Title:            Revenge
Author:           Lovesfox
E-mail:           Lovesfox@rogers.com  (Feed me, please)
Web site:         http://www.geocities.com/kim_djd/index.html
Rating:           NC-17 (violence, consensual M/S sex and strong 
                  language)
Category:         Implied UST then MSR, Angst, Story/X-File
Classification:   XRA
Spoilers:         Not really, but up to mid-S7
Archive:          As long as my name and everything stays attached
Summary:          An old case of Mulder's resurfaces seeking revenge

Disclaimer:       Alas, not mine.  They belong to Chris Carter and 
                  1013 Productions

Dedication:       To true friendship, through thick and thin.  
                  Thanks, T.

Warning:          This story contains some scenes of violence, a rape
                  attempt, implied character death, references to
                  incest, and graphic sex.




Revenge Part 5 of 29
by Lovesfox


Unknown Location
Leesburg, VA
Friday
1 pm



Elliot moved down the hallway of the abandoned hospital to Dana's 
room, carrying the lunch he had bought for her at the little 
convenience store in Leesburg.  His eyes flicked from side to side, 
glancing into the other empty rooms he passed.  This wing of the 
hospital was relatively unscathed from the fire that had destroyed 
the majority of the large main building of the psychiatric hospital 
complex.  He had debated over keeping Dana in one of the smaller 
outbuildings, like the one the administrator of the hospital had 
used, but had realized he needed a room that could be locked.  

He had come here often, to the place where Elizabeth had died, to 
walk through the rubble and to stare at the burnt-out shell of the 
maximum-security wing.   On one such trip, he had wandered down 
the sub-basement, still intact due to its cement foundation, and 
had found that the back-up generator still worked, and that he was 
able to supply power to the wing he and Dana now inhabited. 

He reached Dana's room, and had to juggle the bag and the bottled 
water as he manipulated the door locks open.  He pushed at the door 
cautiously, for although he had drugged her again late last night 
after he had brought her dinner, it was still possible for her to 
try something.  As it slowly opened, the door revealed the cot, 
which was empty.  He tensed, hesitating in the half-opened doorway.

A shuffling noise reached his ears, coming from over by the window.  
He stepped fully into the room, pushing the door open with a 
forceful gesture of his hand.  Dana was standing by the window, her 
back to it, watching him apprehensively.  He scanned her body 
quickly, seeing that her hands were still tightly tied.  In fact, 
he thought with a grimace, he could see that her wrists were 
irritated, her fingers puffy and red.  He looked down at her feet, 
clad in white tennis shoes.  The rope was still there around her 
ankles, but she had managed to loosen it, probably enough to allow 
her to hobble instead of hop.  

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice high and a little afraid.  "I just 
wanted to look outside.  It...I woke up earlier, and I..."

Elliot smiled and said, "It's alright, Dana, I'm not angry." And 
he realized he wasn't angry.  He still had faint feelings of 
euphoria since the moment Mulder had run into the warehouse two days 
ago.  Seeing Mulder last night outside Dana's apartment building had 
been an incredible bonus as well.  He didn't know what had made him 
decide to drive by her place, he just had.  He had slowed the van 
when he saw a dark-haired man with Mulder's build walking up to the 
door, and when the man had turned, and he saw it was indeed Mulder, 
he had stomped on the pedal and fled the impulse to jump out and 
confront him.  It wasn't the right time; he had so much more to do 
first. 

Mulder's weariness, and perhaps even hopelessness, had been evident 
even at the distance that separated them, and it had sent a 
delicious chill coursing through his body.  He had driven for hours, 
coasting on that high.

Elliot shook his head slightly and held up the food and water.  "I 
brought you some lunch."  He watched as she moved back to the cot, 
her movements oddly graceful even with her feet restrained as they 
were.  She lowered herself carefully onto to it, her hands coming to 
rest on her lap.  He put the bag and the water down on the cot 
beside her, noting the hungry look she gave the items, and grabbed 
the chair, placing it in front of her.  He sat down and reached out 
to grasp her hands.  She flinched slightly, hissing in her breath.  
Her fingers were cool too, and he wondered if her circulation was 
being damaged.  Two of her nails had torn, more than likely from 
working at the thick rope, and were bleeding a little.  He looked up 
to see her staring down at his hands holding hers, and said, "I'm 
going to loosen these a bit so you can eat.  I won't drug you, but 
I must warn you, if you try anything I will be very angry."

