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 6 of 29
by Lovesfox


Conference Room
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday
4:45 pm


Mulder and Skinner both stared at the phone for a moment, before 
Mulder finally lunged forward and grabbed it up.  He took a deep 
breath, pressed send, and said, "Mulder."  He could hear the defeat 
and exhaustion in his own voice.

The man's reply, and the smugness in his tone, had Mulder cursing.  
He couldn't help his reaction, calling the man names, and demanding 
to speak to Scully.  He tensed when the man made veiled threats, 
implying he would hurt Scully if Mulder didn't behave, and forced 
himself to relax.  He took another deep breath and spoke more 
calmly. "Is Scully there?  May I speak to her?" he said.  His voice 
was more controlled, the desperation hidden.  

He nearly bit his tongue when the man praised him, saying, "That's 
better."  Mulder felt Skinner move to stand next to him, just over 
his shoulder.  He flicked a glance at the AD, who was watching him 
with worried eyes.  Skinner mouthed 'Scully', and Mulder jerked his 
head angrily in a negative motion, mouthing back, 'Not yet'.

There was silence for a moment, and then the sounds of a scuffle.  
A burst of static next, and then a noise that reminded him of the 
time Scully had dropped her cellular during one of their phone 
conversations.  Mulder pressed the phone harder to his ear, 
straining to hear, wondering if the connection had been broken.

Another of burst of static, loud in his ears, and then his heart 
stopped.  He could hear Scully saying his name over and over again, 
her voice faint and pain-filled.  His mouth moved, but no sound 
came out.

A scrabbling sound, and then Scully, screaming frantically, her 
words running on top of each other.  "Mulder, his name's Elliot, 
and his sister's name is Elizabeth, he's driving a white van that 
says D.C. Duct Cleaning..."

His heart jumped into action, as if it wanted to burst free from 
the confines of his chest.  Another scrabbling sound, and his mind 
suddenly pictured Scully struggling with a faceless man, fighting 
over a cellular phone.  Then the man's voice, loud and angry,  
"Bitch!"

The curse was uttered again and again, and then Mulder heard the 
most horrifying sound.  Flesh striking flesh, the crack astoundingly 
loud through the phone.  The sound was repeated, and then Scully 
screamed.  Mulder screamed with her, long and loud in his mind.  
Oh, Jesus, oh, shit, he's beating her, JESUS, SCULLY!  His silent 
scream ended abruptly, the thought tumbling in the sudden silence 
of his brain.  He's hurting her. He's hurting Scully. His teeth were 
grinding together, and the phone was gripped so tightly in his hand 
he thought it would break.  Tears ran down his face, but he still 
could not make a sound.  Skinner grabbed his arm, shaking him, 
trying to get his attention, but Mulder could not move.  He was 
frozen in place, phone shoved against his ear, unable to move, to 
breathe.  

The man made a sound Mulder could only describe as a roar of pain, 
and then there were several slapping noises, interspersed with the 
man's curses.  Scully crying and screaming.  And then sudden 
silence.  He finally found his voice, crying, "SCULLY! OH, JESUS, 
SCULLY!"

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

Mulder heard the cold taunting in the voice, the promise of 
violence in those words and he opened his mouth to scream.  

CLICK.

The phone fell from his nerveless fingers, dropping to the floor 
with a muffled thud.  He staggered and Skinner was there, grabbing 
him by his upper arms and pushing him into a chair.  He slumped 
forward, dropping his head between his knees, feeling sick.  Vaguely 
he could hear Skinner speaking urgently to him.  He forced his head 
up, seeing that Skinner had knelt before him, and was staring at 
him with panicked eyes.

"Mulder, are you all right?" the AD asked, his voice harsh with his 
concern.  

Mulder shook his head, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.  "He was 
beating her," he choked out, and another wave of nausea ran through 
him.  He dropped his head again, trying to take deep breaths.  He 
could still hear Scully calling his name, hear the sounds of the man 
striking her, hear her screams.  He brought his hands up to cover 
his ears, to try and block the sounds.  It didn't work.  Her screams 
were so loud.  "Scully," he moaned.  "I'm sorry, Jesus, I'm sorry."

