<![CDATA[**********************************
The Abyss Looks Back - Part 6 of 7 (6/7)
by Kronos
**********************************
Wednesday, 1:17 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Mulder threw the file across the room, scattering papers in a fluttering white
arc. None of the four agents in the command center spoke. No one dared to
speak. Mulder stood in front of the photos of the fifth victim, Kirstie
Sanders,
and wondered again whether it was important that Brandon had known her
personally. Had lived down the road from her and her family, in fact. Had it
been just yesterday that he'd made this connection? Was it even important
anymore?
There was too much to consider and Mulder was having a hard time wading
through it all, prioritizing. He was frustrated and angry. Angry at himself
for
not getting to know the suspect earlier. He should have been acquainted with
ever aspect of the man's life by now. He should know where Elijah Brandon
took Scully.
It was well past 1 a.m. and Mulder needed a break. He turned to the older of
the four agents in the command center and said, "Listen, Jacobs, I'll be back in
about a half hour, maybe an hour. If anything turns up on the childhood angle,
let me know. Also, push with the church aspect. I don't care what the they
say, they need to release that information to us. Go to Skinner if they won't
cooperate. Get someone to the Cardinal's house personally if necessary, but
get it done. You can reach me on my cell phone if you need me."
Skinner was working in the larger conference room, providing direction to the
forensics team and reviewing the information gathered by Vickers' and
Tresky's people. He saw Mulder walk through the room, and head out the
door. He couldn't help but wonder where his agent was headed at one in the
morning.
Skinner thought about what he was about to do, considered pros and cons, and
then decided Mulder could live with it. Skinner flagged one of the younger
agents over who'd been essentially playing gofer and whispered softly to the
man.
Billings looked slightly shocked but nodded in acknowledgment and headed out
the door after Mulder. Being instructed by the Assistant Director to keep an
eye
on Spooky Mulder was something he probably wouldn't broadcast to his
buddies, but it was bound to be interesting.
Mulder remembered where he was going from a directory he'd seen on one of
their first days in the Minneapolis Bureau. He headed for the first floor, then
followed the corridor around to the back of the building. He went through the
doors to the gym, hoping no one would be around. He needed some quiet
time, time to free his mind from its rut, loosen the grip of the mundane, allow
it
to roam unencumbered by restrictions.
Mulder walked to the center of the gym and turned in a circle, finally spotting
the light controls. Shedding his jacket as he walked, he flipped on the
switches, satisfied by the sudden glare of overhead lights shining brightly on
the basketball court. He took off holster and gun and hid them under his
discarded jacket, emptied his pockets, removed his tie, unfastened several
buttons, and then picked up a stray basketball.
He took some practice dribbles, passing from one hand to the other easily, then
moved out on the court. He took a shot, sinking the ball cleanly, then ran over
to retrieve it. He felt the need to sweat, to work his body to the exclusion of
all
else. He dribbled to the center of the court and then prepared for a lay-up,
all
the while playing as if imaginary opponents were out to steal the ball from him
or prevent his shots.
Billings wasn't sure what to make of this. The man's partner had been
kidnapped, was quite likely being molested and tortured like those children, and
Spooky was playing basketball, in his work clothes, his dress shoes, by
himself. Billings occasionally caught a glance through the window in the door
and acknowledged that Mulder was pretty good. But what the hell was he
doing? Skinner had given Billings instructions to keep an eye on Mulder and let
him know if the agent seemed to be in trouble in any way. Did cracking up
constitute trouble, Billings wondered? After half an hour, he decided to let
Skinner know where Mulder was and what the man was doing. It wasn't
Billings' place to decide whether Mulder had lost it.
Skinner arrived ten minutes later and waved the young agent away. Billings
seemed quite happy to leave. Skinner looked through the window for a full
minute before moving. Mulder had been at it for a good forty-five minutes and
was still going strong. Skinner decided to enter the gym and sit down. He
doubted Mulder would be any more aware of him and at least he'd be more
comfortable.
Skinner opened the door quietly and moved off to the right to sit against a side
wall. He decided to let Mulder go. Maybe he needed this release. Skinner had
heard about Mulder's outburst just before leaving the command center and
understood the younger man was walking a thin line. Even without Scully's
disappearance, Mulder had been on the verge of collapse.
After another fifteen minutes, Skinner could tell that Mulder was slowing down
fast. In fact, he stumbled occasionally and missed almost every other basket.
It
was time to end this.
Skinner stood and prepared to approach his agent, when Mulder went flying.
Whether he tripped or just fell from shear exhaustion wasn't clear. What was
clear was that he was lying flat on his stomach, legs sprawled awkwardly, head
on one arm, after rolling and sliding a good ten or fifteen feet across the
hardwood floor.
Skinner ran over to his agent and knelt down beside him, gently placing one
hand on his agent's trembling back. He was afraid to do any more damage.
"Mulder, are you okay? Mulder?"
Skinner wasn't totally sure what to do. He knew he had to determine whether
Mulder was hurt. He might need to call emergency services.
"Mulder, you have to tell me if you're okay. Can you hear me?"
Skinner finally grabbed Mulder's shoulder and gently rolled the man over on
his back, so he could better access potential injuries. Mulder's entire body
was
shaking and Skinner finally realized he was crying, silently. Mulder now lay
on his back, legs wherever they'd ended up, one arm across his face, covering
his eyes. The other arm lay across his chest, hugging himself, hand in a tight
fist.
Skinner sank down on the floor beside his agent, laying a reassuring hand on
the younger man's shoulder, at once relieved and concerned. This was much
worse than Mulder's loss of composure a couple days ago in the command
center. He'd never seen Mulder like this. In fact, he had never even imagined
the man capable of such raw emotions. Every time Skinner thought he'd
figured his agent out, another facet of his personality jumped out to prove
Skinner really knew nothing.
After five minutes, Mulder started to calm, his tense body slowly relaxing.
After another five minutes more, he dropped his arm from his face, and used
his sleeve to wipe away any remaining tears. He was embarrassed, but didn't
have the energy to make excuses or cover up in front of his boss. Besides,
Skinner understood, more than anyone else could -- except Scully. The thought
of her was torture.
"Scully." It was an agonized groan. The image of Scully in Brandon's hands
was painful. It gripped his stomach, forced his breath out in an explosive
burst. Mulder was practically paralyzed with his impotence. He managed to
roll over on his side, hands gripping around his stomach, face a mask of
anguish. "Scully." He wanted her here so badly, beside him. He needed her
beside him, always.
Skinner understood how important it was to reassure the younger man, get him
to calm somewhat. Mulder had to hold it together if they were going to get
Scully back.
"Mulder, listen to me. We're making progress. We're going to find Scully and
we're going to find Brandon. He'll pay, Mulder. I promise you, he'll pay.
For every child he took and hurt, for Scully and for you. He'll pay, Mulder.
But you have got to hang on. Scully's going to need you when we find her.
Scully will need you to be strong for her. Do you hear me, Mulder?"
Skinner felt like a shit, using Scully against her partner in this way. But
Mulder
was still their best chance. Skinner understood that Mulder's profiling gift,
his
intuitive leaps, were going to be necessary to get Scully back. Mulder had to
pull himself together. But at the same time, all Skinner wanted to do was to
try
to help him, to let him go to sleep, to tell him it would be all better in the
morning. But he knew even Mulder wouldn't fall for that fairy tale. Even
Mulder's belief could be suspended only so far.
Mulder was quieting again from the rollercoaster of emotions he'd been
subjected to. He still lay on his side, curled slightly. He loosened his arms
from their death grip. Skinner could hear his muffled words amidst the
struggling breathing.
"I keep seeing Scully, like one of the crime scene photos of the victims,
dumped in some abandoned building, alone, covered in blood, dead. I can't get
rid of the image."
Mulder drew in a deep, shaky breath and opened his eyes slightly.
"I don't know what I would do without her, sir. She's ...."
Mulder couldn't finish, but it wasn't necessary. Skinner understood, perhaps
more even than Mulder did. Skinner once again tightened his grip on Mulder's
shoulder for a few seconds, before replying.
"Mulder, there's no reason to believe he'll do anything to harm Agent Scully.
And she's a strong and headstrong woman. Don't sell her short. I wouldn't be
surprised if we get a call from her telling us where we can come to retrieve
Brandon."