Dana looked up at him, earnestness shining in her eyes.  Their 
brilliant blue color was almost as pretty as Elizabeth's deep, 
chocolate brown had been.  "I won't try anything, Elliot," she 
said.  "I'll be good."  

He worked at the knots in the rope until they were loose, and she 
was able to move her wrists slightly.  She sucked in her breath as 
the rope rubbed against the wounds on her skin.  He made a note to 
himself to get some salve and some gauze to wrap them in beneath the 
rope.  Perhaps after he let her have a shower.

A part of him wondered why he was concerned about her wrists and her 
hygiene.  She should suffer, just as Elizabeth had suffered.  He 
remembered on a few of the visits they had been allowed seeing the 
marks on her wrists from the restraints, and other times when her 
hair had been lank and limp, her nightgown stained with sweat and 
the remains of her dinner.  He tamped the thought down for now, 
still feeling mellow.  There would be time enough for her suffering 
later, and Mulder's as well.

He opened the bottled water for her and handed it to her.  She took 
it with a murmured thank-you, and as she drank he reached inside the 
bag for the sandwich he had bought.  He unwrapped it and placed it 
on her lap.  He sat back in the chair and watched as she alternated 
between the water and the sandwich, a slight smile on his face at 
the polite, tidy way she partook of her meal.  He knew she had to 
be hungry, for her meal yesterday had been quite some time ago.  

His thoughts drifted to Elizabeth, as they so often did.

***

1:10 pm

Scully stood at the window staring out, weaving slightly on her 
feet. The effects of the last dosage of whatever Elliot injected 
with had worn of some time ago, but she was still weak.  She had had 
to contort her body awkwardly to be able to reach her feet, and her 
back ached from holding the same position for so long.  Her fingers, 
particularly the two with the broken nails, throbbed painfully from 
working at the rope that bound her ankles.  It had also seemed to 
take forever, and all she had managed to do was loosen it enough to 
allow her to walk with mincing footsteps instead of hopping.  She 
was not sure yet if it had been worth the effort.

The scenery outside the window, rolling hills with the occasional 
thicket of small trees, gave her no clue as to her location.  She 
could only see a part of the building they were within, brown brick 
with small dormer like windows.  It reminded her of a school, or 
perhaps a hospital.  No landmarks or identifying sights visible from 
this angle.

Scully heard a sound at the door and nearly stumbled trying to turn 
around.  Her heart began to beat a little faster.  She flicked a 
glance at the cot and knew that she would never make it back in 
time.  She took a deep breath as the door swung open and then Elliot 
was inside.  She spoke first, her voice deliberately higher and a 
little afraid.  Inside she cringed at the act she was putting on.  

But it worked.

The suspicion that had flared in his eyes was gone, and his own 
voice was calm when he replied.  Scully's stomach rumbled when he 
mentioned lunch, and she made her way slowly and carefully to the 
cot, lowering herself onto it.  Elliot put the bag he had been 
holding, along with a bottle of water onto the cot beside her and 
brought the chair he had sat in earlier and placed it in front of 
her.  He sat and reached for hands, and she sucked in her breath in 
reaction.  From pain, and a tinge of fear.  Her hands and wrists 
were extremely sore, and she was worried that the skin was becoming 
infected.  She almost didn't catch his next words, hearing only, 
"...try anything and I'll be angry."  She realized he was talking 
about loosening the restraints around her wrists, and looked up at 
him, putting every acting skill she had into play, trying to project 
sincerity and obedience.  Get under his guard, Dana.

"I won't try anything, Elliot.  I'll be good," she said.  The best 
I can be, you bastard.  Meek and submissive.  Until you give me the 
right chance.

She managed not to flinch as he worked at the ropes around her 
wrists, but she could not stop her indrawn breath when the rough 
fibers dug into the welts and abrasions on her skin.  Her pain was 
pushed aside when he opened the bottle of water and handed it to 
her.  

She raised it to her lips gratefully after thanking him and drank 
some of the precious liquid as he opened the packaged sandwich he 
had brought.  He placed it on her lap, and she put the water aside 
to take a small bite.  She was hungry, but she wasn't going to wolf 
her food down this time.  The last time she had done that, she had 
felt ill for a couple of hours afterwards.  The combination of 
drugs he was using was wreaking havoc on her system, and solid food 
was probably not the best of choices.  She could not tell him that, 
however, and knew she must make do with what was offered. She 
actually considered herself lucky that he gave her anything at all.  
She was not sure why he was being...well, kind.  His moods were 
almost mercurial.  Unpredictable.

