TITLE: A NEW KIND OF FEAR AUTHOR: Judie Murphy SPOILERS: Small reference to FTF. Story set somewhere in season 6 before Biogenesis. Season 7 & 8 don't exist in this universe. RATING: PG-13 - for violence. Anyone who finds violence disturbing should bail out now. CLASSIFICATION: X, MT, UST/MSR, MA, SA. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully investigate the unexplained disappearance of three couples and when the X-File turns into the search for a serial killer, they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and any characters you recognise belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Studios and have been used without permission. Anyone else belongs to me. No infringement of copyright intended. I have no psychiatric training and the killer described herein is a product of my imagination and the result of research into serial killers. Any similarity to any person, living or dead is coincidental. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not a resident of the USA although I would like to visit some day. I didn't want to offend anyone so I exercised some artistic licence and made up fictitious towns and locations to suit the story. I love MT and this story started off as a short MT vignette but took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it. THANKS: A very special thank you to Sally and Ten for your much needed support, encouragement and suggestions. Your willingness to read the draft over and over was appreciated more than you can possibly imagine. Thanks also to Peg and Suzanne for your suggestions and medical advice. Without four such wonderful beta readers, this story would never have been posted. FEEDBACK: Yes please to judie@w... ARCHIVE: I'd be honoured, just let me know where. A NEW KIND OF FEAR Prologue. Tears ran down his cheeks as the man gently laid the woman's limp body in the cold ground beneath the large oak tree. He crossed her hands over her chest and tenderly placed a bunch of local wildflowers in her lifeless fingers. He gave no thought to the bloody, broken body of the man who lay discarded in a heap under her at the bottom of the grave. He was not important. The grieving man angrily brushed the tears from his eyes and began to fill the hole with dirt. When he was done, he looked around the quiet woods and wiped the sweat from his brow. His arms rested on the shovel and his thoughts turned to the woman lying in the ground at his feet. He'd prayed that she would be the one but his prayers had gone unanswered. He sighed, wondering why he even bothered with a God who had deserted him so many times. Some habits were hard to break, he thought. He hung his head and said a small prayer for the recently departed as tears filled his eyes again. He felt sorry for her but mostly he felt sorry for himself. A sense of disappointment at his failure flooded through him, which was quickly replaced by resentment. It was all her fault. She'd been tested, given the choice, but she'd failed. This one in the ground was like the others and Daddy had been angry, very angry. He hated how Daddy got into his head sometimes. He wanted to tell Daddy to get the fuck out of his life but knew he couldn't and he despised himself for being such a coward. But what choice did he have? He had to find another one because Daddy expected it of him. Whatever happened, Daddy must be pleased. The man's tears were gone as quickly as they had come and after a few minutes of respectful silence, he turned away. However, he did make a promise to himself as he threw the shovel into the back of his van. The next one would make the right choice because he would guide her. He smiled to himself. Yes, that is what he would do. Daddy wouldn't get angry and no one would have to be punished again. ******************************************************************** Hoover Building, Basement office Monday 8.15AM "You're joking, right?" Dana Scully looked at her partner and knew from the expression on his face that he was definitely not joking, but then she wondered why she even thought he might be. This *was* Mulder she was talking to after all. "Come on, Scully. How do you explain what happened to three Caucasian couples, aged between 35 and 48, who mysteriously disappeared without a trace? They were apparently stable, professional people who resided out of state and were just passing through Hannington on their way home. There is no history of violence, domestic unrest or mental illness. From all accounts, they were happily married and financially secure." "I don't know what's going on here, Mulder, but you don't honestly believe that they were abducted by some kind of extraterrestrial, do you? It may be just a coincidence that these three couples disappeared from around..." "Hannington, Alabama," he supplied, passing her the file. "Maybe it's a carjacking..." Scully opened her mouth as if to continue but Mulder held up his hand for silence. "Not only did these three couples disappear without a trace but so have their cars and any personal belongings that were with them at the time. Their credit cards and bank accounts have not been accessed since their disappearance. When the local PD investigation came up empty, they referred the three similar cases to the Bureau and Skinner sent them on to us. The first couple was reported missing about two months ago; the next couple four weeks ago and the last couple disappeared just 10 days ago. Do you see a pattern developing here, Scully?" "None of that makes these XFiles, Mulder." "Sure it does. Their disappearances are unexplained. No leads, no bodies and no one saw anything. Unsolved cases, Scully, with pressure being put on the Bureau by the families of the missing couples to find them. And now pressure is being put on us to find out what happened." He shrugged and looked up just as Scully licked her lips. God, she had no idea what that did to him. Her next question brought his attention back to the case. "Is there any connection between the couples?" she asked flipping through the file. "None that the local PD has found other than the fact that all three couples stopped to buy something in Hannington according to the last purchase on their credit cards." "What did they buy?" "Nothing that links them together. Three separate purchases at three different stores. One for petrol, one for souvenirs and one for clothing." "What about Hannington? Any connection between the town and any of the missing people?" "The first missing woman, a woman by the name of Sally Stokes, is the only one with links to the town. She grew up there but married seven years ago and left the area. She only returned to Hannington with her husband two months ago to attend her father's funeral. They were reported missing when the husband failed to show up at work. The local sheriff questioned Mrs. Stokes' brother who incidentally, still lives and works in Hannington, but he claims they left the day of the funeral and he hasn't heard from either of them since. There's no dispute over the inheritance since everything was left to the brother. The sheriff checked him out but he came up clean. The other couples were passing through town on their way home. The details are all there in the file but the sleepy town of Hannington is the only link to all six people." Mulder waggled his eyebrows at her as she looked back down at the file. He smiled to himself as he leaned back in his chair, hands resting behind his head. He loved this part where she would try and find a logical explanation for a case. The only trouble was that it was becoming more difficult for him to hide his feelings for her. When they had first been partnered, he'd been determined not to become involved with someone he worked with ever again. He'd been there, done that and it had ended badly. In fact, he still bore the scars. It had been easy to push Scully away with his caustic attitude and propensity to ditch her. The trouble was, she kept coming back for more, pulling his ass out of the frying pan more times than he could count. He hadn't even noticed when she became the most important person in his life; he just knew that she was, and that he loved her as he had loved no other women. He sometimes thought she felt the same way about him but then at other times, he wasn't so sure. He was a Goddamned profiler for Christ's sake, and yet he couldn't manage to profile his own partner with any degree of accuracy. Oh sure, he knew how she would react in a given work situation but she kept sending him mixed signals about their personal lives. Not that he could blame her, he thought, because he kept sending her mixed signals too. Well, he couldn't help how he felt about her but he certainly wasn't going to act on it. He was too afraid something would happen and he would lose her. That seemed to be his luck with the people he loved, and he wouldn't risk it, not with the best thing that had ever happened in his life. Scully's voice broke into his revere as she looked up from her perusal of the file and asked, "No bright lights in the sky, no reports of unidentified aircraft over the town?" Damn, she was good. "Well, there were reports of lights in the sky just north-east of town," he admitted. "So, you're suggesting what.... alien abduction and not swamp gas?" She looked at him with a fleck of mischief in her sparkling blue eyes. "Oooh, Scully, I love it when you open your mind to extreme possibilities. My heart's all aflutter." He clutched his right hand over his heart, threw back his head and shut his eyes in a gesture of mock anguish. Scully struggled to hide a smile at his antics. No point in encouraging him. That wasn't how they played the game, although she *was* getting sick of the 'look but don't touch' aspect of their relationship. Not that she intended doing anything about it. No way. She couldn't go through the pain of loving someone and then losing them like she had her father, Melissa, Jack, Emily... No, it was safer to keep Mulder at a distance. Mulder straightened up in his chair and looked at her, seeing the ghost of a smile that she tried to hide. But enough of this, time to bring it on home. "Witnesses to abductions report bright lights and missing time, Scully. None report the disappearance of cars and all their belongings." "OK, I'll bite, Mulder. What do you think caused these couples to disappear without a trace?" "I'm not sure but...." Mulder couldn't resist adding with that devilish grin of his, "that's what we have to find out. Let's just say that whatever happened to those couples has happened three times around the same town which..." he trailed off. "...is more than a coincidence," she finished for him. "And you don't like coincidences." He shrugged in that annoying way he had when he knew something she didn't and then he nodded. "So, I assume we're headed for Hannington?" she asked. "Ooh Scully, you know me too well. You take all the fun out of it." "Mulder, I can read you like a book." "Well, it doesn't matter what we think because Skinner signed off on the 302 this morning. Our plane leaves in 2 hours." Scully just raised her eyebrows in a why-didn't-you-say-so-in-the-first-place gesture. Mulder just grinned and said, "Because that really would have taken all the fun out of it." ******************************************************************** Hannington Police Station Monday Early afternoon 4 hours later The flight from DC was uneventful and, after collecting their luggage, they rented a car and headed to the local police station to speak with Sheriff Cameron, the officer who had referred the missing persons cases to the Bureau. The receptionist at the front counter directed them down a cluttered hall to a small office at the far end. The door was open and a dark-haired, slightly overweight man sat behind a desk. The desk was overflowing with files that looked as if a slight breeze would send them crashing to the floor. He was talking on the telephone. Judging by the rigid way he held his body, the middle-aged man was talking to a superior on the phone and his half of the conversation was punctuated with a lot of "yes sir's". His tired brown eyes looked up at the agents as they held up their ID's. He waved them to the chairs in front of his desk. He ended the call with a final, "Yes sir, they've just arrived, would you ... all right ... I'll tell them ...goodbye, Sir." He turned to face his visitors. After completing the obligatory handshakes and formal introductions, Sheriff Cameron waved his hand at the telephone. "That was A.D. Skinner on the phone. We caught a break in this case and the focus has changed from missing persons to a murder investigation." "You found the bodies of those missing couples?" asked Scully. "Well...Yes and no. Two hikers found a body buried in the woods. Apparently, their dog started digging under a tree and exposed a human foot. One of the hikers stayed with the body while the other one came back here to report the find." He reached for a file and held it out. Mulder took the file and handed it to Scully who opened it while Mulder peered over her shoulder. There wasn't much in it and, within minutes, they both looked back to the Sheriff. "The forensic team that the Bureau sent out from the Springhurst Field Office is at the site now. From the description they just radioed in, the victim matches one of our missing women." He referred to the notes in front of him. "Umm, a Mary Blackmore, the last woman reported missing. No sign of the others yet." Mulder glanced at Scully and she gave him an I-told-you-so look. He shrugged. Well, he hadn't really thought there was anything paranormal about the disappearances anyway. The Sheriff looked at the two agents and leaned back in his chair. "Your AD wants you to take over and report back to him later today after you visit the crime scene." When Mulder opened his mouth as if to protest, the Sheriff held up his hand for silence. "Look, I don't mind telling you that I'm mighty glad you're here. We don't get too many murders in these parts and our small town isn't equipped to handle a murder investigation. If there's anything you need, just let me know. I'm more than happy to let you handle things." Surprised at the Sheriff's obliging attitude, Mulder simply said, "Thanks." He hoped the local field office would be as cooperative. He hated it when the locals resented his and Scully's presence on a case. After all, the common goal was to catch a killer but sometimes inter-office rivalry got in the way. He caught Scully's eye and he gave her a wry smile. Maybe profiling this case wouldn't be so bad if they had the support of the Sheriff's department. And, of course, he had his partner to pull him back from the edge if he went too close. He marvelled again at the connection they shared, because he hadn't experienced it with any other person. God, he needed her and he wondered if she knew how much, but somehow he doubted it. Scully returned his gaze and her eyes softly assured him that whatever lay ahead, they would see it through together. However, inwardly she cringed at the thought of Mulder immersing himself in another profile but she knew he had no choice. Skinner would expect nothing less than a total commitment from both of them. She would just have to make sure Mulder took care of himself and watch his back. Just like always. "How far away is the crime scene? She asked, turning back to the Sheriff. "About thirty to forty minutes, depending on traffic. The highway is usually busy this time of day. I can take you out there now if you're ready." "Thanks, but we have a rental so we'll follow you if you don't mind." "Sure. Let's go." ************** Hannington Forest Monday 40 Minutes later They arrived at the crime scene just as search teams were moving out to look for other possible gravesites or any other evidence that might assist the investigation. Mulder and Scully were introduced to Special Agent Tom Aitken, a pleasant, well-mannered 'wet behind the ears' young man from the Springhurst Field Office. He seemed in awe of his Washington counterparts and was more than willing to let the DC Agents run the investigation. Scully smiled to herself when she recognised the signs of hero worship directed at her partner and wondered if Mulder noticed. However, one look at her partner made it clear that he was too busy concentrating on the activity at the grave to notice the idolized looks of the younger agent. Well, it certainly made their job easier to have the cooperation of the local Field office *and* the Sheriff's Department. She only hoped Mulder wouldn't piss them off too soon. They waited off to one side while the photographer took photos of the body and surrounding area from all angles. When he was done, the Sheriff, Aitken, Mulder and Scully ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and looked down at the now exposed body of Mary Blackmore. She was laid out with her hands crossed over her chest, a bunch of wilted wildflowers in her hands. The woman looked like Snow White waiting for the Prince's kiss to awaken her, Scully thought sadly. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. She slipped them on as she knelt down beside the shallow grave. The three men stood back to give her room, their hands stuffed in their pockets. She began her preliminary examination and then she half-turned the body and continued with her inspection. After a few more minutes, she peeled off her gloves and Mulder helped her up. "Let's have it, Scully." "Female Caucasian, mid forties. Judging from the condition of the body, I estimate time of death was approximately 32-48 hours ago. The cause of death was a single gunshot to the heart, probably a .38. Death was instantaneous. Apart from the gun shot wound, the only other visible injury is to her left wrist." Her partner leaned over and took a closer look. "Cuffs?" "I'd say cuffs at this stage. I can't tell until I take a look under the microscope. It's interesting to note that some of the abrasions are recent and some are partially healed. There's not much more I can tell you right now. If the forensic people have finished, let's get the body back to town. I'd like to start the autopsy right away. Can you arrange for me to use the local hospital, Sheriff?" "Sure, Agent Scully, no problem." Aitken spoke to one of the forensic team from the Springhurst Field Office, who motioned to his men to remove the body. Mulder stood back and surveyed the immediate area, committing all the details of the crime scene to memory. He was deep in thought when Scully walked up behind him. Scully nudged him in the ribs and he jumped. "Don't do that Scully," he complained. "C'mon, partner, give. What are you thinking?" "I was thinking about how the victim was placed in the grave. This guy really cared for her." "What makes you..." Scully never got a chance to finish the sentence. Excited voices could be heard coming from the direction of the forensic team who had just removed the remains of the murdered woman. They hurried over to find out what was causing all the commotion. As they approached, the Sheriff pointed to another corpse at the bottom of the grave, partially uncovered now that the woman's body had been removed. "Looks like we got another one." Both agents peered into the hole and then stood back to let the forensic team do their job. Mulder glanced at his partner. "I think you should stick around, Scully. It would be helpful if you could give me a preliminary report on this one too." "Sure. I'm guessing this is her husband." Mulder nodded his head in agreement. When the forensic team had carefully exposed the body and collected their evidence and the photographer had documented the scene for a second time, Scully pulled on a clean pair of gloves and climbed down to take a closer look. God, the body was a mess. She closed her eyes to try and blot out the sight of the battered man before her but it didn't help. She opened her eyes when she felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced up to see Mulder looking at her. He searched her eyes, silently asking if she was all right. She nodded reassuringly and looked back down. She would never get used to seeing the horrific injuries that one human being could inflict upon another. Then again, she supposed, if she ever did, it would be time to quit. She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat and turned her attention to the cadaver. He was Caucasian but it was difficult to judge his age because his face was badly beaten. She doubted that a visual ID would be possible. He was lying on his side, his arms and legs splayed out in all directions. It was obvious he had been dumped in the hole and left where he had fallen. There was no posing of this body, unlike the woman who had been laid out with care. His clothes were in tatters and she guessed that at one time, the fabric had probably been an expensive suit. Gently lifting and pulling the remains of the bloodied suit away from the body, she examined the back of the corpse. It was a mass of bruises and bloodied welts that had become infected. The marks were consistent with being kicked and whipped. There were ugly bruises near his kidneys and judging by the yellow colour mixed in with the purple, a few of the blows had been inflicted up to a week before death. There was more bruising on his shoulders and it looked as if there were a few broken ribs and definitely a broken leg. Rolling the body so she could see the chest, she noted even more bruising and a single gunshot to the heart. Probably, the same calibre gun that had killed the female, she thought. The time of death was most likely about the same time as the woman but she would have a better idea when she did the autopsy. There were deep abrasions around both wrists; most likely cuffs again. She sighed and straightened up. She sensed Mulder fidget behind her. She turned and he put out his hand and helped her up, moving them both a few feet away from the putrid smell. She filled him in on what she had found so far. He didn't say anything as he chewed on his bottom lip, deep in thought. "The other couples are buried here too, Scully, I can feel it. Can you postpone doing those autopsies for a few hours and see if the search teams find anything else?" "I suppose I could always get an early start in the morning. What are you looking for, Mulder?" "I don't know exactly but I need you here if we turn up any more bodies. It will help me refine my profile if you can give me a preliminary report to work with until you complete the full autopsies." "What makes you think the other couples were killed and even if they were, why would the killer bury all the bodies close to each other?" He shrugged. "Just a hunch." Before she could reply, he turned on his heels and strode over to the Sheriff. He quickly became engrossed in a conversation with Cameron. For a moment, she indulged herself and watched Mulder. He moved with a graceful confidence she admired although that wasn't all she admired if she was honest with herself. She had never met a man like Mulder. He was her best friend and she understood him better than anyone and understanding Mulder was not easy. They had been spending more time together over the past few months, sharing take out meals or watching videos after work, alternating between her place and his. He loved her, she knew that, had known it for sure when he bared his soul and tried to kiss her in the hallway of his apartment building. She didn't remember much about what happened after that, but when the dust settled, he seemed content to pretend it hadn't happened and so had she. She sighed and reminded herself that it was safer and less complicated that way. Fifteen minutes later, Mulder's hunch was proven correct when another grave was discovered. A third burial site was discovered soon after; both locations found within a half-mile radius of the first grave. Since they were obviously going to be at the site longer than first anticipated, the Sheriff made a few phone calls and a cheer went up late in the afternoon when a van arrived loaded with an urn of coffee and sandwiches for everyone. Stopping for a quick coffee and sandwich herself, Scully watched worriedly as Mulder stood under a large oak tree, staring into the distance, oblivious to what was going on around him. She was on her way to get him to eat something when she was called back to examine another body. Sighing, she turned around, promising herself that she would make sure he ate before they headed back to the motel. As the afternoon light faded and darkness fell, the forensic team was forced to bring in heavy-duty searchlights to illuminate the gravesites as they continued to painstakingly exhume the bodies. The search teams were dismissed with orders to rest and return at dawn the next day. Finally, the last cadaver was loaded onto a stretcher and placed into the waiting ambulance at about 11PM. The forensic team promised to send their findings to Scully and Agent Aitken as soon as possible. Then they piled into their cars and followed the ambulance back to the highway. Scully stretched her aching back and decided that the autopsies would definitely wait until the morning. She was dead on her feet and needed sleep. She looked around for her partner. He was still leaning against the large oak tree. Mulder was deep in thought, trying to get a feel for the monster that had murdered these six people. He knew serial killers didn't just happen; they evolved over time. Something had happened in the last three months to set this guy off. Something critical in his life. But what? And why take two victims at once and why a husband and wife? That in itself was unusual. Most serial killers concentrated on one victim at a time but this unsub liked married couples. Why? What was the motive? Scully walked up to him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder, jerking him out of his revere. "Shit, don't do that, Scully. That's the second time today. You just aged me ten years," he complained. "Sorry," she said, apologetically. "So, what have you got?" "More of the same. As you know, these last four bodies were also couples, the male buried under the female. It's more difficult to tell if they match the description of the other missing couples since the bodies are in a more advanced state of decomposition than the first two. It seems a safe bet that they are the ones we were looking for though. All of them were shot through the heart. The men were badly beaten and dumped under the women. God, Mulder, such cruelty. Those men suffered a lot before they died." "And the women...?" he asked gently. "Same as the first one. Wildflowers in their hands, arms crossed over their chest and abrasions to their left wrist. Oh, and something odd. None of the bodies had any identification or personal effects on them. No watches, rings, keys, cell phones, lighters, wallets ...even one guy's cufflinks had been removed. Also their shoes and belts were missing as well." "Hmm ... Good catch, Scully. I doubt the motive was robbery though. The perp didn't need to remove all identification from the bodies or abuse the men that way if money was the issue. And let's not forget that the victim's credit cards haven't been used since they disappeared. What about time of death?" "Well, I can only give you an approximate at this stage but I can tell you that the first bodies found were the last couple murdered. As