Title: Bare Bones (9/?) Category: MSR, Angst, Case-file (sort of) Rating: PG for adult situations and general nastiness, some bad language too kiddies. Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can visit Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were I’d be wearing better shoes. Spoilers: Its been ended for years – hasn’t everyone seen them all? Thanks to Miss Teresa – could I get another camomile tea? Maybe some of those vanilla-scented candles? “But sir, he doesn’t have an alibi for the morning Mulder went missing...” “No, Scully, we can’t hold him because you have ‘a hunch’. You shouldn’t even be on this case.” “Sir, I...” “Agent.” Scully stopped, lips pressed into a line, one eyebrow creeping slowly upwards. “Don’t give me reason to send you home.” “I am not a child, sir. I understand that you are just doing your job, but this is Agent Mulder’s life. We have nothing else to go on, and I have a *really* strong feeling about this guy.” She paused and sighed. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think there was something in it, sir. You know I wouldn’t.” ”Scully, you aren’t sleeping well, I haven’t seen you eat a thing in days...you can’t tell me that your judgement isn’t impaired by your proximity to this case.” “I’m fine.” “I know. You always are.” Skinner paused for a dramatic second that made Scully suddenly, inexplicably angry. She took a deep breath as her superior continued “Just find me something concrete. I’ll see what I can do. At the least he is being held on separate charges, so you have a little time.” Scully finally smiled and sighed. She nodded and collected her notes together, feeling Skinner’s eyes on her. She moved out of the room without looking up. She couldn’t bear to see the look of concern on his face. “Thankyou sir.” She mumbled as she struggled to open the door with her arms full of paperwork. “Agent?” She had to look up then, and caught the worry in his expression before a mask of professionalism dropped into place. Scully cringed. “Lets keep this in an unofficial capacity for the time being.” Scully gave him a tight smile as the door banged behind her. xxx He woke on his back. The sky was vast and white and framed by trees above him and he had no idea what had happened. His legs ached and his breath burned in his throat. Mulder lay still for long minutes, listening to the whisper of the leaves and the wheezing of his breath. He barely felt the rain that poured out of the sky to soften the ground around his exhausted body. He closed his eyes and the darkness brought it all back in a rush. The darkness, the retreating footsteps, the schlick of unrolling duct-tape and the plastic blocking out the light. His head ached and he found a crust of dried blood and a thickening of scab. It had been days. He had been gone for days. The rain poured down, battering the leaves and sinking down into the earth around him. Mulder struggled to stand on unstable legs, remembering how he had scaled the walls of his tomb, one foot wedged against each side. It had taken so long. He had been so tired, so weak and he had fallen so many times. Staggering forward, Mulder rubbed at the insistent ache in his coccyx. He felt as though he had been run over by a bus. He wasn’t sure where he had found the strength to make his way high enough up the wall to reach the wooden panelling nailed in place. By the time he had worked his fingertips under the edge of the first panel his thighs were shaking and he had been sure that he would drop to the ground and crack his head open. Again. As Mulder had pushed and pulled the splintering wood, he had envisioned himself, doubly concussed and dying of the second impact syndrome that Scully always used to keep him in bed after a head injury. He had been sobbing so hard at the thought of her that he had almost given up. One final shove, a final burst of energy, blinded by tears and rage and the first panel had given way with a wrenching, splitting sound. Mulder had felt himself slip with it and grabbed the edge as he lost his footing. His limp body dropped to the ground with a thud. His legs, too tired to hold him up, crumpled beneath him. Mulder lay on the packed soil floor for what felt like forever, half wishing for his captor to come back and finish him off. In the forest, Mulder staggered on with great lurching steps, knowing that he had to put as much distance between himself and the farmhouse cellar as he could. Lunging forward, Mulder leant from tree to tree, pausing for breath every tenth tree. He counted his footsteps in a marching rhythm, forcing himself to keep going. “One...two...three...four...” His breath rasped painfully with each count and his vision swam. He was lost, but there was hope rising in his chest with every shaky step. He had lost sight of the farmhouse thirty trees ago, and the numbers circled in his head, spurring him on. He lost count a thousand times, but he carried on, thinking of nothing but the next foot forward. “One...two...three...four...” xxx “I’ve seen him before.” “Who? What?” Davies stared up at Scully with an expression somewhere