mulder could hear the frost creep into her voice. "We're not here to discuss me Mr. Miller." He smiled and dropped her hand. "No, you're not. I was just about to have dinner. Would you care to join me and then we can discuss your case there?" The two agents looked at each other. Mulder did not trust Charles Miller and his protective side did not want Scully anywhere near the man. He found the millionaire cold as the house he lived in, and Mulder sensed he was not above murder to get what he wanted. "We'd-," Mulder was cut off by Scully who'd reached across and lightly touched him on his back between the shoulder blades. She gently brushed the back of his neck with a finger, sending a shiver down his spine. Her blue eyes were pleading. Don't cause trouble; don't be jealous, we need information they seemed to say. The tiny gesture also told Miller that Scully was not interested. "We'd love to." ****************************************** The dinning room was the size of a football field. The long table could have easily accommodated the members of two competing teams with space left over. Scully felt ridiculous as she sat at one end of that table with Mulder and Miller. Miller sat imperiously at the head, and she and Mulder sat across from each other; one on each side of the arrogant millionaire. A timid young woman and rotund man served them dinner, in courses, as if they were heads of state. Scully eyed the food with suspicion. She couldn't shake the feeling of being in danger as they sat there, and she remembered the traces of arsenic found in John Doe's body. She looked across at Mulder, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Dinner was going to be interesting. "What questions do you have for me Agent Mulder?" Miller asked, as he stared intently at Scully. "I understand that your family owned the Wakefield Home for Orphans." "Yes, actually we owned it first as a mill. About 1950 when it was no longer profitable as a mill, it was closed." "Why was it converted to an orphanage?" Miller smiled wryly. "The official story is that my father wanted to do something charitable for the community." "And the unofficial story?" "It gave him a tremendous tax write off." "Why did you have it sealed up?" Scully asked him warily. "I wondered when you'd get around to that. There was an unfortunate incident that occurred in the school at the orphanage that necessitated its closing." "Which was?" "A male teacher in the school was caught having sexual relations with several under age girls." Mulder and Scully absorbed this information. "There's no record of that occurring," Mulder said. "No official record. Our family paid a great deal of money to keep it unofficial." "If there are so many bad memories associated with it, why didn't you tear it down?" Scully asked puzzled. "Well, I was hoping that once enough time had passed, I could re-open it as something different." "Why did you seal it so completely?" "Because there are secret files stored in there." "Secret files?" "Yes, information about the orphans and their parents; where they went to stay once they were adopted, etc." "Why didn't you tell the FBI about the files?" "Because they had nothing to do with the John Doe murder. Those files could hurt a large number of people and I didn't see any reason to drag innocent people out into the spot light." Scully was incensed. "Those files could have everything to do with the case. Maybe John Doe was one of the orphans and came back to find his real parents." "And the real parents didn't want to be found so they killed him?" "It's a possibility," Mulder said backing Scully up. "Could we see them?" Mill sat back looking thoughtful. "I would be taking a tremendous risk. No one outside of my father and me has even seen them." Miller lapsed into silence again. "I'll show them to you if you promise to keep any personal information you find not related to the case confidential." Scully and Mulder looked at each other. It was potentially an incredible find. Scully knew Mulder would promise, and he was waiting for her consent. Silently she nodded and he smiled at her gratefully. "Okay Mr. Miller, we promise to keep the information confidential." Miller nodded. "Fine, but I'm going out of town early in the morning. If we go it has to be tonight." Scully felt a shiver run down her spine. No. Please Mulder don't make me go there, especially with *him*. He's being too cooperative. But Mulder was smiling to himself, happy at the prospect of potentially finding an answer to the John Doe puzzle. ************************************* The orphanage was dark and sinister looking; making a stark silhouette against the night sky. Scully's level of apprehension increased dramatically, and she clutched