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 24 of 29
by Lovesfox



Zeus Storage and Warehousing, Dockside
Washington, D.C.
Saturday
1:00 am


Scully stood on the street a few buildings down from Zeus 
Warehousing and watched the taillights of the taxicab retreating 
until it finally turned a corner and was gone from sight.  There was
very little light along this road, which dead-ended about 100 meters 
down in the opposite direction the cab had taken, and all the 
buildings around her had that decrepit, abandoned, or about to be 
abandoned feeling.  No sign of life anywhere.

She cursed herself suddenly, loud in the darkness of night.  This 
had not been a very smart move on her part, was in fact the opposite 
of everything she had ever been taught at the Academy.  She should 
have called Skinner, or someone, though God knows whom else she 
could, and told them where she was going.  Although she and Mulder 
had never been ones to follow many of the rules, preferring to 
operate on their own.  

But they had usually had each other for backup.  

She gritted her teeth and thought, she was going to be Mulder's 
backup.  Or tried to convince herself of that.

It was a bad idea, on both their parts.  Mulder should not have gone 
alone, and neither should she have.

And of course she had not grabbed her cell phone in her haste to 
follow him.  The cabbie was long gone by now, and the chances of 
there being a working telephone anywhere nearby were slim and none.  
She spit out another curse, one that would have made a sailor proud.

It was much colder here, on the waterfront.  She shivered and 
decided she'd better get moving.  Who knew what kind of lead Mulder 
had on her, he could have been here for upwards of half an hour 
already.

With that thought, she began to run towards her destination, her 
eyes focused on the battered and faded sign that was hanging half-
off the building the cabbie had pointed out with his chin and a 
muttered, "Ya sure, lady?" once he had pulled the cab to a stop.  
Much as he had asked her when she had first climbed into the cab 
and recited the address.

As she neared, angling across the wide, empty lot in front of Zeus, 
she was able to make out the shape of a car parked very close to one 
wall.  She was almost certain it was Mulder's.  

She could also see the wide open door a few feet away from the car.  
Her steps hesitated, she did not want to enter the building through 
that very obvious door, and then resumed as she decided to head 
around the back and look for an alternate means of entrance.  

Hopefully an entrance that would go unnoticed.

Coming around the back of the large warehouse and storage structure 
still at a run, she realized how big it actually was, nearly a city 
block long, and in height it was at least two storeys tall, even 
higher at some points.  Mulder and Elliot Andercott could be 
anywhere, and she hoped she would be able to find them before...

She shook her head to banish the thought that was trying to form, 
but her sadistic side finished it anyway.  

Before Elliot killed Mulder.  

For that had to be why he had lured Mulder here, by whatever means 
he had employed and she had not been privy to.

She was soon at what had been the receiving dock, and her pace 
slowed and then stopped.  Climbing up on the wooden frame, she 
discovered it was locked up tight, the roll doors where trucks had 
delivered and picked up goods padlocked shut.  There was one 
emergency exit door as well, but it had no handle to tug on, nor any 
way or means to try and pry it open, and after a frustrated smack of 
her hand on the metal surface, she jumped down from the dock.

Resuming a fast pace, she came upon a bank of windows about 12 feet 
of the ground.  Several of them were broken, and she was pretty sure
she could squeeze through at least one of them, if she could get 
herself up to it.  

Remembering the pile of crates she had seen heaped to one side on 
the receiving dock, she jogged back there and searched for the 
sturdiest.  Hefting two that looked like they would hold up, she 
carted them back to the window she had chosen, and positioned them 
beneath it, stacking one on top of the other.

Climbing onto them, she was still a few feet short of her goal, but 
did not want to waste any more precious time in retrieving another 
crate.   Scully stretched up on her tiptoes and firmly grasped the 
bottom of the window frame.  Gritting her teeth she lunged upward
with determination, while using her arms to pull herself up, her 
muscles quivering with the effort.  With a grunt, and a move that 
demonstrated her litheness and often underestimated strength, her 
middle section landed on the frame where her hands had been.  Now 
came the tricky part.  Getting the rest of her body up so she could 
maneuver herself around to land on her feet inside the warehouse.  

Twelve feet may not seem like much, but when you had to dangle from 
a window and let yourself drop to the ground blind, it could be 
quite dangerous.  Sustaining an injury now would not help Mulder or 
herself.  

And it would be a blind jump.  The moon was hiding behind a layer of 
clouds, and what little light there had been was gone.  She could 
make out next to nothing in the room in which she was preparing to 
enter.  