Skinner was relieved to see a ghost of a smile cross Mulder's face.
"Right now, though, it's crucial that we not give up hope. And I know you,
Agent Mulder. I know that you're not the kind of man who would ever give up
on your partner. Ever."
Mulder was feeling stronger now, strong enough to nod at his boss' words and
to roll to a sitting position, albeit slowly.
"No, sir, I won't give up on her. I could never give up on Scully."
Mulder rested his head on one raised knee, face turned away from his boss.
Then Mulder did something he never would have believed he could do. He
admitted his weakness to Skinner.
"But sir, I'm so tired. I can barely think straight. I'm terrified I'll miss
something important. Something that will be the break we need. I'm so scared
I'm going to screw this up and the price will be Scully's life. She keeps
having
to pay for my mistakes. I can't let it happen again."
The final words came out as a whisper. A whisper betraying the buried secrets
of a tortured soul.
Skinner pulled his agent to him slightly for only a moment, in a brief hug meant
to let the younger man know he wasn't alone.
"Mulder, I know you're exhausted. And you're right to be frightened, but I
have faith in you. And Scully has always and will always have faith in you. I
know it's a tremendous burden and it's not fair to put these expectations on
you. But I believe you will find her. I know you will find her, safe and
well."
Skinner spoke with such assurance that Mulder raised his head and looked
towards him, through bloodshot eyes, swollen from heartfelt tears. Skinner's
faith made him believe. Mulder took a few shaky breaths, trying to ready
himself for what was to come, then nodded to his boss.
"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."
"I know you will, Mulder. And I know it will be enough. Now, come on, I'll
help you up. I think we should head back to the command center, make sure
everything's under control, then go back to the hotel. You didn't really have
much sleep last night and it's well past 2 in the morning already."
Skinner stood easily and reached a hand down to his agent. Mulder looked up
at his boss and a feeling of friendship unlike anything he'd ever experienced
swept through him. He honestly liked Skinner, looked up to him as a mentor,
even a father figure. Hell, the man had looked out for his health and well-
being
far more aggressively than his own father ever had or would have.
"Mulder, are you okay?"
Mulder realized he'd been staring and shook his head to clear it, mumbled that
everything was fine, and took the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled
vertical. He continued to grip his boss' hand for just a second, saying, "Thank
you, sir. Really. Thank you."
He wasn't just thanking his boss for the hand up.
"No problem, Mulder. Glad to help."
**************************
Wednesday, 2:24 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Mulder looked like shit and no amount of cold water splashed on his face or run
through his hair was going to change that. He finally gave up trying to make
himself presentable and figured the other agents could just live with it.
No one commented on Mulder's red eyes, sweat-soaked clothes or wet hair.
They were just relieved to see him back in the command center, and at least
sounding more like himself. He quickly outlined several new avenues of
exploration, organized individuals and teams appropriately to accomplish the
tasks he'd outlined, and then presented his desired timeline for completing the
tasks. He was efficient and organized and everyone assigned to work through
the night felt better for his input. They had all come to trust Spooky Mulder
and
his insights. No one doubted that he'd get his partner back.
**************************
Wednesday, 2:49 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
The hot water beat on his skin, and he imagined his sins washing away, circling
down the drain. Mulder leaned on arms propped on the wall in front of him,
head hanging down towards his chest. His right hand throbbed at the pressure,
but it was right that he should be feeling pain. The water hit his head, his
shoulders, his neck when he leaned forward just so.
Mulder had pointed the team members working through the night in the right
directions and then left. He hoped he could get at least four hours sleep. It
would be enough to keep him going. He needed it. He knew he needed it. But
his mind wouldn't turn off, no matter how badly his body wanted the rest.
Mulder finally turned the water off and grabbed a thick towel off the nearby
shelf. The wave of dizziness that hit him while rubbing his hair dry reinforced
that he needed to rest. With one hand against the wall to steady himself, he
quickly dried off and dressed, dropping the towel on the floor by the tub. He
made his way to the bed, careful not to move too quickly. Mulder thought to
himself that playing hard core basketball for an hour while already exhausted
was probably not the brightest thing he'd ever done.
He yanked the covers back, collapsing into the bed almost simultaneously. The
light was still on and he couldn't force his arm up to turn it off. Mulder lay
with eyes closed, aware of various parts of his body that were literally
shaking.
It was a feeling he recalled easily from his time in the VCS. Physical
limitations
were never a consideration to Patterson. The job had to be done so you did it.
Patterson didn't want to know about the flu you were getting over or the fact
that you hadn't slept for three days. There was no trade-off between short-term
and long-term benefits. You did the job Patterson told you to do, day in, day
out.
Mulder's thoughts turned to then Skinner, as they had many times over the past
week or so. He couldn't help contrasting the two men. Skinner was honestly
concerned about both Mulder and Scully as people, about all the agents serving
under him. He had seen this concern surface many times before, had realized it
was there even when Skinner was chewing him out for something. But this
past week had been unusual. Their working relationship was totally different
on this case, allowing Mulder to see new sides to his boss. Mulder thanked
God the man was here. He didn't know how he could get through this without
the support and friendship of the older man.
Mulder's last thoughts, before he drifted off to sleep, were of his partner.
Instead of counting sheep, he repeated the mantra, 'Please God, let Scully be
all
right,' over and over. It eventually proved effective.
**************************
Wednesday, 3:02 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Skinner was exhausted and knew that his agent had to be even more tired than
he. He decided to give Mulder another ten or fifteen minutes before checking
on him. Skinner heard the water turn off about ten minutes ago but saw that the
light in Mulder's room was still on. He knew that didn't necessarily mean
anything. Mulder seemed able to sleep with lights and sound on quite easily,
although never for long.
Skinner sighed to himself, thoughts turning to his other agent, missing now for
over eight hours. He hadn't told Mulder, figuring the man had enough to deal
with, but he'd called Scully's mother, and told her about her daughter's
abduction. Margaret Scully had been collected in her questioning of the events
that led to the situation, but obviously worried for her daughter. Skinner was
impressed by the woman's demeanor, as he had been on the numerous other
occasions he'd met her. He knew that Scully got more than her looks from her
mother.
Skinner was even more impressed by the woman's worry for Mulder. She
seemed to be honestly concerned about how Scully's disappearance was
impacting him. It was a rare individual who could be so unselfish with their
emotions in such a time of stress. Skinner tried to reassure her that he was
keeping an eye on Mulder, watching out for him. The last thing he wanted her
worrying about when her daughter was missing was her daughter's partner.
It dawned on him at some point during the conversation that Mulder was
somehow more than that to this woman. It wasn't clear to Skinner just how
Margaret Scully considered the man, whether adopted son, prospective son-in-
law, or best friend of her daughter. Whatever it was, Skinner could tell there
was genuine and deep affection. He wondered whether Mulder knew that he
had people who cared about him so much. His agent seemed too often alone.
Skinner dragged himself out of bed and headed towards Mulder's room. He
cracked the door open slightly, and looked towards the bed. When he saw
Mulder fast asleep, he opened the door more widely and entered the room,
approaching the bed. The younger man looked totally washed out, his features
strained even in sleep.
Skinner had noticed the man's pants hanging from his frame while playing
basketball, even with his belt in the tightest notch. Mulder had to have lost a
good ten or more pounds since the case started. Skinner was angry at himself
for letting it happen, but knew he could do only so much. He wasn't Mulder's
father or mother, although God knew the man could use a parent who actually
cared about him. Skinner recognized that Mulder would be completely
dismayed if he perceived that his boss was even having such thoughts, but
couldn't help it. It was those damned paternal stirrings, over which he seemed
to have no control.
Skinner pulled the blanket up over Mulder's shoulders, turned out the light, and
then left the room, leaving the door open part of the way. He sent a prayer to
whatever Gods might be listening to watch over his two agents and bring them
safely together once again.
**************************
Wednesday, 7:51 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Skinner had checked on Mulder at 7:30 and discovered the younger man had
apparently not moved the entire night. After checking in with the night team
leader, Skinner decided to give his agent another half hour of sleep at least,
before waking him. The teams that had worked through the night had generated
a significant amount of data, but lacked the ability to fuse the various streams
into anything helpful. Skinner knew Mulder would be able to do this. The
younger man would never forgive him if he let him sleep too long.