She ate and drank slowly, watching Elliot out of the corner of her 
eye.  His face had softened, and had a far away look, his eyes 
almost sleepy.  He had not been angry to find her at the window and 
had seemed almost concerned about her, so she thought it would be a 
good time to try and talk to him some more.  She kept her voice soft 
as she spoke.  "Elliot, you must miss Elizabeth very much."

Elliot blinked slowly, reminding her in that instant of a child.  
He nodded, and Scully was surprised when his eyes welled with 
tears.  "So very, very much," he whispered.  He looked away from 
her, his gaze scanning the room.  "This wasn't her room," he 
continued.  His voice had a singsong quality, and Scully wondered 
if he was even aware he was talking. She kept quiet, waiting for 
him to go on, although she wanted to dig deeper.  Did he mean they 
were at the hospital Elizabeth had stayed in?  How was that 
possible?  Wouldn't they be found?  

Elliot was still talking. "She was in the maximum-security wing.  
I wasn't allowed to see her very often."  His fingers were tracing 
patterns on his knees, and he had begun to rock slightly. "So many 
rules.  They made me mad.  She wasn't happy.  She was never happy 
when we weren't together."  He paused again, and his next sentence 
was lower than a whisper, and had Scully leaning forward to catch 
the words.  "That's why she tried to hang herself.  She was so 
lonely.  Just like me."  

He went quiet and Scully sat tensely, hoping he would speak 
further.  He did not.  She took a deep, quiet breath, and forced 
herself to relax.  "Elliot, why was she in the hospital?"  Voice 
calm, even, non-threatening.

His head snapped up.  "Because of Mulder."  He got up from the 
chair with a violent motion that knocked it over, and began to 
pace agitatedly in the small space.  "He said she murdered those 
girls!"  His voice had risen, and Scully could see his face was 
red.  "But she didn't.  I did!"  He stomped towards her, and 
Scully cringed back against the wall, drawing her knees up to 
protect her body. 
 
"Put your legs down!" he yelled, spittle flying from his lips.  
She obeyed, and he yanked her hands down and tightened the ropes 
again, eliciting a gasp of pain from her.  He pushed at her so 
that she fell over on the cot, and grabbed the remains of the 
sandwich up with one hand.  He glared at her for a moment and 
then left, slamming the door loudly behind him.  The locks clicked 
into place.

Scully hitched out the breath she had been holding and sat up 
carefully.  She looked to her left.  Miraculously, the bottle of 
water had not spilled even though it had been knocked over.  She 
picked it up gingerly and inched forward so that she could place 
it on the floor, tucked just under the cot.  Her heart was still 
racing from Elliot's explosion, and the news he had imparted, and 
she sank wearily back down onto the cot.  She had been truly 
frightened of him at that moment, as much as she had been when he 
had threatened her with the rope around her neck.  She was thankful 
he had not acted on his anger, and had left.  She realized her body 
was still sore, and tried to relax as much as possible into the 
lumpy cot.  She closed her eyes, thinking about what Elliot had 
said.  Had he allowed his sister to be incarcerated for crimes he 
had committed?

***

4 pm

Scully came out of an uneasy sleep to a burning sensation in her 
arm, and opened sleep-blurred eyes to see Elliot backing away from 
the cot.  She blinked to clear her vision and saw the syringe that 
he was tucking away.  In moments lassitude swamped her body, and she 
knew they were going to go somewhere.  Her mouth went dry and her 
heart rate increased as her frightened mind wondered where he was 
taking her.  

She flashbacked to being dragged down the warehouse hallway to watch 
that poor woman hang, to her helplessness and fear, and she began to 
pant harshly as Elliot knelt down and reached for her feet.  She 
tried to kick out at him, but her struggles were ineffectually weak, 
and uncontrolled.

Elliot yanked roughly at her legs, hands gripped around her ankles, 
pulling them straight out in front of her.  He grunted, "Stop!" and 
shook her legs for emphasis. "I am going to untie your feet, and we 
are going to walk down the hall to the shower.  If you continue to 
fight me, I will strip you and wash you myself."

The words were spoken in a voice that was low and hoarse, and the 
threat combined with the look of interest in his eyes had her 
stilling her motions.  She watched as his hands untied the rope from 
her ankles and then he rose, pulling her to her feet.  His hand was 
tight around her arm just above the elbow, and she felt herself 
swaying.