And like her forgotten cell phone, her Maglite was at home as well.  
Damn it.  Oh well, moaning about it was not going to make it 
better.  She had to keep going.

Panting slightly, she managed to shift to the side a little, and 
bring her legs up; thankful the window was both wide and tall.  A 
careful twist, her feet finding the inside wall to guide her so that 
she could slide her body down until she once more was hanging by her 
fingers.  Deep breaths to fortify herself, her heart pounding with 
fear and adrenaline, and then she let go, pushing slightly away from 
the wall.

She landed with a small thud and another grunt, bending her knees to 
take the impact off her ankles, her arms outstretched to maintain 
her balance.  She did not fall, nor had she landed on or hit 
anything on her way down, for which she was thankful.  Because she 
had no idea where Mulder or Andercott could be, she did not know if 
any noise she made could be detected.  She waited a moment or two, 
to see if there was any sort of reaction to her entry into the 
building, and then pulled her Sig from her pocket, holding the 
reassuring and familiar weight.

Turning around and blinking slowly as she let her eyes adjust to the 
blackness, she moved her head to each side to see if she could make 
out anything that would give her an idea of where to go.  Seeing a 
gray patch about the size of a doorway cutting through the black, 
she began to step carefully towards it, sliding each foot forward to 
feel for objects or impediments, her hands outstretched once more in
another cautious gesture.  Walking face first into a wall or piece 
of furniture would not help her either.

Scully exhaled softly in relief when she reached the gray patch, for 
it was indeed a doorway.  Passing through it, she let one hand trail 
along the cement wall as she moved down what she thought was a 
hallway.

She tried to remember what she had seen of the warehouse when Elliot 
had first held her captive her, but her memories were hazy, and 
other than when he had dragged her to where he had killed that poor 
woman, she had been kept in one small room.

She tensed then, cursing in her mind.  She had let herself dredge 
that time up, when she had been trying so desperately to keep it 
buried.  She did not want to remember being tied up and drugged, 
waking up time after time afraid for her life.  Being forced to 
watch as a woman chosen only for her likeness to herself was hung 
to death.

Enough.  Think of Mulder.  You need to find Mulder.

Her resolve strengthened, she continued on.  Her fingertips grazed 
the edges of doorways, and at each one she would pause and tilt her 
head to the side and listen, her gun cocked and ready, held pointed 
upwards, arm tensed in readiness to bring it down and aim.  When she
felt secure she would take a quick peek, able to make out nothing, 
and then move onward.

Up ahead, and to the left, she could see a faint area of lightness, 
in the elongated shape of a large rectangle, like light spilling 
from a doorway.  She quickened her steps and as she neared the area, 
she thought she heard laughter.  She froze for a second, peering 
down the hallway, and her closeness revealed that there was an 
opening, the size of two huge doors.

A memory flicked through her, and she shuddered.  That was where 
Elliot had taken her to witness the woman dying, where Mulder had 
later come to find what he had believed was she, hanging from the 
rafters, and she and Elliot had watched through the eye of a 
camera.

The sound of voices was next, one full of anger.  It was Elliot, 
yelling Mulder's name, wanting an answer, asking if it bothered 
him.  

Her heart skipped a beat and then started to pound rapidly.  
Mulder was alive; he had to be if Elliot was asking him questions.  

Mulder's reply was not immediate, and she wondered to what Elliot 
had been referring to.

She crept ever closer, until she was hugging the wall right next to 
the doorway, and then heard Mulder's voice, saying, "Yes, it bothers 
me."  

The words were even, but because she knew Mulder so well, had heard 
his voice even in her dreams, she could hear the fury.  And 
something more, something that sounded like horror, or disgust.  
Obviously the topic had not been a pleasant one.

Scully risked a peek around the doorframe, looking all around, and 
was actually able to make out a few things, for the moon had 
apparently come out from behind its cover of clouds.  She could 
see Mulder off to one side, crouching slightly, his gun in his hand, 
his head moving as he searched all around him.  She could see the 
rafters high in the ceiling, and what could be catwalks up there 
as well.  She could not, however, see Elliot.

Elliot chose that moment to speak again, and she quickly pulled her 
head back.  At his words, she understood Mulder's fury.  Revulsion 
rolled through her in waves.  Oh God, he had been watching them, and 
by the particular emphasis on together, she knew he meant he had 
watched them making love.  She felt physically ill, and had to fight 
back the impulse to gag, to bend over and empty the contents of her 
stomach.