Skinner ordered room service and started flipping through the latest report that
he had paper on, delivered that morning at 6 a.m. He'd already read it twice,
but decided third time was the charm. It at least gave him something to do
while waiting on Mulder. He'd already exhausted the potentials of the
newspaper for keeping him occupied. Actually, the front page photo of Scully,
with Mulder standing beside her, sent his stomach flipping when he'd opened
it. So he did the expedient thing and ignored most of it.
Skinner was about half way through the report when he heard movement and
the words, "Sir? Any developments?" He looked towards Mulder's room to
see his agent leaning against the door frame, rubbing his face vigorously, then
running fingers through his hair, white bandage on his right hand providing a
stark contrast against his hair.
"Mulder, I was just getting ready to wake you. Yes and no. I've got some
preliminary reports from a few hours ago. I just checked in with the team -
they're switching shifts now - but I got a verbal update. We need to get over
there soon to start looking at some of the data they've been generating and the
information that's been dug up on Brandon. They don't really know what's
important. I'm afraid I haven't been able to help them with that too much."
Mulder merely nodded to his boss, pushed himself away from the door frame,
then turned back into his room.
"Okay, sir. I'll be ready in ten minutes or so."
**************************
Wednesday, 10:49 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Skinner was working with Mulder and Vickers' team. They'd been pouring
through the results of the past nights search of records pertaining to Brandon's
childhood, family, and history in general. Mulder was certain the answer to
where he'd taken Scully lay in the man's past. He was convinced that
something had happened in Brandon's early years that had laid the foundation
for the testing he put the children through.
They'd been attempting to determine whether a sibling had died or been killed,
perhaps by a relative or parent. Unfortunately, the thirty plus year old
records
were in disarray, a result of a move of the police headquarters some twenty
years ago. Simultaneously, they were searching all records of charges brought
against men for murder, attempted murder, sexual assault, or kidnapping of any
children between the ages of 5 and 13 during the same period, under the
assumption that Brandon's sibling might have been a victim.
Mulder also had a team searching into the family's ties to the Catholic Church.
He was certain that the suicide of Elijah Brandon's brother, Jacob, some eight
months before was the trigger for the kidnapping -murder spree. Mulder knew
the answer was here somewhere if they could only find the right answers to the
questions about Brandon's past.
They'd been working for several hours straight when Skinner looked up to see
Margaret Scully in the doorway, a young agent gesturing towards him and
Mulder. Skinner's rapid movement must have alerted Mulder that something
was up.
Mulder stood straight, turned to look in the direction his boss was looking and
visibly blanched. He staggered slightly, dropped the paper in his hand,
whispered, "Scu...."
For a fraction of a second, Mulder thought it was Scully who stood in the
doorway. His brain finally caught up to his eyes, and processed that it wasn't
Scully at all, but her mother. "Mrs. Scully?" Mulder was still shocked and the
shakiness in his voice betrayed the fact. He'd been unaware that Scully's
mother was coming. In fact, he guiltily realized that he hadn't even thought of
her at all. Mulder turned to look at Skinner for a moment, still fighting
confusion, then finally crossed the seven foot span between him and Scully's
mother.
Mulder felt fear grip at him. What must Margaret Scully think of him? He'd
allowed it to happen again. He'd allowed Scully to be taken, right out from
under his nose. He forced himself to walk up to the woman, not knowing what
he'd do once he got there.
Margaret Scully answered the question herself by reaching one hand up to cup
his cheek and asking, "Fox, how are you?"
Mulder thought he was going to break down, right then and there. He fought
the shudder that went through him, closed his eyes tightly to keep any tears
where they were. He couldn't do this now, here, in front of all these agents.
He struggled internally, clenching his jaw, then felt Skinner's grip on his
right
arm, giving him a much needed support.
Skinner understood. Margaret's hand disappeared from his cheek. He heard
his boss' voice, as if from a far distance, say, "Mrs. Scully, I'm so sorry
about
Dana. We're doing everything in our power to get her home safely."
Mulder opened his eyes to see his boss holding onto Margaret Scully's hand
with his free one. Her voice was steady when she replied.
"I know Mr. Skinner. I know that you and Fox will find her."
She was looking at Mulder again and now it wasn't so painful. He'd gotten
past the shock of seeing her. Mulder cleared his throat before speaking.
"We'll get her, Mrs. Scully. I'll find her."
Margaret knew he hadn't even been aware of the switch in responsibility. In
one fell swoop he'd gone from 'we'll' get her to 'I'll' get her. Margaret had
been shocked at his appearance when she saw him. He looked like he'd been
hurt and was now on the verge of collapse. It frightened her to think that all
her
hopes for finding her daughter and bringing her back safely were resting on this
man's shoulders. Her heart did a flip when she realized that he was also at
risk.
He'd been driving himself, obviously pushing himself to his limits and beyond
to find her daughter. She was frightened for him, for his mental and physical
well being.
Margaret Scully had come to appreciate this man in so many ways since she had
first met him. He had been a constant in her daughter's life and, by proxy, in
her own, ever since Dana started working with him so many years ago. He'd
never given up hope on Dana. Not when she was missing for three months,
not when she was returned in a coma, not during her battle with cancer. But
Margaret had never seen him so exhausted, so worn down. Her heart had
broken at his reaction to her words to him. He looked calmer now, more able
to control himself.
"I know you will, Fox. Thank you."
Margaret reached out to him once again, this time wrapping her arms around his
stiff form. It was okay that he couldn't give in to her embrace. She didn't
mind. What was important is that he knew she was worried about him and
cared about him. She stepped away after the quick embrace and turned again to
her daughter's boss, giving the younger man the time to gather his composure.
"Mr. Skinner, I know you're busy and I don't want to take you or Fox away
from the investigation. Is there someone who could perhaps give me some
details? Perhaps let me know what's happening?"
"Of course, Mrs. Scully. Actually, I'm not really necessary right now. Let's
sit down for a few minutes and I'll tell you what we know." Skinner turned to
his agent, and said, "Mulder, we'll be down the hall. I'll be back in a bit."
Mulder nodded wordlessly, and stared at them both as Margaret allowed herself
to be led away by Walter Skinner. When they had disappeared from view,
Mulder forced his body to start operating again. He returned to the table and
the
piles of old records that related to Brandon's life. Sinking into a chair
wearily,
he started reading once again.
**************************
Wednesday, 11:25 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau Office
Skinner had gotten them both coffee and led them to an empty office. After
closing the door, he'd briefed Margaret on the high points of everything that
had happened, leaving nothing of importance out. He saw no reason to keep
this woman in the dark. She wouldn't be speaking to the press and she, of all
people, knew the importance of discretion. He tried to explain what their
present theories were and what approaches they were taking to get Scully back.
Margaret nodded occasionally, asked clarifying questions a couple of times, and
finally thanked him for explaining it all to her. She then broached the other
subject that had been on her mind ever since seeing Mulder.
"Walter, how is Fox? He looks so ..... so drained."
Skinner sighed deeply, slightly unprepared by the question.
"Margaret, I'll be honest. He was practically on the verge of collapse before
Dana was taken. We'd been working practically around the clock. I had
thought that retrieving Robby would give him a chance to regroup, catch his
breath. Now, .... Well, I've been keeping an eye on him. But the truth is that
he's Dana's best hope. Mulder has the ability to - to sort through incredible
amounts of what appears to be totally unrelated pieces of information and
somehow come up with the right answer to what it all means. If anyone can
figure out where Brandon's run to, where he has Dana, it's Mulder."
Margaret's forehead was creased, her features betraying her obvious concern
for the younger man who'd come to mean so much to her daughter and herself.
"But, Walter, Dana wouldn't want her own release at the price of Fox's health.
Neither would I."
Skinner was again filled with admiration for Scully's mother.
"I know that, Margaret. But I also know that Mulder would never forgive
himself if he didn't do everything in his power to find her."
Skinner and Margaret both smiled slightly at the realization that both these
headstrong youngsters loved the other so much that their own health and
welfare was of secondary consideration. Friends or lovers, it didn't really
matter.
"Walter, have you called his mother?"
Skinner was slightly confused by her question.
"I'm sorry, Margaret, I don't follow."