Skinner's hands tightened on his upper arms.  "Hang on, Mulder, 
I'll get some water."  Mulder sensed the AD standing, moving about 
the room, but he remained hunched down in the chair, hands on his 
ears, rocking back and forth.  Cold wetness touched his neck.  He 
recognized it as a paper towel drenched with water.  Its coolness 
was welcome, and he shuddered out another breath, slowly 
straightening in his seat.

Skinner was crouched beside him, holding the towel at his neck.  
When Mulder sat up, he moved back a little.  "Better?"

Mulder nodded slowly, coughing the lump in his throat away.  
"Scully..." he started to say, when a cell phone chirped.  It was 
not the cell phone; it was Mulder's own.  He scrambled to pull it 
out of his suit jacket inner pocket, the jacket hanging on the 
back of a chair, and brought it up to his ear, hitting send with 
a gesture that spoke of habit.  "Mulder?" he said into it, not 
sure who was on the other end.

He sat up when he heard Frohike's excited voice.  "Mulder, was 
that him?  We traced the call to a place in Virginia, called 
Leesburg."

"Wha...? Frohike...what do you mean?" Mulder babbled, mind trying 
to focus on what Frohike had said.  He was aware of Skinner once 
again beside him, standing tensely.

Frohike spoke slower, but his tone belied the excitement still 
there.  "Mulder, last night, when I was charging your phone, we had 
an idea.  It's something we've been playing with for a while.  We 
attached a tracker of sorts on the cell phone."  There was a deep 
inhalation and then he continued, speaking faster.  "We were able to 
track that last call.  To somewhere in Leesburg, Virginia.  We could 
have got more, but the call was disconnected."

Mulder was stunned.  They had said nothing to him.  They must not 
have known if it would work or not.  "Great work guys," he said.  
What he had heard before still had him reeling, so he could not 
work up much enthusiasm.   He cleared his throat.  "Frohike, you can 
narrow your search a little on the van.  It says D.C. Duct Cleaning 
Service on it."

Frohike made an odd noise and then said, "How'd you get that?  Never 
mind, we're on it."  He paused and then said, "We'll work day and 
night."

"I know you will, Frohike.  I can't thank you guys enough."   
Mulder swallowed, and tried to sound encouraging, the attempt 
sounding flat, his voice cracking in the middle. "Scully will thank 
you all in person."

"Hang in there, Mulder," Frohike said.  "You'll find her."  A sound, 
suspiciously like a sniffle followed and then Frohike said, "I'll 
call you when we've got something."  The call was disconnected.

Mulder pressed end, and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He 
wished he had Frohike's confidence. He glanced up at Skinner.  "The 
Gunmen traced the call to a place called Leesburg, Virginia."  He 
heard Scully's screams again in his head, and shook it once before 
continuing.  "Scully...Scully said his name is Elliot, his sister's 
name is Elizabeth, and told me the name on the white van."  He 
swallowed and looked down at his feet.  His voice was a whisper when 
he continued.  "He was beating her, for telling me." He surged to 
his feet, hand yanking the jacket off the chair.  "I need to go 
there.  To find her."

Skinner's hand came down on his shoulder, halting his progress.  
Mulder looked up angrily to see that the muscle in Skinner's jaw 
was twitching wildly again.  The AD's voice was terse as he spoke.  
"Mulder, we'll go to Leesburg when we know more.  Not before.  We 
can't risk you being seen there. For all we know, this 'Elliot' 
has you under surveillance.  We stand a better chance of finding 
Scully if we have some element of surprise on our side."  He rubbed 
his hand over his mouth and then continued,  "I'm going to call the 
nearest Field Office.  Find out what's in Leesburg.  We'll get some 
computers in here too, start running those names."

Mulder nodded reluctantly, knowing the AD was right.  His tearing 
into Leesburg could drive Elliot towards further violence. Violence 
towards Scully.  Again her screams rang in his head, and he clenched 
his teeth to hold back his moan of despair.  As much as he wanted to 
go there right this minute, to search for Scully, he had to stay 
here until they had more.  He hung his jacket back on the chair and 
sank into it, pulling a stack of files towards him.  He would look 
for Elliot and Elizabeth this way until the computer techs arrived.  
If he didn't do something, he would go mad.