Mulder's knee beside her in fear. "Are you trying to get fresh with me Scully?" She fixed him with a withering look. This was no time for humor. Miller got out of the car ahead of them, and they walked up the weed covered stone steps. Scully had never actually been inside, and the idea of doing so at night was even more daunting. She could feel herself start to tremble. "You okay Scully?" Mulder whispered in her ear. "Yes." Came the terse reply. At the entrance next to the enormous iron doors, Miller paused to turn on a big flashlight he'd brought with him. Mulder fished a MagLight out of his pocket and followed him in. On impulse, Scully reached out to hold his hand. This time Mulder knew better than to make a crack. It was stuffy inside, and a whitish dust covered everything. Scully was surprised to see furniture scattered in the halls, and school desks in some of the rooms. It looked as if the inhabitants had simply vanished, leaving everything behind to be entombed. "Where are these records?" Mulder asked. "Right over here." Miller disappeared into a narrow doorway that looked like it led to a closet. Inside he directed the light to a row of coat hooks and began trying to turn each of them. "It's been many years since I've viewed the files. One of these hooks will trigger the opening of a secret panel." "I thought the FBI searched this building several times and couldn't find anything," Scully said skeptically. Miller smiled. "They weren't looking in the right places." Mulder started at the other end, pulling and twisting the hooks himself. They methodically worked their way toward each other until they met in the middle. Miller and Mulder each turned the two center hooks, and a panel near Scully did indeed slide open. The opening was narrow, only about two feet wide and three feet tall. "Who wants to go first?" Miller asked in a strangely humorous tone. "Oh, after you," Mulder said with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. Without hesitation, Miller directed his flashlight into the tiny space, and entered it. Still holding Mulder's hand, he and Scully followed close behind. To their surprise the small entrance opened into a large room filled with filing cabinets. Mulder dropped Scully's hand and opened the top drawer of the nearest one. He pulled out dusty manila files one by one. "Scully, these are the birth records of all the children that passed through this orphanage." She walked over to him and examined the folders with him. "It lists the natural parents as well as the adoptive ones," she said in amazement. They continued to pull files out, absorbed in reading the information that they contained. In their haste to gather information, Miller was all but forgotten. Without warning Miller swung his arm up and came down heavily on the back of Mulder's neck. Mulder staggered backward, trying to reach behind him. To Scully's horror, a syringe was sticking out of his neckline. He fell sideways with a thud. Scully raced over to him and pulled the syringe out. Bending over her inert partner, she could see he was awake, but unable to move or speak. "What did you give him?" "You're a doctor, I'm sure you can guess. I'll give you a hint. It's a depolarizing neuro-muscular paralytic." Scully gasped. He couldn't mean-, "Succinycholine?" "Not enough to kill him, but a few more cc's and his diaphragm is paralyzed. He suffocates but is completely awake the entire time." "Why are you doing this you son of a bitch?" "Because I can." Scully was stunned. Blind rage suddenly surged through her and she leapt up to attack him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Miller now had a gun pointed at Mulder. He pulled a container out of his pocket, and held it out to Scully. "Drink it." "What?" "Unless you want to watch your partner die a slow and painful death you will drink this." He shook it for emphasis while keeping the gun carefully aimed at Mulder's head. "What is it?" "A little whiskey mixed with GHB." "The date rape drug? Why?" "I think you know." He had an oily smile on his face that send a wave of revulsion to Scully's stomach She reached out to take the silver container. She'd decided she was going to fling it in his face, but before her fingers made contact, he struck her viciously across the forehead with the gun. She swayed for a moment, blood trickling down her face. Dazed, she sat down heavily on the floor, dimly hearing Mulder make angry, strangled noises next to her. "You must think I'm stupid indeed not to see what you were going to do. I would never have been able to maintain my position in this community by being stupid Agent Scully." Out of the corner of her eye she saw him set the container down near her and then pull another syringe