He tugged at her arm, and then they were walking out of the room and 
down a low-lit hallway.  Scully had to concentrate on putting one 
foot in front of the other.  The ground seemed so very far away.  So 
did her will and determination.

She noted vaguely that the floors were that tile most commonly seen 
in hospitals, and that the walls were painted a color she had always 
described as institutional beige, with those long wooden handrails 
about waist height running along them.  Although there was no 
equipment or hospital paraphernalia littering the hallway, she was 
convinced they were in a hospital, more than likely a mental 
hospital, and obviously a defunct one.  

There was also an odd odor in the air.  She couldn't quite determine 
what it was, but for some reason it reminded her of charred wood.

She shook her head, for her thoughts were getting all jumbled.  
She blinked, trying to clear the fog in her brain.  If she could 
only see something that would tell her where they were.  She had 
begun to think of all the mental institutions and hospitals she knew 
of, but had realized she did not even know what city they were in, 
or even if they were in the same state.  

Elliot stopped and pushed open a wooden door, bearing a small 
plaque that read "Showers".  He pushed her inside, and she stumbled, 
crashing into the wall.  Her slide down towards the ground was 
boneless, and he muttered a curse as he caught her by the arm just 
before she hit the floor.  He yanked her up and dragged her over to 
a wooden stool, shoving her onto it.  

Scully summoned the energy to look around the tiled room.  Opposite 
the stool she sat on were two shower stalls, with flimsy opaque 
curtains pushed to the side.  In one of the stalls she could see a 
bar of soap and what looked like little sample bottles of shampoo 
and cream rinse.  There was also a towel hanging on the hook to one 
side of the stall.

She realized Elliot had moved back in front of her, and then he bent 
at the waist, picking up her hands.  He untied her wrists and then 
stepped back.  "Get undressed," he said.  He had backed up several 
feet to stand in the doorway of the shower room, in front of the 
door he had propped open with a wedge of wood, but made no move to 
leave.

Scully rose awkwardly, feeling a flush crawl over her face and 
neck.  It was a combination of embarrassment and anger that he would 
be watching her.  She moved closer to the stall, and was slightly 
relieved to note that the two foot long wall by the door now hid him 
from her view. And her from his. 

She stripped as quickly as she was able, the ache in her wrists 
intensified by her motions.  She could not shake the crawling 
sensation of being watched and looked back once. She could only 
see the toe of one boot, and she assumed he was leaning against 
the wall.  She stepped into the stall and pulled the thin curtain 
closed.  

She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and washed 
her entire body twice, smelling the rose fragrance of the soap.  
She was careful with the skin around her wrists, the soap stung 
as it touched the abrasions.  Her hair was next, shampooed twice 
before she used the cream rinse.  After rinsing her hair, she just 
stood under the flow of water, one arm outstretched, and palm flat 
against the tile, helping her remain upright.  

His voice was there then, right outside the curtain, and her eyes 
popped open in alarm.  Her arms instinctively came around herself 
to hide her body and she hunched her shoulders down.  "Turn the 
water off now, Dana."

She obeyed, one shaking hand coming out to turn the taps off.  She 
shivered with cold now that the warmth of the water was gone.  The 
whoosh as the curtain was swept aside was loud and she cringed, 
hating the fact that her bare backside was entirely visible to him.  
The alternative however was worse.  She heard him inhale deeply and 
then sigh, "Roses."  She remembered that he associated the scent of 
roses with Elizabeth, and wanted to turn the water back on and 
rinse the smell from her skin.

Elliot spoke again, softly.  "Turn around."  His voice sounded odd, 
almost crooning.  When she did not move, he said it again, louder, 
with a hint of anger.  "Turn around now."

She did so, keeping her hands in place to hide her breasts and the 
triangle between her thighs.  She kept her head down, not wanting 
to look in his eyes.  Afraid to see what was in them.  The moment 
seemed to last forever, her nerves stretched impossibly taut, before 
he finally chuckled and thrust the towel at her.  "Get dried off.  
There's some clean clothes on the stool."  She reached out with the 
hand that had been over her breasts and grabbed the towel, clasping 
it to her body.  She was still staring at the ground, and watched 
his feet leave her field of vision.  His steps were quiet, and she 
realized he could have stood there watching her when he brought the 
clothes, and she wouldn't even have known.  The thought sent another 
shiver through her body.  