"I've gathered from what you said that parts of this case hit rather close to
home
for Fox. That he's had trouble handling it."
Margaret didn't need his verbal acknowledgment. She could tell by the way he
turned his head from her, looking at the floor intently, that she was correct.
"It doesn't seem right that Fox should have to be dealing with all this without
support of family, and his mother is the only family he has left. I know that
if
Dana were in a similar situation, I would want to be there with her, helping her
to work through it."
Skinner thought about the suggestion seriously. He could see how a woman
such as Margaret Scully would be a steadying influence in such a situation, but
he wasn't as convinced about Mulder's own mother. From what he knew of
the woman and Mulder's relationship with her, she was the type of person who
took rather than gave. He knew she'd knowingly kept information from
Mulder, information related to his sister's disappearance. And that lack of that
information had threatened his very life. Would she really be a steadying
influence on him now, or would she drain him of further energy and spirit?
Besides, Skinner wasn't at all convinced of her ignorance in any abuse that
might possibly have occurred during Mulder's childhood. Skinner looked back
at Margaret Scully, the indecision plainly written on his face.
"I don't know. I'm not sure she would help, Margaret. His family ....."
Skinner shook his head at the thought of the disaster passed off as Mulder's
childhood.
"I don't know that his mother would really help him. She's ... not what you
normally think of when you think of a mother."
Skinner was trying to be kind, trying not to be too critical of a woman whom he
really didn't know.
Margaret Scully now looked at Skinner in confusion, unable to comprehend a
mother who would not immediately rush to her child's side in this situation.
"Well, perhaps a call, just to be sure. And if I can help in any way, I hope
you
know that I will. Fox is very special to me. Partly because of how much he
means to Dana, but also because I care for him."
Skinner smiled at her, knowing that she would, indeed be there for Mulder,
however or whenever he might need her. He would think about her
suggestion, perhaps give Tina Mulder the benefit of the doubt and call her, give
her the chance to do the right thing.
Skinner stood and offered his hand to Margaret Scully, helping her to stand.
"Have you found a hotel, Margaret? I can make arrangements for you."
"That would be very kind, Walter. I came here straight from the airport."
Skinner led her out of the office to help her get settled and to check on the
team's progress. It was only a little before noon, but it felt like he'd
already put
in a full day.
**************************
Wednesday, 2:21 p.m.
Unknown location
Scully was getting pissed. She'd investigated ever crevice of her prison and
had been unable to get herself out. She was an intelligent person. She was not
without certain skills. She was creative. She should be able to get herself
out
of a basement with a door, even if the door had no handle. Unfortunately, the
hinges were on the outside and it appeared to be locked or barricaded from the
other side.
She'd searched every box, every shelf, every container for something to use as
a tool and had come up empty. She'd had way too many hours to stew about it
and she was just plain angry. She could take two approaches from here - either
wait until Brandon decided to take notice of her or make enough noise to force
the issue.
The only advantage to forcing the issue was that she might be able to surprise
him or at the least, talk some sense into him. If she waited though, it would
give Mulder and Skinner more time to find her. The thought grated, but she
knew it to be the wiser choice. She would wait and try to either overpower
Brandon or talk him out of keeping her when he showed up. Scully settled
down again on the palette she'd created, and began making contingency plans.
**************************
Wednesday, 4:36 p.m.
Minneapolis, Jacob Brandon Residence
Mulder was at Jacob Brandon's house, where just the day before he and Scully
had found Robby Andrews. The suicide of Brandon's brother eight months
before had indirectly launched Elijah Brandon on his course of action. Mulder
had to understand the family history and dynamics, but they'd been completely
unsuccessful in finding that history.
Mulder walked through the empty house, hoping that something would make
sense, would strike a chord within him. He was having no luck. Earlier in the
afternoon he'd made the same circuit through Brandon's home. The man's
wife was in shock, still not believing that her husband could possibly be
involved. She provided some hints, some insights into Elijah Brandon's nature
and background that helped slightly. But for the most part, Mulder was still
lacking the critical data, the critical information that would tell him where
Scully
was.
At least the man's wife had confirmed one theory. The Brandons had been
raised Catholic but fell away from the church for some reason many years ago,
long before she and Elijah Brandon married. When Jacob committed suicide,
the church had denied Elijah Brandon's request for Catholic burial. Evidently
Elijah had not been pleased. This still didn't help them, though, or if it did,
it
wasn't yet apparent.
Mulder stopped in the empty kitchen, looking at the pristine white cupboards,
the white tile floor, the white counters. Even without the lights on, the room
shone brightly. White, white, everywhere white. Living room, dining room,
kitchen, foyer, bedrooms, bathrooms. White walls, white carpet, white
everything. Why? Why white? The color of innocence, the color of purity.
Lack of color really, lack of sin? Perhaps Jacob Brandon sought purity in his
surroundings to avoid acknowledging the lack within himself.
Mulder shook his head sharply and returned to the living room. He took out his
cell phone, flipped it open, and called a now well-ingrained number. He
needed to know if there had been any progress on tracking down those old files
from the Catholic Church the Brandon family had attended. He heard Skinner's
voice answer somewhat distractedly, "Skinner."
"It's Mulder, sir. Any word from Tresky about the church?"
"No, not yet. They're still working it. Mulder, we just got a call. You need
to
get back here. He wants to talk with you."
"On my way, sir. Fifteen minutes, twenty at the outside."
Mulder was already running to the door. He gathered up the driver on his way
and gave instructions to get him back to the bureau office as soon as possible.
They were quite possibly in major trouble. Brandon was obviously unstable.
He actually believed they would trade Robby for Scully.
The team leaders, Mulder, Skinner, and Jenkins had discussed strategies for an
hour before finally deciding to wait for any call and then let Mulder talk with
him. The negotiating team was on call to work with him if it became necessary.
It sounded like it was going to be necessary.
**************************
Wednesday, 5:03 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Conference Room
Mulder ran into the large conference room, momentarily breathless from his
race through the building. Skinner had notified him a minute ago by cell phone
that Brandon was again on line for him. Mulder made it from the curb to the
second floor conference room in record time.
Agents immediately dropped back to get out of his way, clearing a path to
Skinner and Jenkins. Skinner had the phone to his ear and nodded to his agent,
letting Mulder know Brandon was on line.
Mulder took deep breaths as he made his way across the room, mentally
reviewing what he would say and how he'd handle the man. The man who had
taken his partner. The man who held Scully captive. He cleared his mind of
these negative thoughts and took the phone from Skinner, grasping it in his left
hand, exchanging looks as he did so. He could tell that Skinner was nervous,
worried about how this would pan out. Mulder could feel the worry oozing
from the man. Mulder wished he'd keep it to himself though. He didn't need
to deal with his boss' anxiety on top of his own. He took a last deep breath
before speaking finally.
"This is Mulder."
"Agent Mulder, where have you been? I called earlier and you weren't there."
"No, I was out. What can we do for you, Dr. Brandon?"
Mulder was fighting the urge to ask about his partner. He had to play it cool,
nonchalant. He didn't want Brandon to know just how much he'd give to get
Scully back. Sweat coated his forehead and a drop made it's way down his
right temple. He brushed at it with hand, wincing slightly at the still healing
cut
on his palm. The sharp stab of pain helped to clear his mind and focus again on
the objective of the call.
The negotiation team stood next to him, the leader listening in on the call.
They
would guide him if he went astray.
"You know what you can do for me. You took Robby from me. I'm better for
Robby than his parents could ever be. You need to give him back and then I
might consider returning your partner."
Mulder scrunched his eyes tightly, knowing that it would come to this, but
praying that it wouldn't.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Brandon. It's too late for that. Robby is in the hospital and
social services is investigating the family. You're quite right in saying he
doesn't belong with them. We'll protect Robby from them, just like you were
doing."
There was silence on the other end of the phone and silence throughout the
room. Mulder counted slowly to ten, then fifteen, before breaking the silence.
"Dr. Brandon, are you there?"
Mulder closed his eyes, concentrating hard. He could hear the loud breathing
and for one crazy moment couldn't tell whether it was his or Brandon's. They
were breathing in tandem, in concert. In, out, in, out. They were practically
one. Mulder felt his stomach heave at the thought, opened his eyes and looked
around him somewhat wildly.