out of his pocket. He walked over to Mulder and crouched down next to him. Holding the syringe close to Mulder's neck, he repeated his demand. "Drink the whiskey." "How do I know you won't inject him anyway?" "You don't." Scully's head throbbed and her hand came away with blood after touching her forehead. The thought of being touched by this man was sickening, but he'd kill Mulder if she didn't cooperate. She glanced over at Mulder again and felt a slicing pain in her chest. He looked so helpless, so vulnerable. With gritted teeth, she downed the burning liquid. Almost immediately she felt light headed and the world began to spin. Slowly she felt herself falling down next to Mulder, and reached out to try and touch him. The last thing she saw before blacking out was Miller plunging the second syringe into Mulder's neck. ********************************** Dark, it was so dark in here Mulder thought as he lay dying. Only his fallen MagLight illuminated the secret room. He was fully awake, and his lungs were screaming for air. But he couldn't do anything about it. He was paralyzed, and he was going to die. He thought his heart would explode knowing Scully had ingested the drug Miller had given her so she could save him, but the bastard betrayed her and injected him anyway. He suspected Miller had told the truth about the orphanage being closed from a scandal, but Miller had been the sexual predator, not a teacher. God only knew what he had planned to do to her. Mulder couldn't even roar his fury over the situation. His mind began to go dark, sparks of light danced in front of his eyes as the oxygen supply in his body became depleted. It felt like razor blades were cutting his lungs to shreds. Oh, God Scully---. ********************************* Her head was throbbing like a giant fist was opening and closing over it. She felt sluggish, and weak. Where was she? Scully's eyes flew open, suddenly remembering the orphanage and what had taken place there. Mulder-- -. She tried to sit up, but found herself unable to. Looking at her hands she could see rope. Turning her head more, she found the rope was lashed to a post. She was tied to an elaborately carved bed, and with a sickening sensation in the pit of her stomach she knew whose bed it was. Miller. Fearing the worst, she looked down to find herself clad only in her underwear. They were simple and bland; meant for work not seduction. She closed her eyes tight, concentrating on not retching at the idea of Charles Miller touching her. And then she remembered Mulder. Oh no, Miller had-. Her mind blanked, unable to comprehend the idea that Miller had killed Mulder right in front of her. And she was here in his house, tied to his bed and no one knowing where she was. A door opened to her left, and Miller entered wearing a silk robe. As he drew near, Scully began to shake from fear. And fury. "I see you're awake now, how nice. It wouldn't be any 'fun' if you weren't able to fully participate in our session." Scully jerked her head away when he reached done to brush her hair back from her face. Miller gave a low and sinister snicker. "I see I'm going to have to teach you to be obedient Agent Scully. And believe me you *will* submit yourself to me. Just as all the others did." **************************************** A sharp sting of a needle in his shoulder barely penetrated the deep blackness of Mulder's oxygen deprived brain. He was clearly beyond normal sensation, and the man standing over him hoped he wasn't too late. Slowly Mulder came back from darkness, becoming aware of his surroundings. He could feel the panicky sensation of being suffocated and took a great lungful of air. Someone helped him sit up, and steadied him as he literally breathed life back into himself. Groggily Mulder looked up into the face of Calvin Kline. "Looks like I got here just in time. I'm sure sorry I couldn't get here sooner to save your partner." Mulder tried to stand up, but found his legs to be uncooperative, rubbery sticks. "Easy now. We got to get you out of here." "Scully---" "Yes, we're gonna go get her." The two men stumbled together through the small opening, and made their way outside. Mulder was breathing more easily now, and could stand on his own once they emerged from the orphanage. He turned to Kline. "How did you know where I was, and how did you know what to give me?" The older man hung his head in shame. "Let's get in the pickup and I'll tell you the whole story." The moon was full as Kline sped down the back roads to Charles Miller's mansion. "I lied to the sheriff and the FBI about what not knowin' that John Doe feller." "You knew him?" Mulder asked. "Yes sir. He was one of the boys up at the orphanage, and I hired him come down