She lifted her head finally, to see that the space in front of the 
shower was empty except for the stool with a pile of clothes folded 
neatly on top.  She took the towel and scrubbed it over her body 
quickly, and then used it to dry her hair.  She stepped out of the 
stall carefully, the tiles slippery from the water, and shot a 
glance towards the doorway.  It was empty.  She hurried to the 
stool, nearly stumbling again in her haste and dressed in the 
panties and sweat suit he had left.  She still felt weak and lowered 
herself onto the stool to pull on the socks and tennis shoes.

A shuffling at the door had her head shooting up from her task, 
and a slight wave of dizziness washed over her with the suddenness 
of her movement.  She closed her eyes for a second, and it passed.  
When she opened them again, he was kneeling in front of her.  

"Hold out your hands," he commanded softly.  When she did, he 
opened a tube of some sort of cream and dabbed it on the abrasions 
on her wrists.  The cream was cool at first touch, and then stung 
a little, and she sucked in her breath in reaction.  He then wrapped 
her wrists in soft gauze, sealing each band with a piece of white 
adhesive tape.  He looked up from her hands and said, "I'll leave 
the ropes off for now, but don't make me regret my decision."

She nodded thankfully.  Her fingers were not as swollen as they 
had been, but they and her wrists were still very sore.  He studied 
her for a moment longer, and then nodded to himself.  He stood and 
reached down with one hand to pull her to her feet by her upper arm, 
leading her out of the shower room.

They walked slowly down the hall, back in the direction they had 
come, and Scully used the slowness of their pace to try and look 
around a little more.  The rooms they passed were mostly empty, 
with just odd pieces of furniture, and she could only catch 
glimpses of green scenery through the small windows.

She jumped slightly when he spoke, her concentration so intent 
on staying upright without stumbling, even with his hand on her 
arm, and trying to spot something that could help her.  

"Do you know what today is?" he asked conversationally.  

She shook her head, not sure what he meant, and made a negative 
sound.

"It's our anniversary, Dana," he said.  "Our one week anniversary." 

Scully's steps faltered and she felt herself pitching forward.  He 
hauled her into his body and held her tightly as they continued 
forward.  She barely registered the feel of him pressed against 
her.  Her mind was numb.  One thought kept repeating itself.  
My God, she had been missing one week.  Another thought hit her.  
Mulder had to be going insane.  

Elliot spoke again.  "I think we should give Mulder a call.  What 
do you think, Dana?"

***

Conference Room
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday 
4:30 pm


Mulder looked up from his perusal of the files in front of him 
when he heard a sound at the door.  Skinner was walking towards him, 
holding two steaming Styrofoam cups.  He pushed his chair back from 
the table a little and accepted the cup with a mumbled, "Thanks."  

He had not seen the AD since earlier that morning when they had 
gone to interview Kathy O'Neill's sister.  Tricia Carpenter, 
Kathy's older sister, had been of little help in the way of possibly 
identifying a suspect.  She had not seen her sister in several days, 
although they normally talked on the phone daily.  When her sister 
had not shown up for lunch on Tuesday, Tricia had not been overly 
concerned, but when she had not heard from Kathy by Wednesday 
afternoon, she had filed a missing person's report with the 
Washiington PD.  Skinner told her about Scully, and the woman had 
been horrified to learn why her sister had been killed.  She had 
also provided as many details about her sister's daily routine, and 
the names and numbers of friends and Kathy's place of work.  Through 
her tears, she had begged Mulder to catch the man who had done this 
to her sister.   

Mulder had promised her he would.  He hoped like hell he would be 
able to keep that promise.

The AD sat down in the chair beside Mulder and put his own cup down 
on the table.  His eyes scanned the piles that still covered the 
the wood surface.  "Any luck?" he asked, his voice low and 
tired-sounding.

Mulder shook his head, removing his glasses and throwing them on a 
stack of files.  He rubbed his eyes wearily and replied,  "Not 
really.  We've eliminated more, but also found more for further 
investigation." Mulder's voice was rough and scratchy, and full of 
defeat.  He leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms back and 
over his head.  "I told Kristopher and Jenkins to take a break."  

The two agents assigned to help him and done most of the follow-up 
work on the suspects Mulder found to be likely candidates, and had 
been hard at work since that morning.   