between confusion and despair. He had decided to avoid all confrontation with the woman, to delegate all correspondence to junior agents. Now she had hunted him down in the cafeteria, brandishing case files and photo-fits. “This man.” She slapped a monochrome photograph onto the table beside his tuna on rye sandwich. His coffee leapt in its Styrofoam cup. “He is being held here on separate charges – petty theft in a drug-store earlier today, repeat offender – but I knew I’d seen him before.” “Hmm?” Davies filled his mouth with sandwich to avoid having to respond. “At the dig site. I saw him out there on more than one occasion.” Davies swallowed his mouthful. “You get a lot of bystanders at crime scenes. You know that Agent Scully.” “Of course, of course. But there’s something about this guy that begs further investigation. The way he looked at me in the squad room...I don’t know...But we can question him at least? I want to question him. I just needed to run it past you...sir.” Scully tagged on the ‘sir’ reluctantly. “I don’t think so Agent. You are too close to this. If *anyone* questions this guy, it will be one of my men. And that’s a strong *if*. How long is he being held for?” “His lawyer is arranging bail as we speak. We have to act fast, sir. I had the deputy establish his movements for the morning Mulder disappeared and he has no alibi.” Her tone was somewhere between indignant and pleading, a mix that didn’t sit well with Davies. She was asking him because she had to, not because she wanted his help. Davies was tempted to refuse to keep the man, simply because she grated on his nerves. Instead, he found himself nodding, and she was gone before he could change his mind. Davies couldn’t finish his sandwich. xxx Scully was close to tearing her hair out. She sat before a small speaker, watching one of Davies’ men run through a series of questions with her suspect. The bored voice of the agent droned over the speaker and made her stomach churn. Thin and grey, the agent didn’t seem to be aware that a man’s life was in danger. She could barely keep from running into the room herself. *Sit tight Dana*. She couldn’t afford to alienate Davies any more than she already had. Scully glanced down at her watch, the hands spinning past, mocking her. Minutes ticked by. The electronic ring of her cell phone was enough to make Scully jump in her chair. She fumbled for it, heart racing. *Please be good news, please be good news*. “Scu...Scu...” “Mulder?” Her voice cracked and caught in her throat. “God, Mulder, where are you? Are you hurt?” Scully was out of her seat and running into the corridor. “Scully...” Traffic rushed in the background and his voice was barely a whisper. “Mulder, stay with me!” “Scully...” Her mouth was open to speak, to tell him to stay where he was, but the drone of a disconnected line stopped her in her tracks. Her feet stopped their forward momentum and she almost fell, fumbling for redial on the tiny handset. Her shaking fingers could barely find the key and panic rose in her. A metallic voice informed her that the line was busy. Images filled her head, of Mulder being struck from behind, grabbed and tied, the phone lying beside its cradle. She burst through the squad room doors. “Sir! Its Mulder, he’s alive!” Skinner’s head snapped up and he fixed her with a confused, incredulous stare. “He called me...my cell...” Scully was scrabbling at a desk for pen and paper. Skinner crossed the room as she scribbled down digits from the digital display. He began to speak, to ask questions but she ignored him. She handed the slip of paper to the nearest officer. “I need the location of that phone. Immediately!” The young officer looked petrified and Scully was ready to snatch the paper back. Then he jumped into action, flipping on his computer and hammering wildly at the keys. Her agitation was contagious as it was stupefying. “Agent Scully! What is going on?” Skinner’s voice drew her attention from the spinning search bar on the screen. “He called my cell phone, he said my name, then the line went dead.” A map popped up on the screen, a red spot flashing. “Is that it? Is that where he is?” The young man looked up, pleased with himself. “Sure is. It’s not exactly close, maybe thirty, forty minutes.” He pointed at the screen. “This here is woods. There’s not much else out there, a couple of farm houses.” Paper spewed from the printer across the room. “There’s a couple of copies of this map. You wanna get some cars out there Agent Scully?” Scully was already moving. She was headed towards the door, with Skinner rushing to catch her. He caught up to her as she was opening her car door. ”Agent, I’m driving. Give me the keys.” Scully glared up at her superior, flushed and panting, more from fear than exertion. *Please let him be ok, please*. She considered arguing for a moment, then handed the keys over. Skinner started the engine as she rushed around to the passenger side. Across the parking lot, Davies and two of his men were climbing into Bureau-issue cars. The tires squealed as Skinner roared out of the lot. To Be Continued...