Skinner grabbed his arm and shook it, causing Mulder to look at him. He
whispered, "Okay?"
Mulder nodded shakily and focused again on what he should do.
Before he could speak, Brandon said, "But it's not your place. It's my job.
You shouldn't have interfered. Who do you think you are? Just because you
have a badge and you wear a gun, you think you can interfere in people's lives
this way?"
The sweat was running more freely now, faster as Brandon's voice became
ever more strident and angry. Mulder cursed himself silently. He'd made the
man think he was trying to take over, to do what Brandon had been doing, only
better. It was the wrong approach. He had to fix this fast.
"No, Dr. Brandon, that's not it at all. Sir, are you there? Are you listening?
I'm not trying to take over your job. I could never do that. I know I
couldn't.
You are the only one who could do it. In fact, I didn't even have any say in
the
matter. Neither did my partner. We just go where we're directed. We were
told to get Robby back and then they took over. Scully and I were just
following directions."
The negotiating team leader was nodding at him, letting Mulder know he
approved of the shift in blame. It was important that Brandon not blame Scully
or Mulder.
Mulder was aware of someone whispering to Skinner. "He's on a cell phone,
moving. We're attempting to triangulate. Try to keep him talking."
Mulder nodded to his boss to let him know he heard. He gripped the phone
even tighter at Brandon's next words.
"I don't believe you, Mulder. I saw the news reports. I read the paper.
You're
the one. You took him from me. No one else. You have to pay now. It's not
right that you interfered and now you need to be taught a lesson. It's your
turn
to lose."
Mulder heard the slam of the phone but wasn't prepared to believe it.
"Brandon. Brandon. Are you there? Brandon."
He dropped the phone and almost fell backwards a step. "Shit. Fuck."
Mulder put one hand on the table to help support him, suddenly unable to catch
his breath. He looked at the negotiating team leader.
"You couldn't have gone any other way, Agent Mulder. The only thing the
man wants is the thing we absolutely can't give him." He felt sorry for the
young man in front of him, obviously consumed with guilt at the thought that
his words had in some way put his partner in greater jeopardy. The reality was,
there wasn't much to say in this situation. Brandon was a nutcase and he'd
probably end up killing this man's partner unless they tracked him down first.
Not one of the agents in the room had moved, they'd barely even breathed, in
fact. All of them were frozen not only because of the intensity of the phone
call, but also because of the obvious agony Mulder was in. Anyone who had
doubted the man could feel, had no doubts now. They had only to look at his
expression of torment.
Mulder pushed himself violently away from the table and stumbled through the
surrounding agents to the command center, slamming the door behind him.
Skinner decided to let him go and get everyone working once again. Mulder
needed a couple minutes. Hell, Skinner wished he could take a couple minutes
himself. He wiped the beads of sweat off his own forehead and began giving
directions to the various teams.
**************************
Wednesday, 5:17 p.m.
Unknown Location
Scully knew something was wrong. She heard a loud banging coming from
one or two floors above her, repeated but not regular in nature. It sounded
like
something was being thrown, perhaps against a wall or a door. It was the first
time she'd heard any noise at all during her captivity. She thought about
calling
for help, but quickly decided against it. She was certain it was Brandon above
her, acting out in anger. She prayed he would work his anger out against the
wall, before coming to see her.
The noise went on for an hour before silence once again reined. Scully was
hungry and, most of all, thirsty. She wouldn't last much longer without
something to drink, at least. With these thoughts, she lay down once again.
In her mind's eye, she saw herself and Mulder, walking side by side down the
corridor in the FBI building in DC. She tried to make herself believe she was
there with him now, safe and bored, waiting for an X-File to pique their
interest.
**************************
Wednesday, 5:43 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Mulder heard the knock but chose to ignore it. He didn't want to talk with
anyone, didn't want to see anyone, didn't deserve any human compassion or
companionship. He was too hard on friends and family, after all. Couldn't
manage to keep them around very long.
Mulder sneered at himself for such self-pitying thoughts. It had never been his
way and it still wasn't. The knock came again and this time he responded.
"Come in."
He dragged his eyes to the door and sat up straighter, unconsciously, when he
saw Scully's mother. He forced himself to stand when she entered the room.
She had closed the door behind her and this made Mulder nervous for some
reason. He cleared his throat noisily.
"Mrs. Scully, how are you doing?"
Margaret Scully stopped in front of Mulder, grabbed his hands in hers and
squeezed lightly.
"I'm fine, Fox. Walter explained to me what's happening now."
Mulder jerked slightly at her words, prepared for the incriminations. He wasn't
prepared for Margaret Scully to lead him to a chair, force him to sit, then sit
next to him, still holding his hands in hers. He would never understand this
woman, perhaps no more than he would her daughter. He didn't deserve either
of them.
"Mrs. Scully....."
He couldn't say anything else. The words just wouldn't come. Mulder
dropped his gaze, unable to look her in the eye any longer.
Margaret Scully let loose of one of his hands and raised her hand to his cheek,
as she had that morning. It was past dinnertime now and Fox looked even
worse to her. She understood why Walter had suggested she check on him.
"Fox, there was nothing you could have done differently. That man, Brandon,
is sick. You couldn't trade a child's life for Dana's. Everyone knew that but
that man."
Margaret Scully wiped away the lone tear that rolled over her thumb, then took
away her hand. She wanted to wrap her arms around this man who was so
important to her daughter, but she knew he wouldn't appreciate it just now.
Her presence was enough. And perhaps her words. She had to make sure
there was something left of Fox for Dana to come back to.
"Fox, I'm worried about you. I think you need to take a break. Eat something.
Perhaps even rest."
She saw his shaking head, knew he was just as stubborn as her daughter.
"Fox, I haven't eaten yet, either. It's been a terribly long day for me, as
well. I
would appreciate it if you would keep me company while I had something to
eat."
It was the right approach. Fox always responded to guilt. Margaret began to
better understand Walter's words regarding Mulder's own mother. He looked
around for a second, as if searching for escape, then finally sighed slightly
and
nodded his head.
"Thank you, Fox. I always know things will work out right when you're here
with me."
Mulder looked at her in amazement. How could she place so much faith in
him? It was because of him that Scully was gone. And because of him, she'd
probably be killed. The Scully women were indeed forces to be reckoned with.
Margaret stood, saying, "I'll be right back Fox. I think Walter wanted to join
us."
Mulder just nodded, still in a slight daze, and watched her walk calmly to the
door, open it and lean out. She was obviously talking with someone, probably
Skinner. She turned after a minute and came back to sit beside him once again.
"Fox, I know you might not believe this, but I know that Dana will be all right.
I know it because I know this is not the way she's meant to die."
Mulder looked at Scully's mother, curious at her words despite his concern.
He shook his head a little, to let her know he didn't follow.
Margaret Scully settled back in the chair more comfortably, acknowledged
Walter Skinner's entry into the room, laden with bags, then turned her attention
to Mulder once again.
"Fox, I know you'll think this is silly. But I had a dream. You were in it.
And
so was Dana. And you were both much older. And you were both so happy."
Mulder's expression lightened slightly at the thought that flashed through his
mind, the thought of him and Scully, still friends years in the future. It was
reassuring. He wanted to believe in it.
Margaret knew Walter Skinner had sat down next to her but was still focused
on the younger man in front of her.
"So you see, Fox, I know Dana is safe. And I know you'll find her. You have
to so that you can grow old together."
Margaret and Skinner both were relieved to see the smile that lit up Mulder's
face. His eyes were unfocused, staring at a point beyond Margaret's shoulder.
She knew what he was seeing. He saw himself and Dana, together, forever,
where they belonged.
**************************
Wednesday, 8:39 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, ASAC Jenkins' Office
Yet another sun had set during this accursed case and Skinner was feeling the
strain. He wasn't cut out for this kind of continuous stress with hardly any
sleep. Once again he thought of the men and women in the VCS who operated
in this environment day in and day out. He decided to keep a better eye on that
department in the future, making sure there were appropriate avenues for
relieving the stress.
Skinner stood and stretched. He and Dave had been trying to move mountains
with the Catholic Church and had discovered just how difficult this could be.
