From: tbishop27@aol.com Title: Please Don't Kill Her Part 1 of 4 Disclaimer: Forgive me Mr. C for taking what isn't mine. I promise you and your attorneys can share all the profits from my crime. How do you divide zero again? Distribution: Freely. Just let me know where so I can visit. Spoilers: None, or at least I tried to avoid them. Rating: R Content Warning: Language/Violence (If this offends you, stop NOW!) Classification: Suspense Drama/a little MSR Scully Angst and Shameless amounts of Mulder Angst (poor baby) Summary: Our beloved Skully is kidnapped by a dangerous man from Mulder and Scully's past and Mulder is frantic to rescue her before it's too late. Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction so try to be understanding of the rough edges. I put them both through so much here--God, I don't know where that came from. Forgive me Mulder and Scully. As if you both haven't already suffered enough. Dedication: To David who believes in me even when I don't, and who finally gets to read something that I wrote. I wouldn't have had the courage to do this without you. And yes, darling, I'll tell them.....it's pronounce A-BEAR not HE-BURT! (But I still think they would know) Please Don't Kill Her Her mind struggled through the haze of the drug. A tunnel of shadows and distant echoes surrounding her. No way out. Drowning in a peaceful bliss. Swim Dana! Swim! It was so hard to fight the serenity that threatened now to consume her into a dark, deep, dreamless sleep. Fight it! Have to...fight this. She shook her head to clear away the stupor. Open your eyes, Dana. You have to find your focus. Hold on to your consciousness. Fight for it! It's too hard...I can't.... Maybe just a little rest first to find my strength. Drifting... Drifting... NO! Don't let this happen! Open your eyes damn it! She struggled, eyelids fluttering, light and dancing images coming at her in a confused jumble, as she strained to focus. For the briefest of seconds she found her vision again. A face. The face of a man. That man! That monster! She knew him...remembered him...dreamed him. The image was gone. Left now to haunt her memory. She swam again in the murky depths of her opiate thoughts. Bastard! If I survive this I will kill you! Can't fight it anymore...need to sleep. Need...to...let go. No...no.... The fight was over. Darkness took Dana Scully. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Agent Fox Mulder checked the clip on his Sig, slapped it back in with a satisfying snap, then holstered the weapon behind his back again. It was a nervous habit he'd developed over the years and couldn't seem to stop, no matter how hard he tried. It had become a compulsion whenever he perceived a threat he was unsure how to handle. He blew out a tense breath and tried to calm himself. His partner was long overdue and his attempts to reach her by cell phone unsuccessful. God, this was all too familiar. The turmoil inside his head, the hard lump in the pit of his stomach, the nagging guilt that tortured his soul. Scully was in trouble again. He'd sent her out alone to scout out possible surveillance posts for their assignment tomorrow. He'd been too busy pouting over the mundane job they'd been given as punishment for the trouble they'd stirred up with their last X-File adventure. I am Fox Mulder, for Christ sake, not one of the rookie bull pen agents they have to slap on the wrist whenever they get a little overexcited on a case. So while he brooded like a stubborn child, Scully, the mature adult in their partnership, had steadfastly carried out the assignment at hand. I should have been with her. How she puts up with me, I never will understand. She was supposed to have met up with him three hours ago at the coffee shop on 12th and E Street not far from their office at the Bureau, and not far from the site of their stakeout tomorrow. It was a simple building surveillance. Boring. Nothing dangerous about it. Sit. Watch. Record. Report. The Bureau wanted photos of anyone entering or leaving. Adding insult to injury, Skinner had refused to give them any other details of the case. If there even was a case. Mulder wasn't entirely convinced Skinner hadn't just made the whole thing up to keep him and Scully out of mischief for the next two weeks. With the added bonus of humiliating them in front of their fellow agents. After a thorough check of the area his partner had gone to scout, Mulder walked back to FBI headquarters and A.D. Skinner's office. The Assistant Director was on the phone as Mulder barged in. Scowling at the interruption, and Mulder's defiance of protocol, Skinner abruptly ended his conversation. "Agent Mulder, I assume you have a good reason for busting in here unannounced?" This had better be good, Mister. "Agent Scully is missing, Sir." "Missing?" Skinner stood up, concern replacing anger on his face. Mulder took a deep breath. "She was scouting for our stakeout