He heard Skinner leave the room as he opened the first file.

***

Unknown Location
Leesburg, VA
Friday
4:50 pm


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

Scully shivered at the menace in those words, and nearly jumped 
when he dropped the phone, the clatter loud in the silence of the 
room.  He was motionless for a moment, staring at it lying there 
on the floor. She tried to keep the fear from her eyes when Elliot 
turned his head back to her.  Her breath was coming fast and hard, 
her heart pounding erratically, and she was scared to the bone.  
Her entire face felt like it was on fire, and she could feel the 
blood from her nose oozing down her cheek.  She was also praying 
Mulder had heard her, and could use what she had told him to find 
her.  

Mulder.  

She could still hear his terrified cries in her mind, 
hear the horror in his voice as he called her name.  

Elliot studied her for long seconds, and then his hand was coming 
at her fast, slapping her hard across the face.  Stars burst in 
her eyes, and she grunted with the pain.  He bent down close to 
her ear, one hand pressing her shoulder harder into the floor, and 
she whimpered when the motion put all his weight on her again. 
Elliot's voice was low and angry, his exhalations hot against the 
flesh of her neck.  "You really shouldn't have done that, Dana." 
His other hand came up to rub at his cheek where she had punched 
him and he grimaced.  "That was very bad, Dana."

Scully cringed inwardly at his usage of her first name, his words 
sounded oily and eerie, and he put particular emphasis on both 
syllables.  He straightened a little, and she blinked her eyes to 
see his fixed on something on her face.  She thought it was the 
blood. 

She was proven correct when Elliot lifted his hand to her face, 
his index finger tracing over the blood lightly.  That strange light 
was back in his eyes and she watched them become hooded, saw his 
breathing quicken.  She felt panic stir anew, but it was a different 
kind of panic.  

Oh, God, he was excited.  

The fighting and the blood had turned him on.  He ground his lower 
body against hers then, and she felt him.  No, no, no, no...her 
mind screamed, even as his head descended towards hers.

His hand gripped her jaw before she could turn her head away, and 
then his lips were on hers, hot and wet.  She kept her lips pressed 
together, denying his tongue entrance to her mouth, and he ground 
his harder into them, her cut lip stinging.  He was making growling 
noises, and the sound turned her stomach.   She was also having 
trouble breathing, her nose thick with blood.  She managed to bring 
her hands up, and began to push at his chest, shoving with all her 
might.  He let go of her jaw and tried to push her hands down, and 
she immediately pulled away from his lips, her own parting as she 
sucked in needed air.

He swore harshly in her ear and smacked her in the face again, 
stunning her into momentary inactivity.  He lifted himself off of 
her and reached somewhere, she wasn't sure where, and then 
triumphantly held the rope that had bound her hands in front of her 
eyes.  She was still stunned, and her reaction was slow.  By the 
time she realized she should be fighting like mad, he had the rope 
wrapped around her wrists and was yanking the knots tight.  He used 
the free end of the rope to pull her arms up over her head and 
settled his weight back down onto her, his lower body again pushing 
into hers.

"You bastard, get the hell off me!" she had found her voice, and 
screamed the words at him, twisting her body frantically.  "Get 
off me!"

"Wiggle like that some more," he crooned.  "I like when you fight 
me."  His lips were just under her ear, sucking and biting her 
skin.  

She turned her head from side to side, trying to evade his lips, 
to keep their sliminess off of her skin.  He moved down, to the 
pulse in her throat, licking there, and she felt his hands pushing 
at the waistband of her track pants.  He lifted his body so he could 
shove the pants down her hips.  His lips left her skin as he rose up 
completely and pulled them down to her knees.  She kicked out at him 
and he chuckled. She felt his hands on her thighs and squeezed her 
legs tightly together.

She could feel his eyes running along her legs, stopping at the 
scrap of material that was all that covered her flesh.  Suddenly his 
words kicked in.  'I like when you fight me'.  Oh, God, her 
struggles were only inflaming his desire.  She ceased all movements, 
holding her breath, trying to keep her body completely still.  She 
felt his hands, prying her legs apart.  