The expression 'separation of church and state' had never been understood
more keenly by Skinner than in the last two days. They were finally making
progress, though. The threat of leaks of duplicity to the press had finally
begun
to work and Skinner silently hoped he wouldn't go to Hell for blackmailing
priests. Dave had just gotten off the phone with someone who swore the
information they'd requested was going to be faxed to them within the half
hour.
Skinner decided to check on Mulder and Margaret Scully. He shook his head a
bit at the thought of Margaret. The woman would have made a damn fine
agent, herself. He smiled at the recollection of Margaret forcing Mulder to lie
down on the couch and rest after dinner. It had been almost two hours and
Mulder hadn't surfaced, so she'd evidently been able to keep him there. But
Skinner would need him soon -- as soon as the information from the church
came in.
Skinner opened the door to the command center slowly, so as not to surprise
anyone inside. He quickly scanned the room, noting that Mulder still lay on the
couch, asleep, and Margaret sat next to him, eyes closed, evidently resting
herself. He closed the door behind him and made his way to them, pulling out
a chair from the table. Margaret opened her eyes at the small sound and smiled
at him.
"Hello, Walter. Any news?"
Margaret spoke softly, unwilling to wake Fox yet.
"We're expecting some information to come in by fax any moment. We're
hopeful it will give us some insight on where he took Dana."
Skinner paused and looked at his agent for a moment, forehead creasing at what
he saw. Mulder lay on his side, curled slightly, arms hugging himself as if he
were cold. His face was far from relaxed. In fact, his entire body seemed
tense. His face was incredibly pale, the scar on his forehead from his fall
several days before standing out starkly. Black circles had found their way
under his eyes and his entire face was sunken, obviously exhausted. Although
the room was comfortable, sweat stood out on his forehead. He was either
fighting illness or caught once again in unwelcome dreams.
Skinner looked back at Margaret with concern.
"He had a nightmare a little while ago. He .... he called out. I tried to wake
him. He ... eventually slipped back to sleep. Walter, I think maybe .... maybe
you should have a doctor check him. He seemed warm to me and he doesn't
look well."
Skinner tried to understand what she wasn't saying. He had become quite
familiar with the types of dreams the man had been experiencing during this
case. He had guessed what had happened that had sent Mulder to Scully's
room the other day. He could guess what had happened with Margaret. But
was she worried about his mental state now or his physical state? Skinner
looked back at Mulder and decided that based on looks alone, the deterioration
of his physical state in just the past two days was severe. Perhaps there was
more going on than just lack of sleep.
Skinner nodded to her and stood. "I'll have Janice check on him. I'll be right
back."
Margaret was reassured somewhat. She had been sitting at the other end of the
room when Fox's cries brought her to his side. His pleadings were
heartbreaking. When she shook him, trying to wake him, he had flinched as if
hit and curled himself around his knees more tightly. She talked to him
soothingly, brushing his hair off his forehead. He felt warm to her, as if he
were running a fever. His eyes had opened slightly and he asked, "Mom?"
Margaret knew he wasn't really awake, was in some in-between state of waking
and sleep. She responded the only way she knew how. "It's okay, Fox, I'm
here. Close your eyes and go back to sleep. Everything's all right. Your safe
and I'm here with you. I won't go anywhere. It's okay, baby, go back to
sleep." He was suddenly one of her own, sick and scared and in need of the
mothering only she could provide. She'd evidently done the right thing because
Fox had immediately closed his eyes, relaxed his body, and drifted off again.
Margaret's recollections were interrupted by the entry once again by Walter
Skinner, followed by a young woman about Dana's age. The AD gestured to
the woman and said, "Margaret, this is Janice Anderson. She and Dana went to
medical school together."
Skinner still spoke softly to avoid waking Mulder until it was absolutely
necessary. He backed off to allow Janice plenty of room. She pulled a chair
right next to the couch and sat, putting her bag on the floor in front of her.
She
nodded to Margaret Scully and said quietly, "Hello Mrs. Scully. I'm sorry to
meet you like this. But I know Dana will be so happy to see you." Janice then
turned to take a good look at the man lying on the couch in front of her. The
standing lamp had been brought partway down the length of the room, to offer
muted lighting. She asked Skinner to bring it a little closer, wanting to avoid
the starkness of the overhead lights. She was then able to see Mulder more
clearly and immediately frowned.
Janice gently unwrapped his left arm from his self-imposed hug, finding the
pulse at his wrist. The frown deepened. She placed the back of her hand
against his cheek, then forehead. Reaching into the bag at her feet, she pulled
out a thermoscan. Leaning forward again, she placed it in Mulder's ear,
quickly recording a temperature. Somewhat elevated, but not alarmingly so, at
least not yet. She noted that he hadn't moved during her ministrations, a sign
in
itself of the exhaustion that had brought him to this state.
Skinner had assumed a matching frown as he watched Janice's expression and
movements. He recognized that she was concerned. He watched as she
unfastened a couple of his agent's buttons and slipped a stethoscope under his
shirt, after blowing on the end to warm it. Skinner appreciated the act and the
consideration behind it. He saw the frown deepen once again as she moved
from heart to lungs. She then sat back in her chair, motionless for a moment,
as if taking in the entire picture. She leaned forward and refastened the
buttons,
then moved her hand down to Mulder's waist, stopping at his belt buckle. She
grabbed hold of the buckle gently and pulled away from his body slightly,
noting the couple of inches of excess material that resulted.
Janice sighed deeply, scowled and then began putting equipment back in her
bag. She took out some anti-bacterial creme and a new bandage and set to work
on Mulder's right palm. She quickly and efficiently removed the old bandage,
generously applied ointment, and rewrapped it with the new bandage. It looked
good, was healing nicely. Evidently Mulder had been taking his anti-biotics.
When finished, she gently replaced his arm where it had been lodged, then
pushed her chair back and stood. Mulder had still not reacted to her
ministrations.
Janice gestured for Skinner to follow her and walked to the far end of the room.
Both Skinner and Margaret Scully had followed her and now looked at her with
concerned expressions. Janice addressed her remarks to Skinner.
"Sir, quite frankly, under normal circumstances, I'd insist he be in a hospital.
There's no question he's suffering from exhaustion and probably dehydration.
His systems are strained. I doubt he ever really recovered from his experience
several days ago. He's playing with borderline pneumonia. My guess would
be that if he hadn't been taking the anti-biotics for the hand, he'd be full-
fledged
right now. I'm going to prescribe something a little different that will work
for
both hand and pneumonia more effectively. That should stave off anything
nasty. We have to keep him from losing any more weight. He's down pretty
drastically now. Losing that much that fast can weaken the body pretty
seriously. That's the last thing he needs right now. It'll just make him more
susceptible to any bug that comes along. He's got to eat regularly and keep it
down."
Skinner and Margaret Scully exchanged alarmed looks, neither having been
aware of the seriousness of Mulder's condition. Janice looked back and forth
between these two before continuing.
"Sir, as I said, under normal circumstances I'd insist on a hospital. But I
know
that is not the best course of action right now. Besides the fact that Mulder
would escape at the first opportunity, I recognize that he's needed here. So,
since I understand that he has to be here, then we should continue to force him
to sleep whenever possible, make sure he eats and drinks, fluids are
particularly
important, and most of all, make sure he avoids any strenuous activity. That
includes running or basketball, and .... pacing. It drives me crazy when he
does that."
Skinner smiled slightly at the agent, recognizing the fondness underlying her
words. "All right, Agent Anderson. I believe I can even make these things
orders if necessary."
Skinner's expression turned serious once again. "I need to wake him soon.
We've got some information coming in that he needs to see."
It was really a question. Skinner wanted to know what harm would come of
Mulder's involvement.
"I understand, sir. Just keep an eye on him. I will, too, whenever possible.
He has to do what he has to do, though. Then Dana can be the one to badger
him into sleeping and eating right."
Janice grinned at Skinner and Margaret Scully. She'd seen the glances between
her friend and Mulder, knew they were closer than friends. They were partners
and would look out for each other no matter what. God help anyone who got in
their way.
**************************
Wednesday, 10:03 p.m.
Minneapolis Bureau
He didn't know why, didn't know how, couldn't explain it, but somehow
knew the church angle was important. Mulder awoke with a start and
practically threw his body off the couch in his hurry to talk with Vickers and
Tresky. He was halfway to the door when he realized his name was being
called. He turned quickly to find Margaret Scully looking at him in alarm.