tomorrow. I was supposed to meet her for lunch three hours ago. She never showed and she isn't answering her cell phone." He ran tense fingers through his hair in frustration, and began to pace the office. "I checked around for her. Her car's still in the here in the parking garage. She must have walked." "Agent Mulder, is there a reason why Agent Scully is out in the field without backup from her partner?" "Not a good one, Sir." Mulder didn't need the look Skinner was giving him to know where the blame belonged. "Sir, considering the fact that Agent Scully is now missing, could I be made privy to the details of the investigation we were assigned to work on?" The Assistant Director turned his attention to his desktop. "You don't need that information, Agent Mulder." "Sir, Agent Scully is missing! If her disappearance is in anyway connected to this case..." "It's not." "How do you know that?" Skinner look from the desk to Mulder. "Because there is no case, Agent Mulder." "What?" He felt the rage building within him. "The powers that be wanted you two sidelined for a little while. I made it up. I thought it was better than suspending you for two weeks." "This is bullshit!" I knew it! "Agent Mulder, your last X-File investigation cost the United States government a grand total of two hundred and seventy-four thousand dollars. Generally speaking, the FBI looks bad when it spends that kind of money without any resolution to a case. More so when that case involved a mythological phantom as the prime suspect. Even Agent Scully's delicate wording of the facts, and her adept scientific translations, couldn't make this one palatable to those whose job it is to care about such mundane matters as budgets and the Bureau's reputation. I wish sometimes, Agent Mulder, that you would stop to consider more than just your own burning desire to discover the truth, and realize that the FBI is not your personal expense account and license to pursue any subject that piques your curiosity." Yeah...yeah...heard it all before. Damn it! It never changes! Mulder had to close his eyes to keep his temper in check. He took a deep breath then let it out again before looking at Skinner once more. "If what you say is true...Sir... Agent Scully wouldn't have been in any danger. So where is she?" The A.D. shook his head. "I don't know. But you know the drill, Agent. Twenty-four hours. Then we file a standard missing person's report with DCPD. I wish I could do more but..." "She disappeared on duty! This is an in-house investigation!" "Unofficial duty. I told you there wasn't any case. If you can give me evidence that her disappearance is in any way connected to her work with the Bureau then I'll personally head up the investigation myself. But until then, don't ask me to do what you know can't. The decision isn't mine, Agent Mulder. God knows I've bent the rules enough for you both. I'm not in a position to ask for favors from my superiors thanks to your latest fiasco. I have to go by the book on this." I'm sorry. I really wish I could do more. Mulder's eyes narrowed. Walk away...you'll only get in more trouble if you say it. Fuck you, Sir! He walked out. As his hand twisted the knob, Mulder prayed she'd be waiting for him on the other side of the door. She'd be waiting there, in the basement office they shared, with some plausible explanation for not meeting him and not answering her cell phone for the last few hours. He even hesitated, to give God time to pull off this little miracle. Sometimes the answer to your prayers is 'no'. With a heavy sigh, Mulder dropped himself into the government issue chair at his desk and slumped back thinking what to do next. After a minute, he tried her cell phone again. Nothing. Then he dialed her home number knowing, even before the answering machine picked up, that he wouldn't find her there. He happened to glance over at the monitor screen of his PC. Email. He clicked on the mail icon and scanned the subject lines. A few interdepartmental documents, several ET mailers-as Scully liked to call Mulder's UFO journal subscriptions, a couple of junk mail sends and...hmm? This is interesting. Subject line; Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. He felt a tightening in his chest as he clicked on the headline and brought up the email document. Are you missing someone? He felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of his lungs. Heart racing, with a trembling hand, he moved the mouse to see where the message had originated. Oh God! The drive to Scully's Georgetown apartment wasn't far from the Hoover Building. Mulder used the time to teach himself how to breathe again. It was no longer automatic for him. He had to concentrate hard on each intake and exhale. All the while his heart threatened to explode out of his chest. Scully's been taken from me again. Damn it! God Damn it! Why does this keep happening? Are you listening up there? When are