and help me around the farm during the summer. He was a good boy, hard worker, but he was haunted by the idea of not knowin' who his real folks were. One day he comes down with a file in his hand. He said he found a secret room full of files about the orphans. When he handed me that folder, well sir I almost fell out right on the spot." Mulder could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "What did it say?" "It said that boy was the illegitimate son of Charles Miller's father." "They were brothers?" "Yes." "How did he wind up dead inside the orphanage?" "Well, that boy left town. Said he was going to make something of himself and then come back and let everyone know who he really was." Mulder nodded. "Which I take he did a few months ago?" "Yes. He came to me first to show me what a man he'd grown up to be. I was so proud of him. He'd gone over to Europe and started a financial business in Germany. By shear hard work he became a millionaire at age 35.I was so proud of him. He was the closest thing to a real son I ever had." Kline paused, remembering the encounter with a smile on his face. But then his expression grew dark. "He said he made a dinner appointment with Charles Miller about a business proposition, but he was really plannin' to go up there and tell him who he was. I begged him not to go. Miller was a dangerous man. There were rumors that he killed some people, and well-," "He raped young girls at the orphanage." Mulder supplied. Kline nodded. "I was so afraid for him, that I followed him up to the house. They got into a terrible argument and then everything got real quiet." "What happened?" "I ran into there and found him on the floor, with Miller standing over his body laughin' his head off. I wanted kill him on the spot. He said he'd found out who the boy really was and poisoned his dinner. And he laughed about it. That son of a bitch laughed at that poor man's death." Kline stopped, too over come with emotion to continue. Mulder listened to the quiet sobbing for a while, but urged him to continue. They were nearly at the mansion. "Go on Mr. Kline, tell me the rest." "I told Miller he wasn't gonna to get away with it, that I was goin' to the police. I knew his family's money had gotten him out of trouble before, but not this time." "But you didn't go." Kline shook his head. "He was more evil than I ever realized." Mulder waited, knowing it was going to be bad. "He told me he was gonna kill my wife Eleanor. That son of a bitch was plannin' to kill her too." Kline was openly crying now. "But Mr. Kline, I understood that your wife was dead." "No. That was part of the deal. I help Miller cover up the man's death and he puts Eleanor in a proper home. She's got Alzheimer's real bad and I couldn't take care of her no more. She gets help, and I tell everyone she's dead so they don't know where I got the assistance." "So you helped him put the body in the orphanage?" "I pulled the doors off myself with a tractor." Mulder was genuinely puzzled. "But I examined those doors myself. There weren't any marks on them at all." "Those weren't the real doors. Miller had those iron monstrosities made up special. The first set came and didn't fit. So he just left them inside and welded the second set into place. He said puttin' the second set out would make the death appear more mysterious." "Where are the doors now?" "I got 'em hid in the barn." "What about the injection I was given?" "Miller said I had to help him get rid of you. He'd seen Miss Scully in town with you and wanted her for himself. He said for me to get the injection at a vet friend of mine so he wouldn't be implicated. He said if I didn't cooperate he'd kill Eleanor for sure. He's gotten even crazier these past few months. I'm not proud of it, but I got what he wanted. My friend said there was an antidote to the injection and I took it too." "Why are you helping us?" "Because that man has to be stopped. He's already hurt too many people and I'm not gonna let him use me to hurt any more." Mulder was about to ask more questions but they arrived at the mansion. Kline pulled around to a side gate that he knew how to break into. As they got out of the truck, Kline pulled a twelve gauge shotgun out from under the front seat. Mulder eyed it with trepidation. "Do you really think you're going to need that?" Kline gave him a wry smile. "Well, around here it's the only way to take care of snakes." *********************************** Scully felt fear choking her. Miller was telling her in detail what he was planning to do to her, enjoying the look of terror in her eyes. He pulled out various 'instruments' and showed them to her one by one. He bent forward over her with a smile of pure evil. It disappeared quickly