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

***

5 pm

The sheer terror in Mulder's voice as he screamed the name 'Scully' 
sent a jolt of electricity through Elliot's body.  Disconnecting the 
phone and dropping it on the floor and hearing Dana's gasp of 
reaction, only added to the incredible feeling of power that was 
rushing through him.  He continued to stare at the silent phone, 
thinking of what had just transpired.  He had been so furious when 
Dana had dared to attack him.  Then to hear her actually give Mulder 
he and Elizabeth's names.  His rage could not be contained, and he 
had reacted with force. 

He remembered the sounds his hands had made as they connected with 
her face, hearing her screams and cries of pain.  Pleasure nearly 
overwhelmed him. He shifted his gaze from the phone to Dana, her 
body tense beneath him.  Her cries had died down to whimpers, and 
he wanted to hear her scream again.  His hand was up and moving, 
slapping her hard across the face.  She grunted with pain and he 
reveled in the sound.  He leaned down, one hand pressing her firmly 
into the ground and whispered in her ear, "You really shouldn't have 
done that, Dana."  When he talked, the cheek she had hit flared 
with pain, and he touched it briefly.  "That was very bad, Dana."

She was panting harshly, and he leaned back a little, wanting to 
see her face, to see the fear he knew would be there.  The blood 
trickling from her nose caught his gaze, and the red was so bright 
against her white skin, he had to touch it.  He traced his finger 
over it, and suddenly he could smell it, taste it. His excitement 
grew, his arousal painfully hard, and he ground his lower body 
into hers.  

Her chest was heaving, and her lips were parted with her 
effort to breath.  They looked so tempting, and he swooped down to 
possess them, his hand grabbing her jaw firmly to hold her face 
still.  She pressed her lips shut, and he ground his into her 
harder, trying to force them open.  He could taste the blood from 
her split lip, coppery sweet, and he was barely aware of the sounds 
coming from himself as the flavor inflamed him further.

Beneath him he felt Dana tense again, and then her hands were 
pushing at his chest.  Elliot let go of her jaw to try and grab her 
hands, and she pulled her mouth from his, turning her head to the 
side, gasping for air.  His anger surged and he grunted, "Bitch!" 
in her ear and smacked her across the face, enjoying the vague look 
that passed through her eyes.  

Her struggles were only turning him on more, but he did not want 
her able to fight back too much.  He knew what was missing.  He 
levered himself up a bit and reached up to the desk beside them, 
feeling along its surface.  His searching fingers found the hank 
of rope that had been tied around her wrists and he pulled it down, 
holding it up before her eyes.  She blinked slowly, still stunned 
he guessed, and then quickly and efficiently re-tied her wrists.  

One end dangled free and he used it to pull her arms above her head, 
which thrust her upper body forward.  He lowered himself back onto 
her, his hips pushing his pelvis into hers.

She came alive then, screaming at him to get off of her, and began 
to wriggle frantically.  It felt so good.  "Wiggle like that some 
more.  I like when you fight me," he breathed into her neck.  And 
he did like it.  Immensely.  

Little darts of pleasure were running through his body, and he 
sucked and bit at her flesh in reaction.  The scent of roses, 
Elizabeth's scent, added to his pleasure.  She was twisting her 
head from side to side in an effort to evade him, and he smiled 
into her skin.  She wasn't going anywhere.  He moved to the pulse 
at her throat, pushing his tongue into the little groove, feeling 
it fluttering wildly, while his hands went to the waistband of her 
track pants.  He wanted to feel her bare skin against his.  

He got the track pants down over her hips, but had to lift his 
body to push them down to her knees.  She kicked out at him and he 
laughed.  Her coordination was off, probably from the combination 
of the drugs in her system and the blows he had administered, and 
she did not make contact with him.  Her feistiness turned him on 
even more.  His hands were on her thighs, feeling the silky softness 
of her skin, and he stared lustfully at the panties that were all 
that covered her lower body.  His hands moved to pull her legs 
aapart.  She had them squeezed tightly together, and he was rough 
in his need to expose her further.

He succeeded in pulling them apart and fell between them, pushing 
his body into hers.  He moved his hands to his own waistband, 
struggling to open his pants.  He popped the button and then 
yanked on the zipper, finally pulling himself free.  He began to 
move against her, and it took him a moment to realize she was 
completely still.  She even seemed to be holding her breath.  