you going to be through with me? What did I do in my life that was so horrible as to deserve this? Is it because I let them take Samantha? If you want to punish me for that then punish me not Scully. She's been through enough. She doesn't deserve this. Tears blurred his vision and he nearly hit a car that turned too suddenly in front of him. He slammed on the brakes. His legs now rubbery and weak, the accelerator felt strange under his foot as he pushed it and made the car go again. Calm down, Mulder, he told himself. If he was going to help Scully, he was going to have to get control over his fear. Scully needed him. This was no time to lose it. She's going to be all right. You're going to find her. Whoever has her wants to talk about it. Breathe in...breathe out. Whoever has her knows we're partners, knows we're FBI agents, knows my email address, knows where Scully lives. Whoever has her wants something from me. I'll be contacted again. Breathe... In....Out. Whoever has her knows how to get to me. Knows she is my weakness. People keep hurting her to get to me. Scully, I'm sorry...sorry again...sorry for everything you've been through because of me. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Her first sensation coming out of the nothingness was pain. A pounding throb in her head. A burning ache in her shoulders and across the back of her neck running down the lengths of her arms and ending where her wrists were bound tightly behind her back. Her legs were bound too. Still groggy, she hadn't immediately thought to open her eyes. Now as she did, she became aware of her surroundings. At least she wasn't blindfolded. She hated the suffocating feeling of sightlessness. She was lying on the floor in what appeared to be a storage closet. The only light coming into the tiny room came from under the door. It was enough though. Her eyes were used to the darkness. Scully shifted a little to try and give her aching muscles some relief. She struggled to sit up, and wiggled over to lean against the back wall. There were shelves along the walls to her left and right but they were empty. It didn't look as if she'd been left with anything she could use to free herself. Her mouth wasn't gagged. Probably because she was safely out of range of any help should she attempt to call for help. I wonder what time it is? I wonder how long I've been out? In her mind she tried to piece together what she could to reconstruct exactly how she came to be in this place. She remembered going to the office. Mulder was in a bad mood about the assignment Skinner had given them. Not that he doesn't have a right to be. It was an obvious punishment and a huge waste of two valuable agents' time. Things being what they were, and Mulder being Mulder, and prone to long bouts of pouting when his ego got bruised, Scully had decided not to argue the point when he'd asked her to do the location scouting for their assignment without him. Better to let him get over it on his own. Besides, it was a beautiful spring day in D.C. and she could walk from the FBI building up 10th Street to G where their stake out location was. And, begrudgingly, her partner had even agreed to meet her for lunch, in a coffee house of her choosing, as a reward for her good deed. Scouting surveillance locations sometimes meant going down alleys and into places where you weren't easily seen by the those passing by on the street. The parking garage directly across from the subject building provided an excellent opportunity for covert surveillance. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who realized this fact. Just as she was about to step onto the elevator to leave and make her appointment with Mulder, she heard the pop of a rifle and, almost at the same instant, felt the hot, stinging pain as a tranq dart hit her in the back. She remembered spinning around and pulling out the dart then looking up in the direction she'd heard the shot come from. But then her eyes lost their focus and she felt her legs give out. The whole garage seemed to spin out from under her feet. She hit the ground hard and then...and then...a face. Someone she remembered. Someone who frightened her. Was he really there or did I dream it? Scully realized her pulse was racing and her breathing had quickened at the thought of him. God help her if it was true. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The door to Scully's apartment was open. Agent Mulder approached, as he had been trained to do, weapon drawn, back to the wall. Slowly... Slowly... Then in one fluid movement, he spun around, kicked the door full open, and entered Sig first, his eyes darting quickly around the familiar room. "Scully?!" he called out. Silence. Not until he had checked every room and closet, assuring himself he was alone, did he reholster the gun. That task completed, he turned his attention to that which had brought him here. It was there, where it had always been, sitting dutifully on Scully's desk. He'd seen it thousands of times, but now he glared at it as if it were an evil thing. As if it were responsible for taking her away from him. The email he'd received had come from Scully's computer. Transfixed, he walked with slow purposeful intent towards the desk. In front of him the same bold oversized font that had tormented him in his office, not twenty minutes before, now screamed out from the PC monitor. Agent Mulder How much is she worth to you? No fingerprints. No witnesses. Skinner had indulged Mulder and ordered the crime scene team to go over Scully's apartment not twice but three times. The place was clean. Whoever had Scully was being meticulously careful. Mulder's only comfort was in the fact that, whoever it was who had taken Scully, they wanted to keep this little game going. There would be another message. Although, it were these same messages that troubled Fox Mulder deeply. The profile he had been carefully constructing on Scully's kidnapper told him the person was unusually bold...the crime had been committed in broad daylight. The person paid attention to details...no fingerprints, no witnesses. The person was calculating...the messages had been designed to elicit fear in him. Whoever it was, did their homework...they knew a lot about him and Scully. Too much. And finally, there was one other thing he knew for certain about the person who had taken his partner, that person delighted in the power he (probably a he) now had over Mulder. They knew each other then? He wasn't sure of that one yet. But so far what he was certain of was that the person who had Scully was extremely dangerous and determined to be the one in control of this scenario. All Mulder could do now was wait. And keep running that speech over and over again in his mind. The one that said he'd get her back. That Scully would be fine. And he tried desperately to believe. Two thirty am. He paced his apartment like a caged animal. What's taking so long? What is this guy waiting for? Probably exactly this. Making me wait. Making me sweat. Power trip, Mulder, remember who you're dealing with. Son of a bitch. I hate this shit. God, I hope Scully's all right. How much is she worth to me? He's not looking for a ransom. Why ask me that? What does he want from me? A test of sorts, maybe? Does he really want to see how far I'm willing to go to get her back? I already know the answer to that question. As far as I have to. What ever it takes. I've proven that to myself more times than I care to think about. There is not a thing in this world I wouldn't do, a place I wouldn't go, a price I wouldn't be willing to pay, to save the life of this woman without whom my work and my life would most assuredly cease to hold any meaning or validity. Without pause, without question, I would lay down my life for hers. I wouldn't hesitate to kill for her if she asked this of me. And I would have to kill anyone who hurt her. He knows so much, he must know that? I wonder if he understands what an out of control fucking animal I would become if something were to happen to her? There is nothing else in my life that I defend with such violence and ferocity as I do Scully. Maybe it's because she's the one thing that keeps me from plummeting over that edge that I live on. I have developed a violent reflex after coming so close to losing her all those times before. The fact that I have this overwhelming need inside of me to destroy anything I perceive as a threat to her well being overrides all rationality when I am provoked in that way. I become capable of the darkest acts. I wonder if the person who has taken her realizes what a dangerous game he's chosen to play? As he paced, Mulder's mind continued the tortured conversation. And then the phone rang. He froze. Terrified now of finding out the rules of this insidious game. It rang again. Mulder closed his eyes to steel himself for what was about to happen. On the third ring he willed himself to pick up. "Mulder." "I hope I didn't wake you, Agent Mulder?" The male voice was cool and dripping with satisfaction. He spoke with a heavy Southern accent. I know that voice. Who is it? I know that voice. "You've got my attention. Tell me what you want. How do I get my partner back?" "You seem a bit tense, Agent Mulder. Are you worried about her?" Who is this son of a bitch? I know him. Think, Mulder, think. "Yes. Of course I am." "With good reason." "What's that supposed to mean?" Despite his efforts to keep cool, Mulder found his voice rising along with his growing fears. "I'll be in touch again, Agent Mulder. Pleasant dreams tonight." Just before the caller hung up the phone, Mulder heard the man laugh. His blood turned to ice. "Oh Jesus, Scully. Not him. . . Not him." End of part 1 Send feedback to TBishop27@aol.com (Flames will be forwarded to that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of victims.)