She also knew he was taunting Mulder with the news, and that he was 
probably waiting for Mulder to make some kind of move.  And then he 
would...God, would he shoot Mulder?  Skinner, Mulder, they were all 
certain he had her gun, from when he had grabbed her coming home 
from work, and from what they had seen themselves, and what Mulder 
had shown her from the case file, he was fully capable of murder.

She had to back him up now.  

Taking a deep breath, Scully crouched a little herself, and moved 
around the doorframe and into the large warehouse area.  She had 
barely taken a few steps when Elliot spoke once more.

"Ah, Dana, how lovely it is that you could join us.  I was just 
telling Mulder about how much I had enjoyed watching you two fuck."

***

1:15 am

Elliot had made his words deliberately crude, hoping for a 
reaction.  And of course he got one.

He smiled to himself with delight as he took in the disgust and 
horrified shock on Dana's face, emotions she was not able to 
conceal, as she stood frozen just inside the door.  He did not think 
this moment could get any more perfect.  It was amusing that just 
moments ago he had been telling Mulder about how he had wished Dana 
could be there to hear him, and now, here she was.  It had to be 
fate.

Dressed all in black she was, and with a hat on in a failed attempt 
to disguise the glory of her hair.  She had probably even been 
thinking she was sneaking in unawares.  He shook his head.  His eyes 
had long been used to the darkness of the warehouse, and on top of 
that, the moonlight behind him had provided some illumination.  So 
that when Dana had peeked around the doorframe, the strands of red 
escaping from her baseball cap had been like a beacon.  

And had set his heart racing.

From where he was perched, still up on the catwalks, Elliot could 
see them both easily, and he let his gaze leave Dana to check on 
Mulder.  

The agent was standing stock-still, the sudden woodenness of his 
features an indication that his words had had momentous impact, 
staring at his partner.  Elliot shook his head again and corrected 
himself.  Mulder was staring at his lover.  He wished he were close 
enough to see their eyes, especially Mulder's, but not magnified 
through glass.

When he had first started following them, learning them, and taking 
roll after roll of pictures of the two of them together, and later 
of Dana alone, thanks to his telephoto lens, and occasionally the 
pair of high-powered binoculars he had picked up at a pawn shop, he 
had been able to see the emotions in their eyes, the emotions they 
hid and did not allow to be displayed on their faces for others to 
see.  He had realized that they spoke not only with their voices, 
but also with their eyes.

He wondered what Mulder's eyes were saying right now.

Either sensing he was under scrutiny, or angrily impatient, Mulder 
suddenly yelled out, "I asked you this before Elliot.  Are we going 
to get on with this, or what?"  He had turned slightly away from 
Dana, and was once more scanning the ceiling.  

Elliot dropped the hand which had been reaching for his camera to 
look anyway, having decided through the lens of the camera was 
better than not at all, and flicked a glance from Mulder to Dana.  
She had taken another step forward into the room, and was also 
searching the shadows.

Mulder's tone had been belligerent, and Elliot realized it was a 
ploy.  He now knew what Mulder's eyes had been telling Dana.  Mulder 
was trying to take control of the situation, to distract him by 
talking while Dana slowly moved around and tried to find him.  A 
sign of partners long used to each other, of teamwork.  He was going 
to have to break that up.  There was no way he was going to let 
Mulder gain the upper hand.

"But I'm not finished telling you about what I saw yet, Mulder," he 
crooned, eyes darting back and forth between Mulder and Dana, trying 
to catch both their reactions.  Dana's footsteps seemed to falter 
for just an instant, her body tensing, but then she continued on.  
Mulder's jaw was clenched; Elliot was able to make that out even 
from the distance between them, yet he too was still scanning all 
around him.

He had gotten reactions, small ones, yet they were still attempting 
to carry out their plan.  Elliot put his hand in his pocket and 
pulled out Dana's gun.  He brought his other hand up and caressed 
the cool metal for a moment before slowly and deliberating checking 
the weapon for ammunition and then cocking it.  He already knew the 
gun was loaded, had checked it the day he took Dana, having found it 
when he carried her into the warehouse, and several times after that 
in confirmation.  He just wanted them to know it, too.

The click had been loud, echoing in the warehouse, and this time he 
noted, feeling a little gleeful, both agents froze in place, their 
own weapons clenched tightly and held at the ready.  Elliot chuckled 
and said, "That's better.  Now Dana, I want you to turn around 
slowly and walk over to Mulder."  She did not move right away, and 
in fact looked back at Mulder as if asking him what she should do. 
"Now, or I'll shoot him!" he barked.

