Please Don't Kill Her...Part 2 of 4 by tbishop27@aol.com Disclaimer: See part 1 "Hello." He answered on the first ring, but his voice betrayed the fact that only a moment ago he had been in a deep sleep. "Sir, It's me Mulder." Walter Skinner sat up immediately in bed and switched on the nightstand lamp to help him wake up. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was just after 2:30 in the morning. "What have you got? Any more word from Agent Scully's kidnapper?" "Yes, Sir. He just called me." His agent sounded shaken. "And?" There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, then, "I know who it is. I know who has Scully." "Who?" In all the years he'd known Fox Mulder, Skinner had never heard such unmistakable fear as was now evident in the other man's voice. "He was the prime suspect in an investigation Scully and I had the misfortune of being assigned to a little over four years ago in New Orleans. A sicker more twisted bastard you'll never meet. Not outside of Hell anyway. His were known as the Mardi Gras murders. Over the span of fourteen years he committed 53 murders in and around the city of New Orleans and the surrounding parishes during the weeks directly preceding Fat Tuesday. The victims were all women in there twenties and thirties. NOPD had requested the help of the Bureau because of the number of homicides by a serial killer with, it appeared, some sort of Voodoo fetish. Black magic. A definite X File. Time to call in old spooky Mulder. So Scully and I got an all expense paid trip to the Big Easy. Carnival time. The murders were particularly gruesome. The three most recent bodies being found, just as the victims of past years had, headless. In each and every case the women had been sadistically tortured in any number of unspeakable ways before being decapitated. On each of their persons was found a ritualistic Voodoo doll, also deprived of it's head. Every one of them had been discovered in public parks, out in the open, yet there were no witnesses. Scully and I made the rounds at the local Voodoo and black magic shops in the French Quarter. The dolls were quite common, popular souvenirs with the tourist crowd and widely available. They were novelty items produced to cash in on the city's number one revenue. It was most likely that our killer wasn't practicing occult rituals but instead used the dolls to mark his victims. A calling card of sorts. Another victim was found the day after we arrived. The Times/Picayune ran the story front page and NOPD was more than happy to get some of the heat off their backs by letting it be known that there were feds on the case. Scully and I got our pictures in the paper and everything. So now our killer had a new game. One by one the victims' heads start turning up along with little notes taunting me and Scully." "I thought you said these murders took place over a 14 year time span?" Skinner grimaced. "They did." Mulder felt his stomach twist and threaten to revolt on him at the memory. "He'd been keeping their heads in his freezer." "Fifty-four victims? That must have been one hell of a big freezer." The picture that came to Skinner's mind appalled him. "That's exactly how we caught him. We searched every cold storage facility in the greater New Orleans area. I guess you'd say we got lucky, although I'm not sure I'd call it that. We found the remaining heads, wrapped in butcher paper and labeled with the date each murder had occurred, at a place called Gulf States Fish Company, in the little town of Slidell, Louisiana. It was a processing plant for the local catfish farmers. From there, it wasn't difficult to pinpoint our killer. The place was owned by a Mr. Jordan Thomas Hebert, J.T. to his friends. A search of Mr. Hebert's home turned up ample evidence of his guilt. Of course J.T. was long gone. He was kind enough however to leave behind a recorded message for the FBI agents he gave the slip to. Along with video tapes of the torture and murder of each of his victims." Skinner drew in a deep breath and let it out. "And now this man has Agent Scully?" "Yeah. He didn't identify himself to me but I could never forget that laugh. I watched some of his homemade horror flicks, documentaries of his perversions. I'll never be able to forget the sound of his laugh as long as I live" "So you talked to him. What did he say? What does he want?" "He's toying with me. He knows he has the upper hand. And this guy is a power freak. He said I should be afraid for Scully. And he said he'd be in touch. He's enjoying himself immensely at this point. You've heard of being drunk with power. Well, this son of a bitch is fucking stoned out of his mind with it. And I haven't the slightest idea how to help Scully. This guy scares me to death." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Dana had fallen asleep. She awoke with a start, suddenly overwhelmed by the light flooding in around her. Painful, bright, piercing light assaulting her eyes as they struggled to compensate from the almost total darkness they had known for so many hours now. Squinting, she made out the silhouette of a man towering above her in the open doorway. And then he plunged toward her reaching out and grabbing her by the ropes that bound her ankles together. She was dragged from the closet allowing her to see clearly for the first time who her abductor was. Before she could stop it, a horrified gasp escaped her, and immediately she could see how much her fear pleased him. He fed off it. It sated him and strengthened him and gave him power. A face from the murky depths of her nightmares. 