It was disappointing, and he panted out a curse, hoping for a 
response.  Nothing.  He slid his hand up her body to her breast, 
which he squeezed painfully.  Her entire face was scrunched up, 
and the quietest of moans escaped her lips, but she did not move.  

He needed her to move.  

He braced himself on one elbow and slapped her on the cheek.  
Although her head turned to the side with the blow, that was her 
only outward reaction.  He felt himself deflate, his desire 
waning, and he rose up to straddle her hips, desperate to bring 
it back.  He began to rain blows all over her body, screaming at 
her to move.  

Nothing was happening.  It was gone.  He couldn't believe it.  
He had been so ready, and it had been such a long time. He pulled 
himself off of her, rising to his feet, staring down at her, 
shoulders rising up and down as his lungs continued to heave the 
air in and out.  She rolled to her side and curled her body up, 
little whimpers escaping her mouth.  

Elliot staggered out of the room, leaving her lying on the floor.

***

Skinner's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday
8 pm


Skinner leaned back into his chair with a weary sigh, one hand 
coming up to pull his wire-rim glasses off to toss them onto the 
pile of papers on his desk.  He had shed his suit jacket some time 
ago, his tie had been loosened, and his shirt cuffs unbuttoned and 
rolled up his forearms.  He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, turning 
his chair to look out the window at the dark night. His stomach 
grumbled faintly, and he looked at the small clock on the credenza 
to see that it had been several hours since he had last eaten.  
He knew the chances were good that Mulder had not eaten either, and 
considered sending one of the junior agents out on a food run.  He 
just couldn't summon the energy up to pass the order on.

He had spent the last couple of hours on the phone with the field 
office in Arlington, Virginia, coordinating with the ASAC there to 
begin a search and canvass of Leesburg.  Kimberley had couriered the 
composite sketch of Elliot, as the suspect was now thought to be 
called, the white van with D.C. Duct Cleaning Service in red 
lettering and a recent photo of Agent Scully with accompanying 
description details.  The team was under strict orders not to 
apprehend, and to report any possible sightings.  If the suspect 
or the van was spotted, a discreet tail was to be used, with 
extreme caution in order not to be spotted by the suspect.  

Like Mulder, he had wanted to rush to Leesburg the moment they had 
learned from Mulder's friend Frohike about the trace they had run on 
the cell phone, but he knew that going there was a rash move.  Other 
than a first name for the suspect, and for all they knew the man 
could have given Scully an alias, and the name of the city, they 
had nothing.  

The van was a possible lead, but there were no guarantees, and it 
could have been dumped by now.  The only logical thing to do was to 
gather as much information as possible before going there to stage 
a rescue mission. 
 
He blinked suddenly, trying to ignore the ugly thought in his head.  
He hoped like hell it was a rescue mission, and not a body retrieval 
operation.  Besides the loss to the Bureau of a fine agent, and to 
him personally of someone he had lately considered a friend, he did 
not think Mulder would survive if Scully was not found alive.

Pushing the grim thought aside, he straightened in his chair and 
spun it back around to face the desk.  He reached for his glasses 
and slid them over his nose, blinking rapidly to clear his 
momentarily blurred vision.  Despite his concern for Scully, he 
still had paperwork pertaining to his daily routine.  Paperwork 
he had been pushing aside in the week since she had been taken.  

His mind would not focus on the work at hand, it kept drifting back 
to the morning in his office when the courier had delivered the 
package that had sent them rushing to Scully's building.  He sighed 
harshly, remembering the pulse-pounding adrenaline rush as he and 
Mulder had searched Scully's apartment, finding it empty, except for 
its chilling addition on her bed.  He flashed back to Mulder telling 
him the man had told him that he had left a clue.  They had never 
found one.  He thought furiously.  The cell phone and the 
photographs had been all that the man had left, as far as they could 
determine.  Could the photographs themselves been the clue?  

Knowing trying to work on anything other than Scully's disappearance 
was a waste of time, he pushed the chair back from the desk and 
rose, stretching briefly, before striding over to the coat rack and 
grabbing his suit jacket.  He slipped it on and left his office, 
going through the outer room, where Kimberley was still at her 
desk.  She had volunteered to stay, in case they had needed 
anything.  