"Fox, what is it? Is everything okay?"
"Mrs. Scully. Yes, yes everything's fine. I just realized something. I need
to
meet with a couple of the team members."
Mulder was relieved to see Mrs. Scully nod, evidently reassured by his words.
"All right, Fox. Please let me know if there are any new developments."
"Yes, ma'am. I will."
Mulder turned and started once again to the door, putting his jacket on while
walking. He was out the door in a flash, searching the larger conference room
for the faces he needed. Not finding them, he pulled out his cell phone and
called Vickers.
"It's Mulder, where are you?"
Mulder headed out the room and towards Dave Jenkins' office at the response.
"Okay, I'm on my way."
He closed the phone, put it away and reviewed again his hypothesis. He knew
he was right. He was positive. They just had to get the damn church to agree.
Minutes later he was entering Jenkin's office, not surprised to see Skinner
there
as well. He nodded all around, then got to the point.
"Vickers, have you got anything yet?"
"Yeah, Mulder. We got a fax in, twenty-four pages, and have been going
through it."
Mulder's forehead crinkled, partly in vexation at the realization they hadn't
woken him. He decided not to pursue it just then and reached out for the pages
Vickers was handing him.
Mulder scanned the pages quickly, then returned to the third page, flipping the
stapled pages so it lay on top of the packet. He laid the whole packet on
Jenkin's desk, right forefinger pointing to a particular piece of information on
the page.
"This is where he's holding Scully."
Mulder backed off, feeling a sense of urgency tempered by an awareness that he
required their support and most of all, their agreement. Vickers looked for a
moment at the information then stood straight, nodding in confirmation. He
turned to Mulder and said, "That's it. It makes sense."
Jenkins and Skinner felt like they were scrambling to catch up. They saw the
information about the long abandoned church, but neither man completely
understood why Mulder was so adamant, so sure. Skinner looked at Mulder
questioningly.
"They went to that church. That's where both Elijah and Jacob Brandon were
choir boys. Somehow, they were tested, perhaps along with others there, by
someone affiliated with the church. Probably not a priest, I doubt it could
have
been covered up so completely. But something happened there to both of them.
They had a sister. We still don't know what happened to her. We haven't been
able to track down the records. It's possible something happened to her, as
well. Whatever it was, however it happened, that church figured prominently.
Moving to a different part of town didn't manage to erase the memory of it.
It's
not that Brandon feels safe there. Not at all. It's that it owes him. He
wants
justice, now."
Mulder knew he had them, that they understood the leap of faith he'd made. Of
all the places the Brandon's had lived, had gone to school, and even to church,
it was this particular place that Mulder thought to be so important, knew to be
crucial.
Skinner looked back at the page, nodded to the men in the room, and said,
"Let's do it. This time, though, Mulder, you'll be with me."
Mulder was ready to argue, had his mouth open to insist he be on the team,
leading the team, when Skinner continued on.
"Mulder, listen to me. You're in no shape right now. You know I'm right.
For Scully's sake, you'll stay out of it. Not totally out of it. We'll be in
the
command truck, we'll see it on live feed."
Mulder knew his boss was right. There was no point in arguing because he had
no point to argue. He nodded in agreement, then looked to Vickers. The
composition of the assault team would be important. They had to make plans
immediately.
**************************
Wednesday, 11:41 p.m.
St. Paul
The neighborhood was quiet, with most lights long turned off. Scully had been
gone some twenty-eight hours now, and Mulder and the other agents present
were all feeling the time pressures. They had converged on the site quickly and
quietly, the team dispersing like silent ghosts in the night. Mulder was sure
no
one would be aware of their presence.
They had searched through architectural plans of the long abandoned church
and had identified most likely locations where Brandon would be holding
Scully. Agents were stationed around the church at all possible entryways.
Crowley and Salvatore were on either side of the heavy oak doors in the front,
staying well clear of the windows in the doors until it was time.
Mulder had a bad feeling. All of a sudden he knew something was wrong.
Something. What? What had they missed. He knew this building was
important. He knew it figured into Scully's abduction. But now he was
wondering if they'd misjudged how it figured in.
Mulder grabbed a headset and said, "Everyone hold. Hold positions."
He could see Crowley and Salvatore both stop their movement toward the door
handles at his words. Crowley put his hand up to the headset and asked,
softly, "What is it? We're all set here."
Skinner had stood and moved next to Mulder.
"Mulder, what? They need to go soon. They're all in position. The longer
they hold, the greater the chance he'll be alerted."
"Yes, sir, I know that. But something's wrong here."
Mulder stood straight, as if posture would be enough to convince Skinner of his
convictions. "Sir, I know that this site is important. I'm sure of that fact.
But
right now, we need to pull those men back. Something is wrong. I can't
explain it. I don't know how to explain it. But, sir, it's crucial we pull
them
back now."
Skinner was completely torn. He'd trusted his agent's judgment throughout the
case and the man had been consistently correct about every hypothesis, every
wild leap he'd made. But Skinner knew his agent wasn't a hundred percent
right now. Hell, he probably wasn't fifty percent. All the men heard
Crowley's voice come over the comm unit once again, scratchy, impatient.
"Please advise. We are in position. We are ready to move."
Skinner picked up the headset and said authoritatively, "Hold for a moment 'til
you hear my order."
He looked at Mulder again, searchingly, asking himself whether Mulder at fifty
percent should still be taken completely at face value despite the evidence to
the
contrary.
"Mulder, this might be Scully's life we're talking about here. I'm pretty sure
we got them there quietly enough to not alert anyone inside. But if we pull
them out now, the odds of his discovering the team go up dramatically. We
might lose any opportunity we have."
Skinner could see the indecision on his agent's face. Mulder looked back to the
monitors, forehead creased. He shook his head, said, "I have to see it. I have
to get closer." Mulder moved past Skinner without another word, opened the
back doors of the truck quietly, and jumped down. He moved silently to the
wall that ran the length of the church property. He knew Skinner was right
behind him. Mulder bent low and followed the wall around to the side where a
break allowed access to the church building itself. He paused at the opening,
searching the site carefully. His eyes moved from window to window, from
door to door, looking for some clue as to why he felt this to be a trap.
He felt Skinner's hand on his arm, heard the whispered words. "Mulder, they
have to go and they have to go now."
Mulder turned to look at Skinner then back to the front doors, doubting himself.
He was only about fifteen feet from Crowley and knew the man saw him.
Crowley lifted one hand, palm upraised, obviously curious as to what was
going on, why they'd been told to hold. He heard Skinner speak into the
headset, saw Crowley and Salvatore nod. Then, as if in slow motion, he saw
Crowley reach towards the door. And suddenly he knew what was wrong.
Mulder was up and running, yelling for them to clear away from the doors.
Salvatore had backed off but Crowley was so focused he hadn't heard Mulder,
hadn't seen the man running towards them. His hand was on the door knob,
was turning it as Mulder's body hit him full force, throwing him out of the way
of the explosion that would have killed him.
Skinner had been several steps behind and ducked at the blast, throwing his
arms over his head protectively, before being thrown to the ground. He was
aware of wood, glass, pieces of metal flying through the air and landing around
and on him. His last thoughts before he lost consciousness were that neither he
nor Mulder had been wearing a vest.
**************************
Wednesday, 11:58 p.m.
St. Paul
"Sir, are you all right? Sir?"
Walter Skinner opened his eyes to find Mulder leaning over him, worried
expression on his face. Wait, he thought to himself, isn't that my line?
Skinner
collected his scattered thoughts and tried to focus on his surroundings.
"Mulder, what happened? Is everyone all right?"
Mulder sagged back in relief when he realized Skinner was lucid.
"Everyone's fine, sir. You were in direct line of the doors when they blew.
They dug you out from under a beam. Crowley and I are a little singed, couple
cuts, that's all. None of the other bombs were triggered. SWAT has a bomb
removal team working on them now."
Skinner sat up, looking around, finally noticed the team of paramedics working
on Crowley, became aware that he was on a stretcher, covered by a blanket.
He looked back at Mulder and saw blood on his agent's forehead and neck and
immediately recognized that Mulder had told them to care for the others first.
Skinner sighed to himself, started removing the blanket that covered him. He
looked back at his agent.
"Scully?"
Mulder shook his head decisively.