Dana flinched, but did what he asked, walking steadily back towards 
Mulder until she was standing a mere foot away.  While she was doing 
that, Elliot took the opportunity to move again, coming very close 
to another staircase, one that would bring him no more than 15 feet 
away from where Mulder and now Dana were standing.  He checked them 
and saw that they were again staring at each other, silently 
communicating, and Elliot was tempted to let off a round to stop 
them.

"That's better," he said more softly, and watched how they both 
started to look around, obviously having judged by where his voice 
was coming from that he had once again changed positions.  "Now I 
want you both to put down your weapons and kick them away from you." 
He remembered something from a TV show he had watched once, and 
quickly added, "And don't get cute on me.  I want those guns as far 
away from you as possible." 

Elliot could see them both a lot better, and was able to see quite 
clearly how Mulder looked at Scully, the indecision and even panic 
on the agent's face.  

Then Mulder turned back to his general direction and yelled out, 
"We're not relinquishing our weapons until you tell us where Mrs. 
Scully is!"

Dana's gasp was audible, and the look on her face as she stared at 
Mulder was indescribable.  Elliot could only describe it as a mix of 
shock, horror, and pain, with perhaps a hint of anger.  Anger 
towards Mulder?  

He realized with sudden insight that she had not known about his 
threat to Mulder about her mother.  It was terribly bad of Mulder, 
and perfectly wonderful at the same time.  How could he exploit 
this to his benefit?

"Mulder?" came Dana's whispered voice, cracking slightly on the 
second syllable.  It implored Mulder to turn and look at her, but he 
did not, standing rigidly only a few steps away from her, staring 
towards where Mulder believed him to be.

Surprisingly, Mulder was dead on.  He just didn't know it, being not 
quite able to see through the darkness of the corner in which he was 
now situated, just at the top of the stairs, poised on coming down.  
He giggled and mimicked in a high falsetto, "Mulder?"  

Mulder did turn around then to face Dana once more, and spoke, but 
so quietly Elliot could not make out the words.  He could see Dana's 
face though, how it twisted up in what he thought was an effort not 
to cry, and how she was biting her lip.

"Mulder!" Elliot yelled.  "There are no secrets here.  What did you 
tell Dana?"  He didn't like not knowing what they were saying to 
each other, for Dana's lips were now moving in reply and he could 
not make out what she had said either.

Dana replied instead of Mulder, calling out in a voice that only 
shook slightly, "He told me what you had said to him on the phone."  
She hesitated and then asked, "So where is my mother, Elliot?"

Elliot's anger had disappeared as quickly as it had come.  The smirk 
was apparent in his reply.  "Actually, I don't have a clue where she 
is, Dana.  Have you lost her?"  He followed with another giggle, 
which turned to a full-blown laugh as he saw the identical looks of 
confusion on their faces.  "It was just a ruse!" he called out in 
between fits of laughter.  "And Mulder fell for it!"

This time he caught Dana's muttered voice.  She had called him a 
bastard.

Quick as a flash he was angry again.  "Put your guns down on the 
floor now and kick them away!" he screamed. "Or I'll shoot you both 
where you stand."  His hand holding the gun was shaking, but he 
still managed to keep it aimed at them.

"No you won't," was Mulder's reply, sounding amazingly calm and 
matter-of-fact.  "You wanted me here for a reason, and shooting me 
now would spoil all your fun, wouldn't it?"

Smug asshole, Elliot thought, and squeezed the trigger.

***

Margaret Scully's Residence
Baltimore, MD
Saturday
1:35 am


Walter Skinner watched Margaret Scully's hands shake as she lifted 
her teacup to her mouth to take a sip.  It was the only outward 
appearance that the night's events had gotten to her.  He found 
himself once again comparing her to her daughter, and admiring her 
strength.  

He shifted on the couch beside her to take a look out the large 
living room picture window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the CSU, 
to no avail.  

True he had only called them a short time ago, but he had put a 
priority on the case.  He frowned, the muscle in his jaw ticking 
again, and returned to his study of Scully's mother.

After driving like a madman to get to her house, with his bubble 
light on the dashboard, and thanking God there was little traffic 
due to the lateness of the hour, he had arrived to find several 
police cruisers parked haphazardly on the street in front of her 
home.  A flash of his badge had gotten him inside, where he had 
questioned the first officer he saw as to the whereabouts of Mrs. 
Scully.  Told she was next door, he had taken a moment to check out 
the scene in the mudroom, which had been cordoned off awaiting the 
arrival of the Crime Scene Unit, before heading over to speak to 
her.  