I said, they were probably in the ground for no more than 48 hours and have been tentatively identified as the Blackmores. Based on the rate of decomposition of the other bodies, I estimate the second couple were killed about 2 weeks ago and the other about 5 weeks ago." Mulder did the math in his head as did Scully. "That means he kept the first couple for around 3 weeks before killing them and the second about 2 weeks and the last couple for only 8 days." Scully nodded her agreement. "He's escalating, Scully. It doesn't give us much time before he strikes again." "I know, Mulder. The time from disappearance to death is getting shorter." "I think he'll take his next victims within 24 hours." She looked at him, surprised. "That soon?" "Yeah, he's frustrated. He's getting impatient." He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in an effort to ease the headache that had been building for the last few hours. Scully reached up and gently pushed his hands away and took over massaging his temples. After a few minutes, she let her fingers slide down his cheek. He leaned into her hand and laid his cheek against her palm. "Better?" she asked. Mulder slowly opened his eyes and looked closely at her in the dim light, noticing her tired eyes and drooping shoulders. Even as exhausted as she was, she was still a very beautiful and desirable woman. Down boy, he told himself. He took a deep breath and reminded himself again why it was impossible for them to have a romantic relationship. Not that those reasons seemed important when she was this close to him. It took all his willpower to step back and watch her hand fall to her side. "Thanks, Scully, you make everything better," he said seriously. He paused a moment, then continued, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. "If you're a good girl, I'll return the favour when we get back to the motel. I'll even tuck you in." Scully blushed and hoped the dim light hid her embarrassment. Damn him. How could he turn a simple desire on her part to relieve his headache into a ... a ... well, into a come-on. She went with the tried and true method of dealing with his innuendoes and ignored him. "C'mon, Mulder, let's get out of here. There's nothing more we can do here tonight anyway, now that the bodies have been removed. I've scheduled the first autopsy for eight in the morning, and I *would* like to get some sleep before then," she finished wearily. Mulder smiled to himself, recognising the deflection for what it was. It was how they played the game. "Okay, Scully, let's go." They walked over to where the Sheriff and Special Agent Aitken were giving instructions to three deputies. The Sheriff looked up as they approached and dismissed his men with a nod and then turned to the two DC agents. "I'm going to turn off the spotlights and leave a few men here to guard the crime scenes. The weather should hold so there's no rush to finish tonight. I've asked for and received co-operation from the local press to keep quiet for forty-eight hours." Mulder raised an eyebrow at this almost unheard of support and Cameron gave a wry smile. "The joys of working in a small town. The press actually work with the local PD." Nodding, Mulder turned to Aitken and said, "I'd like to meet with the task force at eight in the morning. I'll have a preliminary profile for you by then." Aitken and Cameron both looked surprised. "You'll have a profile done in the morning?" asked Aitken. "Don't you sleep?" "Not much. Besides, it will only be a preliminary profile but it should be enough to give the team some direction while we wait on the autopsy and forensic results. Agent Scully has arranged to begin the autopsies at eight in the morning so I'd appreciate it if you could have someone pick her up at the motel and take her to the local hospital, since I have no idea where it is and I'll need the rental." "No problem." The younger agent beamed, anxious to assist in any way he could. "We'll see you in the morning then." Mulder turned and place his hand at Scully's back as they headed for the rental. He opened the door for his partner and then slid into the driver's seat of the Taurus. He turned on the headlights and headed out of the woods along a dirt access road. Five minutes later, he turned right onto the deserted highway and pointed the car towards Hannington. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and looked over at Scully, who was slumped in the passenger seat, looking out the side window. "Tell me, Scully. What are the chances of some hikers taking a short cut through the woods and finding the body of that woman because their dog dug under a tree? I mean think about it, maybe a million to one? And then calculate the odds that we are in town investigating the disappearance of said women at the time her body is found, another million to one?" "And your point is?" "I dunno, Scully. I just have a bad feeling about this, that's all." "Come on, Mulder, you've been thinking about this killer since we arrived at the crime scene this afternoon. You must have a preliminary profile done by now, so give." He shrugged and raised his eyebrows in a 'who me' gesture. "Yes, you," she said. "Okay, Scully but what I have is just the basics. I think our unsub is a white male, between 35 and 45 years of age with average intelligence. Something happened in his life recently to trigger the killings. His careful placements of the females and the flowers in their hands suggests his deep affection, even love for them. I think he regrets killing them but, for some reason, feels he has no choice. I'm still trying to figure out why he dumped the men under the women. His mistreatment of the men shows how little he cares for them and yet he places them in the same grave as the women, whom he does care about. It doesn't make any sense." "Maybe he wanted them to be together since he took them at the same time or maybe he just couldn't be bothered digging two graves when one was easier." "Maybe. Whatever the reason, I think the perp is acting out the same abuse on the men that he himself suffered. The repetition of the crime and the narrowing of the time between disappearance and death, means he's getting frustrated. He's searching for someone special, maybe a mother... sister... girlfriend...." he trailed off for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Anyway, I believe the women are the key. I need to figure out why and how he chooses them and why he takes the husbands as well. Did you notice if any of the bodies had been sexually assaulted?" He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her by the reflected light of the dashboard. She raised an exasperated eyebrow at him, implying he wanted information she didn't have. "Come on, Scully, best guess." "All right, Mulder. I'm fairly certain none of the bodies were abused in that way but again, I need to do a full autopsy to be sure." He nodded his understanding of her proviso and then continued. "Since we haven't found a link connecting one married couple to any of the others, it's almost impossible to predict who will be next. I think our perp probably works in the hospitality or tourist industry where there is a pool of potential victims to choose from since our victims were visiting or passing through Hannington and were not residents when they disappeared." He continued to tap his fingers on the steering wheel as his concentrated on both the road and his thoughts. "We should probably look for a dark coloured van or something similar. A dark colour because he needs to be inconspicuous and a van because he needs to be able to transport his victims without arousing suspicion. The van may belong to him or it could be a work vehicle. He needs access to a remote site, possibly a farm or an out of the way house with a cellar or basement. We should check with the local real estate agents for the names of anyone who recently purchased or rented a property fitting those criteria. This guy needs privacy to inflict the injuries we saw today. A property with a nosy neighbour or barking dogs wouldn't suit him." "Well, that helps narrow the field a little. I'm sure some men can be assigned to check on all that tomorrow, but right now, I just want something to eat, take a long hot bath and go to bed... in that order." I must be *really* tired she thought as the words left her mouth. She had unintentionally given him another opening and, of course, he couldn't resist. "Need any help running that bath, Scully?" She should have expected that. She wondered what he would do if she actually said 'yes' to him one day. She was tempted, for just a moment, but common sense prevailed. She wouldn't encourage him but she did mount a counter attack. "Not if you want the continued use of certain parts of your anatomy, Mulder." "Scully, you know I love it when you talk dirty." She turned to look out the window so he wouldn't see the slight smile that threatened to escape. As much as she loved their banter, she wasn't up to it tonight so she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. After all, she had those autopsies to do tomorrow and it would take her all day and possibly most of the next day as well. The thought of all those hours standing over an autopsy table made her back and feet ache already. Mulder chuckled to himself and glanced quickly to his right to look at her before returning his eyes to the road. She looked so tired. She was practically asleep sitting up. He decided to cut her a break and let her off the hook ... this time. His thoughts turned back to the case. He wanted to go to the police station to type up his preliminary profile but knew his partner wouldn't return to the motel unless he did, so he decided to head straight for the motel when they hit town. He could borrow her laptop and work in his room. He was used to very little sleep but he'd learnt over the years that Scully could be a real grouch if she didn't get at least six to seven hours sleep a night. For some reason, the fact that he knew that about her made him feel warm inside. The rumble of her stomach reminded Scully that she'd only eaten a few sandwiches since breakfast. Although worn out, she needed food and so did Mulder, but she knew he wouldn't bother for himself. Time for a little reverse psychology, she thought. She forced her eyes open and turned her head to address her partner. "I'm hungry, Mulder. It's probably too late to get room service so how about we get something to eat before we head back to the motel?" Shit, how could he be so stupid? Of course she was hungry. He tended not to eat when working on a profile but that was no excuse for not looking out for his partner. "Sure, Scully. We just passed a sign advertising 'The Best Take out for 100 miles'." He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. He waggled his eyebrows and flashed her one of those grins that made her heart melt. She ignored the tug on her heart and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I meant real food, Mulder. Not a greasy hamburger that will clog your arteries." "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a burger and fries. You should try it, Scully. At least it tastes like food, unlike that rabbit food you eat. You know, all this talk of food is making me hungry. I guess we should both eat something." He didn't see her satisfied smile as she turned back to look out the window, secretly pleased that it wouldn't be as difficult to get him to eat as she thought. She would compromise on the burger. A few minutes later, he took the exit lane off the freeway and swung into the deserted parking lot of the diner. They went inside, not realising that they were about to become the next couple to disappear without a trace. ************** Location unknown Tuesday At or about sunrise Mulder slowly became aware of how cold he was as he struggled to consciousness and opened his eyes. He tried to bring his hands to his face in an effort to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep but his hands were heavy for some reason. He heard the clanking of chain and looked down at his hands in the dim light. He was surprised to see that his hands were cuffed together, attached to some heavy chain. Shit! Where was he? How did he get here? He couldn't remember. He slowly lifted both hands and dry washed his face in an effort to recall what happened. Even his sleep-addled brain knew he had been drugged and he could feel the heaviness in his limbs that always signified a drug-induced sleep. He was lying on his side and judging by the stiffness throughout his body, he guessed he had been dumped some hours earlier. Mulder slowly lifted his head but from his position on the floor, he couldn't see much. There was a small, dirty window placed high up the grey cinderblock wall to his left and another one above his head. The small amount of light that filtered through was enough for him to estimate that it was a little before dawn. As his head cleared a bit, he attempted to roll over and sit up but his body refused to cooperate. He stretched his aching muscles, trying to get some feeling into his numb limbs. He was cold and stiff and the thin, putrid-smelling mattress under him did nothing to stop the cold from penetrating to the very core of his being. After a few minutes, he was able to force his frozen limbs to respond to his commands. He crawled to the nearest wall, and sat with his back to it as he tried to think past the pounding in his head. He strained to see in the semidarkness but he still couldn't distinguish anything more than vague outlines. He searched his brain for some clue as to how he got here.... wherever *here* was. Come on, Mulder, think. OK, what's the last thing you remember? Umm... he and Scully.... Oh my God, Scully!!! In that split second, memories flooded his mind. He remembered the case they had been sent to investigate and how she had been with him when they stopped at that diner. His heart pounded in his chest and his stomach clenched as he closed his eyes in a silent prayer to a God he no longer believed in but was desperate enough to pray to anyway. Please, let Scully be all right. Maybe she hadn't been taken with him. Maybe she was out there looking for him. Maybe whoever had kidnapped and cuffed him had left her alone. Who was he kidding? he thought grimly. She was nearby; he could feel it. His eyes scanned the immediate area, looking for his partner in the early morning light but he still couldn't see much from where he sat. "Scully, Scully?" he said in a pathetically weak voice. No answer. Please be all right, Scully, he thought desperately. Using the wall for support, he pulled himself to his feet and swayed unsteadily as he waited for the dots before his eyes to clear. He felt his way along the wall and wedged his back into the corner so that he wouldn't fall on his ass. He could see his surroundings more clearly now that he was standing and the rising sun allowed more light to enter the room which further banished the shadows. He heard a soft moan over to his right and instantly turned his head in the direction of the sound. He made out the profile of a pale face lying in the center of a large, four-poster bed, which was in the far right corner of the room, about 10 feet away. It was the profile of a face he would recognize anywhere. Scully appeared small tucked under the covers but at least she looked warm, he thought, as his own body shivered against the cold. Using the wall for support, he stumbled in her direction but was pulled up by the chain after only about three feet. Shit. He couldn't reach her. He looked down and his gaze followed the chain from the cuffs that encased his hands to a metal ring bolted to the corner behind him. Gathering the chain in his hands, he pulled, testing the strength of the anchor. It didn't budge. Damn. No way was he going to prise that ring open or pull out those bolts. He dropped the chain and, although hampered by the cuffs, managed to pat himself down. He had been relieved of his ID and cell as well as his watch, belt, shoes, cuffs, both guns and their holsters. There was nothing he could use to pick the lock. At least he was still wearing the same clothes he remembered putting on the day before. He looked over to his partner again. He needed to know she was all right. Please be all right, Scully, he repeated over and over in his head. "Scully," he called, louder this time. "Are you all right? Goddammit, answer me." He was pleading by this time but there was still no response except for another distinctly feminine moan. At least she's alive, he thought. Now that he had a chance to think about it, he realised she had probably been drugged as well. He would just have to be patient and wait for her to wake up. Unfortunately, that was a virtue he didn't possess; at least not where Scully was concerned. Satisfied she wasn't in any immediate danger, he decided it was about time he turned his attention to finding a way out of this mess. He calculated their prison was about 14 feet by 10 feet. Judging by the direction the sun was streaming in through the gaps in the dirty windows, he was standing in the northeast corner of the room. He could just make out the solid bolts attached to the legs of Scully's iron post bed. They held the bed against the longer wall opposite him with the head of the bed against the smaller wall on his right. A chain was attached to the right hand post of the bed and disappeared under the covers. There was a small hand basin and portable toilet on the same wall as her bed head. It was closer to her bed than his and certainly out of reach for him. A smelly plastic bucket with no handle sat beside his dirty foam mattress and was presumably for him to use as a toilet. Since he only had three feet of chain, he couldn't reach anything in the room other than the bucket. He inspected the walls and noted they were solid concrete as was the floor. There were plumbing pipes hanging from the ceiling under the floorboards, which confirmed his suspicion that they were in a basement or cellar. That was it. No floor coverings, no curtains. The only door to the room was halfway along the smaller wall on his left, under the window. A cupboard stood in the corner. He couldn't help the sense of despair that washed over him as he realized there was nothing within reach to help them escape. Damn! Not that he really expected whoever had kidnapped them to provide anything. His body shivered and he decided to move around to try and warm up. He pushed himself from the wall and paced as far as the chain would allow, then turned and retraced his steps, the chain clanking loudly as he moved. The movement helped warm him a little and, after a few minutes, he felt the stiffness leave his body only to be replaced with a 'pins and needles' sensation. Mulder shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts but he couldn't think with his usual level of alertness because of the remnants of the drug. What happened after they stopped at the diner? His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate. Then he groaned when the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. It was his fault. He should have made the connection. Shit, it was so obvious now. Scully and he had often been mistaken for a married couple, and they certainly matched the victim profile. His heart raced as he thought of what lay ahead of them if this perp followed his MO. He pushed those images to the back of his mind, deciding those thoughts were unproductive. He looked over at his partner and the knot in his stomach tightened further. The longer she remained silent, the more concerned he became. He turned towards the double bed and tried to rouse her again. "Scully? Come on, wake up. I'm getting lonely here by myself and I need you to wake up and talk to me. I told you I had a bad feeling about this one. It's no fun being right and only able to tell myself. Please, Scully, wake up." Scully didn't want to wake up. She was nice and warm, lying in bed. Her eyes fluttered as she heard Mulder's voice. She tried to answer him but only succeeded in uttering another moan. She felt very odd, foggy and disoriented. Not at all like her usual alert self when she woke up; more like when she forced herself to take a sleeping pill after a particularly bad case. Mulder's anxious voice called to her again, louder this time, pleading for her to answer him. Wait a minute, what was he doing in her bedroom? This had better be good, Mulder, she thought. She rolled over and heard the rattle of a chain and felt a heavy weight around her left wrist. What's going on? Her eyes flew open as she raised her head and attempted to throw off the bed covers but gasped as she felt pain in her left arm as something dug into her flesh. Fear and panic surged through her as her eyes followed the chain on her wrist to where it was attached securely to the metal post of the bed head. Mulder watched her wake up, heard her sharp intake of breath and the rattle of the chain. Remembering his own disorientation, he waited for her to calm down, not wanting to startle her any more than she was already. Then, he heard the sweetest sound in the world to him: her voice. "Mulder?" "Over here." Scully forced her trembling body to calm down as she carefully pushed the covers to one side with her right hand. A small part of her still-foggy brain registered that she was dressed in her work suit. She sat up and propped herself against the bed head, her heart still racing as she looked around. She was relieved to see her partner on the other side of the room but wondered why he hadn't come to her side. Then she saw his cuffed hands. He was as close to her as his restraints would allow but he was still over six feet from her bed. "Scully, are you all right?" He asked anxiously. "Yeah, just a bit fuzzy. You?" He nodded slightly, implying that he felt the same. Scully raised one eyebrow in the way that he loved. "You really know how to show a girl a good time Mulder, because I can't remember how we got here," she said, trying not to let her voice shake. "Yeah, well it wasn't all that memorable. What do you remember?" She tried to recall what had happened. She remembered that it had been very late and she'd been able to coax Mulder into stopping at a fast food place on the way back to their motel from the crime scene. They had been discussing his preliminary profile in the car and she remembered wanting to get some food into him before he fully immersed himself in the killer's mind. The small diner had been empty of customers when they arrived at about 11.40PM. They had given their order to the guy behind the counter and sat down at one of the tables. There was only one man on duty but they didn't have to wait long before he brought their food and coffee to the table. She'd thought nothing of it when he refilled their coffee cups. Um...then... that's right! Half way through the second cup of coffee, she felt faint. Mulder rose to help her and she watched him lean on the table for support and then he was sliding to the floor. Then...nothing. "We were drugged, Mulder." "I figure it was the coffee," he agreed. "And I bet our friendly coffee maker at the diner can answer any questions we might have about what happened to those missing couples." She could hear the bitterness in his voice. Then the memories of the case they had been working on hit her. The similarities between the way they were restrained and the marks on the bodies of the victims. There could only be one reason why they had been drugged and chained up like this. She sucked in a breath as the obvious extension of that thought filtered into her brain. "He's the murderer, isn't he, and we're the next victims." It was more a statement than a question. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice but images of the bodies at the crime scene flashed through her mind. Mulder heard the quiver in her voice and tried to reassure her. "Listen to me, Scully. We have an advantage over the other victims. We know what's coming and that gives us an edge." Scully realised he had read her mind as usual. "But why us, Mulder?" He shrugged. "Opportunity. Wrong place, wrong time.... our similarity to the other victims... apparently married. We've been mistaken for a married couple before, you know," he said wryly. "I have the feeling our perp is getting desperate. He took a big chance grabbing us. There's no doubt he's escalating." An image of the tall, heavy set, middle-aged Caucasian who had served their coffee the night before flashed into Scully's mind and she recalled thinking he had small, beady dark eyes. She had noticed his eyes because she had felt them fixed on her more than once and it gave her the creeps. However, he had been pleasant enough so she had dismissed the feeling, blaming it on the horrors she had witnessed at the crime scene. "He must know we're F.B.I. by now since he searched us. Do you think that will make a difference?" she asked. "I doubt it. You know, it all makes sense in a twisted sort of way. Drugged coffee answers the question of how he was able to overpower two healthy adults and make them disappear. I figure he loaded us into our car, parked it somewhere out of sight until he closed up shop and then brought us to this room. The rental is most likely at the bottom of a mineshaft somewhere by now. I guess we're in big trouble unless we can find a way out of here." She looked away, not wanting him to see the fear in her eyes. Oh, Mulder, you have a gift for understatement, she thought, as she remembered the torture inflicted on the previous male occupants of this room. Don't go there, Dana, she told herself. That won't help the situation. Scully climbed off the bed and searched her pockets. Of course, her gun, cell, badge and wallet had been removed. Even the cross around her neck was gone, along with her watch and earrings. She had been left with nothing she could use to pick the lock of the cuffs. She looked under the bed, searching for her shoes, but they were also missing. Whoever has searched her had been thorough. She turned her attention to the bed and lifted the mattress. It was foam, not the type with springs inside but the type of crappy mattress provided in really, really cheap motels. The base under the mattress was made of thick wooden slats that were bolted to a metal frame. She tested the bolts but they were too tight and the slats were too thick to break. She then moved to the small hand basin but it was securely fastened to the wall. Dirty brown water flowed from the one and only tap when she turned it on but it cleared to a more acceptable colour after a few minutes. The portable toilet had no lift up seat or lid so there was nothing she could remove and use as a weapon. Disappointed, she turned to face her partner who still wore a worried expression on his face. She gave a slight shake of her head. She knew he was concerned for her, overly concerned in fact. That used to bother her until she'd realized that she was just as concerned for him. She simply accepted their over-protectiveness towards each other as a further indication of the bond they shared. Mulder had been watching her like a hawk. She looked so vulnerable in her stockinged feet and she reminded him of a small child. Not that he could tell her that. She'd kick his ass and rightly so. "Those bracelets are a nice look on you, Scully, but the surroundings were much more intimate in my dreams." He waggled his eyebrows and inclined his head in a 'come here' gesture. She rolled her eyes and, without saying a word, moved towards him. She was able to move about three feet in his direction before she ran out of chain. Since she was only cuffed by her left wrist, she stretched her right arm as far as she could towards him but fell a few inches short of touching him. Mulder had half-turned his back to her and almost pulled his shoulders from their sockets as he pulled back on both arms as far as the chain would allow but it was no use. Their captor had planned well. For some reason, they were not to touch. "Guess that's as far as I can go," she reported. He nodded as he moved back a few steps and allowed his arms to fall. Scully could see the disappointment she felt mirrored in his face. Mulder always touched her under some pretence or other and she never realised until now how much she relied on it to ground her. She needed his touch now as much as he needed hers. She looked around the rest of the room and came to the same conclusion as Mulder. There was nothing within reach that they could use to unlock the cuffs or use as a weapon. Their eyes met and both silently agreed that the subject was closed. There was no point in discussing the obvious. They were prisoners in this room and that was that. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's not your fault, Mulder." "No, I should have ..." "No," she interrupted angrily. "We were only on the case for less than a day. No one expected you to have all the answers. You are *not* responsible for the actions of this madman." Damn him, why did he think everything was his fault? He opened his mouth to say something but decided that nothing he could say would change her mind or his and so he said nothing. They had been down this road before. After a few minutes of deafening silence, Mulder shrugged and turned his attention to her half of the room, a frown on his face. She looked at him and followed his eyes to her comfortable bed. She felt guilty when she glanced over at his bare mattress on the floor although she realized there was nothing she could do about how the room was divided. "Mulder, do you have any idea why you don't have a bed and facilities like mine?" "Not yet, but I'm working on it. Maybe I should change my aftershave," he quipped. Scully forced herself to smother a smile before it appeared on her face. He was trying really hard to lift her spirits and she loved him for it. "You got the penthouse suite by comparison to my half so why do I get the feeling you don't think much of our accommodation?" he asked with a wry grin, nodding to her half of the room. "I don't know, Mulder, it looks pretty much like the usual second-rate motel rooms you book us into." Mulder feigned a hurt look and he rolled his eyes at her. "You wound me, Scully. I always choose the best rooms available within our limited budget. It's not my fault the budget is less than adequate." He was pleased to see his feeble attempt at humour bring a slight smile to her lips. There was going to be precious little to smile about in the next few days. "You don't need to tell me, Mulder" she retorted, playing along. "I've had to stay in your choice of accommodation for years. Just once, I'd like a five star motel with a spa and all the trimmings." "Ooh, Scully, can I help with the trimmings?" She gave an eye roll of her own and turned her face away so he wouldn't see another small smile that she felt duty-bound to hide. Mulder watched her turn away but not before he saw her smile. Mission accomplished. At least the colour had returned to her face. He tried to run his hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment that his hands were joined. Frustrated, he raised both hands and pushed the hair from his forehead. He chewed on his bottom lip as he turned his attention to the question that had nagged at him ever since he saw Scully lying in that nice warm bed. Not that he begrudged her the comfort but why? "All this segregation," he said, indicating their surroundings with a wave of his cuffed hands, "doesn't seem to make any sense. I can't figure out why he treats the women better than the men but from what we saw at the crime scenes, he obviously does. Why abuse the men and leave the women alone? What's his motive?" "If anyone can get inside his head, Mulder, you can," Scully said with conviction. "I just hope he gives you the time to work him out. How long do you think he will leave us alone before ..."? "Not long." She nodded and then continued in a soft voice, "Mulder, I'm afraid for you." The concern in her voice touched him and he tried to reassure her. "I know but we have a good chance of getting out of this if we can stay alive long enough for the cavalry to arrive. When you didn't turn up to do the slicing and dicing and I missed the meeting, I'm sure Sheriff Cameron checked the motel and realised we didn't return. He's probably backtracking us right now." "But the search team has no way of knowing that we stopped at that particular diner and even if someone saw us pull in, that guy could claim we left after our meal and he hasn't seen us since. There's nothing to tie us to him or that diner, especially if our car is missing along with us." He shrugged. He couldn't argue with her. She was right. It would take time for a team to retrace their movements; time they didn't have because there was no doubt their kidnapper was escalating. He began pacing again, thinking out loud. "I need to figure out what happened to trigger the murders, why married couples ... I know the women are important to him by the way he places their bodies in the graves, but not the men. Why is that?" He rubbed his hands over the stubble of his jaw and looked up at her again. "At the risk of sounding sexist, you might have to do the talking. OK?" "You think he might respond better to me because I'm a woman?" He shrugged. "You saw the condition of the men. It's worth a try." "All right," she agreed, "but I can't get into his head like you can." "Listen to me, Scully. You know what to ask. Just talk and I'll listen. I know you can do it. We make a pretty formidable team, you know." His eyes locked with hers and Scully felt the absolute confidence he had in her flow into her like a tangible force. 'The best,' her eyes told him. Satisfied, Mulder nodded and began pacing again, trying to get a feel for their abductor. Scully watched him from the bed. It was no good asking him to slow down; pacing was his way of working things out. When he was ready, he would tell her what he was thinking. He stopped abruptly and they both tensed and looked towards the door at the sound of a key turning in the lock. ************* They quickly glanced at each other and Mulder took a step back, casually leaning into the corner in a non-threatening posture. Scully seated herself on the edge of the bed as the door slowly opened. She tried to appear relaxed and calm but in reality every muscle in her body was tense and ready to act if an opportunity presented itself. Scully studied the man as he entered the room. She remembered those dark eyes that dominated the plain, round face. He was definitely the man who had served them coffee the night before and she noticed that he had a .38 tucked into his belt. She had seen lots of killers in her time with the FBI and this ordinary looking man in his mid forties could have been anyone's next-door neighbour but she knew looks could be deceiving. He had killed at least six people, and she suppressed a shudder at the thought that they might be next. The man balanced the tray with one hand while he used the other hand to close the door behind him. He smiled broadly at Scully but pointedly ignored Mulder. She returned his smile with a defiant stare and rose to her feet. Watching her glare at their captor, Mulder decided the man must be made of stone. Personally, he found it difficult to resist that look when she directed it at him, but this man seemed oblivious to the 'Scully stare'. He found that information interesting and filed it away for future reference. It might be relevant to understanding the man and his attitude to women. Placing the breakfast tray on the floor just beyond the limit of Scully's chain, their kidnapper nudged the tray forward with his foot, his eyes never leaving her face. He was pleased with what he saw. Yes, Daddy was pleased too. This one was not afraid... she didn't hide or turn away from him... maybe she would be the answer to his prayers after all. He smiled again and gestured to the food on the tray as he stepped back. It was obvious to Scully that he wanted her to eat although he hadn't said a word since entering the room. He didn't seem at all perturbed that she glared at him. He actually smiled more broadly, if that was possible. She glanced down at the breakfast tray, which she noticed was made of a soft, pliable cardboard. The food consisted of buttered toast, a blueberry muffin, scrambled eggs and hashed brown potatoes, which were served on flimsy paper plates. The coffee, obviously hot, judging by the steam that escaped through the hole in the lid, was in a polystyrene cup. Sugar, milk and cream were provided in sealed packets like those found in any cafe or motel room. She noticed that the meal was for only one person and wondered if Mulder was to be given anything to eat or drink. There were no utensils of any kind. Their host had done this before, she thought, because there was nothing on the tray that could be used as a weapon, although the coffee had potential. She hoped the perp would come close enough so that she could throw the hot liquid in his face and then use her training to overpower him. It wouldn't be the first time a suspect had underestimated her small stature. With this in mind, she moved towards the tray and stood beside it, hoping for just such an opportunity. "Good morning, Sally. I brought you some breakfast," he said proudly, displaying that irritating smile again as he pointed to the tray. Scully looked at Mulder and he nodded his head slightly. His eyes told her to play along. Her first thought was to tell this guy that her name was *not* Sally but something stopped her. She vaguely remembered that one of the victims was named Sally something or other. Coincidence? Possibly. At times like this she needed Mulder's eidetic memory to recall the exact details. Her instincts told her to make small conversation, draw him out and get him to relax. Anything to help Mulder get inside the guy's head and work out a way to get them out of there. "Good morning. I am a little hungry. Are you going to join me?" She asked, hoping he would come within range. He seemed surprised at her offer but backed up a few steps as if sensing her plan. The man knew just how far she could move before she would be jerked back by the chain and he remained short of that distance. "Um...no thank you," he said politely. A thrill ran through him. Oh yes, he was sure she would be the one. No tears, no tantrums. Excellent. "I made all your favourites. I hope you still take your coffee with cream?" This is unreal, Scully thought. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with her kidnapper. Since he was obviously not going to come any closer, she relaxed her tense muscles and concentrated on finding out some information. "Where are we?" "In cousin Will's basement, of course," he said, apparently surprised she didn't know where they were. "Gee, Sis, don't you remember? We used to play down here. I was Superman and you were Lois Lane. No one could hurt us 'cause I was the man of steel and I saved you. Remember?" Then he continued speaking as if it was unimportant if she remembered or not. "It doesn't matter. No one comes here anymore. I'm just looking after the place while he's in the army. We'll be safe here." "Why did you bring us here?" she asked. "Daddy said I had to. It's nice and quiet here and we won't be disturbed. You know we have to do what Daddy says." He looked at her in exasperation, as if she should have known that too. Scully decided to try and find out more about this 'Daddy' who seemed to be calling the shots. Was he the man's father and if so, where was he? Was he upstairs listening to what went on below? How many kidnappers did they have to deal with? "Umm. Where's Daddy?" The man's eyes suddenly widened in fear. "He's everywhere," he whispered, looking around as if Daddy would materialize out of thin air. When nothing happened, he relaxed and continued in a more normal tone. "It's okay though. He won't get angry if we do as we're told. Otherwise.... well, you know," he finished conspiratorially, smiling in a way she was beginning to hate. "Did you sleep well?" he inquired politely. Scully was confused. She looked at Mulder for some sort of guidance about the sudden change in the conversation; after all, he was the psychologist. This seemed to annoy the older man. His face turned bright red as he spun on his heels and glared at Mulder, then back at Scully. "Don't look at him." "Why don't you want me to look at him?" she asked softly, trying to calm the man down but needing answers. "Because he's already influenced you far too much," he hissed, his face contorted with anger, his hand hovering over the gun at his waist. Sensing the abrupt change in the man's emotions and fearing he was about to lose control, Scully tried to pacify the angry man by answering his previous question. "Actually, it was difficult to sleep with this chain wrapped around my wrist. It hurts." She raised her wrist to show him, trying to make her voice sound non-threatening and more like a petulant child. She smiled at him to take any sting out of her words. He looked at her sharply and she wondered if she had gone too far, but he apologised, saying, "I'm sorry. You know I had to do that, don't you? Daddy said I had to." She glanced at Mulder who was still leaning against the corner of the room, her eyes asking if he knew who this 'daddy' was. Again this angered their host. "No, look at me, not him. He is nothing, do you hear me...NOTHING. OBEY ME OR DADDY WILL PUNISH YOU. I'M WARNING YOU." He was yelling at her by the time he had finished. His face was contorted with anger and spit flew from his mouth. She looked at the furious man and was at a loss to know why looking at her partner made this man so upset. The quietly spoken man who had brought her breakfast and served them coffee last night was gone. In his place was a man who was clearly out of control. She heard the clanking of chain as Mulder moved from his position against the wall to as far into the room as the chain would allow. She was surprised he had waited that long. He'd actually shown remarkable restraint considering their captor's angry outburst and the threat to punish her. Mulder addressed the man in a soft, friendly voice. "Hello. My name is Fox Mulder." He waited a moment and then continued, "You're the one in control here and we'll cooperate with you but we need to know what you want from us. What's your name?" No answer. "What do you want us to do?" Again, no answer but the man's fists clenched and unclenched as he glared at Scully. Mulder decided to try one more time. "You know the FBI will investigate our dis ..." The furious man turned to Mulder and then back to Scully, pacing back and forth out of range, yelling even more loudly as he completely lost it. "SHUT UP," he ranted as he strode over to the door and back again, waving his arms in the air. "I told you he was no good but did you listen? Noo, not you." He stopped and glared at Scully. "I love him, Ron," he mimicked in a high-pitched, feminine-like voice, and then continued in a normal tone. "As if that made it all right. Well, who was there to love ME? Momma died, then you left and went with HIM," indicating Mulder with a wave of his hand. "And I was left with Daddy. You knew what Daddy was like and you still left me. How could you do that? Who was left to love ME? " He emphasized the last word as he pointed his right index finger to his chest. Lost in his own world, the angry man continued to walk up and down the other side of the room, muttering to himself and gesturing wildly. After a few minutes, he seemed to calm down slightly so Mulder decided to try talking to him again. At least, now he knew the guys' name. "Ron, do you mind if ..." "Tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ron screamed at Scully. Mulder opened his mouth as if to say something more but stopped when he saw Ron pull the gun from his waist. Mulder instantly raised his hands in a 'don't shoot' gesture and backed up to the wall. Scully, who had remained silent while Mulder was speaking, panicked when she saw the gun pointed at him. It was her turn to take the heat off her partner. She picked up the forgotten breakfast tray and carried the tray to the double bed. This had the desired effect as Ron refocused his attention on her. She felt his eyes on her and hoped he didn't notice her trembling hands. That had been too close. Ron made no move to stop her so she sat beside the tray and picked up a piece of cold toast. When she turned to face him, she was relieved to see his anger had faded a little. Ron smiled, happy she was going to eat the breakfast he'd made for her. "I'm sorry, Ron," she apologized softly, using the man's name. Anything to get that gun pointed away from Mulder. "I didn't mean to upset you. You know that, don't you?" He nodded, pleased with her apology. The hand holding the gun dropped to his side. This was more like it, he thought. Daddy didn't like it when they wouldn't do as they were told, and he didn't want to get Daddy angry again. God, help me please, begged Scully silently. She didn't know what to do. It was one thing to sit in the safety of her office and type out a fairly text book profile on someone like Tooms but it was a very different matter to predict the actions of the obviously mentally unstable man in front of her; a man who had them totally under his control. She continued to hold his gaze, relieved to see the madness in his eyes slowly fade and be replaced with the smiling, calm man from the diner. Okay, she thought, keep talking and try to keep him calm. "I want to help you, Ron. I'm here now so maybe we can figure out a few things. What do you want?" she asked gently, taking a small bite of the toast and a sip of the juice. She vaguely wondered if the food or juice was drugged but decided to risk it on the premise that he didn't need to drug them now that he had them restrained so securely. "I miss you, Sis," Ron said quietly. "Daddy misses you too." "It's been a while, I suppose." Scully said, winging it, hoping Ron didn't notice the slight hesitation in her voice. "Yeah, it has. Why did you leave us and never come back? Was it because of him?" His head jerked in the direction of Mulder, although his eyes never left her face. Trying to divert the conversation from her partner, Scully decided to repeat her earlier question. "What do you want, Ron?" He sighed, wondering why it was that she didn't know. Patience, he reminded himself. He had to guide her or be forced to search again, and he was so very sick of searching. "You have to choose. Daddy says... well you know," he trailed off as if she should know what he was talking about. Which of course, she didn't, so she decided it was safer to say nothing and hope he gave her some more clues as to what he wanted her to choose. When she didn't reply, his eyes flashed as he prompted. "You do know, don't you? What you have to choose, I mean?" Scully looked at him, dumbfounded. Choose? Choose what? She resisted the impulse to look at Mulder since that clearly upset the other man, but it was hard not to. Some habits are very hard to break, she thought. She decided to stall for time. "Umm, I'm not sure what to choose." Ron glared at her and she watched the anger well up inside him again. She was suddenly afraid that she'd said the wrong thing. Scully couldn't help herself. It was instinct, something she did every day without thinking. She looked to the only person she trusted even as a part of her brain reminded her that she shouldn't. She quickly diverted her attention back to Ron but it was too late. She saw the madness shine in his eyes as he became a raving lunatic. He turned around and paced the room again, spitting the words out, his face red and angry. "IT'S ALL HIS FAULT... I WARNED YOU BUT YOU WOULDN'T LISTEN." Mulder straightened up, with his back against the corner, and watched the deranged man pace back and forth, yelling at the top of his voice. He stood still, trying to work out how to protect Scully and not antagonize the raving man any further by talking. He looked at Scully who was watching Ron but Ron caught him in the act. That was the last straw for Ron. His face turned an even brighter shade of red, if that was possible, and he yelled, "HE'S DOING IT AGAIN. IT'S ALWAYS HIM AND I'M SICK OF IT," and with that, he pointed the gun at Mulder and pulled the trigger. As Ron's finger tightened on the trigger, Mulder instinctively threw himself to the left but he was prevented from moving too far by the length of chain. He heard the shot and felt something tug at his upper right thigh as he slumped against the wall. He remained upright for a moment, and then his right leg crumpled beneath him as he slid down the wall and fell to the side. He lay on the mattress, stunned for a moment, not sure what had happened. In a daze, he looked at his leg and saw blood flowing from his thigh. Shit. Not again. Thoughts of the last time he had been hit in the leg flashed through his mind and he distantly hoped nothing vital had been hit. Scully felt her heart stop as her partner slumped to the floor and it didn't start beating again until she saw him move his head. Thank God, she thought, he's alive! Then she saw the blood on his leg. Damn. Without thinking, she screamed his name and headed for him only to be brought up sharply by the chain. She didn't feel any pain as the metal cut into her wrist. Oblivious to everything but the bleeding man just a few feet out of reach, she cursed and frantically pulled on the chain again, trying to free herself. When it finally sunk in that she wasn't going to be able to get to her partner, she yelled at him to apply pressure to the wound and was relieved when he sluggishly responded to her prompting. Mulder could hear Scully shouting at him from far away. She was yelling at him to do ... something. He tried to listen but he couldn't think past the pounding in his head and then it occurred to him that she wanted him to apply pressure. Yeah sure, he could do that. He leaned forward. The cuffs attached to the chain made it difficult for him to get a grip on his leg but he managed. His trousers and hands were quickly stained red as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. He didn't feel any pain as he pressed down on the wound and some part of his brain vaguely registered that he must be in shock. It was as if it was someone else's leg he was holding and not his own. Then the pain hit him like a freight train. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! DON'T FAINT ...DON'T FAINT ...DON'T FAINT. He kept repeating the last phrase over and over in his head as he fought the blackness that was at the edge of his vision. He managed to remain conscious although what he really wanted to do was sink into the darkness but he couldn't give in to it yet. Not until he knew that monster wouldn't turn the gun on Scully. Apply pressure, deep breaths, don't faint. He kept repeating it to himself over and over and after a few minutes the pain diminished a little, and he was able to concentrate on his partner's voice. "Let me help him, please." He could hear the pleading in her voice and tried to focus his bleary eyes. If that bastard hurt Scully, he was a dead man. But he needn't have worried. Ron stood about five feet away, staring blankly at the gun in his hand, oblivious to Scully's pleas. "Not again. Oh no.... Daddy made me do it again," he whispered as he shook his head from side to side. The anger was gone from his face now and all that was left was a pathetic look of disbelief as if he couldn't believe the gun had gone off. Abruptly, he shoved the gun back into his trousers and turned to face Scully, who was standing as close to Mulder as the chain would allow. "Why did you do it?" Ron asked, wringing his hands together. "Why did you look at him and make Daddy angry? I told you Daddy would punish you if you disobeyed." Scully stared in disbelief, her hands clasped to her lips. He had shot Mulder just because she looked at him? That was the punishment? Oh God, it was her fault. She blinked and forced back the tears. She desperately wanted to see how bad Mulder's wound was but she made sure her eyes stayed focused on the unpredictable man with the gun. Ron's expression grew grim. Nothing could blot out the insanity shining in his eyes. "Why don't you ever listen to ME?" She racked her brains, trying to think what it was that he expected her to say, and looking into his face, she intuitively knew what it was. "I'm sorry. I promise to listen to you next time," she murmured apologetically. It didn't matter that she didn't mean it. The only thing that mattered was that the madman was appeased and didn't shoot Mulder again. Oh God, please let Mulder be all right. She didn't dare take her eyes off Ron to check on Mulder though. Their kidnapper calmed a bit, pleased with her request for forgiveness. "Well, make sure you do. I didn't want to do it but Daddy said he had to be punished. You know that, don't you?" That was almost too much for Scully. She didn't know any such thing but she kept a tight rein on her temper, afraid of what the man would do to Mulder if she lost it. The thought of her partner, possibly bleeding to death a few feet from her, made her heart pump furiously against her ribcage but she forced herself not to react outwardly. "I don't want anyone punished." "Well, that's *your* fault, not mine. I'm sick and tired of paying for your mistakes. You know Daddy won't raise a hand to a woman so that means he..." he paused, jerking his head at Mulder, "has to pay for your disobedience, just like *I* used to. Except now, *I* get to do the punishing." That thought brought a smile to his face. "Now *I'm* in charge and things will be different. I won't let you down. Not like him." He cast a contemptuous glance at Mulder. "You think about that. All right?" She nodded numbly but didn't take her eyes off Ron. It broke her heart to have to ignore her partner but it was better than what she now knew would be the alternative. Ron returned her gaze and was pleased. Oh yes, she was looking at him... not at that pathetic excuse for a man on the floor. She was looking at *him*. She was taking notice of *him*. She was not hysterical. She was not begging to be released like the others or trying to influence him with her tears. His heart beat faster. She knew who was in control and that thought sent a thrill through him. But he must be patient and make sure, or Daddy would get angry again. "You think about what I've said," he repeated. He glanced at his watch. "I have to go but I'll be back after lunch. We'll talk some more then." When he turned to leave, Scully saw that the smiling, confident man who had brought