when Scully spat on it. A sharp crack sounded when he hit her on the face. He raised his arm a second time when a deafening explosion sounded in the room. Bright red blossomed across Miller's chest and slumped forward onto Scully. She screamed at seeing Miller's lifeless body sprawled across her. Her mind blanked, not understanding the why there was a body on top of her bound hands and feet. She felt someone cutting the ropes, and started fighting with all her might. A familiar voice was speaking to her in soothing tones, trying to penetrate the dark recesses of her mind. "Scully, Scully it's me. Don't you recognize me?" She stopped fighting and looked up into hazel green eyes. "M-Mulder?" He crushed her against him. "Yes it's me Scully. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you anymore." She hugged him back, choking on tears. "Don't leave me. Promise you'll never leave." "I promise Scully. With all my heart I promise." ****************************************** **End Part 2 A Life Unknown--Epilogue ************************************* She was more psychologically hurt, than physically damaged, but her doctor insisted on an overnight stay for observation. Every time her door opened she jumped in anticipation, but he never came. Mulder's absence at the hospital saddened Scully in a way she couldn't have foreseen. Nearly everyone who came to visit invariably asked where he was. In times past she would have known the answer to that question, but now she could only shrug. Worst of all, he didn't come to take her home as he usually did when she was discharged.Her mother was left that mundane task. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" her mother asked with mild concern. She'd raised such an independent daughter who didn't always know how to ask for help. "No mom, I'm just tired. All you'd end up doing is watching me sleep." "I could do that," she said with a smile. "Dana--," she hesitated," is everything all right between you and Fox?" "Yes mom, why do you ask?" "I didn't see him at all at the hospital. It's not like him to stay away from you, especially when you're sick." "He has his reasons Mom. I'm sure he'll stop by later." Scully said it, but she didn't really believe it. "Well then, I'll let you get your rest." "Goodnight Mom." "Goodnight Dana." Scully closed the door with a sigh. She suddenly felt a profound loneliness in her empty apartment. After changing into a pink cotton sleep shirt, she took two pain pills, drew the curtains in her bedroom, and crawled under the covers. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. The nightmares of being trapped stopped completely after Mulder rescued her. Had he known that they had stopped, he would have labeled them prophetic and disposable after the murder case was solved. But he didn't know, and there was no reason to get out bed any time soon. She didn't hear the opening of her front door, or the man who roamed through the rooms calling her name. She didn't awaken until he'd pulled the covers back, and hauled her up against him. He held her head in the crook of his arm, and probed her neck with his long fingers in search of a pulse. By that time she was awake enough to see who it was. "What are you doing Mulder?" He moved his hand from her neck to the side of her face. He never said a word, but she could see jagged pain etched on his face. His thumb traced her soft lips before dipping within to press against the delicate skin inside her bottom lip. His breathing was erratic, and his eyes so dark the irises disappeared all together. She reached up to press her hand against his, and closed her lips over the thumb in her mouth. She sucked it with gentle tugs, wrenching a ragged groan from deep within him. He put her in a crushing embrace, wrapping his arms around her and molding her body to his. "I tried to stay away from you Scully, but I can't, I just can't. It hurts too much." The anguish in his voice caused an echoing pain within her. What did he mean, stay away from her? "I know you don't want me to touch you, but I can't help myself. That's all I want to do when I see you. When I held you at Miller's house, I never wanted to let you go." He couldn't hide the despair in his voice. "I could never pity you Scully. I love you." She finally understood what he meant. He was referring to the night in the motel room when she'd rejected him; sent him away with a terse comment and a cold rebuff. But things were different now. She'd missed him more than he'd ever know, and she never wanted him to leave again. Somehow she had to make him see the truth of her feelings. "It's all right Mulder," she whispered in his ear. "I want you to touch me." He sucked in a startled breath and she felt his