He had found her in the neighbor's kitchen, sitting with a woman 
whom she had introduced as Mary Johnston, her face pale and tear-
streaked, but at the same time, completely composed.  He had also 
been able to see that she was very uncomfortable there, and had 
decided that sitting in her own living room would not hamper the 
investigation or compromise the crime scene in any way.

So he had brought her home, and questioned her quietly and 
efficiently in what she probably no longer considered a safe haven.  
There had been little for her to tell, beyond not being able to 
sleep and discovering first the broken window in her mudroom, and 
then finding Dana's things as she tried to call the police.  She 
had not recalled hearing any noises, or seeing a strange car or 
person about the neighborhood.

Margaret seemed to sense his study, and turned her head slightly to 
meet his gaze.  She almost dropped the teacup in the process, and 
gasped loudly, her other hand coming up to steady it, just as he 
lunged forward to do the same.  

Their hands collided, and the tea spilt, dribbling onto her robe.  

She gasped again, but Skinner was certain it was not because it was 
hot; in fact he knew it had to be lukewarm by now, having been made 
by her neighbor some time ago, but more because of the situation 
they were now in. 

Waiting to find out if Dana was in danger.  Again.

They both jumped up, he babbling an apology, she muttering to 
herself.  It ended up being a tension-breaker, of sorts, and they 
both gave each other small smiles.  Skinner watched as Margaret left 
the room to go get changed after excusing herself, and then pulled 
his cell phone out of his jacket pocket.  Also like the CSU, his 
calls for agents to check out both Mulder and Scully's apartments 
had not been made too long ago, but he felt the need to check 
anyway.  

He dialed Agent Traci Reynold's cellular number and after two rings, 
heard her familiar Oklahoman twang.  A brief conversation revealed 
she had not yet arrived at Scully's apartment, and would call as 
soon as she had.  

He knew the other team of agents sent to Mulder's apartment would 
not have arrived yet either, as Mulder lived further away from the 
Bureau, so he did not bother checking in with them yet, and tucked 
his phone back in his pocket.

"Did you hear something?"

Margaret's voice startled him, for he had not heard her come back 
down the stairs, although no one would have been able to tell.  He 
had learned to hide his reactions long ago in the jungles of 
Vietnam, where a flinch or a sudden move could get your head blown 
off.   

Skinner turned to see her standing in the doorway, dressed in pants 
and a sweater, the look in her eyes hopeful.  He hated that the 
negative shake of his head made the hope fade.  

She entered the living room, but instead of resuming her seat on 
the couch, she instead walked over to the window to stare outside.  

He knew what she would see - police cars still parked on her street, 
their blue and red strobe lights flashing the news that something
terrible had happened here, and perhaps officers moving through 
her neighborhood, conducting a door-to-door canvass to see if they 
could learn anything about the intruder that had broken into her 
home.

Even if they both were fully aware that it was Elliot Andercott who 
had been here.  The gifts he had left behind, Scully's ID wallet and 
her necklace, were proof of that.  The police however, still had 
their job to do.

"It's a little too soon for news, Margaret," he said in a low voice 
as he joined her at the window.  "The agents I deployed to Scul...
to Dana's apartment were not there yet.  They'll call me as soon as 
they arrive."

She nodded her head jerkily, not turning from the tableau outside 
her window, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if fighting 
off a chill.  "I know," she said softly, a few seconds later.  "I 
just hoped...I just keep hoping that they'll get there, and Dana 
will be grumpy because they woke her up."  Her voice wobbled a little
at the end, and she cleared it before continuing, now reminiscing.  

"She always hated to be woken up as a child.  She loved to sleep, 
and nothing disturbed her at all.  Except when I had to wake her up 
to go to church, or for school."  She turned to look at him, hastily 
explaining, as if he would think less of Scully for what she was 
saying, "Not that she didn't like to go to church, or to school.  
She was the only one of my children who would get upset if school 
was cancelled for some reason.  It's just...when she slept, she 
slept deeply and well."  She turned back to the window, and her next 
words were very faint, and sad.  "I don't think she gets very much 
sleep anymore.  Too many nightmares."

Skinner winced to himself as he thought about all the things that 
could cause Scully to have nightmares, all of them experienced while 
working on the X Files.  Yet he knew she wouldn't give them up to 
stop the nightmares from happening.  

Feeling slightly awkward, he lifted his hand to rest briefly on 
Margaret's shoulder.  "She's going to be fine, Margaret.  You'll 
see."  

And hoped his words would be true.