her breakfast was back in control. This is bizarre, she thought, I'm getting giddy just trying to keep up with his mood swings. She watched him go, locking the door behind him. ************** The minute the door closed, Scully instantly turned her attention to her partner, anxiously calling his name. "Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me? He did so slowly and then blinked rapidly, trying to focus on her face. "You o-kay?" Mulder gasped, shivering slightly, his face very pale. Oh Mulder. Trust him to be more worried about her than himself. "He's gone for now, Mulder." "Not ...what I ...asked. Did he... hurt you?" "No, I'm fine." He finally focused on her to see for himself as if he didn't believe her. Satisfied that she was indeed 'fine', he relaxed. She was okay. He could give in to the darkness now. Scully watched as his eyelids began to droop. "MULDER!" she shouted. He jerked his head and opened his eyes wide. "It's important that you stay with me, Mulder." He didn't answer but she saw him nod his head. "I can't reach you and I need to know how bad it is. I know it hurts but can you sit up?" Mulder didn't want to move but he nodded slowly; he could deny her nothing. If she wanted him to sit up, then he would do his best to do as she asked. He removed his hands from where they were still tightly wrapped around his leg and pushed himself to a sitting position. The movement caused him to moan as pain shot up and down his leg. Scully stretched as far as she could and tried to look at the wound. She panicked when she thought that the artery may have been nicked again but while the blood loss was substantial, it was not excessive. The wound was oozing blood, not spurting out with every beat of his heart. She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. If the bullet had hit the artery there would have been nothing she could do but watch him bleed to death. She shuddered at the thought. Not now...she wouldn't think about that now. She had to concentrate on getting him to stop the bleeding. "Mulder. C'mon partner, look at me." After a moment, he looked up her with pain-filled eyes. "Fuck, it hurts, Scully." "I know. I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're going to have to rip the fabric away from the wound so I can get a better look at it." He cracked one eye open and squinted at her. He was in a world of pain and she wanted him to *touch* it? Then he looked into her anguished eyes and saw the worry and concern reflected in them. He bit his lower lip and nodded. It took him a moment to grab the fabric on either side of the wound with his shaking hands. He paused, counted to three and then ripped the pants leg as far as the handcuffs would allow his arms to move. He slumped back against the wall, gasping, as he waited for the pain and blackness to recede again. So far, so good, he thought. Fight the nausea. Breathe deeply. He could do this. "How bad?" he asked when her anxious face came into focus again. "It could be worse but I need to see if there's an exit wound." "Shit, Scully, you've got to be joking?" He panted. "Please, Mulder, it's important." "Sadist," he muttered but knew she wouldn't be satisfied until he had done as she asked. He tried to twist his upper body so that he could look over his shoulder at his thigh without moving his lower body but he couldn't see properly. He inadvertently shifted his leg as he strained to get a better look. His eyes slammed shut again at the pain the slight movement caused him but not before he saw the blood flowing from the rather large exit wound. Fuck, he had to stop moving, it just hurt too much. Without opening his eyes, he nodded. "Straight through... sure hurts... like a motherfucker though." "Mulder, you have to keep applying pressure to stop the bleeding. You're lucky the bullet passed through." He opened his eyes and looked at her with an expression that clearly said 'you call this lucky?' but reapplied the pressure to both sides as best he could. To take his mind off his leg, he focused on Scully who was standing as close to him as she could. She was pale and shivering, peering at him anxiously. That was when he noticed the blood staining her wrist where the cuff had cut into her skin. "He did ... hurt you," he admonished, nodding to her wrist. She looked where he indicated and noticed the unintentional self-inflicted injury. It began to hurt now that he had drawn her attention to it. "It's nothing. I told you, I'm fine, Mulder." She saw the look of exasperation pass over his face but he said nothing. He was in too much pain to call her on it now. Jeezus, his leg was on fire and he loosened his grip on his thigh to try and relieve the throbbing. Shit, he felt like he was gonna be sick or faint or both. "Mulder, keep up the pressure on both sides while I find something to use as a bandage" He didn't answer her and Scully didn't like the way his eyes were glassy and unfocused. She knew he was in shock. All the colour had drained from his face and beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. Mulder's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, trying not to vomit all over himself. He took deep breaths, in, out, in, out and was relieved when the urge to vomit passed but he still felt dizzy and sensed himself falling as the room spun around him. Scully went into full-blown panic as she watched her partner's body slowly list to the side and he lay where he fell, shivering. She had to get him to wrap a pressure bandage around his leg and warm him up somehow. Fast! She headed for her bed and grabbed one of the sheets, sending the tray crashing to the floor in her haste. Using her teeth, she tore the sheet into strips as she turned back towards her partner. "Mulder? Mulder? MULDER!" He heard her calling him through the haze but didn't have the energy to respond at that moment. He just wanted to lie there in a huddle but the voice insisted. "Mulder...stay with me please...Come on, partner... look at me." Her pleading roused him enough to open his eyes but it was definitely a losing battle. He felt very cold and another shudder passed through him. He listened to her voice, trying to summon up the energy to reply. Something soft landed on his face and he squinted at her as he tried to concentrate on what she was saying. "Wrap that around your leg as many times as you can, Mulder, and as tight as you can and then tie a knot. Come on, please try. For me?" Okay, he could do that for her. Anything to stop that pleading tone. His hands shook and the cuffs hampered him as he struggled to do as she asked. It was difficult to wind the strip of fabric around his leg while lying on his side but he finally succeeded, effectively placing some pressure on the wound. He collected his last remaining reserves of strength and passed one end of the cloth over the other and pulled tight and then quickly repeated the action to complete the knot. His leg exploded in pain and sounds faded in and out as the agony engulfed him. He tried to focus on his breathing and Scully's voice but he couldn't fight the blackness anymore. His vision tunnelled and he passed out. Scully cried out to him but had to watch helplessly as his head and arms slumped boneless to the mattress. She was grateful he had remained aware long enough to bandage his thigh but it didn't stop the panic she felt as he lost consciousness. She looked at his makeshift dressing for a few minutes, satisfied that the bleeding had slowed down considerably. It was hardly satisfactory but it was the best she could hope for under the circumstances. Frustrated, she pulled on the cuffs again as if the passing of time had magically loosened them. She only succeeded in deepening the cuts on her wrist. She felt so helpless. It was not a feeling Dana Scully was used to and she hated it. Damn! He needed her and she couldn't reach him. Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away. Focus on what has to be done, she told herself. She had to warm her partner up and get some fluids into him to replace the blood he'd lost and reverse the effects of shock. Unfortunately, there was no way to get fluids into him until he regained consciousness so she looked around for some way to warm him up. She grabbed the comforter from her bed and threw it awkwardly over her partner as best she could with only one hand. She was relieved to see that her aim was true and that it covered most of him. She suddenly felt cold and nauseous herself. She began to shiver and realised that she was going into shock as well. Damn! She did not need this. She pulled the remaining blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her eyes never left the unconscious man on the other side of the room as she sat down on the bed. As she warmed up and stopped trembling, an overwhelming sense of guilt engulfed her. It was her fault he had been shot. He was in pain because of her. If only ... no, she shook her head. Intellectually, she knew she couldn't have known that the perp would get angry and shoot her partner but that didn't stop her from feeling responsible. If only she'd seen the warning signs. Mulder had trusted her to draw information out of the guy, not cause him to lose control. She took a deep breath and let it out again, trying to calm her racing heart. She knew the sound of that gunshot and the sight of her partner falling would be repeated over and over in her nightmares for a very long time but she couldn't allow herself to think about that now. He needed her. She forced herself to concentrate on the immediate problem of how to get some fluids into him. She looked around; searching for something to use and her eyes fell on the breakfast tray and its contents that lay scattered over the floor beside the double bed. She clutched the blanket around her shoulders as she stooped and picked up the polystyrene cup of cold coffee. She looked longingly at the coffee but knew that caffeine was not good for either of them at the moment so she reluctantly removed the seal and poured the black liquid down the sink. She filled the cup with water and drank as much as she could, spilling some on herself as her hands shook. She leaned against the wall and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. That helped a little and, having satisfied her thirst, she refilled the foam container, sealed the lid and sat it on the edge of the basin. She looked down and noticed her bloodied wrist and decided she has better clean that up before Mulder saw it. She washed the abrasions, grabbed some more strips of sheet and bandaged her wrist, using her teeth to tie a knot. Satisfied with her handiwork, she looked worriedly at her partner. She ached to hold him, comfort him and check his wound but for some reason, that bastard didn't want them touching and she had no idea why. She couldn't do anything except wait and it was killing her. She turned back to the bed and noticed the mess she had made when she threw the tray on the floor. She picked up the food that was lying around and placed it back on the tray. Then she straightened the bed and sat on the edge with her feet dangling over the side. She looked down at the cold food, thinking she should eat something but knew she'd be sick if she tried. She heard a moan from under the bedding piled on the floor. Thank God. "Mulder?" He slowly opened his eyes and wondered why his vision was dimmed until it dawned on him that he was covered with the comforter from Scully's bed. "Mulder?" Scully repeated anxiously. "Hey," he replied weakly, pushing the comforter away from his face. When he couldn't see her over the top of the comforter, he panicked until he heard the clanking of her chain and was relieved when she moved into his line of vision. His voice sounded weak even to his own ears. "Guess ... I passed out. How long?" "Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Try not to move too much. How do you feel?" "Um," he stopped to assess himself. He wasn't shivering quite as severely as he had been. His leg ached and he felt nauseous, but all things considered, not too bad. "Like I've been shot," he deadpanned but the attempted smile turned into a grimace. He could barely see her from his prone position on the floor so he moved slightly, causing the throbbing in his leg to increase its tempo. Although he dreaded the thought of moving again, he had to sit up. That trigger-happy bastard could return at any moment and he was at a disadvantage lying on the floor. Besides he had to make sure Scully was all right. Moving the comforter aside, he used both hands to push himself up and rested his back against the wall, panting from the effort. Shit, that hurt. The room spun for a few moments so he clamped his eyes shut until the feeling passed. He slowly opened them and looked into the worried face of his partner. "Christ, Mulder, why do you have to do things the hard way? I said don't move too much." He ignored her and concentrated on not passing out again. The last time he had been shot in the leg, the doctors had given him painkillers to insulate him from the pain and he'd been pretty much out of it for a day or so. No such luck this time. Scully was watching him anxiously and didn't like what she saw. He was too pale and there was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. She could only imagine how much pain he was in and she had nothing to ease his suffering. Damn that bastard! If she ever got him in her sights, he would pay. She pushed those unproductive thoughts away and concentrated on her partner. Medically, there was not much she could do for him to relieve his pain but he needed fluids and that was something she could do for him. She turned and retrieved the cup from the side of the basin. "Mulder, do you think you can drink anything?" He licked his dry lips and realized how thirsty he was. He eyed the cup in her hands. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully. "No, it's water from the tap. I'm going to try and throw it to you gently. I'll aim for the mattress beside you. Okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Scully stood as close to him as her cuff would allow and gently threw the sealed cup underarm towards the mattress. It bounced once and landed beside him. Thankfully the lid didn't fall off. He reached for the cup with trembling hands, and with some difficulty, pulled the lid off and began to gulp down the contents. "Not so fast, Mulder. Small sips," she cautioned. He nodded, following her instructions until the cup was empty. He laid his head back against the wall, licking his lips. "Thanks." "More?" Mulder shook his head and replaced the lid. He carefully threw the container back to her, grimacing when even that small movement caused the pain in his leg to flare. He slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes but opened them when she asked, "Can you eat something?" He turned an interesting shade of green at the thought of food and shook his head. "Maybe later," he said weakly. She didn't push it and he was grateful. He really did feel like shit although the water had helped a little. "How does your leg feel?" Mulder just stared at her and raised his eyebrows in a 'What do you think?' gesture. Okay, stupid question, thought Scully. But then again, he hadn't come back with his usual smart-ass comment. That meant he was really hurting. "Mulder, I need to know if the bandage is cutting off the circulation. Can you show me?" He sighed, knowing it was easier to do as she asked than argue about it. He glanced down at his thigh...something he had avoided doing since he woke up. He hated the sight of his own blood and looking at it only made his nausea return. He concentrated on keeping his leg as still as possible as he moved the torn material of his pant leg out of the way, exposing his leg below the wound for her inspection. "Is it still bleeding?" she asked. "A little, but I think that's because I moved." he conceded as he laid his head back against the wall. "Is the bandage too tight." "Jeez, Scully, how should I know? It feels tight." "Can you feel your toes? Any pins and needles?" Scully was straining against her cuff, trying to see the colour of his lower leg. She was relieved to see that the colour indicated his leg was getting enough blood to the lower extremities. Frustrated at her continuous questions, he snapped. "Christ Scully, it hurts like hell to move any part of my leg including my toes but no pins and needles. Happy now?" He instantly regretted his sarcastic remark when she quickly looked away. Damn, why couldn't he keep his big mouth shut? Good one Mulder, he rebuked himself, as if she didn't have enough to worry about. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "No, I'm the one who's sorry, Mulder." He looked up sharply at her apology. What did she have to apologise for? She was sitting on the side of the bed, suddenly fascinated with a spot on the blanket and he realised she hadn't looked him directly in the eye since he woke up. "Scully. Look at me." His voice was stronger now. She shook her head. "No, it's my fault he shot you. I fucked up." She continued to look away, unable to meet his gaze. He could hear the self-loathing in her voice. Surely she didn't blame herself for the actions of that maniac? Even as the thought entered his head, he knew that she did. It was times like this that he could read her like a book and right now he read guilt. He had to make her understand that she had done nothing to feel guilty about. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and concentrated on his partner. "You did good, Scully." "How can you say that?" she asked incredulously. "God, Mulder, I can't believe he shot you just because I looked at you. If he had aimed higher, you would be dead and it would be all my fault because I made him angry." "That's not true." "Of course it is. I shouldn't have entered into his fantasy. I shouldn't have gone along with him. I should have tried to make him see me as me and not this Sally person. Because of that, he..." "No, Scully," he interrupted, "you were right to go along with him. If we were in a secure psychiatric facility, there would be trained people who could help him. Unfortunately, that isn't the case here." He paused, forcing himself to focus on the case and not the constant ache in his leg. "Ron is ... in control of every aspect of our lives right now and our survival depends on our ability to see what he sees...to be what he wants us to be. We need to understand what makes him the way he is ... what motivates his angry outbursts and what he hopes to gain by imprisoning us." "But, Mulder..." "No buts, Scully, you did good. If you had done anything else, he may have ... killed us both. You saved us, Scully. Just like always. By entering his fantasy ... you allowed him to retain control." She lifted her head and looked into his pain filled eyes. She bit her lip, wanting to believe him but wasn't sure she could let go of her guilt so easily. "Yeah, and that control almost got you killed." "I don't think ... he meant to fire the gun. He wants something from you ... or rather this 'Sally' person he believes you to be." "I think I remember reading that one of the victims was named Sally something-or-other. Do you think it's a coincidence?" Mulder thought about it and sighed. "Of course. That's the catalyst. I should ... have made the connection myself. Sally Stokes and her husband were the first couple missing and disappeared three months ago, after ... her father's funeral. The timing's right. I suspect the father's death was the event that triggered our guy." "You mean that this Daddy he talks about is dead and he thinks I'm his sister?" He nodded. "It makes sense. He called you 'Sis' sometimes and 'Sally' other times. I think ... Sally Stokes was his sister." He paused, biting his lip as the throbbing in his leg flared when he tried to find a more comfortable position. "Tell me ... what he said. I heard most of it but ... I didn't see much. Give me your impressions... what did you think of him." Scully could hear the pain in his voice but there was nothing she could do except take his mind off it by discussing the case. She thought back and tried to recall what happened. "It's like he's two different people. He displayed severe mood swings, going from being smiling and calm one minute to angry and out of control the next. After he pulled the trigger, he just stood there, stunned. He wanted to know why I looked at you. He said Daddy was angry because I disobeyed him and that it was my fault the gun went off." "Well, it's not your fault," he said emphatically. "What happened next?" "He blamed his father for making him fire the gun. He said that he was sick of paying for my mistakes and because Daddy wouldn't let him raise a hand to a woman, you had to be punished just like he was. He became angry when he thought I wasn't listening to him. After he calmed down again, he went on about how he was in charge now and that he wouldn't let me down, implying that you would." Mulder nodded as if confirming something in his mind. "I stand by the profile ... we discussed in the car last night. He's a loner. I think his father really did a number on him and used to punish him if he or Sally misbehaved. I suspect our guy's been conditioned to accept a beating as an expression of love. He probably thinks he deserved the horrific abuse he suffered, not only for his own mistakes but for those of his sister as well ...." he trailed off, then continued, his thoughts turning inward as he tried to get into the killer's head. "He's acting out his fantasy where he is the one in control now and, as such, hands out the punishment. He ... idolized his father even though he was on the receiving end of his temper. His father taught him to never lay a hand on a woman so he can't punish his sister for the abuse he suffered because of her disobedience. He's frustrated so he punishes his brother-in-law instead, hence the beatings inflicted on the males...someone has to pay for what was done to him ... for the punishment he endured. It's about feeling the power his father felt. He hates being seen as weak and is determined to prove how strong he is by taking over the father role. He doesn't care about the men but he's sorry when he kills the women ..." "Mulder!" He blinked and focused on her anxious face. Damn, he hadn't even realized he'd been profiling. He looked at her anxious face and sighed deeply. He nodded wearily, feeling utterly and totally drained. At least it had taken his mind off the ache in his leg but it was back now with a vengeance. What he really wanted to do was pass out again and make the pain go away. His eyelids fluttered and he fought to raise them again but only succeeded in lifting them halfway. Scully bit her lip as she watched him struggle to stay awake. She desperately wanted to go to him and again silently cursed their kidnapper for taking even that small comfort away from her. Mulder needed to rest but she wasn't sure she could convince him to let go if he thought there was any chance Ron would come back soon. "Don't talk any more now. Mulder, you need to rest. Ron said he wouldn't be back until later. I'll stand guard and wake you if I hear him returning." When he opened his mouth as if to object, she said, "Please Mulder, you need to conserve your strength. Please." How could he deny her when she pleaded like that? The fact was he just didn't have the energy. He wanted to talk about Ron some more, formulate some sort of plan but he was so tired and even as his mind resisted, his body took over. His chin dropped to his chest and his breathing evened out as he fell into an uneasy sleep. **************** Scully watched him lose the fight to remain conscious. She suddenly felt very alone even though she knew he needed the relief from pain that sleep provided. She turned around and climbed onto the bed, resting her back against the bed head. Drawing her knees up under her chin, she finally let the tears fall. She sobbed uncontrollably as she gave into the despair that engulfed her. Mulder needed to be in a hospital having his wound treated; not stuck in this basement with a psychopath who got his rocks off by beating up his restrained and helpless captives. Slowly her sobs tapered off and she regained control of herself. She blew her nose and dried her eyes on the corner of the remaining sheet, feeling a little better for the release. She glanced over at her partner, grateful that he hadn't witnessed her breakdown. She went to the small sink and splashed cold water over her face. It wouldn't do for Mulder to wake up and see her like this. No, she couldn't allow Mulder to see her as anything other than a complete professional. He had enough to worry about without thinking she was falling apart. It was hard to believe that 24 hours ago, they were in the car trading innuendos. They really were a bit like an old married couple, she thought wistfully. She wondered if he was aware of just how much she depended on him. He would claim that he depended on her more but she knew that the trust they shared was a mutual strength, peculiar to their unique partnership. That strength had gotten them through more than one difficult situation and she could only pray that it would get them through this time. They were so comfortable with each other that she sometimes wondered where she ended and he began. The connection they shared defied explanation, and on some level, that bothered her but at the same time, she couldn't imagine her life without him. She was surprised to realize she had thought that for a very long time. The hours passed slowly as she listened for any sound that would alert her to the return of their captor. It was early afternoon, judging by the shadows outside, when she finally heard a moan from her partner. Instantly, she was off the bed and moving towards him. "Scully?" He gasped as he raised his head and then froze as stiff neck muscles reminded him that sleeping in a sitting position was not a good idea. "I'm here, Mulder. How do you feel?" The chain clanked as he rubbed his hands over his eyes and across the back of his neck, which did nothing for the headache building behind his eyes. He dropped his hands to his chest and grit his teeth as he waited for the pain to pass when he inadvertently moved his leg. "Any more water?" he asked hopefully, in an attempt to deflect Scully's question. He didn't want to lie to her and the truth would only make her worry more than she was already. They repeated the same process as before until his thirst was quenched. It was then that Scully noticed his leg was bleeding again. "Mulder, you have to wrap a bit more of the sheet around your wound. It's seeping blood. Don't remove the first piece, just wind this over the top." She threw him some more of the torn sheet. Shit, he didn't want to move again. The pain had diminished a little and was manageable as long as he didn't move his leg too much. Then he looked at Scully looking back at him, with a worried, anguished look on her face. Yep, definitely easier to do as she asked than make an argument of it. He sighed resignedly and concentrated on keeping his leg still as he awkwardly covered the old, bloodstained dressing with the new one. Again it was difficult with his hands cuffed together, but finally he was done and he lay back and breathed deeply, eyes clenched shut, willing