Mulder took a sip of the hot coffee, feeling the warmth steal down 
his throat and hit his empty stomach.  His secretary Allison, and 
how odd those words sounded to him, had brought him soup at 
lunchtime, but he had only been able to manage a few spoonfuls.  
He had had nothing else except for numerous cups of coffee.  Even 
though he knew Scully would have a fit if she saw him this way, it 
was not enough to push him into caring better for himself.  How 
could he?

Skinner gulped down some of his own coffee and then said, "They 
ran the partial from Scully's apartment again.  Still no match."  
He shook his head.  "It doesn't make sense.  If this man has been 
arrested, his fingerprints would be on file.  Could he have an 
accomplice?"

Mulder sighed harshly, running his hands through his hair.  His 
frustration was evident when he replied.  "We have no fucking way 
of knowing."  He pushed up from his chair and began to pace.  
"Nothing he has said indicates an accomplice, but that does not 
mean he doesn't."  His foot kicked at the chair as he passed it, 
and it wobbled briefly before righting itself.  "We have nothing." 
He paused and then said, "I have nothing." 

His self-loathing was apparent.

Skinner blinked several times before replying, a deep frown on 
his face.  "What about your friends, those Lone Gunmen?  Have they 
been able to find out anything about the white van?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I just checked in with them a little 
while ago. Frohike and Langly have been working almost non-stop 
since last night.  It's a lot of work and apparently we should be 
surprised at the number of white panel vans in D.C. alone.  As well, 
the combination of the words 'D.C.' and 'cleaning' is not quite 
enough to narrow the search down."  His faint smile did not meet his 
eyes, but reflected his gratitude.  "They told me they'll keep 
looking until they find something, they're not stopping for 
anything."

Skinner rubbed his jaw with one hand and then spoke again.  
"Several agents have liaisoned with the Washington PD and are 
conducting interviews on Kathy O'Neill's friends and co-workers.  
Trying to see if they can pinpoint where she was taken, or if anyone 
saw anything. I haven't heard back yet."   The AD paused and then 
cleared his throat before continuing. "Mulder, I know it's not much, 
but the blood found at the warehouse was not Scully's," Skinner 
said, watching Mulder as he paced back and forth.  "They haven't 
matched it to anyone, but they know it is Type AB negative, which 
is not a common blood type."

Mulder stopped his pacing, standing in the middle of the room with 
his hands on his hips. In a way it was not much, but at the same 
time, it was a relief to know it was not Scully's blood.  He knew 
it was impossible to hope that she would be completely unharmed, 
the Polaroid of her with the rope around her neck, and the hanging 
of Kathy O'Neill were ample proof the man was fully capable of 
violence, but that the blood was not hers was still somewhat of a 
comfort to him.  He refused to allow his mind to go in the direction 
it was.  A lot could have happened in the two days since then.  
His heart started to thud.  He also had not heard Scully's voice 
since then.  

As if thinking about her had been like a magic summons, the cell 
phone on the conference table rang.

***

Unknown Location
Leesburg, VA
Friday
4:45 pm


Scully sagged down onto the cot, the pulse at her throat fluttering 
erratically.  After saying they should give Mulder a call, Elliot 
had brought her back to her room and led her to the cot, giving her 
a slight push.  He was now sitting down on his chair, smiling at the 
stupefaction she knew had to be on her face.  She was still stunned 
from having learned she had been missing a week, but excitement was 
now surging through her veins.  This could be an opportunity to get 
some information to Mulder.

Elliot made a pleased humming sound.  "You seem very eager, Dana.  
Whatever for?"  His giggle crawled down her spine, and she shivered 
in reaction.   "I don't know if you've been a good girl, Dana.  I 
don't think I should let you talk to Mulder."

Hope was warring with disappointment.  Was he just tormenting her?  
She tried to keep her expression blank and open, forcing herself to 
relax against the wall. She breathed slowly and deeply, her mouth 
slightly open.  Her hands were fisted in her lap, and she uncurled 
her fingers, flexing them gently.  The motion did not hurt as much 
as before, and she was worried he would re-tie her again soon.

Elliot reached inside his blazer, and Scully looked up, realizing 
then that was what was different about him today.  He was not 
wearing the coveralls.  He pulled out the cell phone, and she looked 
down at her lap so he would not be able to see her eyes staring at 
it eagerly.  He opened it slowly, turning it on, drawing out the 
motions deliberately, she knew. 