***

1:35 am

Margaret Scully was grateful for the presence of the strong yet 
silent man beside her on the couch.  Walter Skinner had an imposing 
presence and often a stern appearance, but she was able to see 
beyond that.  Dana's boss was a kind, caring man, who was deeply 
worried about her daughter, just as she was.

She was ashamed when her hand shook as she lifted the now tepid 
tea to her mouth, as she had been ashamed after breaking down at 
the Johnston's once the police had been called.  She had not wanted 
to lose control in front of Mary and Ronald, but the adrenaline rush 
from her frantic race to their door had faded, and she had been 
swamped by a wave of tiredness and fear.

Mary had tried to pry Dana's ID wallet out of her hand, presumably 
to see what it was, and she had reacted rather strongly, pulling 
away from the woman with a gasped shock that had led to her bursting 
out in tears, clutching the leather folder to her chest.  She had 
sniffled out an apology once she had gotten the sobs under control, 
and Mary had patted her back and murmured soothingly before going 
to put the kettle on.

Her husband had stood tensely at the front window, eyeing the 
neighborhood suspiciously.  And reminding her so much of what Bill 
would have done in the same situation that it had brought a fresh 
round of tears.

She closed her eyes briefly in embarrassment at the memory, and when 
Mr. Skinner shifted on the couch beside her, it startled her.  The 
teacup rattled on its saucer, and when she went to grab it with her 
other hand to steady it; Mr. Skinner tried to as well, and the tea 
spilled onto her lap.  Placing the cup and saucer onto the coffee 
table quickly, before she spilled anymore, she rose to her feet, 
aware of Mr. Skinner doing the same.  

He started to apologize just as she did too, and then they both 
stopped and smiled.  For just a second, it seemed like everything 
was going to be fine.

"I need to go change out of this," Margaret said, indicating the 
stain on her robe with one hand.  "Please excuse me."  With that she 
left to head upstairs, aware of Mr. Skinner watching her go.

Once in her bedroom she put her robe in the hamper, and put on a 
pair of slacks and a sweater, deciding she should be dressed just 
in case...She froze in the middle of slipping on a pair of shoes, 
and tried to stop that train of thought.  There was nothing wrong; 
Dana was going to be fine.

She found it difficult to believe in her own hopes.

With a deep breath, she glanced into the mirror and fixed her hair 
before turning to go back downstairs.  It was not until she was 
stepping out into the hallway that she remembered she had put Dana's 
necklace in the pocket of her robe.  Hurrying over to the hamper, 
feeling moisture pool in her eyes, she pulled the robe out and stuck 
her hand frantically into one pocket.  Her fingers encountered 
nothing but threads, and she felt the panic increase.  Had she lost 
it?

Feeling foolish, she realized she had forgotten to check the other 
pocket.  The tears in her eyes turned to those of relief when she 
felt the delicate chain there.  Pulling it out, she moved back to 
the mirror and circled it around her neck, to keep it until she saw 
Dana again.

Halfway down the stairs she could see that Mr. Skinner was still 
standing where she had left him a few minutes ago, the only 
difference being that he now had a cell phone to his ear.  

Her heart started to thump, and she said a quick prayer that it was 
Dana.  She finished the last few steps and crossed the hallway to 
enter the living room.  As she did, he folded the phone up and put 
it into his pocket.  She wanted to shout 'was it Dana?' but instead 
asked, "Did you hear something?"

She tried not to panic when he shook his head, and walked over to 
stare out the window, at the scene that was in her front yard.  The 
police were still there, and if she was not mistaken, there seemed 
to be more cars than had been before.

Margaret managed not to react when Mr. Skinner joined her at the 
window.  The man walked like a cat, silent and graceful, and for a 
brief moment she allowed herself to admire him for the handsome, 
virile man that he was before once more thinking of him only as 
Dana's boss, and the man who was going to help find her daughter.

He spoke quietly; telling her it was too soon for any news, as she 
had known in her mind, while her heart had foolishly hoped.  She 
replied just as quietly, talking mostly to herself as she saw again 
Dana as a child, deep in sleep, her bright red hair across her 
pillow, nose buried in her blankets, telling him about how she had 
imagined the agents going to Dana's door, and waking her from a 
sound sleep, something she hated and had since she was young.  

Margaret turned to him once, explaining further, not wanting him to 
think Dana had been a slacker as a child, to find he was regarding 
her steadily, compassion in his eyes.

She resumed her study out the window, and fear and sorrow for her 
daughter made her voice even lower as she said, "I don't think she 
gets very much sleep anymore.  Too many nightmares."