She looked up from her computer when he rushed out, her face 
crinkling with concern.  "Sir?  Is anything wrong?  Did they..." 
her voice trailed off as he shook his head.

"No, nothing yet, Kimberley," he answered, stopping at her desk.  
"Why don't you head home?  It's getting late, and we've got a few 
junior agents staying, as well as Allison from the secretarial 
pool.  I don't know if anything much will happen tonight."

Kimberley frowned slightly and then nodded slowly.  "Yes, sir.  
I'll come in early in the morning, see if there's anything I can 
do."  She reached out and began to shut down her computer, preparing 
to go home.

Skinner watched her for a few moments and then said, "Thank-you, 
Kimberley.  I appreciate this very much.  Drive safely."

She smiled faintly and said, "I don't mind at all, sir.  Thinking 
of Agent Scully..." she let her sentence go unfinished, shuddering 
slightly.  "I'll see you tomorrow, sir."

Skinner nodded and walked out, heading to the conference room to 
talk to Mulder.  He walked into controlled chaos.   There were at 
least four or five computer techs tapping away at keyboards at 
hastily assembled stations, a couple of the agents who had been 
involved in the canvass of Scully's neighborhood talking quietly 
in one corner, Allison, who was distributing what looked like fresh 
cups of coffee, and in the midst of it all, Mulder.    

Skinner paused in the doorway, studying the agent.  

Only Mulder could look so alone in a room full of people.  He was 
at one end of the long table, his shoulders hunched and his elbow 
resting on the wood surface, his chin propped on that hand.  He was 
surrounded by files and seemed totally unaware of the noise and 
commotion going on around him.

Allison approached him with a small smile, holding out a tray of 
still steaming Styrofoam cups.  His nostrils flared at the 
tantalizing smell that confirmed his guess of coffee was correct.  
He took one, nodding his thanks.  She shot a glance at Mulder, and 
leaned in, the concern clear in her eyes.  Skinner angled his head 
down, turning his head slightly, sensing she did not want to be 
overheard.  "Sir, he's hardly eaten, and I can't even get him to 
take some coffee."

Skinner frowned slightly, looking at Mulder for a moment and then 
told her, "I'll take care of him, Allison.  Thank-you for your 
concern."  He reached out and took a second cup of coffee, before 
heading over to Mulder.  He sat down beside the agent, after placing 
the cup within Mulder's eyesight.  Mulder had not even looked up 
when the coffee appeared, and Skinner called his name softly.  

Mulder's head jerked up, his eyes widening in surprise at Skinner's 
presence.  "Did you hear anything?" he asked, his voice rising 
slightly, face tensing.  

Skinner shook his head.  "No, sorry, nothing yet, Mulder," he 
replied.  "Any luck here?"  He turned his head and scanned the 
room; just catching Mulder's defeated head shake in the corner of 
his eye.

There were both startled when one of the tech's yelled excitedly, 
"I've got something here!"

If the situation hadn't been so serious, he and Mulder's scramble 
out of their chairs to get over to the computer would have been 
amusing.  As it was, they actually flicked each other the smallest 
of smiles when they nearly bumped heads.  

Skinner could feel his heart pounding as he stood behind the tech, 
staring at the screen and trying to make sense of what he was 
looking at.  Beside him, Mulder was drawn as taut as a wire, leaning 
over the tech's shoulder, his head almost blocking the monitor.  

"What is it?" Skinner finally barked.

The tech flinched a little and lifted a shaking finger to point at 
the screen.  "I was running every file looking for a one that 
mentioned an 'Elliot' and an 'Elizabeth'.  This is the only match.  
In 1988, a woman named Elizabeth Andercott..."

Mulder interrupted, saying hoarsely, "Print it out."  He 
straightened, his teeth gnawing on his lip, a look of intense 
concentration on his face.  "Andercott..." he mumbled, and turned 
to walk back to the table, even as the printer in the corner began 
to hum.