the black spots to disappear. Shit, he didn't want to move again... ever. He needed to concentrate on something other than the pain and his thoughts turned to the perp. The sister was the key and if Scully could pretend to be the sister, then maybe there was a chance that at least one of them could get out of here alive. And he knew that someone had to be his partner. Scully's concerned voice broke the silence after he remained quiet for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality only a few minutes. "Talk to me, Mulder. How're you doing?" "Just thinking," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. "About the perp?" "Yeah." "Do you think he killed his father?" "No, I doubt it. He was afraid of his father. The man probably died of natural causes but his death set off a chain of events ... that culminated in the murder of his sister and the others." "But if he loved his sister, why kill her?" "I don't think he meant to kill her but found he couldn't control his impulses when he became angry." Mulder forced himself to ignore the ache in his thigh as he continued to concentrate on the case. "I believe ... he killed Sally and her husband because she refused ... to go along with his delusions. She didn't want to be controlled anymore. She broke that cycle ... when she married and left years ago." "So, she chose to marry and in doing so, left him at the mercy of their father?" He nodded tiredly. "I think that's the choice he's referring to. She chose her husband over Ron and their father years ago, and when she did the same thing a second time, her brother couldn't cope. He hates how weak and ... afraid he was when his father abused him and in a twisted sort of way, Ron thinks ... that is why she left him. That's why he makes the men relive some of the abuse he suffered as a child. He wants to show her how weak they are and how strong he is now." "But that doesn't explain why he killed other couples after his sister and her husband were dead." "I think ... it's because he failed to fulfil his fantasy and have his sister stay with him ... so he keeps reliving it to get it right. It's too deeply ingrained into his psyche for him to do anything else now. Ron hates himself ... more with each killing but excuses his own actions by becoming his father so that he can ... can observe the abuse from a distance. That's how he justifies the murders if he fails. He will keep taking his 'sister' and her husband ... until the fantasy plays ... out the way he wants it to." "And he wants the women to choose him over their husband?" Scully asked incredulously. "You got it," he panted; pleased she had followed his reasoning. Now if he could block out the pain for a few more minutes and convince her to go along with what he had in mind, he could rest. "He wants to change the decision made all those years ago ... when his sister left him. She must choose to stay with him. It's the only outcome acceptable to him. He wants her to love him ... more than the man she chose to marry. And since he's convinced himself that you are his sister, you have to fulfil his fantasy." "So you want me to chose him over you? Is that it?" "You have to, Scully. You have to ignore me, convince him ... convince him that he is important to you. You must choose him over me. It's the only way ... to get his trust and hopefully, a chance to escape." "No way, Mulder, he'll kill you." "No, I think ... we still have a few days. The idea is for you to ... to earn his trust *before* he kills me." "I don't like it. There must be some other way." He sighed. She was being difficult, as he knew she would be when it came to his welfare. He had to convince her that it was the only way to save them both. "I'm open to suggestions but unless ... you have a better idea, it's either win his confidence or *both* of us will die when his fantasy ... fails to turn out the way he wants it to. The other couples are proof of that. Play along but don't give in to him too quickly. He's delusional but not stupid." "But I can't ignore you, Mulder." "Sure you can. You do it ...all the time." "I do not," she huffed before she noticed his attempt to waggle his eyebrows failed. He closed his eyes and raised his hands to rub his temple, trying to ease his headache. "Mulder, are you all right?" she asked worriedly. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and gave her a lopsided grin that went straight to her heart. "Don't change the subject, Scully. You know ... I'm right." Yes, she knew. She hated the thought of effectively abandoning her partner, but if he was right, and he usually was, it was the only way. "All right, you win. I'll try it your way," she said resignedly, "but I don't like it. We don't know what he'll do even if I ... " Any further comment was cut off by the sound of someone moving around in the room above them. Scully hurried back to the bed and then looked over at her partner. "Party time, Scully." Seeing the look of apprehension on her face, he said gently, "I know you can do it. Just remember, don't take any notice of me ... no matter what he does. That's very important. Both our lives depend on it. Hopefully, if you ignore me, so will he." There was no time to say anything else as they heard footsteps on the stairs. The door was unlocked and Ron entered, carrying another tray. He still had the .38 shoved into the waist of his jeans. Scully watched the smiling man as he approached her bed. He placed the tray on the floor just beyond her reach again. In a repeat of his action earlier in the day, he used his foot to push the tray closer to her. He pointed to the cup of soup on the tray. "I know how much you like Momma's soup. I made it just the way she did," he said proudly. Scully looked at him in disbelief. How could he talk as if the events of earlier that morning hadn't happened? Mulder was right. This guy was delusional and didn't want to acknowledge anything that didn't fit into his fantasy world. So far, Ron hadn't looked at Mulder and neither had she, but it was hard for her. She could see him in her peripheral vision, listening to everything that was said. Remembering that Mulder wanted her to play to the guy's fantasy, she responded, "Thank you." Ron took a few steps back and gestured to the tray, obviously wanting her to sample his cooking. Scully's eyes never left the man's face and she matched him stare for stare as she moved from the bed to the tray. She would not make the mistake of looking at Mulder again. Her wrist was aching and she held her left arm in her right hand, hoping Ron would feel guilty and loosen the cuffs but he totally disregarded her discomfort. So much for being concerned for her, she thought. At least, he was ignoring Mulder, which was just fine with Scully. Then, like a preacher delivering a sermon, Ron waved his arms about and paced back and forth on the other side of the room near the door. Obedience, he told her. If she obeyed the rules, all would be well. If not, he was duty bound to discipline her. Daddy said so and Daddy's rules must be obeyed. While eating the soup, Scully appeared to give Ron her undivided attention. In keeping with Mulder's plan, she frowned a bit, forced a smile or nodded occasionally when he seemed to want a response from her. Ron observed the woman before him, delighted that she listened to him and didn't cry or scream like the others. They had been too busy begging to be released to listen to the rules and so Daddy had punished them. Oh, yes, he was again reminded that this one was different and he was so pleased to think his search was finally over. He continued to talk and beam from ear to ear until he noticed that the comforter was missing from the bed. The smiling face disappeared in an instant. "Where's the quilt?" he demanded, eyes blazing. Scully was surprised at the sudden change in the man and instinctively moved back towards the bed, distancing herself from him. "Umm...I-I ," she stammered, not daring to glance in Mulder's direction. Ron quickly scanned the room and found what he was looking for lying on the mattress beside Mulder where he had pushed it when Scully wanted to check his leg. Ron's eyes narrowed and his face turned beet red when he noticed that in addition to the bloodied quilt, a sheet had been sacrificed to bandage the wound. Scully wasn't sure what to say and when she saw the face that turned to look at her, she was suddenly very afraid for her partner. It was the face of the monster who had pulled the trigger earlier in the day. Oh no, she thought, not again. "How could you?" he hissed. He waved his hands wildly in the air, totally out of control. "You know Daddy doesn't like waste. You know we have to look after our possessions. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know. Now I'll have to go without something to get the money to buy another sheet and quilt because they're ruined. They've got blood all over them," he ranted. "You have to show respect for other peoples' property." He strode towards the cupboard in the corner. Shaking his head, he yelled at her. "When will you ever learn? I AM SO SICK OF THIS." He yanked the door open and pulled out a cane about three feet long, tapering off at the end like a riding crop. He swished it through the air, the movement making a whooshing sound as he slashed it from side to side. After a few practice strokes, which only served to feed his anger, he approached Mulder. Scully immediately jumped to her feet and was about to open her mouth when she saw Mulder give a slight shake of his head. Shit! She'd forgotten already. She was supposed to be indifferent to him. As hard as it was, she turned around and casually climbed on to the bed and sat with her back to the bed head. Unable to do anything that wouldn't make the situation worse, she closed her eyes and prayed, unable to watch what she knew was coming. It was only Mulder's absolute certainty that any reaction on her part would make matters worse that prevented her from screaming at the top of her voice for Ron to leave Mulder alone and punish her instead. After all, she was the one who had given him the quilt, she should be the one punished. Ron glanced over his shoulder at Scully and was surprised to see that she was on the bed, eyes closed, ignoring him completely. It excited him that she was different from the others. His heart quickened as his hopes rose. Maybe she really was the one to save him, to love and respect him as the man of the house. Just like Daddy, he was in control of his world and it felt good...so good. But at the same time, he was disappointed that she didn't want to watch him. No, he thought, she has to watch. He had to show her that this was how it would be and that he was strong now, not like the wimp of the past. Oh, yes! It was a good feeling. He liked it and so did Daddy. "Watch," he commanded. At the harsh sound of his voice, Scully reluctantly looked up. If she defied him, Mulder would certainly suffer more. Satisfied he had her attention, Ron turned to the man lying helpless on the floor. Mulder had watched the scene unfold and knew what was to come. He also knew that nothing he could say would deter the man from using the cane to punish him. Thankfully, Scully had received his message or his plan for her to gain Ron's trust would have failed. He only hoped that she could keep up the pretence and he vowed to do his best to make it easier for her. As the cane whooshed through the air, Mulder instinctively turned his back to the blow and raised his hands to protect his head, ignoring the searing pain in his thigh as he curled into a ball. Ron brought the cane down hard across the shoulders of his captive. Mulder arched his back as the cane cut into his flesh but he refused to utter a sound. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take but, knowing Scully was listening, he bit his bottom lip and kept silent. For the next few minutes, the only noise was the continued swish of the cane and the thud as it struck his back. After five more lashes, Mulder lay panting on the floor, barely conscious, tears streaming down his face. Then the cane struck his leg and he couldn't take any more. He screamed in agony, then his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp as he passed out. Ron looked over his shoulder to make sure that Scully was watching him. He was overjoyed when she simply stared back at him as if she didn't care about the man on the floor. Excellent. Daddy was pleased. Scully forced herself to keep her eyes open, clenching her fists so tight that her nails left imprints on her palms. She counted every sickening thud of the cane on Mulder's body and vowed that Ron would suffer for each and every one. Seven... eight... How many more, she wondered as she kept her eyes fastened on Ron. She was grateful her partner had escaped the pain by passing out because watching this was killing her. She didn't think she could continue with the charade if he'd been conscious. ...Nine...ten. Scully's eyes followed Ron's every move as she repeated the mantra in her head. Don'tlookatMulder, look at Ron...don'tlookatMulder, look at Ron...don'tlookatMulder. Ron breathed heavily from the exertion and he again looked over at Scully where she sat on the bed. Her eyes were focused only on him and he swelled with pride. He mistook her quickened respiration, compressed lips and angry eyes as signs of adoration for him, not realising that she was imagining what she would do to him if she ever got him in her sights. He was pleased she had accepted Daddy's punishment. Excellent. The others had begged him to stop but this one was different. Oh yes, she was very different. He was convinced now that she was the one and the thought calmed him as he turned back to the cupboard and replaced the cane. When he turned to face Scully again, all the anger was gone and he flashed that maddening smile at her. She forced herself to give him a small, tight smile that never reached her eyes. "Good...that's good. I have to go to work now. I'm on the late shift. Daddy says that holding down a regular job shows responsibility. After all, *somebody* has to earn the money to put food on the table." He said that last sentence as if he'd heard it a thousand times before and had been waiting for the right time to use it. Perhaps he had. Ron looked at her again but when she showed no inclination to reply, he went on, "I'll be back tomorrow morning and we can talk some more." He stared at her, open admiration and love etched on his face. "I'm so glad I found you again. I thought I'd lost you," he whispered softly and then strode to the door, locking it on his way out. As she heard his footsteps climb the stairs, Scully was off the bed and moving as close to her partner as her chain would allow, frustrated yet again that she couldn't reach him. He was so still and very pale. She could see blood oozing through the torn fabric of his suit jacket and she cringed when she noticed fresh blood seeping from his thigh. "Mulder...Mulder...MULDER, please answer me." Fighting a rising wave of panic, Scully called again. "MULDER.... wake up, please." The sound of Scully's voice gradually seeped into Mulder's brain. As he became more aware, he remembered the agonizing blow to his thigh and then nothing. His leg pounded in rhythm with the pumping of his heart and his back felt on fire. He was more on his stomach than his side now and his arms were still curled around his head. He felt a sticky wetness as blood flowed down his back. He tried to lift his head and move his arms but the action pulled on the broken skin of his back. He dropped his head back to the mattress with a moan. "Mulder?" He wanted to escape to the darkness again but Scully was calling him so he forced himself to concentrate on her voice. "Sc..ully?" "Thank God, Mulder." Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice, even though it was so weak she might have missed it. "How ya doing', partner?" He heard the concern in her voice but there was no way he could sit up this time. He felt so tired and weak like a newborn kitten. "Umm...been better. Think... I'll just... stay here... " "Did he hit you on the head?" she asked worriedly. She was concerned at his sluggish response. "Don't... think so." His body began to shiver and he felt like he wanted to be sick again but there was nothing to bring up. That didn't stop his stomach from dry retching and every movement sent shards of pain coursing through his back and leg. "Mulder, can you roll over and pull the quilt around yourself?" No answer. Shit, thought Scully. She yanked again on the chain; frustrated beyond measure that she couldn't reach him. She wanted to check his wounds but knew that getting him covered was the best she could hope for at the moment. "Mulder. You need to keep warm. MULDER!" He jerked at the familiarity of his name. He shifted his head slightly so that he could see her. "You're in shock again. Pull the quilt over yourself." Hmm, he was in shock again. So what? He turned painfilled eyes back to a very concerned-looking Scully, who nodded encouragingly to the bedding lying by his side. One look at her face and he knew she wouldn't let up until he was covered, so he grit his teeth and slowly reached to the side. He pulled the quilt over his still shivering body and rolled onto his left side, facing her. It was worth the pain when he was rewarded with a rare smile that made him forget his misery momentarily. He raised his eyebrows in an 'are you happy now'? look and asked, ""Where's ...?" "Gone for now. He said he was going to work. He'll be back in the morning." Mulder closed his eyes since the room refused to stop spinning. "Of c..course. He would have to..to maintain his normal routine or it w..would look s..suspicious." Another shudder wracked his body. Scully looked worriedly at Mulder as his eyelids began to droop. She hated not being able to get any closer to him but there was nothing she could do about it. What he needed was rest to recover his strength. "Don't think about that now. I'm just grateful he left you the quilt. He won't be back for hours, so try and get some rest." Mulder couldn't ever remember hurting this much, and giving into the blackness was very appealing. "Mmm, 'kay," he murmured sleepily, consciousness ebbing away as he slipped into slumber despite the pain. Scully watched him fall asleep and felt the silence as if a heavy weight had settled on her shoulders. She was very worried about him. It was now around nine hours since he had been shot and he looked terrible. Damn. She wished she wasn't a doctor. She knew that unless he received medical treatment soon, infection from any foreign material driven into his wounds would be a greater threat to Mulder's life than the man who shot him. As she closed her eyes, the vision of Mulder being whipped over and over replayed in glorious technicolour beneath her lids. She would never forget it and she certainly wouldn't stand by and watch him being abused like that again. In the morning, she would tell Mulder that they would have to think of another plan because Plan A sucked. Suddenly, she felt nauseous and only just made it to the small basin before she vomited what she had eaten. Her hands were still shaking as she cupped them and splashed water on her face. Feeling a little weak, she walked unsteadily back to the bed and watched her sleeping partner until the room was too dark to see him any more. She lay alone in the darkness, trying to formulate an alternative plan of escape, until finally, hours later, she fell into a restless sleep. ****************** Basement of House Location unknown Wednesday Approximately 6.05 AM Mulder moved and the resulting pain caused his eyelids to flutter and a soft moan to escape his lips. He finally opened his eyes and looked around, confused for a moment but then he remembered. Fuck! He hurt everywhere. He licked his dry lips and cursed silently when he realised he was on his side again. He noticed the comforter lying beside him and guessed that he'd pushed it off during the night, which was not surprising since he felt hot and sweaty. A monster headache and gritty eyes told him he had a fever. The rising sun was just beginning to make early morning shadows on the floor and he was surprised to realise he must have slept all night. "Scully?" "I'm here, Mulder." Scully moved from the bed into his field of vision, instantly awake at the sound of his voice. She was a bit flushed and obviously worried about him, but otherwise she looked okay. "Thirsty" he whispered, licking his lips again, his voice weak and raspy. "If I throw you the water cup, do you think you can reach it?" He thought about it for a minute, wondering if he had the energy to sit up again. He decided he had no choice. He desperately needed a drink and he needed to talk to Scully. It was difficult to do either lying on his side. "Give it my best shot," he croaked. As she filled the cup, the sound of running water *almost* covered the moans Mulder tried to hide as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, biting his lip against the explosion of pain in his leg and the pull of his shirt where the blood had dried on his back. His vision dimmed for a moment, his breath coming in small pants until he finally relaxed against the wall, ignoring the pressure this placed on the cuts on his back. At least the wall was cool against his hot skin. Scully felt the prick of tears behind her eyes at his efforts to muffle the sound but she blinked rapidly, forcing them back. She paused a moment, supposedly satisfying her own thirst, while she got a grip on her emotions. When she thought she was ready, she turned around and flashed him a forced smile. "Ready?" "Ready ... when you are, Scully." She took careful aim and threw the full Styrofoam cup of water so that it landed on the mattress beside him. He moved his hands to pick up the water and winced when the action caused the split skin on his back to pull again. He took a few deep breaths, picked up the cup, took the top off with shaking hands and gulped the water down. "More?" he asked as he flicked the cup back to her with a jerk of his right wrist so that he didn't move his shoulders any more than was necessary. Scully refilled the container and threw it back and he drank more slowly this time. "How do you feel?" He looked at her and attempted a smile but his lips refused to cooperate. "Not too bad if I don't move." Well, that was true enough, he thought. His headache had eased a bit and as long as he didn't move, the throbbing in his back was not too bad but the intense heat and pain radiating from his thigh was hard to ignore. As the sunlight streamed through the small window, Scully could see Mulder more clearly. He obviously had a fever. His eyes were too bright; his face was flushed and beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. As difficult as it was for her, she said nothing, knowing he hated it when she fussed over him and there really was nothing she could do for him. 'Mulder, I ..." Before she could finish the sentence, they heard footsteps on the stairs and Scully barely made it back to the bed before the door opened and Ron appeared with the now-familiar cardboard tray. "Good morning, Sis," he said as he breezed in. He seemed very pleased with himself and Mulder wondered what had happened to put him in such a good mood. Since Ron ignored him, Mulder was free to look at Scully. He saw that she was giving Ron her undivided attention. She appeared composed and in control, but he knew her. She was afraid of this man. Not for herself but for him. "Good morning," she replied, watching Ron closely. Any hope that Ron might relax his guard and give Scully a chance to disable him with a well placed kick faded when he placed the tray on the floor and pushed it towards her with his foot again, his hand on the gun at his waist. His face didn't have that strained, haunted expression of the previous day and this made him look younger. There was no sign of the monster who had shot and whipped Mulder the day before. "No time to chat this morning. I have to go down to the police station and talk to the F.B.I." Ron pronounced the last three letters proudly, as if he had been asked to lunch with the President who wanted his personal opinion on some important issue. "They called me at the café last night and asked me to go in and talk to them. It seems two agents have gone missing and they think I can help with their enquiries. This is not the first time the police have asked for my help, you know." He puffed up at his own self-importance and looked to her as if seeking her approval. The small flicker of hope that had surged within her at the mention of the FBI was squashed when Scully looked into Ron's cold eyes. He smiled that patronizing smile she hated and whispered in a soft voice as if they might be overheard. "Don't worry, Sis, I won't tell them you're back. It'll be our secret. No one is going to take you away from me now." When Scully failed to respond to his promise, his eyes flashed angrily. "What is it with you? You're just like Daddy. Nothing I do pleases you. Don't you think I can keep a secret? Is that it? WELL, I CAN," he shouted at the top of his voice. "YOU THINK I'M STUPID, DON'T YOU?" The insanity was back in his eyes and Scully was terrified he would loose control again and hurt her partner. She immediately jumped off the bed and raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "No, I don't." She didn't dare look at her partner. She looked around her side of the room; desperate to say something that would calm Ron. Her eyes settled on the untouched tray at her feet and she had an idea. "Please forgive me. You're a wonderful brother. You look after me and bring me food. I need you, Ron, I need you to look after me." She chanced a look at Ron's face. The anger was fading, replaced with a look of wonder. "You need me?" She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Ron was pleased. She hadn't turned away from him or cried. She said she needed him. Not Daddy but him. For the first time in his life, she needed *him*. And she had asked for *his* forgiveness. He liked being in control and he revelled in the power of it. He wasn't like Daddy. He would forgive her. This time. "Very well. I forgive you," he said generously, waving his hand in the air like a benevolent God. "But I want to see your smile. I've missed that most of all." "Thank you, Ron," whispered a relieved Scully, as she forced a smile to her lips. Talking to this man was like walking in a mine field. One wrong move on her part and he exploded. She didn't know if she could keep up with his sudden mood changes much longer and still keep her own sanity. Ron didn't notice her pale complexion as he flashed her another irritating smile in return. He looked like an excited teenager about to go on his first date, instead of a man about to be questioned by the police. "Well, I must go. They're waiting for me." He paused and looked at her adoringly. "Oh, it is so good to have you back, Sis." He turned and rushed from the room, eager to get to his appointment. When they heard him lock the door and run up the stairs, a shaking Scully turned to Mulder, who had watched Ron's performance closely. "Thanks, Scully. I think you ... just saved my butt again." Scully looked at her partner, uncomfortable with his praise when it would have been her