Mr. Skinner rested one warm, heavy hand on her shoulder, and she so 
wanted to lean into it, into him, and garner some of his strength.  
He spoke again, saying, "She's going to be fine, Margaret.  You'll 
see."  He said it with conviction, and because she wanted so badly 
for it to be true, she let herself believe him, like she had not 
been able to believe herself.

***

Zeus Storage and Warehousing, Dockside
Washington, D.C.
Saturday
1:35 am


Sharp, burning pain streaked along his scalp at his temple and just 
inches above one ear as the echoes of the gunshot faded into the 
gloom of the warehouse.  Mulder clasped his free hand to his head, 
feeling the hot wetness of his blood, and then threw himself to the 
ground, rolling over and over.  His mind kept repeating 'he shot me, 
he shot me', and the thought stunned him, even though had already 
realized it was only a flesh wound.  

He heard two more shots fired in rapid succession, and knew it was 
Scully.  Probably firing at where she had seen the muzzle flash of 
Elliot's weapon.  He stopped rolling and ended up on his stomach, 
elbows propped, with his gun extended and ready to fire, eyes 
searching where he had thought Elliot had been.  He blinked back 
the sweat and blood that was trickling down his forehead, his 
breaths harsh and panting.  His heart was beating rapidly, his veins 
being pumped with adrenaline and more blood.

But there was no return fire from Elliot, nor any indication that 
either of Scully's shots had found their target.

He guessed it had been too much to hope to see Elliot's body lying 
twisted and broken on the ground, blood trailing from two well-
placed shots.

Scully hissed his name, saying softly,  "You okay?"  

Mulder took a deep, and hopefully calming breath, and then shot a 
quick look back and to his right, to where Scully had been.  

She was still standing in almost the same spot, crouching slightly 
with her legs spread for balance, probing the darkness of the 
warehouse.  Her gun was clasped in both hands, her arms 
outstretched.  Somehow the hat on her head had fallen off, and her 
red hair was wild and brilliant. The expression on her face was 
fierce, and she reminded him of an avenging angel, or a Valkyrie, 
the warrior maidens of Norse mythology.  

Prepared to slay his - their - demons.

For the briefest of seconds he was terribly and incredibly aroused.

"Mulder?" Scully repeated his name then, more urgently.  

He realized he had not answered her question as to his well-being, 
and the tone of her voice chased his arousal away.  Mulder went back 
to being just plain scared and a whole lot pissed off.  Turning his 
head, wincing as the crease in his head stung with pain, he saw that 
she was still on guard, but sending anxious glances his way, clearly 
concerned because he had remained lying on the floor.  She had also 
moved a little bit closer to him.  "I'm okay, Scully.  Bullet just 
glanced along my head."

He rose to his feet, feeling foolish lying on the ground, and had 
to fight off a momentary wave of dizziness that made him stagger 
slightly.  His wound still oozed blood, so he fished in his pockets, 
pulling out a rumpled but clean handkerchief, which he pressed 
firmly against it, before turning a bit and lifting his head 
slightly to scan the ceiling once more, even as he knew it was 
useless.  He hadn't been able to spot Elliot yet this way, and it 
was doubtful that he would now.

Then the sound of Elliot's laughter registered, seemingly all 
around them, and Mulder tightened his grip on his gun, feeling his 
shoulders tense.  It was the same laughter Elliot had made when he 
had told them that the call about Mrs. Scully had only been a ruse 
to lure him to the warehouse.  Mulder had surprised himself by 
keeping his anger in check then, although now he let it have full 
rein.  Scully had radiated hers, nearly bristling with it, and had 
reacted by calling Elliot a bastard.  He flicked his eyes towards 
her once more, and knew she was barely holding it in check now.

The laughter stopped, to be replaced by Elliot's voice.  "Are you 
ready to listen to me now?" the madman asked, the smug pleasure 
impossible to ignore.  "Maybe the next bullet won't cause so little 
damage.  Or maybe it will be for Dana," he singsonged next, before 
chuckling a little.  His tone changed like quicksilver as he barked,
"Put your guns down and kick them away from yourselves.  And no 
funny moves."

Teeth gritted to hold back the curses he was dying to unleash, 
Mulder slowly bent his knees and placed his gun on the shiny 
concrete floor with a gentle clunk, hearing the twin sound of 
Scully's gun also being put down on the ground.  Just seconds after 
he had done so, as if she had been waiting for him to make the 
decision for them.

He straightened equally slow, holding out his hands, one still 
clutching the bloodied cloth that had been pressed against his head, 
to show Elliot they were empty.  Peripherally he was aware of Scully 
doing the same.