***

8:20 pm

Mulder began sorting through the files on the conference table with 
purpose.  The more he thought of the name 'Andercott', the more 
familiar it sounded.  Finally he found the one he wanted, and he 
sank into his chair, pulling the file over in front of him. He 
flipped it open and the police photo of Elizabeth Andercott stared 
up at him.  It was a black and white photo, but he could see she had 
dark hair and dark eyes, like their suspect.  He shoved files and 
papers aside, trying to find the composite sketch of the man seen 
by Joshua Hamilton.  

He scanned the room quickly, spying Allison sitting quietly on the 
couch across the room from him.  "Allison?" he called, and her head 
swiveled to meet his gaze.  She jumped up and came over quickly.  "I 
need a copy of the composite sketch of the suspect."

She nodded and headed over to another smaller table in one corner of 
the room.  He watched as her fingers danced over the papers there, 
lifted a sheet from one of the piles, and then she turned and came 
back.  She held it out to him, her expression curious.  "Here you 
go, Agent Mulder," she said softly.  "Could I get you anything 
else?  I know you've hardly eaten all day.  Can I get you a sandwich 
or something?"

Mulder really was not hungry, but she looked so earnest, and was 
trying to be so helpful, that he nodded, telling her, "That would be 
great, Allison.  Thank-you."  She smiled, obviously pleased to be of 
assistance, and left the room.  Mulder turned back to Elizabeth 
Andercott's file, holding the composite sketch of 'Elliot' beside 
her picture.  The resemblance was there.  He wondered how much more 
of one would be noticed if they had a real picture of Elliot.

The other people in the room had ceased to exist again, the sounds 
they made were white noise to his ears, so he was startled when 
Skinner appeared at his side, saying his name questioningly.  Mulder 
looked up at the AD, blinking rapidly.  

Skinner jutted his chin at the file Mulder was perusing, and said, 
"Did you find it?"  At Mulder's nod, he held up the printout from 
the computer and sank down into the chair beside Mulder.  "I'll read 
this."  He laid the sheaf of papers in front of him and began to 
read.

Mulder put the composite aside and started reading the file.  He 
had worked on so many cases for the BSU that he had not really 
recognized Elizabeth Andercott, despite his growing recognition of 
her name.  He scanned through the various reports contained within, 
seeing his own signature on several of them.  As he read on, more 
details seeped into his memory.

Elizabeth Andercott had been charged and found guilty of the murder 
of five women, although she had been questioned on the deaths of an 
additional three.  The victims had all been beaten, some violently, 
some only moderately, and all had been strangled.  A picture of each 
of the five victims had been found on their beds when they were 
discovered missing.  

Pictures on the bed...

His mind flashed back to the glossies that had covered Scully's 
bed.  That had been the clue 'Elliot' had spoken of.  Mulder was 
not sure if the sheer number of pictures, the overkill, had 
prevented him from making a connection to Elizabeth's case, or if 
it was just his worry about Scully.  He sighed harshly, the why 
didn't matter.  What mattered was finding her, and soon.

He continued to read the file, vaguely aware of Skinner beside him, 
reading the printout.  He found a report, written by him, detailing 
an interview with the then suspect's brother, Elliot Andercott.  
The suspect's twin brother, he corrected himself as he read further. 
He stopped and stared off into space, running one hand through his 
hair. 
 
Something was bothering him, sitting at the back of his mind, 
waiting to be found.  There were still many papers to go through in 
the file, but he pushed it aside for the moment.  He had kept a few 
files from his time in the BSU, his own files, on cases that had 
disturbed him, or that he had felt were not finished.  He was almost 
positive he would find one on Elizabeth Andercott.

Mulder rose from his chair, drawing a concerned look from Skinner.  
"Washroom break," he mumbled, trying to look sheepish as he grabbed 
his jacket off the chair.   The AD smiled faintly, and went back to 
his reading.  Mulder slid the jacket on, patting over where the cell 
phone should be, confirming its presence, and headed out to go down 
to his office.

He took the stairs to the basement, the walk helping to clear his 
head, and unlocked the door.  He stepped in and reached out 
unerringly to flick the light switch.  As he headed to the filing 
cabinet in the corner, he happened to glance at the chair usually 
occupied by Scully.  He paused, and his eyes moved along his desktop 
to stop at her coffee mug sitting there.  He closed his eyes, and 
an image formed.  

Scully sitting back in her chair, completely relaxed, her eyes 
closed as she savored the steaming mug of coffee in her hands.  