fault if he had been punished again. "I don't understand, Mulder. Ron still refers to me as his sister and yet he must know we are the agents that the Bureau is looking for? He has our ID's." "I know it doesn't make sense ... to us but that's part of his psychosis. He only sees what fits into his dream world and ignores ... anything that contradicts it. Control is very important to him. As long as he feels in ... control and everything goes the way he wants it to... he will play out the fantasy about his sister until she chooses to stay with him. He won't kill us ... unless he loses hope that his dream will come true." "How long do you think we have before...." Mulder closed his aching eyes. "Maybe two days, no more. Depends ...on how long it takes to positively identify the bodies. I think the remains of Ron's sister and her husband are the most ... decomposed of the bodies dug up in the woods. It will take longer to positively identify them. Our disappearance ...complicates matters. The Bureau won't know for sure if our failure to turn up is connected to the murders or not. Either way, Aitken will have to get another Pathologist. He'll still want ... to keep any information about the murders quiet for the moment. That media blackout is still in effect. I'm not sure what Ron will do ... when he's officially notified that his sister is dead." He moved his arms to rub his burning eyes and stubbled jaw and winced when the pain in his back flared. "Do you think anyone will see through Ron?" she asked, hopefully. God, he looks so sick. His sweat soaked hair was plastered to his forehead and she could tell he was in a lot of pain. "Maybe but Ron's been living this fantasy for months ... I doubt he'll slip up now. My guess is that he'll be ... polite and controlled. He's already been ... questioned once before and passed." Damn! It was so hard to concentrate when his leg felt like someone had stuck it with a red-hot poker and his head was about to explode. Scully noticed Mulder was paler than before, if that was possible. She knew he was close to passing out again but she had to talk to him about what happened last night. "Mulder, I can't watch another scene like last night. I just can't. I refuse to watch him hurt you again and pretend that I'm not dying inside." He slowly opened his eyes and saw concern and fear mixed with something else in the eyes of his partner. He wasn't sure exactly what it was but he had seen it a few times before. Mostly it was when he was recovering from an injury after he had run off and done something stupid but he didn't have time to analyse it now. He had to convince her to stick to the original plan. "You have to ...ignore me. It's ... the only way." "No, don't ask me to do that again. I can't and I won't." "Please, Scully, he'll kill you. You have ... to make him think you'll ...stay with him." "So he can kill you and let me live? Is that your plan? Because if it is, I don't want any part of it." She was angry now, her eyes blazing. He hesitated, not wanting to upset her further. It was just as well their kidnapper had left the house, thought Mulder or he would be privy to their rather heated conversation. He gave an exasperated sigh. He didn't like it when she was angry with him and this argument was getting them nowhere. He felt weak and dizzy all of a sudden but he wouldn't give in until he made her see reason. He made a last ditch effort to try and get her to follow his plan. "It's the only way. If you choose ... him then he might let me go." He knew that wasn't going to happen but if he could convince her then maybe she had a chance to live. That was all he cared about, but one look at her face and he knew the jig was up. "That's bullshit and you know it. He'll kill you. Don't expect me to stand by and watch him do it either. I won't. I'd rather kill myself. Do you hear me?" she shouted. The vehemence in her voice startled him. He hurt all over and he didn't want to fight any more. He just wanted to close his burning eyes and escape his aching body but he had to settle this first. "No you won't, ... you've got too much to live for ... and a family that loves you ... Besides, you're Catholic." He was right of course. Suicide went against everything she believed in. But could she calmly wait for death and give up what little control she had over what was left of her life? No, she couldn't do that either. Besides, she didn't want to consider a life without Mulder. "I won't watch you die and then wait for him to kill me. I won't, do you hear me, Mulder?" Her anger faded away and then she said softly, "We're in this together, partner, just like always." How could he argue with that? They were always stronger together than they were apart although he wasn't sure that would apply this time. He was injured and a liability if Scully could somehow escape. All right, he thought wearily, time to try a different approach. "Promise me ... something." "Not now. Just rest." soothed Scully. He ignored her. "Promise me you'll ...escape if you get the chance. Get help. Don't worry 'bout me... only hold you back. Promise?" "I can't, and don't give me any grief about it because I know you wouldn't leave me either." He continued as if she hadn't replied. "Promise me. You have ... to promise." Scully sighed, frustrated that he would even ask this of her but she knew an obsessive Mulder was hard to put off. Trust him to want her safe even if it meant he would probably be on the receiving end of Ron's fury if she did manage to escape. She looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. She swallowed the lump in her throat and concentrated on keeping her voice from betraying her. "I can't promise that. We'll make it out together or ..." "P'ease, Scully." "No, we make it out together or not at all. I won't leave you. I told you before. I won't watch you die and I meant it." "Bu' Scullee...." She noticed his slurred speech and kicked herself for wasting his remaining strength on a fight. He was slipping away from her and there was nothing she could do about it. The fever raging though his system was the enemy now. God, this was so frustrating. She yanked on the chain again in a futile attempt to get closer to him but it was no use. "No buts. You have to hold on for me. Do you hear me, partner?" "Hmmm." "Promise me you'll hold on. Okay?" she asked softly, the tenderness evident in her voice. He was relieved she didn't sound angry with him anymore. His head was throbbing; his leg felt as if a rat was gnawing on the hot flesh and the room was spinning again. What did she want? Something about holding on for her. It didn't matter. He'd do anything to make her happy. "'kay, ...d-deal." Scully watched helplessly as his body listed to his left and he slid to the floor. It broke her heart to hear him whimper softly at the pain the movement caused him but he didn't wake up. She couldn't help him but at least he had escaped the pain and for that she was thankful. Wearily, she decided she should eat something so she headed for the tray. She forced the food down her throat, drank from the tap and paced up and down beside the bed, working the kinks out of her stiff muscles. She exercised for the same reason she ate. Ron might become complacent and make a mistake. Please God; he had to make a mistake. She sat on the edge of the bed and spent some time trying to think of an alternative escape plan but she couldn't come up with anything. Exasperated, she decided she had to go with Mulder's plan simply because she couldn't think of an alternative. Mulder moved restlessly on the mattress and whimpered softly, caught up in some fever dream. She called to him reassuringly and he settled but not before she saw tears leaking from the outside corners of his eyes. Seeing him cry in his sleep was too much. A sob caught in her throat and she couldn't stop her own tears. "Oh God..." She sobbed. "Not like this. Not after all we've been through." When there were no more tears left and she was reduced to hiccups, she looked over at the man huddled on the mattress. She was worried about how much he was sweating and how little fluid he was taking in. She tried to fight the despair and fear that gripped her heart. What if they didn't make it this time? What if Mulder died and she lived? The knot in her stomach tightened sharply at the thought of a life without him. No, Mulder was a survivor. He would hold on for her. He'd promised. She desperately needed to touch him, re-connect with him and give him some of her strength. But most of all, she needed to tell him something she had refused to acknowledge until now. She finally admitted to herself that she loved Mulder with an intensity that frightened her. Since Antarctica, the dynamic of their relationship had changed and so had her feelings for him. Why hadn't she told him? She knew the answer to that. It all came back to the one emotion she couldn't seem to get past. Fear. Not fear of monsters or mutants or conspiracies. She could handle that kind of fear; it went with the job. But the irrational fear she had of losing someone she loved. It was that fear that had prevented her from giving her heart to Mulder. But what if Mulder did die? Would her pain be any less than if they had consummated their relationship and moved to the next level? No, the vice-like grip around her heart gave her the answer to that question. Of course, he had been near death before but that had been many layers of friendship ago. She had loved him then but not like now. He had become the most important person in her life. She didn't know how or when that had happened, it just had. What a fool she'd been. She'd sacrificed whatever happiness she may have enjoyed with Mulder to protect her heart, without realising that the pain of losing him would be the same whether they were lovers or not. The only difference was, if he died, she would only have regrets and not the happy memories her mother had of her father. Too late she realised she couldn't protect her heart by denying her feelings. Oh, God, she prayed again, please don't take him from me. I need to tell him. Now she had a new kind of fear. A fear that she had left it too late; that he might die and never know how she felt. She made a vow to God and to Mulder, that she would tell him the first chance she got. Scully didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until she woke with a start. From the shadows on the walls, she guessed it was mid-afternoon. Rising from the bed, she moved closer to her partner and was shocked at what she saw. He was deathly pale except for his unshaven cheeks, which were flushed with fever. His eyes were sunken, rimmed with dark circles, and his hair was stuck to his sweaty brow. She pushed down the panic that told her his time was running out. Feeling frustrated at her inability to do anything for her still-sleeping partner, she sighed and turned towards the small sink. If she was going to woo Ron, she had to freshen up. She washed her face and hands, ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her clothes. She changed the bandage on her wrist, wincing as she washed the mildly infected cuts and dressed the wounds again. She just wished she could do the same for Mulder but there was no way she could reach him and he couldn't manage it himself. As she finished, she became aware that she was being observed and turned around to see her partner watching her. He just lay on his side, looking at her, his eyes glazed with pain and fever. "Hey. How long have you been awake?" she asked. "Long 'nough ...t' know I'm 'n real trouble. Don't think ...gonna make it." "Don't talk like that, Mulder," she said sharply, but the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her. She didn't like how he was talking but that didn't change the facts. It was only a matter of time. He knew it and so did she. Damn, she was not going to lose him now. She had to get more fluids into him. "Can you drink some more water?" He didn't answer. He just stared at her, memorizing her features as if he would never see her again. She became frantic as his eyes drifted shut. "No, Mulder, you have to hold on. Do you hear me? I love you." There, she'd said it. She'd finally crossed the line but she doubted he'd heard her. He surprised her when she heard him ask weakly, "You ...love me? The forever 'n ever ... kind of love or ...the best friend kind of love?" "The forever and ever kind." He gave a small smile as he struggled to open his eyes again but only managed to lift them to half-mast. How many times had he dreamt of her saying those words to him? He'd lost count. He must be dreaming. He struggled to focus his eyes, expecting her to disappear in a cloud of smoke and was surprised when she was still there. "I like ... this dream. Can we stay here ... where you ...love me?" Scully bit her lip, lines of worry creasing her forehead. "It's not a dream. I do love you. Mulder, please listen to me," she pleaded. "I love you and when we get out of here, I promise to show you how much, but you have to keep your promise first. Remember? You promised to hold on for me." "I d-did?" he asked stupidly. Oh yeah, that's right. He had to hold on. Was that what she'd said? He thought it was, but his mind was playing tricks on him. Why else would he hear her say she loved him? He moved his head slightly from side to side, trying to clear it but that action only brought on a wave of pain and dizziness that threatened to engulf him. He was shivering now and he vaguely wondered how he could be so cold when his leg was on fire. Scully's voice kept drifting in and out but he couldn't hear the words. It was as if she was calling to him from the end of a long tunnel. Scully stood by helplessly as tears rolled down her cheeks. She'd been calling to him for the last few minutes but she knew he couldn't hear her. She had no need to hide her tears because he was looking straight through her. He was focused on a vision only he could see. Mulder blinked several times, trying to focus but everything was blurry. He hurt all over and he wanted Scully. Where was she? His mind kept wandering but he tried to concentrate. She said she loved him. He latched onto that thought. He called her name over and over but all he heard in reply was the pounding in his head. His eyesight cleared for a moment and he was relieved to see her standing before him. She was wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, her damp hair hanging around her beautiful face in soft curls. She smiled and mouthed the words 'I love you' as she reached for him. He tried to lift his arms, ignoring the pull on his back but he had no strength left. Moaning, he fell back to the mattress. The blackness was closing in. His glazed eyes searched one last time for her face but she had disappeared. No, not again. "N-noooo. W-where are y-you Scullee? D-don' l-leave me." He had to tell her. "L-love you, t-t-too. Sculleeeee." Scully strained against her cuffs, trying to get even a few inches closer to him. "Mulder, I'm here. I love you and I won't leave you. Please don't leave me." She was sobbing now, desperate to get through to him. "Mulder, stay with me. Please." No answer. "MULDER!" It was no use. He was unconscious again. She slumped to the floor, feeling cold and empty inside, knowing that unless he received medical attention and soon, he would die. After a few minutes, she dried her tears and made her decision. There was no more time to woo their abductor. Tonight was the night. She had no choice and nothing left to lose. Mulder would be lucky to last another day and, if he died, her life would be over even before Ron pulled the trigger and stopped her heart. She spent the remainder of the day waiting for Ron to return, praying that she could convince him to release her. As was becoming the pattern, Ron arrived with her evening meal on a cardboard tray about mid afternoon. He placed the tray on the floor and pushed it toward her as usual. As he stepped back, she forced a big smile and hoped he didn't notice that it failed to reach her eyes. "Good evening, Sally." "Good evening, Ron." This ritual was wearing a bit thin but it seemed important to Ron that they exchange this pleasantry so she went along with it. She found it hard to hide the revulsion she felt for this man but she had to, if the plan was to work. Concentrate and don't blow it, Dana, she told herself. Ron retreated to the far side of the room and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at her with an odd expression in his black eyes. He seemed relaxed, even pleased about something. Scully eyes followed his every move, her back to her partner. She hated having to do that but it was better than inadvertently looking at Mulder when he cried out for her. She didn't dare incur Ron's anger again. She fleetingly wondered how his chat with the Bureau had gone. She came to the conclusion that if they had seen through Ron's charade, he wouldn't be here and he certainly wouldn't be this happy. That meant she was on her own. *************** She needed to tell Ron she would stay with him but she had to do it without arousing the man's suspicions. It was hard to be patient, knowing that every moment was critical if she was to save Mulder, but she didn't want to blow it by rushing things. Start with small talk, she told herself. "Thank you for the meal, Ron." Ron was delighted. This was more like it. She appreciated and respected him. She gave him her undivided attention. He pushed Daddy to the back of his mind. The euphoria he felt made him giddy and only reinforced his certainty that she was the one to save him. "I have a present for you, Sis," he said, smiling. He reached around the back of his jeans and pulled out an object that he'd hidden behind his back. He held it up proudly for her inspection. It was a rag doll about 14 inches long with two blue buttons for eyes, an embroidered nose and mouth, and brown wool stitched to the head that had been plaited and lovingly tied back from the cloth face. The clothing was grubby but the doll had obviously been a much-loved plaything from the past. From the look on his face, Ron expected her to recognise it. Then it hit her. It must have been Sally's doll. It was the perfect opening for her. "Thank you for looking after her, Ron. You are the best brother a girl could ever have." If he had been happy before, he positively beamed at her praise. Scully decided to exploit his good mood and prayed she could deliver an Oscar-winning performance. "I hope you still want me, Ron, because I want to stay with you." She tried to put as much affection into her voice as she could. Ron took a step towards her. "Really?" She nodded, giving him what she hoped he would interpret as an adoring look. He stared at her as if he couldn't believe his dearest wish had been granted. "You'll stay with me? Love me and never leave me?" She nodded again. Ron wanted so much to believe her but he'd been disappointed before, had his hopes dashed too many times to take her words at face value. Daddy was in his head again, telling him not to trust her. That she would betray him like the others. "Do you still love him?" he asked jerking his head in the direction of the unconscious man behind her. Scully knew she had to get this part right and prayed she said what Ron wanted to hear. "No, he's weak and I hate him. I made a big mistake when I left. I should have stayed here with you. Please forgive me." She tried not to choke on the words as the tears trickled down her cheeks. "I love you, Ron, and I want to stay with you." He tried to look into her eyes and detect any deceit but she was sobbing now, her hands over her eyes. That part was not an act as Scully's overwrought emotions took over. Could he believe her? Ron wanted to with all his heart and soul but Daddy said there was only one way to be sure she meant what she said. Without warning, Ron whirled and turned on Mulder, who lay helpless on the mattress. Scully heard a sickening thud and opened her eyes at the same time as her partner cried out in anguish. The pain of something striking his midsection woke Mulder with an unpleasant jolt and he screamed. He fought to take a breath as something connected with his ribs again, but the wind was knocked out of him. He opened his eyes and blinked, still struggling to take air into his lungs but the pain in his side exploded again and again. He heard Scully screaming but the words were all jumbled and distant as the pain became too much and he lost consciousness once more. Scully felt trapped in her worst nightmare all over again as she helplessly watched the man she loved being repeatedly kicked. Without thinking, she ran towards her partner's tormentor and yelled at him to stop. Promising him anything if he would just stop. Her pleading just provoked the furious man to kick Mulder even more. Then Ron rounded on her, eyes blazing, his pleasure now turned to rage. In that instant, she knew he'd tested her and she'd failed. Ron knew it too. Spit dribbled from his chin, his face beet red as he angrily yelled at her, "YOU BITCH! Daddy was right. Did you think you could trick me...me, your own brother? HOW COULD YOU?" "I'm sorry, Ron." She sobbed. "Please give me another chance. I'll stay with you, I promise. Just let him go and I'll stay with you and I won't give you any trouble." She was begging by this time but she didn't care. She had blown it. Nothing else mattered but getting Mulder to a hospital. If Ron decided to punish her again, Mulder wouldn't survive. Scully knew her defence of Mulder had cost what little trust she'd gained in the last two days and she cursed herself. Stupid...stupid...stupid. "Daddy won't stand for this, you know," he spat out. "What do I do? Oh, what do I do?" Ron grabbed his head and cried out as if in pain. Daddy wanted him to kill them both. "No, Daddy, no. I won't do it." Ron was devastated. She was the one. He had been sure of it and since he couldn't possibly be wrong, there had to be a reason why she defended that weak, pathetic excuse for a man. If only Daddy would get out of his head and leave him alone to think. Ron dropped his arms to his side and glanced at Scully who was standing with her hands over her mouth, silent now, except for the occasional sob. He looked at the man on the floor and then back at Scully. A sudden flash of understanding crossed his features and the anger was gone, replaced by that maddening smile. "*Now* I get it. I don't know why I didn't see it before. He's the problem." He paused, pointing to Mulder. "He has some sort of hold over you. *That's* why. It's so simple. If he's gone, you'll be free of his influence." He gazed at her with something akin to desperation in his eyes. "You are my last hope. I can't look any more...I'm so tired and Daddy is so strong sometimes. I just want us to be together like we used to be. That's not too much to ask, is it?" Scully stared at him, hesitant to say anything that would make the situation worse but sensed that he might listen to her now that he seemed to have calmed down. She figured she had nothing left to lose. "Please, Ron, let me go," she said softly. "I'll help you in any way I can but I need you to undo these cuffs." He seemed to waver for a second but she knew she had lost her chance when his eyes hardened once again. "No, not yet. I have to remove him and stop his hold over you. Then everything will be all right." He looked at his watch and gave a resigned sigh. "No time now though. I have to go to work but I'll be back in the morning. I'll get rid of him then. He won't influence you any more." "No, no... please leave him alone. Let him go and I'll do whatever you want." Her begging only confirmed his hypothesis and strengthened his resolve. "No, Sis. I'm right, I know I am. It's for the best, you'll see." Then he was gone and Scully was left alone, knowing she had failed and that in the morning, Ron would take Mulder away from her. She tried to rouse her partner but he didn't respond. Not that she expected him to. His breathing was laboured and there was a definite rattle in his chest now. She had no idea what damage had been done when Ron kicked him. Not that it mattered, she thought. Whether he died from internal injuries, dehydration or from the fever, he would still be dead. She returned to the bed as tears of frustration fell from her tired eyes. Damn, she had promised herself she wasn't going to get emotional again. She was angry with herself for indulging in useless displays of emotion, angry with herself for reacting when Ron kicked Mulder, which she was sure resulted in a more severe beating, but most of all, she was angry with herself for failing to convince Ron she would stay with him. She went over and over the scene in her mind and the depth of her revulsion for Ron startled her. She hated his smiling face and promised herself that she would wipe off that smile if it was the last thing she did. She forced her mind to distance herself from her feelings for Mulder. She had to think. Ron would return in the morning and take away the only thing that mattered to her. She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She didn't want to live without Mulder. She just didn't and that was one thing Ron couldn't control. ****************** Basement of house Location unknown THE NEXT MORNING Thursday Sunrise Again it was the pain that brought Mulder back to consciousness. He couldn't draw a breath without pain shooting thorough his chest so he resorted to shallow pants. His head was pounding and his leg and back were throbbing. The thought that he was still alive dimly registered in his brain. Then he remembered Scully, his beautiful Scully, who said she loved him, and hazily wondered if it had been a dream after all. No, it had been real... hadn't it? He needed to talk to her but he just didn't have the energy right now. Maybe later. He was drifting back to sleep when he heard the key turn in the lock. He forced his heavy eyelids to open a little. He shook his head and blinked twice to clear his hazy vision. What he saw made him cry out in anguish. "No! Scully, no. Nooo." He sobbed, his voice no louder than a hoarse whisper. The door to the cellar opened and Ron stepped into the room, tray in hand, the gun shoved in its usual place at his waist. He looked at Mulder as he entered, not used to hearing any sound from his captive. He followed Mulder's line of vision and saw Scully hanging limply from a rope made from a torn up blanket, attached to one of the pipes under the ceiling. He echoed Mulder's cry of "No!" Hastily, Ron dropped the tray he was holding as he fumbled in his trousers for his pocketknife and ran towards the bed. Mulder tried to drag himself towards Scully, a surge of adrenaline fuelling his futile attempt to reach her. He didn't stop to think that he wouldn't be able to get to her; his fever-filled brain just knew he had to try. The movement caused his previously throbbing leg to explode with pain and his body couldn't sustain the rush. He was too weak to move more than a few inches and he fell limply to the mattress as the world went gray around him. ****************** Basement of House Location unknown THE NIGHT BEFORE Wednesday After dark Scully didn't know what to do. That bastard had made it very clear that Mulder would be taken in the morning. She lay on the bed and looked around the moonlit room for what was probably the 