5'11". 190 pounds. Dark brown shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sharp, angular facial features punctuated his deep, heavy set, brown eyes. This man had haunted her dreams for many months after that case in New Orleans. All the twisted horrors he had inflicted upon his victims, playing out over and over in her guilt-ridden subconscious while she slept. He got away. The bastard had escaped capture. She and Mulder had failed. It happened sometimes. But this one was especially hard to let go of. Discovering through her autopsies the heinous tortures he had inflicted upon those poor women, she wanted to make him pay for his crimes. She and Mulder had profiled him together. The picture that had emerged of this man had sickened and frightened them both more than either of them cared to admit. She knew because she'd seen her same desperation and dread reflected back in her partner's eyes. Jordan Thomas Hebert, the devil's henchman himself. And she was his prisoner. Try as she might she couldn't mask her terror. What depravity this man was capable of horrorstruck her to the very core of her being. Please let this be just another bad dream. Let me wake up and he'll be gone. Please don't let this be real. Jordan delighted in the terrified look she gave him. That's right, darlin', it's old J.T. in the flesh. You sure are a pretty little piece... Look how scared she is, J.T. She knows how powerful you are. She knows she's helpless all tied up like that. Why there's no tellin' what ya might do to her. I am in control. I control her. She is mine. Mine to do with as I please. I have the power over her. I am her God. I will punish her for her sins. She has sinned against me. She will suffer for her transgressions. She knows this. She knows her end is near. " I see you remember my face, Agent Scully. I'm pleased that you haven't forgotten old J.T. Hebert after all these years. I certainly haven't forgotten you and your partner, Agent Mulder." Scully swallowed hard and somehow found the courage to speak. "What do you want with me, Hebert?" As if I don't know. That hideous laugh. A telling glimpse into the insanity of this man. "Revenge, darlin', revenge. And it will most certainly be sweet. I've had quite awhile to plan how I intend to get even with you and Agent Mulder for y'alls interference in my life. For the trouble y'all caused me. I can't go back to my beloved home because of y'all. I've been forced to live the last four years of my life as a fugitive. My home, my childhood home, the very house where my dear Momma was born, was confiscated by the state of Louisiana and sold at auction. My business, my livelihood, closed down and sold to the highest bidder because of y'all. The good name and reputation of J.T. Hebert destroyed by two nosey agents of the federal government of these United States. The injustice of it all boggles the mind. I will never get back what I had or who I was because of you and him. Can you imagine the depth of my hatred? And now, at long last, I will seek retribution. You wall be penitent before me and your penance will not be easy. The punishment must fit the sins. I am so going to enjoy this, Miss Scully. Lucky for me I discovered your secret. You and Agent Mulder have feelings for one another that go well beyond a professional working relationship. I noticed that he is particularly protective of you, darlin'. I've watched y'all for quite some time. Neither of y'all seems to put much value in anything outside of your work together. How better to hurt you then to take y'all away from each other? And poor Agent Mulder, however will he deal with it when he finds himself helpless to protect you? I should say he is already suffering a great deal because you are now in my possession. And I plan to see to it that he suffers quite a bit more before we're through. You too, darlin' " He winked at her. "You sick son of a bitch." Scully lashed out at him furious at his delight in Mulder's anguish. The back of his hand hit her hard across her right cheek. "Don't you be talkin' bad 'bout my Momma." His eyes flashed pure evil from somewhere deep within. Blasphemy! I'm sorry, Momma. She will suffer for her evil. As her cheek began to swell, Scully made a mental note to avoid any future unfavorable remarks about this man's mother. Damn it that hurt! Stupid, stupid...gotta keep your cool, Dana. No reason to piss this maniac off anymore than he already is. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head sharply to one side. Evil, evil creature. You are pure evil. You must suffer. He must suffer. "You hear me?" His face was just inches from her own now. His dark eyes betraying the insane mind within. "Y-yes." Oh God, he's losing it. This is not good. He's going to kill me. Think. Think. Remember the profile. It's all about power and control with him. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Damn it, Dana, don't cry! Don't let him see that he has that much power over you. It'll turn him on too much. Don't want that. Keep him level. Keep him calm. Don't provoke him. Just keep your mouth shut. He brutally jerked Scully to her feet by a fistful of red hair. She struggled to steady herself, to avoid pulling against him. Hebert glared at her for an uncomfortably long time as if he were trying to decide something. Scully wanted no part of those eyes. She concentrated her focus on a tiny scar that ran along the right side of his jaw. She tried to slow her breathing, to keep her fear in check. What's he thinking? What will he do next? Please, please, don't kill me. If Mulder were here he'd kick this guys ass. Protective of me? Damn right he is! And if he were here right now, you son of a bitch, he'd take you down. When he finally released her hair, Scully managed to gather up enough courage to steal a glance into those eyes again. And then, out of nowhere, he hit her across the mouth knocking her down with the force of his blow. She slammed hard onto the floor, unable to protect herself from the impact. The salty taste of blood filling her mouth. Before she could recover, he leaned over Scully and cuffed her twice more. Then he dragged her back into the closet and slammed the door. She was grateful. Grateful for the darkness. Grateful to be away from the monster. She spit out a mouthful of blood. All ready her right eye was beginning to swell and it hurt like hell. Her lip felt no better. The fall she had taken had resulted in a nasty bruise across her left shoulder. It wasn't dislocated though. She was grateful for that too. Of course, Scully knew that if help didn't arrive soon, he would kill her in one of those horrible ways that he had killed his other victims. She knew enough about this man to know that was exactly what he intended to do with her. This time she couldn't hold back the tears or stop her body from trembling as she lay there on the cold floor. I must have been crazy to join the FBI. Dana, you're a deeply disturbed woman. You gave up a career in medicine to play out some deranged fantasy of being a federal agent and hunting down the bad guys. Maybe I should profile myself. I flirt with death for a living. I take the beatings and the abuse that are a part of my line of work like the good little masochist that I am. I eat, sleep and breathe X Files cases to the exclusion of any kind of normal social life. I don't have any friends. My family thinks I've completely lost my mind. Maybe I have. Why else would I do this to myself? Why? There's got to be some reason why I stay with the Bureau and put my life on the line day after day, putting up with all the crap and abuse? Some reason... Mulder. God damn Fox Mulder, that's the reason. I hate that I need him so much. I hate that our love for each other is so obvious to anyone who sees us together. Obvious, yet we dance around it, avoid it, deny it, refuse ourselves the consummation we both ache for. His personal quest has become my obsession as well. The X Files. Hell of a life's work. Maybe it's because everyone is always against us that we cling so desperately to one another. Somewhere along the line Mulder became the most important person in my life. Sometimes he looks at me with such intensity that I know he's making love to me with his eyes. Spooky Mulder. They call me spooky now too. Maybe we are. Mr. and Mrs. Spooky? I can live with that. I kind of like it in fact. It's not like we haven't earned the reputation. Some of our case reports could put Stephen King to shame. It isn't work for the faint of heart. My dedication to the X Files and my devotion to Mulder will be the death of me, I know that. And I can accept that. I just hope Mulder can. She thought about the affect her death would have on him. His childhood had left him with some pretty deep scars. Her death would reopen those old wounds. He'd find a way to blame himself. He always did. This bothered her to think that when he would need her most she wouldn't be there for him. Jeez, Dana, he's a grown man with the guts to take on the entire world, if need be, to prove his conspiracy theory. Yeah, but can he do it alone? Stop it! Stop! I'm not dead yet. I can't give up hope. I know Mulder is trying to find me. I have to believe that he will. And if I can, I have to find a way to help him find me. I have to find a way to stay alive until he gets here. Mulder will find me. I have to believe that. She continued the mental pep talk and tried not to think about how badly her injuries were beginning to hurt. Sometime later the door opened again. Hebert came close to her and pulled on her arm. "Sit up!" he commanded and she complied. "Now look up at me." She did but she braced herself for what might happen. He had a Polaroid camera aimed at her and he flashed off two quick shots. Then he left her again without another word. He didn't have to say anything. She knew. Those photos were for Mulder. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Mulder sat on his couch and stared out the window as the soft, pink light of dawn grew brighter with each passing second. He sat in silence. He thought about Scully. He thought about Jordan Hebert. He thought about what he was going to say to Mrs. Scully if, God forbid, he wasn't able to rescue his partner from this maniac who'd taken her. The thought made him wince. Jesus, no. I have to get Scully back. I have to find her somehow. God, I wish now I hadn't watched those tapes. Watched what he did to the others. Scully must be terrified. She watched too. She knows what he's capable of. If he hurts her I'll hunt him down and make sure that son of a bitch dies the most unnatural and hideously painful death imaginable. What I'll do to him will make his crimes look like child's play. Call again, damn you! I can't stand this waiting game. By 9 am Mulder couldn't take the waiting anymore. He decided to head in to the office just for something to do. He almost didn't see the envelope with his name on it that had been left at his front door. It was only because his foot kicked it, that he happened to look down at all. Picking it up, Mulder went back inside. He waited until he was sitting on the couch before he let himself open it. His hands were shaking so much that he tore the envelope in half and the photos fell to the floor. He gasped as he retrieved them and saw Scully's battered face looking back at him. Oh, Scully. Look what he's done to you. Tears stung his eyes. Anger and frustration raged inside him to the point where he didn't know if he could contain it any longer. He closed his eyes and chewed on his lower lip waiting for the feeling to pass. It didn't. He jumped up from the couch and shouted, "Fuck!" He kicked over the coffee table. "God damn you, Hebert!" After staring at the photos of Scully most of the morning, Mulder was numb. Visions from those tapes he'd watched kept popping into his head. Only now it was Scully that he saw being tortured. It was Scully's screams he imagined he heard. It was her begging Hebert for mercy. It was Scully that he watched die each time another one of those sickening tapes played back in his mind. He felt completely powerless. Hebert had all the power. Too God damn much power. And he was using that power to hurt the one person Mulder couldn't bear to see hurt. Please don't kill her, Hebert. Please don't kill her...please. Not Scully. Please don't kill her... At noon he realized it had only been 24 hours since she had been taken. The longest 24 hours of his life. He was contemplating whether or not he had made the right choice in deciding not to tell Scully's mother yet that her daughter had been kidnapped, when the phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the phone. "Mulder." "Did you get the photos?" J.T. taunted him. The mantra he'd been chanting inside his head came tumbling out of him before he could stop it. "Please don't kill her, Hebert." It was the voice of a desperate and powerless man and it made Mulder sick to his stomach. You fucking idiot! Don't feed his power obsession. That'll only make him more dangerous. Get a grip on yourself. That laugh again. "D.C. Cold Storage. Locker twenty-three." Click. "No!" Mulder screamed into the phone too late for Hebert to hear. "You son of a bitch! No!" XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX D.C. Cold Storage was clear across town from Mulder's apartment. He didn't remember looking up the address in the phone book. He didn't have any memory of the drive there. He didn't remember calling Skinner. But suddenly he was standing in front of the place and Skinner's car was pulling up next to his. The A.D. got out of his vehicle and hurried over to where Mulder stood staring at the building, paralyzed with fear. "I got here as quickly as I could. Have you been inside?" "I can't. I can't move." He was covered with a cold sweat. Skinner sighed, resigned to the task. "It's okay. I'll go in." "No!" The look on Mulder's face was pure agony. "She's my partner. I have to...I can do this!" Skinner nodded his understanding. "I'll go with you." It wasn't easy but Mulder finally managed to will himself to move. Skinner followed as he made his way into the building and down the long concrete and steel corridor, until they came to the door marked number twenty-three. There wasn't any padlock. Swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, Mulder slid the latch and opened the door. What he saw hit him like a jolt of electricity. He staggered forward two steps then dropped to his knees before the package. It looked just like all the others he'd seen in that ice house in Slidell. It was even dated. Today's date. Mulder stared at the thing rocking back and forth on his knees. "Please no...please no...please no...Oh God, please...please no." He had to do it. His stomach was in his throat as his trembling hands made contact with the package. He shut his eyes for just a second and prayed. God, please don't let this be Scully. Then he bit down hard on his bottom lip and slid his hand under one of the flaps of the white butcher paper lifting it up and popping the tape that held it. He rolled the package slowly over, opening it until...Oh God! A shocked cry escaped his gaping mouth. Mulder struggled to his feet and stumbled past Skinner who stood pale-faced in the doorway. With Mulder no longer blocking him from seeing the package, the A.D. got his first glimpse at what had sent his agent reeling out of the locker. End of part 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.)