The room was so quiet and even though the phone was pressed to 
Elliot's ear, Scully swore she could hear each ring.  Or maybe it 
was just her intense need to hear Mulder's voice that was making her 
imagine the sounds.  That need was answered.  She heard his voice, 
his dear, sweet voice, saying his name, 'Mulder.'

Elliot smiled, his eyes on her face, watching, as he spoke into the 
phone.  "Agent Mulder, you sound down.  Whatever is the matter?"

There was a burst of sound from the phone, but all Scully could make 
out was her name.  She blinked back the tears that sprang to her 
eyes.  She could hear the anguish in Mulder's voice.  She took a 
deep breath, calming herself down.  She had to be strong.  She had 
to be ready.  She focused on the conversation again. 

"Now, now, Agent Mulder," Elliot was saying.  "I don't think you 
should talk to me like that.  I might get angry, and I think you can 
guess what will happen if I do."  He chuckled and then continued, 
"That's better."

Although Elliot was still looking at her, he didn't seem to be 
completely focused.  He seemed too intent in his taunting 
conversation with Mulder.  Scully edged forward slowly, feeling her 
muscles protest at the tenseness of her body.  She was still weak 
from the injection, but she had to try.  She somehow knew Elliot 
was not going to let her talk to Mulder, other than maybe letting 
her say his name.  Just enough to torment Mulder further.  She was 
not going to let Elliot get away with that, no matter the 
consequences.

Gathering all her will and determination, Scully took a deep breath 
and lunged forward, tucking her head down and aiming for his 
vulnerable throat with her shoulder.  The move was a combination of 
a self-defense attack move she had learned in the Bureau training 
courses, and a football tackle her brothers had shown her long ago.

The move was not quite as successful as she had hoped.  She was not 
sure if he had just sensed she would try something, or if he had 
noticed her start to move, but he shifted slightly on the stool, 
and she did not hit her target.  Her shoulder caught his, and they 
both went crashing to the floor, the cell phone slipping from his 
hand and skittering across the tiles.  

Scully groaned when she hit the floor, pain flaring everywhere in 
her body, but she did not pause.  She scrambled on hands and knees 
towards the phone, crawling over Elliot in her haste to get there 
first.  She was unaware she was chanting, "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder." 

Her hand closed on the cell phone just as his hand closed on her 
ankle. She jammed it at her ear, screaming, "Mulder, his name's 
Elliot, and his sister's name is Elizabeth, he's driving a white 
van that says D.C. Duct Cleaning..."

He dragged her toward him, one hand stretching up to knock the cell 
phone away from her. He bellowed ,"Bitch!" and grabbing her by the 
hip, flipped her onto her back. He crawled on top of her, and sat 
on her pelvis, his hands coming up to grab her shoulders.  He shook 
her roughly, yelling 'bitch' over and over.  

Scully bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him, but he was too 
heavy.  He slapped her hard across the cheek in retaliation, 
spinning her head to the side.  She began to struggle harder, 
kicking her legs and bucking her hips, her hands coming up to 
push at his chest.  He slapped her again, on the same cheek, and 
the entire side of her face went numb.  The blow also stunned her 
a little, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision.  His face 
loomed over hers, contorted in rage, and she screamed up at him, 
wiggling and squirming for all she was worth.

She managed to make a fist with one hand and put all her effort 
into plowing it into his face.  He moved at the last second, and 
it landed on his cheek instead of his nose, but it still made him 
roar with pain and rage.  His hand came down, slapping her again 
and again, on both sides of her face, her head moving from side 
to side with the force of each blow.  She felt her lip split, and 
then warm blood gushing from her nose.  He was cursing, spittle 
flying from his mouth with each word.  

She was screaming and crying, her arms flailing, and he grabbed 
hold of her sore wrists in each hand, squeezing tightly.  He brought 
her arms up over her head roughly and leaned his upper body down on 
her chest.  Her cries ceased as she struggled to breathe with the 
heavy weight that was crushing her.

In the ensuing silence, Mulder's frantic cries could be heard from 
the cell phone.  "SCULLY!  OH, JESUS, SCULLY!"

Elliot's head, which had been descending towards hers, a strange 
light in his eyes, whipped to the side and stared at the cell phone. 
He let go of one of her wrists and reached out his long arm to grab 
the cell phone.  His weight still pinned her down, and she panted, 
listening helplessly as Elliot spoke into the phone.

"Dana can't come to the phone right now."

He pressed disconnect and dropped it on the ground.

***

end Part 5 of 29