100th time, trying to find something she had missed. She looked up at the pipes hanging from the ceiling above her bed. Also for the 100th time, she wished they weren't so securely fastened to the ceiling by those heavy metal clips or she might be able to work one loose and use it as a weapon. Shit, even the metal clip had potential as a weapon if she had something with which to unscrew the bolts. Then an idea hit her... it just might work. She stood on the bed. She ignored the pain as the chain attached to her left wrist dug into her flesh. Extending her right arm, she stretched up to see if she could reach the pipes above her head. Damn, she couldn't reach. There had to be a way. She frantically glanced around, looking for a way to gain some height. Yes... the bed head. She climbed up the iron cross bars of the bed head and breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to reach the pipes. Satisfied that she could execute her plan, she climbed back down and set to work. The dim light cast by the full moon was just enough for Scully to see what she was doing. She tore the remaining sheet into broad strips and fashioned a sort of body harness that looked like an oversized pair of panties except the waist of the panties would sit under her armpits. It was similar to the type of harness used to train trapeze artists or sky divers. She used her teeth to help tear the blanket into strips and then plaited them together to form a rope. Climbing up the bed head again, and after several attempts, she managed to push one end of the makeshift rope over the pipe above her head. With a little effort, she pushed it along until the ends cleared the side of the bed and hung from the pipe like a piece of wet spaghetti dangling from a fork. So far, so good. She climbed down to the floor and tied one end of the rope to the back of the harness. Now for a trial run. She stepped into the harness and pulled it up over her clothes. She made a few necessary adjustments. The wide strip across her chest supported most of her weight but the two pieces that passed between her legs and joined the chest section below each breast helped take a bit of the weight off her armpits and ribcage. She hoped this would give her deception a more realistic appearance. Now she was ready to test it. She pulled on the loose end of the rope and raised herself off the floor a few inches, relieved when it held her weight. The harness was not very comfortable but hopefully she wouldn't have to wear it for very long. She climbed out of it and tied the untethered end of the rope to the top of the iron post bed. She double-checked the length to make sure she wouldn't be able to touch the floor while suspended from the ceiling and then positioned the harness so that it was level with, and to the right, of the bed. Now for the finishing touch. She made a hangman's noose from the last bit of sheet and attached it to the rope hanging from the ceiling where it joined the harness. It was loose enough to fit over her head and she made sure she put a knot in it so that the noose didn't really slip tight if any pressure was applied. She sat back to review her handiwork and go over her plan again in her head. Finally, deciding that there was nothing else she could do, she settled down to wait. If Ron kept to his usual routine, she expected him to arrive with her breakfast tray around dawn. She only hoped that the weak light of the early morning would help hide her deception as long as possible. She figured she only needed at total of 15-20 seconds for her plan to work. It all depended on whether Ron was shocked enough to act first and think second. The element of surprise was a crucial factor in her calculations Scully tried to talk to Mulder about her plan but he was unresponsive and that made her worry even more. She couldn't see him clearly, so she sat on the bed, listening to his shallow breathing, comforted by the fact that he *was* breathing. She didn't dare go to sleep in case her exhausted body slept past dawn so she stayed awake all night and prayed as she had never prayed before. She asked God to forgive her sins and to help her in her hour of need. She asked Him to give her the strength to carry out her plan. But most of all, she begged Him to watch over Mulder and keep him safe. Before the first streaks of light announced the coming dawn, she removed her clothes and put the harness on underneath. The top half was more difficult to deal with because she couldn't completely remove her blouse and jacket due to the cuff on her left wrist but she managed. Then she checked and rechecked the knots. Not until she was satisfied with the harness did she put her clothes on over the top. With her blouse buttoned up to the neck, only the noose was visible from the front. Her hair hid the knot where it was joined to the braided blanket. She rested her rear against the top of the bed head and waited. Just when she thought she couldn't stand the wait any longer, she heard Ron's footsteps in the room above. She took a deep breath and gingerly eased herself off the bed, allowing the harness to support her weight as she swung freely beside the bed. The weight of the chain attached to her cuffed wrist actually worked in her favour and prevented her from twirling round and round. Scully was not stupid enough to think her ploy would fool anyone once they took a closer look but she only needed Ron to be distracted for a few moments. Please God, let him be distracted. She almost blew it when she heard Mulder cry out to her but she forced herself to keep her head flopped to the side, her chin almost on her chest, and prayed this gave the desired impression. The sound of the door opening was followed by a thud, as the tray fell to the floor. She heard hurried footsteps approach the bed. She was sure that at any moment, Ron would hear the pounding of her heart and realise he was being tricked. It took all her will-power not to open her eyes or breath heavily. Ron raced to the bed, finally managing to pull his pocketknife from his trousers, and grabbed her limp body. He was shocked that this was happening. She was the one. He couldn't be wrong. No, she couldn't kill herself. He supported her weight with one arm as he reached up and cut the braided strips of blanket with the knife held in the other. As the sharp blade slashed through the cloth, her weight pushed him off balance and they both crashed to the bed. He noticed she was still warm and felt a glimmer of hope as he leaned over her to check for a pulse. In that instant, she opened her eyes and grabbed the gun still tucked in his belt. Before he could react, she quickly pushed herself into a sitting position, scooting up the bed. With her back to the bed head, she held the gun in both hands and pointed it at his chest. "Put your hands in the air and don't move," she growled. Ron was dumbfounded. She was alive? She had tricked him? Daddy's words echoed through his mind. 'You're such a stupid bastard. You got no more sense than a dumb jackrabbit that gets caught in one of my traps.' Daddy was laughing at him. Anger made him lunge for the gun. Scully pulled the trigger. Ron looked down in amazement as the bullet impacted his chest, the blood staining his white shirt. He fell backwards onto the bed, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling. Scully quickly reached over to check his pulse. He was dead. She wasted no more time thinking about the lifeless man and quickly searched his pockets for the key to the handcuffs. Triumphantly, she pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and searched through them until she found a small key that she recognised as a cuff key. Damn! She was shaking so badly now that it was hard to put the key in the lock. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her body was reacting to the sudden loss of adrenaline from her confrontation with Ron but that didn't help her trembling fingers work any faster or make the queasy feeling in her stomach go away. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she finally unlocked the cuffs. Anxious to get to Mulder, she hurriedly climbed off the bed but fell to the ground when her shaking legs refused to support her weight. A wave of nausea overcame her and she struggled to reach the basin where she promptly vomited. She hadn't eaten anything since the day before so it was mostly bile. She rinsed her mouth out with water, silently cursing her body for wasting precious time. She felt so weak she had to drop to the floor and crawl the rest of the way to her partner. He lay on his side, his arms stretched out towards her bed. She immediately felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she found a weak one. His skin was hot and flushed, his breath coming in shallow pants as he tried to draw air into his lungs. Damn, probably pneumonia on top of his other injuries. She released his cuffs and gently examined his swollen leg, noting that the skin was tight and hot to the touch. She winced when she gently lifted the remains of his jacket and shirt from his body and saw the infected cuts on his back as well as purple bruises, courtesy of Ron's boot from the night before. She checked for broken bones, thankful when she couldn't detect any obvious breaks but she suspected a few cracked ribs. She looked over at Ron's cooling body laying on what had been her bed. If she hadn't already killed him, she would have happily emptied her gun into that bastard for what he'd done to her partner. "Oh, Mulder," she sighed, tears springing to her eyes. She angrily brushed them away. She leaned forward and kissed his damp forehead, brushing a wisp of hair out of the way as she ran her other hand down his stubbled cheek. He didn't respond but she needed to touch him, reconnect with him after so many days apart. But there was no time for anything else. He needed a hospital and fast. She hated to leave him but she had to get help. She stumbled towards the door, desperation giving her the strength. It seemed to take forever to climb the stairs but she finally reached another door at the top. The door opened onto a small kitchen and she looked around frantically for a telephone. There it was, on the bench by the back door. She walked unsteadily over to it and lifted the handset. Damn, damn, damn. No dial tone. She threw the useless phone on the floor in frustration. Please God, don't desert me now, she pleaded. She cautiously moved down the small hallway, looking in each room as she passed. It was obvious Ron didn't live in the house, as there was a layer of dust everywhere. Later she would think about it and realise that Ron used cousin Will's place because it was remote and uninhabited. That also explained why the phone was disconnected and why no one had come to the house but at the moment her mind was focused on getting help. At the end of the hallway, she opened the front door and ventured out onto the porch. The brightness of the morning sun after three days in the semi-darkness of the basement caused her to squint against the glare. She could see a dark blue van parked in front of the house. A long, unkempt driveway disappeared into the distance. There were no other buildings that she could see. She screamed for help at the top of her voice but there was no answering yell. She slumped against the wall, banging her fists against the wood as tears streamed down her face. It wasn't fair. She had killed the bad guy and escaped only to be trapped in another nightmare. She couldn't save the man she loved because she couldn't summon help. Stop it, she admonished herself. Stop this self-pity. Mulder wouldn't give up and neither would she. Logically, the van was the only way for her to get help. Damn! She had to waste time and go back down to the basement to get the keys. She didn't want to leave Mulder while she went for help but there was no other way. She couldn't carry him even if she thought it was safe to move him, which she didn't. She stumbled back the way she had come, feeling sick and unsteady on her feet. She forced her body to keep moving but she was completely and utterly drained. As she passed a room on her right, she felt drawn to a desk in the corner. Why she went into the room and opened that drawer, she could never recall. Maybe it was the lack of dust in the room but, whatever the reason, it probably saved Mulder's life. For lying in the drawer, scattered amongst other unfamiliar pieces of jewellery and personal effects, were their belongings, including their ID's and cell phones. She pounced on her cell phone, sending up a silent prayer that the battery hadn't gone flat. She remembered turning hers off to save the battery when they entered the diner because Mulder had given his number to the Sheriff in case they needed to be contacted. Her fingers shook as she pushed the on button. Yes! Thank you, God. There was power and a signal. She dialled 911 and just about collapsed with relief when an operator answered. She identified herself, reported that an officer was down and asked that they trace the call because she didn't know the address. "Please hurry...the scene is secure but please hurry." She shoved the still connected phone into her pocket before the dispatcher could ask her any questions and headed back to her partner as fast as she could. *************** Panic seized Scully as she knelt beside Mulder. He was hardly breathing and he felt hotter than when she had left him only a short time ago. She immediately checked his pulse again and cursed when it seemed weaker to her. She didn't want to disturb the bandage on his leg or move him too much, so all she could do was hold him until the paramedics arrived. She gently lifted his head and placed it on her knees. Not that he knew she was there but she comforted herself with the unrealistic thought that he wouldn't leave her while she held him in her arms. Please God, she prayed, please don't take him from me now. I can't imagine my life without him, I just can't. She pressed a soft kiss to his cracked lips but he didn't stir. Impatient, she pulled the cell phone from her pocket and was about to check with the dispatcher when she heard sirens approaching. Soon there was the sound of footsteps in the room above and on the stairs. Suddenly, the room filled with agents, guns drawn. Given the all clear, the paramedics quickly entered the room and headed for the two bodies entwined on the smelly mattress. An oxygen mask was placed over Mulder's face and IV's inserted in both arms. While one of the paramedics relayed his vitals to the local hospital, Scully heard a familiar voice behind her. "Scully?" She slowly turned her head to see a relieved Skinner walking towards her at the same time as the paramedics tried to lift Mulder from her lap. She clung to her partner possessively, afraid to let him go. "We need to get him to the hospital, Ma'am." "I know, it's just..." How could she tell them that if she let Mulder go, she was terrified he would give up. "Scully," Skinner said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Let them do their job." He took in her pale face, dishevelled appearance and bloodied wrist, and added, "You need to get to the hospital as well." "Please, Ma'am, we have to hurry." The urgency in the man's voice forced her to release her partner but not before she leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "Hold on, Mulder. You promised and we have some unfinished business. Remember?" She kissed his hot forehead and straightened, nodding to the paramedics and Mulder was quickly moved onto a gurney. She attempted to follow but found she didn't have the strength to rise. Firm, gentle hands helped her to her feet and tried to direct her to a gurney but she pushed them away. Her eyes were focused on the flurry of activity around her partner as he was rushed to the waiting ambulance. There was nothing in the world more important to her than the man who had just been taken from her. She knew that now. She also knew that locking her heart hadn't stopped the pain. She only prayed that she hadn't found out too late. Springhurst General Hospital Thursday 10.10AM Skinner sat in the stiff-backed hospital chair, removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He had arrived in town two days ago and taken charge of the investigation when his agents had gone missing. Thank God Scully had escaped because the perp had fooled the local agents completely. Skinner blamed himself for not interviewing Ron personally, convinced he would have seen through the man's façade but at the same time, he knew he couldn't handle every aspect of the case himself. Besides, such recriminations were immaterial now. The perp was dead. Skinner had left the job of securing the crime scene and removing Ron's body to the local boys so that he could be with his agents. He was worried about Scully. She had refused every attempt to have her own injuries tended to at the scene and had almost assaulted a paramedic who tried to force the issue and prevent her from accompanying her partner. Luckily for the EMT, Skinner had intervened and Scully had been helped into the ambulance where she immediately sat down beside Mulder. The ride to the hospital must have been Scully's worst nightmare, he thought, knowing Mulder had arrested in the ambulance after suffering a seizure brought on by his high temperature. Only the quick action of the paramedics, and their close proximity to the hospital, had brought him back. When his condition had stabilized in the ER, he had been rushed to the OR but that was hours ago and no one had been out to tell them what was happening. The AD kept an eye on Scully as she sat huddled in the chair with a blanket over her shoulders. He had managed to get her to drink some coffee but she was still refusing medical treatment until there was news of Mulder. There were black rings under her eyes and Skinner wondered when she had last slept, or eaten for that matter. She had given him a brief summary of what had happened and he could only imagine what it must have been like for her to watch helplessly as her partner had been shot and beaten in front of her. He wanted to get a more detailed statement but one look at her flushed face and he decided it could wait. Her eyes never left the double doors on their right. If Mulder had another seizure or died ... well, he didn't want to think about that. He watched as Scully leaned forward and rubbed her lower back as if it was bothering her. No wonder, he thought, considering how she had fooled the perp with that harness. Even *his* back ached just thinking about wearing it but it had worked. Her idea had been nothing short of brilliant and he would be putting in a commendation for her resourcefulness and ingenuity at the first opportunity. He wondered how much longer she would last before she collapsed but was at a loss to know what to do about it. She could be a very stubborn lady when she set her mind to it and he knew from past experience that she would refuse to leave the waiting room until there was news of Mulder. After a few more minutes, Skinner decided that enough was enough. He would try and talk to her again but if she still ignored him, he would order her to get medical attention and be damned with her rights. Hell, that was better than watching her fade before his eyes. Before he could carry out his thought, there was the sound of automatic doors opening, and a man in scrubs headed towards them. "Excuse me," he said, approaching them. "I'm Dr. Sumner and I'm looking for Dana Scully, Agent Mulder's next of kin." Scully seemed to get a surge of strength was somewhere and stood up, her attention focused on the man who could tell her about her partner. "I'm Dr. Scully." She used her medical title because she didn't want him to pull any punches. The doctor nodded and then looked at Skinner, who quickly introduced himself as he rose to stand beside Scully. Scully asked impatiently, "How is he?" "Well, as you know he arrested in the ambulance." Both of them nodded. "His temp was 104 on admission but it's dropped a degree since then. He regained consciousness in the ER on his way to surgery. His LOC was altered but..." the Doctor stopped when he saw the puzzled frown cross Skinner's face. "I'm sorry, that means he was a bit out of it, but the good news is that he doesn't appear to have suffered any brain damage as a result of the seizure." Skinner nodded his thanks and looked worriedly at Scully, who was swaying slightly, her hands clasped tightly at her side. The bloodstained makeshift bandage around her left wrist was a sharp contrast to her pale skin but her eyes never left the doctor's face as he continued his report. "Agent Mulder received two units of blood during surgery. He probably won't need any more. He was anaemic and severely dehydrated when admitted but that's being corrected with IV fluids as we speak. He has pneumonia in both lungs, which we are treating with antibiotics. There is severe bruising on his torso, arms and legs. Thankfully, his ribs are only badly bruised - that would have complicated the pneumonia and he doesn't need that. We have him on a respirator right now to help him breathe but we'll probably remove it this evening. He's sedated at present so he doesn't fight the tube and to help him cope with the pain." "He doesn't react well to anaesthetic. He usually vomits." Scully interrupted. The doctor nodded, making a note on the chart. "He has a nasogastric tube in so we'll leave that in for the moment. The through and through bullet wound to his upper right thigh didn't hit bone or any major vessels, thankfully." He looked up and smiled, pleased to be able to deliver some good news. "It was badly infected but we cleaned that up in the OR and I've started Agent Mulder on a course of antibiotics. As for his back, the lash wounds are superficial as are the cuts around his wrists. They were also infected but again, nothing the antibiotics can't clear up. He'll be uncomfortable for a while but he'll heal. We've done all we can at this point in time. It's up to him now. Since you're a doctor, I'm sure you are aware of what we can expect in the way of complications." Scully nodded, although at the moment, she couldn't think past the throbbing in her head and the fact that her partner was alive. If she could just be with him, he would fight any complications. Mulder had promised to hold on for her and she was damn well going to make sure he did. "I need to see him." "Later, when we move him to the ICU. He's still in recovery right now." "No, you don't understand. I ..." "Easy," Skinner interrupted. "Come on, Scully, you promised that you would let them look at you the moment we heard about Mulder. You need to have your own injuries looked at and there isn't anything more we can do until he's in a room. You..." He trailed off when he noticed that she was shivering even worse than before, with beads of perspiration dotting her forehead. He mentally kicked himself when it occurred to him that her face was flushed, not only because she was worried and upset, but because she was running a temperature. Even as that thought registered, Scully's eyes rolled back in her head and he caught her before she hit the floor. Skinner gently carried her to a gurney and watched as she was whisked away to the ER. He attempted to follow the gurney but a nurse shook her head and closed the double doors. He stood in the hallway, head bowed, blaming himself for not insisting Scully get medical treatment sooner. If it was anything serious, he knew Mulder would never forgive him. Hell, he wouldn't forgive himself! For the next hour, he paced the hall outside the ER, looking up as nurses came and went but none of them would tell him how his agent was. Finally, he was relieved to hear Scully's voice, soft at first but then louder. There was no mistaking the one anguished word that could be heard above all other sounds. MULDER! After another minute, a male voice, calm and reassuring, could be heard, although Skinner couldn't make out his words. Then the sound of a something metallic hitting the floor, followed by Scully's voice, softer this time but still calling for her partner. Skinner was just about to force his way into the cubicle and find out what the hell they were doing to his agent when the doctor appeared, carrying a chart in his hands, making notes as he walked. Doctor Allen, according to his nametag, looked up as Skinner approached and offered his hand. "I'm Assistant Director Skinner with the F.B.I. and I'm waiting for news about one of my agents, Dana Scully." "Ahhh, yes, I just had the pleasure of speaking with your agent. She's certainly strong-willed, isn't she?" he said with a wry smile, returning Skinner's firm handshake. At Skinner's questioning look, he continued. "She was in and out of consciousness for an hour or so but she came round about 5 minutes ago." "Will she be all right?" Skinner asked worriedly. "Yes, if she stays flat in bed. Her blood pressure is low, 80 over 50 and she has a temperature of 102 right now. She's dehydrated and I've started an intravenous drip to replace the fluids. I treated the lacerations to her left wrist and, while infected, they should heal without too much trouble." He referred to the chart in his hands. "She exhibited some right flank tenderness on examination, so I ran some blood tests. She has a lot of white blood cells in her urine and the WBC count in her blood is high. I'm fairly certain she has a kidney infection and I've started her on a course of antibiotics. I've been told that she and her partner were held against their will in a basement in the hills?" He looked at Skinner and frowned when the A.D. confirmed the story with a sharp nod. "Well, the lack of decent food and fluids combined with the stress of her ordeal is a perfect breeding ground for this sort of infection. She admitted that she had some lower back pain." Skinner nodded as he remembered seeing her rub her lower back when they were waiting for news of Mulder. "What's her prognosis?" "I expect her to make a full recovery. I'd like to admit her and keep her on IV fluids and antibiotics for at least 24 hours but ..." "But what?" "Well, I'm not sure she'll want to stay in bed and rest when she wakes up. She wasn't very cooperative in the ER just now. I told her to lay flat because if she tried to sit or stand up, she could pass out again. I might as well have save my breath because she ignored my medical advice and tried to get up, calling for someone named 'Mulder'. She nearly passed out again and became so agitated that I had to sedate her for her own good. Of course, if she'd listened to me, we could have avoided that. And to think, someone told me she was a doctor," he said, shaking his head. "I expect her to be out for at least eight to ten hours. She sure was determined to get to this 'Mulder'. Is he her partner?" "Yes, he's just come out of surgery and is in ICU," replied Skinner as he sighed tiredly. From experience, he knew that keeping Scully down when she woke up was going to be almost impossible. He'd often wondered how far the relationship between his two agents had gone but since it hadn't affected their solve rate, he'd decided not to interfere. During his years with the Bureau, he'd seen many close relationships develop between partners but those two had something special. They loved each other, he was sure