hands clench instinctively against her back. When he made no immediate move, she began to run her hands over his back under the blue sweater he wore. There was a soft cotton shirt underneath, and she stroked him through that. Tight muscles relaxed under her ministrations, and his breathing became slow and deep against her. He didn't protest when she pulled the sweater off, and continued to caress him. Her hands moved over his chest and upper arms. He twitched reflexively when she moved across his belly. With both her hands, she brought his right hand forward to cradle her breast as she had done that other night. "Please Mulder. Touch me." He needed no further prompting and cupped both breasts in his hands while he kissed her hungrily. His thumbs brushed lightly against her nipples, causing them to harden immediately. She arched into him, urging further contact. Suddenly Scully broke the kiss and looked directly into his eyes. Her hands covered his, which in turn covered her breasts. "I want your mouth there." Now the aggressor, Mulder pulled her night shirt and panties off. She lay back against the sheets, both arms raised above her head. "Spread your legs for me Scully," he said in a harsh whisper. She complied, allowing his eyes every liberty. He became impossibly hard by her willing display. He stood and frantically removed his clothing, never taking his eyes from her supple body. When he'd removed the last of the physical barriers separating his bare skin from hers, he carefully lay down between her legs. He took a sensitive nipple in his mouth and suckled like a baby. His mouth was incredibly soft, warm, and he made greedy, hungry noises against her. She gasped and moaned as exquisite pleasure coursed through her body and sent a surge of wetness between her legs. "Mulderrrrrrrrr---" Propping himself up on one arm, he reached down between her legs, seeking her sweetness. He groaned against her neck when he encountered the wetness there. It felt like he was rubbing his fingers in the fruit of a sun-warmed peach. Her sensitive button of nerves was already hard and twitched in tandem with his erection. He dipped his fingers inside her, gathering more moisture and vigorously rubbed her again. She let out a series of short pants as she bucked against him, and became like a tightly wound spring ready to explode. "Come for me Scully. I want to see your face when you come." Those words and the man who said them were enough to send her careening over the edge. Every joint in her body extended like a drawn bow as the waves of pleasure broke over her, and through her. When she began to relax he entered her, wanting to feel the exquisite undulation of her inner muscles against him. Once he was buried in her he paused, reveling in the sensation of being held like a tight fist. Scully pressed her hands into the small of his back urging him to move. Thrusting slowly, he kissed and fondled her everywhere, taking enormous pleasure in the softness of her skin. "So beautiful, so beautiful" he murmured over and over. His movements became frantic as he neared release; no longer using the leisurely strokes he had before. Scully sensed it and reached down to rub herself; her orgasm triggering his. She thought his face was so handsome when he came; a mixture of bliss and anguish at the same time. He collapsed on top of her, the full weight of his body pressing her into the bed. She didn't mind, and wrapped her arms and legs around his torso. He kissed her neck, but she felt a greater wetness there. Pulling his head back, she was startled to see tears on his face. "Mulder---" she murmured. "I love you Scully, for so long I've loved you." She didn't think she'd ever seen him so vulnerable before. He never allowed her to see this deeply sweet side of him in relation to his feelings about her. The revelation caused tears of her own to well up and spill over too. He leaned in and gently kissed them away. "Mulder I love you too," she said against his lips. She wondered if it would be enough to sustain their fragile bond; its newness causing an added vulnerability to the already tenuous position they held at the FBI. And with their enemy the Consortium. She feared she could be used against him by them, and knew that's why they had both avoided this intimacy for as long as they did. They would keep their relationship as secret as they could, live a clandestine existence not unlike the one Charles Miller and his illegitimate brother had. Their loved ones would not be told of it, and even friends and superiors had to be kept in the dark. A love that would be furtive and unknown, but not to one another. Looking into his eyes now, it all seemed a far distant concern. With him she could face it all. END