"Not quite done," Elliot said.  "Kick them away."  The smugness was 
still there, but added to it now was superiority.

Mulder used the toe of his boot and did so, regretfully watching the 
metal of the gun glint in the moonlight as it slid across the floor 
with a heavy scratching sound.  He felt naked and vulnerable without 
it, and was thinking furiously about how to retrieve the back-up gun 
at his ankle.

A second later he watched as Scully's gun made the same trip, 
stopping a foot short of his, and about the same distance apart.  

He glanced at her, wanting nothing more than to grab her and tuck 
her behind his back, to be her shield.  She had moved even closer, 
and was now less than two feet away from him.

"That's better," they heard next.  

Mulder wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed like 
Elliot's voice was no longer coming from above them.  That he might 
actually be down on the ground with them.  He shot another look at 
Scully, and it was obvious she thought the same thing, for she was 
peering ahead in the darkness, instead of searching above them.  

"Now Mulder, lose your back-up piece.  I know you've got one."

Shit.  

Shit, shit, shit and shit.

How the fuck did Elliot know he had a back-up?  Did he really know, 
or was he just bluffing?  Mulder held himself tensely, trying to 
keep his facial features even and calm.  "I don't have one," he
called out.

His answer was the cocking of Scully's stolen Sig, and then Elliot's 
much lower and enraged-sounding voice.  "Lie."  Elliot paused 
briefly.   "Shall Dana pay for that lie?"

Jesus, no.  He could feel the painful thudding of his heart all the
way down in his stomach, which was tied in knots.  

"All right," Mulder called.  "I'm taking it off, okay?"  He went 
down on one knee, loud cracking pops accompanying the motion, and 
slowly brought his hands to the cuff of his jeans.  He kept his head 
ducked down in an effort to hide the fact that he was frantically 
searching the room.  He would have only one chance to pull his gun 
out and fire at Elliot, before the man could do the same, knowing 
Elliot's gun was more than likely trained on Scully.  If he could 
locate him.

Where the fuck was he?

"Mulder," Elliot said.  Just that one word, as a warning.

Damn it.  Mulder yanked the gun free from the holster and threw it 
across the room, hearing it clatter noisily as it landed on the 
floor, and rose to his feet.  Thankfully his dizziness was gone.  
"Now what?" he spit out, unable to disguise his anger and 
frustration and fear.

"Now we talk some more," Elliot said, and materialized out of the 
darkness, roughly fifteen feet away from them.  Scully's gun was 
evident in his hand, held waist-high and pointed directly at them.

Mulder judged the distance as too far away to risk rushing at the 
man.  Elliot would be able to get off at least two rounds before he 
even got close.  Hearing Scully's rapid breaths, he took a few steps 
to the side to get closer to her, and maybe maneuver himself in 
front of her, all the while keeping his eyes focused on Elliot.

The man looked completely different than the composite, or how 
Mulder had ever pictured him.  His hair had obviously been dyed, a 
horrible platinum blonde, and was cut very short and spiked.  He was 
also clean-shaven.  The only thing that was the same was the man's 
eyes, although they seemed wild and flicked nervously from he to 
Scully, back and forth.  Tension was visible in every line of his 
body, and the hand holding the gun shook every so often.

"What would you like to talk about, Elliot?" Mulder asked.  He was 
thinking to himself that now was when the SWAT team was supposed to 
rush in and take the bad guy out.  Except he had never called for 
back-up.  He could only hope Scully had, and there was no way of 
asking her that.  If he had believed in God, he would be praying to 
HHim right now. Perhaps Scully was doing that right now, and had 
graciously included him in her prayers, despite the fact that if 
they got out of this, she was probably going to kill him herself.  

Finally, after what seemed like long minutes of silence, where the 
three of them stood in their strange tableau, he and Scully watching 
Elliot, and Elliot watching them, Elliot answered.  "Well, I never 
got to finish telling Dana about how much I enjoyed jacking off 
while watching you two do the wild thing."  He grinned salaciously 
at Scully and added, "And you were wild, Dana."  He shifted slightly 
to include them both in his gaze and said, "You both were wild. 
Like dogs."

Mulder sensed, and almost felt, Scully stiffen beside him, heard 
her gasp, and wanted to punch the grin off of Elliot's face.  He 
clenched his fists uselessly, hating to listen to this sick bastard 
belittle how they had expressed their love with their bodies.  

He felt entirely helpless.

***

end Part 24 of 29