of that. He just wasn't sure if they knew it yet or if they'd acted on it. "I don't envy you when she wakes up. You have no idea how determined she can be." Doctor Allen smiled knowingly. "I have a feeling I'm going to find out. Don't worry; I can be pretty stubborn too. The antibiotics should clear up the infection in no time. I've put her on a full liquid diet and if she tolerates the fluids, she can progress to a soft diet later tonight. If all goes well, she can visit her partner later tomorrow provided her blood pressure is back to normal. Don't worry; we'll take good care of her. She'll be taken to a room shortly and you can sit with her if you like." "Thank you, doctor. I appreciate all you've done." The doctor shook hands with Skinner again and tucked the chart under his arm as he continued down the hall. Skinner stood and looked at the closed doors to the ER. He hesitated, not knowing what to do for the best. He was torn between wanting to stay with Scully and wanting to check up on Mulder. Coming to a decision, Skinner walked to the nurse's desk and told the nurse where he'd be and asked that he be kept informed about the condition of his female agent. Then he headed back to the surgical floor. He knew the best way to help Scully was to make sure Mulder wasn't alone, and he intended to do just that. ******************* Springhurst General Hospital Thursday 3.15PM 4 hours later Awareness slowly seeped into Mulder's brain. He recognized the hazy floating feeling that told him he'd been sedated and was on heavy painkillers. He heard the beeping of a heart monitor and smelled the unmistakeable sterilized smells that he associated with a hospital. Damn, how did he get here this time? What happened? God, he felt fuzzy. A part of him wanted to give in to the drugs and sleep but he needed to see Scully so he fought his way up through the fog. He twitched his hands and felt the pull of IV's in both of them. Fuck, probably had a catheter as well. His leg and back hurt a little but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He tried to swallow but couldn't. Then he gagged and felt as if he couldn't breathe. He knew that feeling. A respirator. Shit, he hated those things worse than catheters. "He's waking up but he shouldn't be. He should have been out for at least another hour. Get the doctor stat," an unfamiliar voice said. He vaguely registered the sound of the monitors beeping even louder as a hand touched his shoulder. "Relax, Agent Mulder. Just let the machine breathe for you." A different voice this time. Wait a minute. Where was Scully? The drugs were pulling him down again and he really wanted to sink back into the darkness but not until he made sure Scully was all right. He blinked slowly and tried to focus on the blur beside his bed, expecting to see his partner. Instead of Scully, a sandy-haired man wearing glasses, with a stethoscope hanging around his shoulders, came into view. "Don't try to talk, Agent Mulder. You're going to be fine." Like hell he was. Not until he saw Scully, but where was she? She was always by his side when he woke up in the hospital. Had she been hurt too? He shifted his gaze from the man and his eyes searched the room, looking for his partner. Where was she? Something was wrong. When Mulder couldn't find her, he panicked. A man's voice said, "He's fighting the tube. Let's extubate. O2 mask at 4 litres." Within minutes the tube was removed and Mulder was breathing on his own with a mask over his face. He kept asking about Scully but his throat was so sore that his voice came out as a whisper, which couldn't be heard due to the mask over his face. He thrashed around, trying to get someone's attention but that only made the pain in his leg explode a hundred-fold. He moaned and clenched his eyes shut against the agony now radiating from his thigh but he persisted, wanting an answer. Why wouldn't anyone answer him? "He's very agitated, doctor, and seems to be in a lot of pain." "Give him 4mg morphine IV." Mulder shook his head and tried to cry out that he didn't want anything, that he only wanted Scully but they misunderstood. Then he heard a woman's voice in his ear again. "It's okay, Agent Mulder. You'll feel better in a moment. You need to rest." No, he didn't want to rest and feel better; he just wanted Scully. Something cold flowed into his veins and that was the last thing he remembered for quite a while. ***************** Springhurst General Hospital Thursday 11.40PM 8 Hours later Mulder woke when he felt himself being half-turned onto his left side and the dull pain in his right leg increased. A nasal cannula under his nose had replaced the oxygen mask. He took a quick inventory of where he hurt but decided he ached all over. Even breathing was difficult. He tried to remember what had happened but, as usual, the drugs had turned his brain to mush. Shit, he hated this hazy, disconnected feeling. Someone adjusted his bedding and he vaguely registered the sound of whispered voices, both male and female, over the beeping of the heart monitor, and then a door closing. He forced his heavy eyelids to open and looked into the face of a very worried Skinner. Mulder blinked again, eyes looking around the room, searching for his partner. She wasn't there. "W-where's ...Scully?" Skinner leaned forward at the sound of Mulder's hoarse voice; relieved to see his agent had regained consciousness at last. Mulder had been drifting in and out since being moved to the ICU but this was the first time Skinner had seen any sort of recognition in his agent's eyes. "Shh, Mulder, save your voice. You're going to be OK. How do you feel?" Mulder licked his lips and rasped, "Thirsty." His boss reached for the ice chips and spooned a few into his mouth. With a little moisture to lubricate his sore throat, Mulder looked at his boss and tried again, "Where's ... Scully?" He saw the guilty look cross Skinner's face. His mind worked backwards and as he remembered, his heart felt as if someone had taken hold of it and squeezed. His mind's eye saw Scully hanging limply from the ceiling of that basement. Noooo! It couldn't be true. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Scully's..." began Skinner, but stopped in mid sentence when he saw the look of anguish on his agent's pale face. Mulder's mind finished the sentence for him. Dead, Scully's dead. His eidetic memory had replayed the hazy sight of Scully hanging from the ceiling. It hadn't been a nightmare after all and, suddenly, he found it very difficult to breathe. His lungs refused to take in air as he shook his head from side to side. No...nooo, she wouldn't do that. It was against everything she believed in. She couldn't be dead. Why had she killed herself? Then he remembered her words: "I'd rather kill myself than let that bastard win. I won't watch you die and then wait for him to kill me." Did she think he was dead? Is that why she'd done it? His mind continued to replay the image of her limp body, suspended from that ceiling. His body racked with sobs as the tears streamed down his face. He saw Skinner's mouth move but he couldn't make out the words above the pounding in his head and the racing of his heart. "Shh...calm down, Mulder," Skinner pleaded, as the monitors sounded their dire warnings. Mulder's eyes glazed over and his lips silently formed the words 'no... Scully... no', over and over. It only took a moment for Skinner to realise that his agent had jumped to the wrong conclusion. He had been trying to explain that he was sorry for not taking better care of Scully, that she had been admitted but that she would be all right. One look at the younger man's face told him his words weren't getting through. A nurse rushed into the room, alerted by the readouts at the nurse's station. A doctor and another nurse quickly followed her. Skinner moved out of the way as the doctor checked his patient's vitals and gave terse instructions to the second nurse, who then rushed from the room. "What's going on here?" the doctor demanded. Without giving the A.D. a chance to reply, he turned his attention to the wide-eyed, unblinking man on the bed who had set off every alarm in the room. "You have to calm down, Mr. Mulder," he said. "Try and relax. We're getting something to help you rest." The nurse returned with a syringe and quickly injected the sedative into the IV line. Mulder was oblivious to it all. He just stared at a point over Skinner's shoulder, repeating 'no' over and over in a hoarse whisper. Finally, he slowly blinked twice and closed his eyes as the drug took effect. ****************** Springhurst General Hospital Friday 6.30 AM 7 hours later Mulder didn't want to open his eyes when he woke. As long as he kept them closed, he could pretend it was all a bad dream and Scully would be sitting in her usual place beside his bed. But he couldn't kid himself. He always knew when she was near and he couldn't sense her presence. Why hadn't he told her how he felt about her, how important she was to him and how much he loved her? It was too late now. He was always too late when it came to the things that mattered. He was too late to save his sister, too late to save his father, and too late to save the woman he loved with every fibre of his being. He dimly remembered Scully telling him that she loved him in the same way that he loved her, but had that been real? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. Scully was dead. He vaguely wondered why he was so calm about it all but some distant part of his brain decided the doctors must have pumped him full of sedatives to prevent him from becoming emotional again and hurting himself. Like he cared? Somewhere, another part wondered how he had been rescued and what had happened to their kidnapper but he decided he didn't care about that either. They should have left him there to die with her. He was as good as dead anyway. His rescuers had only delayed the inevitable since he refused to go on without Scully. God, she must have been so desperate. Even with the sedative in his system, his heart rate must have increased a little at the thought of his partner because the monitors betrayed him. "Mulder, are you awake?" Skinner shook his shoulder, gently but firmly, insisting that Mulder acknowledge him. "Mulder, the monitors are rising. I know you're awake. I have to talk to you." Mulder slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly at his boss. "Why did ... you bring me ... back? Should've let me ... die in that basement." Skinner leaned forward in his seat to make sure he had Mulder's full attention. "Well, I think Scully would have kicked my ass if I had." "How can you ... say that? She's dead. Oh, God, she's dead." He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. One look at the monitors told Skinner he had better talk fast before the nurses came running again. "Listen to me. Scully's NOT dead. She's here in this hospital, recovering from a kidney infection, some minor cuts and exhaustion, but very much alive." Mulder opened his eyes and stared at him, not daring to believe it was true. "She's alive?" Skinner nodded. "I was trying to tell you before that I was sorry I didn't look after her better. It was my fault she collapsed because I let her bully everyone, myself included, into waiting until you were out of danger before letting anyone treat her. I should have insisted she get treatment but... well... your partner can be very persuasive when she wants something." Hope flared in Mulder's heart; that certainly sounded like Scully. "But, I saw her... hanging from the ceiling...in that house..." "It was a ploy to distract the perp so Scully could take him down. Which she did, by the way. Look, Mulder, I'm not surprised you're confused. You were pretty much out of it when we found you, but I give you my word that Scully is alive. She was emotionally and physically drained when we arrived in that basement. Right now, they've got her sedated because it's the only way to get her to rest. She refused to leave your side. She's a real tiger when it comes to looking out for you, you know." A tentative half smile broke out on Mulder's face at that comment. Scully alive? Skinner wouldn't lie about something as important as this but maybe she was sicker than Skinner thought. He needed to see her for himself. The throbbing in his leg was becoming unbearable and his throat, chest, back and ribs had decided to add to his discomfort, but he had to see her. He turned pleading, pain-filled eyes on his boss. "Is she all right? What aren't ... you telling me? I have to ... see her." Skinner sighed. Why had he thought it would be any easier keeping Mulder from Scully than it was keeping Scully from Mulder? "She has a fever and a kidney infection but the doctor is treating her with antibiotics and expects her to make a full recovery. I was just down in her room and she's sleeping peacefully. I'm sure she'll explain everything to you later, but right now, both of you are confined to bed." "I have ... to see her," repeated Mulder stubbornly, his eyes at half-mast now. The conversation had exhausted him and he was fading fast. "I just ... need to know ... she's all right ... see her ...." His voice trailed off as he fell asleep, his weakened body winning this particular battle of wills. Skinner watched his agent for a few minutes and, when he was satisfied that Mulder would sleep for a while, he decided to see if he could spring Scully. Something told him she had better be here when Mulder woke up again. ******************* Springhurst General Hospital Friday 12.15AM 6 hours later Scully sat beside Mulder's bed, touching him continuously. She couldn't get enough of the feel of him after days of not being able to get near him. She ran her fingers over his recently shaved cheeks and smoothed the soft hair from his brow. She had studied his chart and finally allowed herself to believe he was going to be all right. He looked 100% better than the last time she'd seen him. One of the IV's and the nasal cannula had been removed. His temp was almost back to normal. His lungs had cleared considerably over the last 24 hours thanks to the antibiotics he was receiving but he was still as pale as the white sheet that covered his battered body. His leg was elevated and was also responding to the antibiotics. She had been assured that, provided he worked hard at his physiotherapy, he would make a full recovery. She took comfort in listening to his steady heartbeat even if his breathing was still a little shallow. For once, he had escaped any of the complications the doctor had been worried about and for that she'd heaved a sigh of relief. All in all, he was making amazing progress and should be released within a week. She was also recovering well which was remarkable considering her lack of co-operation. She was hazy about her time in the ER but a nurse told her that she had acted like a crazy woman, trying to get to her partner. She sighed. No wonder the doctor had sedated her. And of course, when she woke up, she had immediately tried to get out of bed, frantic for news of her partner and promptly ended up on the floor. Forced to accept her body's limitations, she had reluctantly agreed to stay in bed for 24 hours but only after Skinner brought Mulder's doctor to her bedside to give her a full report on her partner's condition. Then, with the help of a sedative, she had slept through the night and awoke feeling almost normal. She gave a half smile as she remembered the rather heated conversation she had with her doctor this morning when Skinner let slip that Mulder thought she was dead. No one was going to keep her from Mulder after that and it was lucky for the doctor that Skinner had been in the room. So here she was, sitting in a wheelchair, tracing her fingers over Mulder's face, waiting for those hazel eyes to open. Mulder sighed contentedly. Someone was stroking his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, and then gently running their hand down the side of his face, across his lips and up the other side. No ... not someone. Scully! He'd know her touch anywhere. He leaned his face into her hand and his mouth curved into a smile even though his eyelids remained closed. "Mulder? Come on, open your eyes for me." He turned his head towards her voice, opened his eyes and was rewarded with one of her dazzling smiles. He opened his mouth to say something but she immediately spooned some ice chips into his mouth while her other hand never broke contact with his cheek. As the ice melted and soothed his parched throat, he just stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. She was sitting beside his bed, looking at him worriedly. She was dressed in scrubs and had a bandage around her left wrist and a bandaid on the back of her right hand but otherwise she looked beautiful. "Scully, are you ... all right?" She nodded and flashed another dazzling smile at him. Wow, two smiles in the space of a few minutes. Either he was sicker than he thought or she was very pleased to see him. "Are you in any pain?" she wanted to know. He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. There was a sort of dull ache building in his thigh but there was no way he was going to be doped up again until he sorted out what was a dream and what really happened. He glanced down at his leg, propped up and covered in bandages. "What's the damage?" he asked nervously. Scully filled him in and then closed her eyes momentarily. The horror of that ambulance ride when he arrested was still fresh in her mind. "It was close, Mulder, too close." She dropped her gaze but not before he saw tears spring to her eyes. He reached out and clasped her hands but she still wouldn't meet his gaze. "I know, I thought you were dead," he whispered. She blinked the tears away and finally looked into his eyes and wished she hadn't when she saw the anguish he'd felt in that basement reflected back at her. "I'm sorry about that. Skinner told me. I tried to wake you to tell you what I planned to do but I couldn't rouse you. I blew it with Ron the night before and he was going to kill you. I was desperate. I came up with the plan to fake my own hanging. I'm just lucky it worked." "Sshh, it's okay. From what Skinner tells me, you saved us both. *Again*. I don't want to relive it all now. I just want to look at you and know that you're real." He lifted her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing each fingertip. Then he reached out and ran his fingers over her face, reassuring himself that she wasn't a dream. He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. When she returned his gaze, he saw that look again. The one he sometimes saw that made him think she might really care for him like he cared for her. It reminded him of another, happier dream. Something about loving him and wanting him to hold on for her. "Scully, I umm...in the basement ...I had this dream and umm... I just wondered . . ." He faltered, not knowing whether to confess his dream to her. She smiled to herself. She had wondered if he would remember her declaration of love but then, knowing Mulder, she should have expected his memory to retain at least a part of their conversation even though he had been delirious at the time. The question was, how much did he remember? "What do you wonder?" She wanted to know what he remembered first and then she would fill in the blanks for him. She wasn't about to let their relationship go back to the way it had been before. Not after nearly losing him again. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously. He decided he must have imagined the whole thing and, even if he hadn't, he suspected she would say anything to keep him alive. She had made it quite clear in the past that she was happy with their platonic relationship and he wouldn't risk that for anything, not even to tell her how his world had been shattered and filled with regrets when he thought she was dead. Time to retreat gracefully so everything could go back to normal. "Hmm, well I was pretty out of it, I guess. It doesn't matter." "You wondered if the part where I said I loved you was a dream or not." He looked at her, stunned, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I guess you just answered my question." His smile faded and he became serious again. "Did you mean it or were you just giving me something to hold onto?" Scully watched him gnaw on his bottom lip, a sure sign he was nervous and she knew she had to get this right. He was as afraid to risk the status quo as she had been. Her eyes locked with his and Mulder's heart gave a tug when he saw the love he felt for her reflected back at him. He forced himself to remain calm and wait for her to speak. "I meant it. I love you," she whispered as she squeezed his hand in hers. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she continued. "You nearly died and I was helpless to do anything about it. At the end, I was stuck in that basement with nothing but my thoughts for company. I finally admitted to myself that I would be lost without you. Ironic isn't it? I had to nearly lose you to realise that my greatest fear *was* losing you. It was selfish of me, I realise that now. I wanted to spare myself the pain that's inevitable when someone you love dies. I built a thick wall around my heart, believing it would protect me." She stroked his lips with her fingers, shushing him when he tried to interrupt. "I asked myself if what we had was enough. If the walls I had built around my heart would protect me if I lost you. Do you know what the answer was?" This must be a dream, thought Mulder, suddenly afraid he really was asleep and the dream would end and he would wake up. But when he blinked, she was still there, looking at him with intense, blue eyes waiting for his reply. He shook his head slowly, his whole being focused on her answer. "It wasn't enough. The walls would shatter and the fragments would pierce my heart. I would die with you whether we were lovers or not. I realise now that loving you actually makes me complete. I want to know what it is to love you and not be afraid of what might happen in the future. If you were ever taken from me, I want more than a handful of memories. I want it all." Mulder was speechless. She loved him and wanted to be with him. He certainly loved her, but could he risk what they had for what she was offering? Could he have another relationship with a co-worker and make it work? Before he finished the thought, he knew the answer. He'd been in love before but not like this. He had never loved or needed any woman the way he wanted Scully. Whatever she offered, he would take and be damn grateful, but first he had to be sure she knew what she was getting herself into. "I've built a few walls myself, Scully. We're both pretty intense when it comes to our work and I guess I'm afraid to have another relationship with someone I work with. You know how I suck at relationships." "I think I know what I'm letting myself in for." "I'm not kidding when I say loving me won't be easy." "Nothing worthwhile ever is." "I want this so bad, Scully, but if we take this step, I don't know where it will lead." "But I know where I hope it will. And Mulder, it'll lead us nowhere if we don't give it a try." He looked at her hesitantly, entwining her hands in his. "You've suffered so much because of me. I'm afraid I'll just hurt you more." "Oh, Mulder. Don't you know that not being loved hurts more? Maybe we can find a way to love each other without hurting each other. I'm willing to try if you are." His mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles. "You've got an answer for everything, haven't you?" "You'd better believe it, Mulder. I had a lot of time to think in that basement. You're just playing catch-up." He returned her wide smile. There was no going back now, not that he wanted to. He looked into her eyes and was about to tell her how much he loved her when he realised she already knew. He gently tugged her towards him. "Come here." "I'll hurt you." "Trust me, I'll let you know when it hurts." She allowed him to draw her up and across until her hip rested on the edge of his bed. He pulled her closer to him, his lips soft and gentle as he kissed her. He wanted to draw her even closer and deepen the kiss but his still-healing lungs wouldn't cooperate and he had to pull away, a bit short of breath. He dropped his head back to the pillow and looked into the worried eyes of his partner. He gave her a half smile, hoping to reassure her as he concentrated on his breathing. There was so much more he wanted to say to her but he found it hard to think past the throbbing pain in his leg that he couldn't ignore any more. "I'm ... sorry, Scully." She saw the pain lines around his eyes and mouth and rolled her eyes, exasperated that he thought he should apologise. "It's okay, Mulder. I'll take a rain check. You need to rest." Scully shushed him when he tried to say something and slipped off the edge of the bed. She pressed the buzzer and asked for his pain meds. Within minutes, an efficient looking nurse entered the room carrying a syringe on a tray, which she placed on the side table while she took his vitals and wrote them in his chart. Satisfied, she emptied the contents of the syringe into the IV and quietly left the room. Mulder's face relaxed a little as the medication took effect. He patted the bed and gestured for Scully to join him. If he couldn't kiss her then he damn well wanted to hold her. Scully hesitated a moment, not wanting to hurt him but decided she needed the contact as much as he did. She lay down beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, careful of his bruised ribs. He laid his cheek on top of her hair and rubbed his nose against her earlobe, inhaling her scent. Both of them sighed contentedly, happier than they had been in a very long time. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, yawning loudly. "Well, you have to work hard at your physiotherapy and then I have a promise to keep." "What promise ... would that be?" "I promised to show you just how much I love you and I intend to keep that promise, even if it takes me a lifetime." "No time ... like the present, Scully," he whispered as he nibbled her ear but the effect was lost as he tried to smother another yawn. "Down boy," she purred. "I need you fighting fit for what I have in mind." "Oooh, you know ...what...I...like." Scully grinned, knowing Mulder had drifted off to sleep despite himself, courtesy of the painkiller he was on. She knew she should get up and let him sleep but she just wanted to lay in his arms for a few minutes more before she headed back to her own room. That was how AD Skinner found them when he arrived to check on his agents 10 minutes later. He had called in to return Scully's cross which had been found at the perp's house along with their other personal belongings. He knew she would want it sooner rather than later but one look at the two of them in each other's arms and he decided it could wait. The possessive way they held each other and the smiles still on their lips told him everything he needed to know. He left the room quietly, a thoughtful expression on his face. He had to think of a way to keep his best team together and smiled when he decided that being an AD was a definite advantage. THE END If you liked it, please send feedback to judie@webaxs.net