His fists clenched and he forced his eyes open, swearing under his 
breath.  He was not going to do this, not going to wallow in his 
misery, when he could be doing something to help find her.  He moved 
with determination to the filing cabinet and knelt down to open the 
bottom drawer.  They were at the back, shoved behind miscellaneous 
junk he hadn't known what to do with, or wanted to throw out.  He 
flipped through them quickly, and sure enough, there was one on 
Elizabeth Andercott.

His knees creaked when he rose to his feet and he staggered a 
little before falling into his chair.  He sat up at the desk and 
opened the file.  It was filled with copies of the reports he had 
read upstairs in the conference room, and notes he had written.  
Notes he had known would not be well received by his superior.  He 
frowned slightly to himself as he remembered his frustration and 
disillusionment during his stint in the BSU.  

Pushing that aside, Mulder concentrated on the notes he had made.  
After his initial interview with Elliot Andercott, he had written 
that something about the man just wasn't right.  He had begun a 
quiet but in-depth investigation into the man, not entirely 
convinced that Elliot had had nothing to do with the murders.  
His digging had turned up very little. However, his unauthorized 
surveillance had resulted in a photograph.  He picked the picture 
up and stared at the face of the man that held Scully.  It was like 
looking at a masculine version of Elizabeth.  He put the picture 
aside, the techs could age the photo, help them get a better idea 
of what he looked like now, especially with the composite.  

He continued reading.  After several intense interviews, Elizabeth 
had confessed, and the District Attorney and the ASAC had been 
happy.  Mulder had not been.  He had kept tabs on Elliot for some 
time, but the man had been as good as gold, just as he had been for 
each subsequent interview Mulder had conducted with him.  

He dug through the papers to find the reports on the victims.  Three 
of the four women had shown signs of sexual assault, although there 
had been no semen found in their bodies.  He had pointed out the 
fact that it was highly unlikely for Elizabeth to have done this to 
the women, but his protests had been silenced.  He sat back in the 
chair, once again becoming convinced that Elliot had at the very 
least been involved in the murders supposedly committed by his twin 
sister, if not the actual killer.  

He allowed his head to fall back onto the chair, and his eyes closed 
with weariness.  Once again the shrill ringing of the cellular phone 
sent a jolt of surprise through his body.  He sat up straight and 
yanked the phone out of his inner pocket.  "Mulder!" he gasped into 
it.

"Agent Mulder, how are you?"

Smug bastard.  The smoothness of his words had Mulder clenching his 
teeth.  "I'm fine," he gritted out.  "Where's Scully?"

A low chuckle.  "She's...tied up right now, Agent Mulder."  There 
was an audible inhalation and then 'Elliot' continued.  "You know 
Mulder, those weeks when I followed you and Dana, I wondered what 
she was hiding underneath her prim and proper business suits.  I 
must say, you're a lucky man, Mulder.  That is one fine looking 
partner you've got.  Oh wait, you don't have her do you?  I do."  
He paused and then said, "I did."  Another pause.  "Have her, that 
is."

Mulder bolted up from his chair as the evil laughter filled his 
ears.  "You bastard!  What the hell did you do to her?"  His pulse 
was pounding, his mouth dry as dust.  One corner of his mind hoped 
that Frohike was tracing the call as they spoke.

"Do, Agent Mulder?" Elliot asked.  "Why...anything I wanted."

There was a moment of silence and then he said, "Mulder?"  Pause.   
"Did you know she's a screamer?"

Click.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  

Mulder slammed the phone down on the desk.  Rage and fear had his 
fingers fumbling as he reached for the phone on his desk.  He dialed 
the number for the Lone Gunmen, whispering, "Please, please, 
please," as he waited for them to pick up.  He heard Langly's 
greeting and almost yelled, "Well? Did you trace it?"

Muffled sounds could be heard and then Frohike's voice was on the 
line.  "Mulder, man, I'm sorry.  It wasn't long enough.  We're 
ready for the next call though, okay?"

"Thanks," he mumbled and dropped the phone in the cradle.  He sank 
down onto the floor, his back resting against the desk.  He dropped 
his head in his hands and whispered her name once.

"Scully."

***

end Part 6 of 29