"She's not here. I'm pretty sure she was at one time, but not now. It dawned
on me finally. The last phone call with Brandon, he talked about punishing me.
It had never been about punishment before. But now he wants justice and
revenge. Blowing up this building and catching me in the explosion would
have given him both at once. But he still doesn't blame Scully. He would have
moved her."
Skinner stood, slightly shaky, thankful for Mulder's grip on his arm, offering
him additional support.
"So, we're back to ground zero. We still don't know where she is."
"I don't know. Not necessarily. I know what he's thinking now. I need to
review the files the church sent over in more depth. It's there. I know it. I
just
need to understand what he wants."
The paramedics were at their side, looking between Mulder and Skinner. The
older of the two broke the silence.
"Sirs, we need to get you to the hospital. You, too, Agent Mulder, and before
we go, we still need to dress those cuts. You need stitches on at least one of
them and that bump on your head might be serious. AD Skinner, you really
should be lying down. You received quite a blow and we need to get a CAT
scan at the hospital and also make sure there are no internal injuries."
Crowley had moved over with them and stood holding his arm gingerly. It was
encased in a bandage, covering a slash made from flying glass and metal. He
had been shaken by the suddenness of Mulder's body slamming into his
followed by the explosion. He hadn't totally recovered from the realization
that
he'd been moments from a fiery and painful death. The paramedics had insisted
he go to the hospital and he'd brushed them off. He now had to smile a bit at
the stubborn expressions both Mulder and the AD wore. He knew what their
answer would be also. Mulder was the first to speak.
"Just patch it up for now, I'll get stitches later if necessary. Or just do it
now.
I don't have time for a hospital."
The paramedics were at a loss. They knew who these people were. Knew
what case they were working on. The older, evidently more senior of the two,
reached a decision.
"Okay, sirs. We'll do what we can here, but you should take it easy at the
least, and get checked out with a doctor when you can."
He turned to Mulder and gestured to the back of the ambulance.
"Agent Mulder, if you'll sit here, I should be able to stitch you up now."
Mulder nodded and sat willingly. Anything to avoid the hospital.
Skinner leaned against the back door of the ambulance, and watched as the
paramedic attended to Mulder. He noticed for the first time the blood on his
agent's shirt. The cause became more apparent as the paramedic helped the
younger man remove it, then cut away the undershirt. Mulder had matching
gashes on his back and down his ribs on the left side. He had more minor cuts
on his neck and forehead. His right side was still slightly bruised from his
fall
running earlier in the week. All in all, the man was a mess.
Skinner was starting to reconsider not going to the hospital. Not for himself -
he knew he was all right. He'd only received a slight bump on the head. But
with Mulder's already worn down condition, the younger man's injuries were
all the more serious.
Skinner had his mouth open, ready to suggest they go with the paramedics,
when he realized Mulder was staring at him intently, expression determined.
Skinner shut his mouth, knowing it was futile.
Crowley paled further upon seeing Mulder's injuries. He'd heard the man
instruct the paramedics to see to AD Skinner and to himself earlier. Crowley
saw the silent communication pass between Mulder and the AD and his
admiration for Mulder grew further. He had to admit to himself that he'd
misjudged the man more than he would have ever thought possible. Crowley
was ashamed of himself. He'd come to realize that Mulder was an outstanding
agent and now recognized the extent of the man's compassion. And no one
doubted Mulder's feelings for his partner after the events of the last day.
Crowley resolved to make it up to Mulder if he could. In the meantime, he
prayed God above that Scully was still alive.
**************************
Thursday, 12:26 a.m.
Unknown Location
Scully didn't know what was happening. She couldn't guess at Brandon's
motivations anymore. He seemed to be operating way out of character. He had
finally appeared earlier that day and had forced her to tie her own legs at gun
point. Using her own gun. He had tied her wrists and then put a cloth bag
over her head. He then had picked her up easily, carried her up the steps and
through passageways, not being particularly careful of her protruding arms and
legs, and thrown her in the back of a car. He had covered her with a blanket
and then disappeared for a good thirty minutes before starting the car and
taking
off. They had driven for something like thirty minutes when Scully had heard
the garage door close behind the car.
She hadn't been surprised when he jerked her out of the car and picked her up
once again, eventually depositing her here, in this second floor bedroom. She
was still securely tied but he had removed the bag from her head and even
brought her water at her request.
Scully was still working on untying the knots to the ropes around her feet. Her
hands were a lost cause, but she had managed to maneuver herself so she could
at least have a chance at getting out of the leg ropes. She'd been working at
it
for an hour and was finally making progress. She could feel the slickness that
was her blood. She had ripped off at least one fingernail, possibly two, in her
efforts to untie the restraints. Scully thought to herself that the blood
should
actually act as a good lubricant.
She froze for a moment at the sound of a door slamming, then started again
when there were no footsteps leading upstairs. She had to get away. She
couldn't trust anything about Brandon. He had completely lost it. There was
no telling what was going through the man's mind.
Scully figured that Mulder and Skinner had somehow gotten close, forcing
Brandon to move. She prayed they'd figure out this next move he'd made, and
soon. She wanted to go home. In the meantime, though, she'd try her
damnedest to get herself out of this mess.
**************************
Thursday, 1:31 a.m.
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center
Skinner and Mulder looked like cornered beasts. They both sat as far back in
their seats as possible, hands gripping their chair arms, defensive looks on
both
their faces. It would have been comical if it the situation weren't so serious.
Janice Anderson and Margaret Scully stood in front of the two men, sporting
matching stances with hands on hips. Janice had just completed a four minute
harangue on the idiocy of men in general and these two in specific. Margaret
Scully had added her own views, which basically reinforced the exact same
concept.
Janice took another breath, possibly to start another lecture, when Skinner
finally found his missing backbone and interrupted.
"Look, Agent Anderson, you weren't there. It's not like we intended to get
blown up. It just happened."
Skinner was feeling righteous indignation now and used it to spur his words.
"We weren't wearing vests because we weren't supposed to be anywhere close
to any crossfire. It just happened. Now, I don't really see the usefulness of
this conversation. What's done is done. I am fine, Mulder's fine, Crowley's
fine."
Some little part of him wanted to broaden any blame these women might be
handing out and Skinner found himself throwing the other two men's names
into the mix.
"If you really want to help, you can back off and let us review this information
in peace without all this .... this hassling."
Mulder groaned to himself. It was obvious Skinner hadn't dealt with female
agents on a daily basis. The man had just thrown the gauntlet down. They
were really in for it now. Mulder dropped his head and raised one hand to
cover his face, closing his eyes. He didn't want to see this.
Skinner swallowed at the look on Margaret Scully's face. He looked more
closely at Janice Anderson and felt a chill. He was pretty sure he should have
handled things differently. A glance at Mulder's now slumped form confirmed
this.
Janice crossed her arms and stood even taller, looking down her nose at the
AD. Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and Skinner realized he'd hate to be
facing Janice Anderson in a dark alley. Not that this was any better really.
"Sir, I am going to pretend that you didn't say that. Here's the deal. Agent
Crowley is going home and will stay there until tomorrow at least. You and
Agent Mulder have thirty minutes to set things in motion for the night. You
will
then drink what I set in front of you and eat what I tell you to. Then I am
going
to accompany you to your hotel and check both of you out before you go to bed
for the night. And you will go to bed. I will allow you to be called during
the
night if anything develops that can not be handled without you or if there are
any breaks that require your immediate presence. I will stay in Mrs. Scully's
room down the hall and will be available if needed. Tomorrow morning, I will
again check you out and will determine, at that time, whether you are able to
return here or whether further bed rest is necessitated. Is there any part of
this
you do not understand?"
Mulder couldn't help the laugh that escaped. Jesus, no wonder Janice and
Scully were friends. That could have come straight from his own partner's
mouth. Mulder turned his still dropped head slightly, looked over to his boss
through splayed fingers, anxious to see the man's reaction.
Skinner was an interesting shade of red, but remarkably calm other than that.
He somehow continued to look like he was in charge when he replied, "No,
Agent Anderson, I think I understand."
Skinner looked back at Mulder, who was gratified to see the slight twinkle in
the older man's eyes. Both men appreciated the good will behind the harsh
words.
Janice looked between the two, relaxed her posture slightly and said, "Okay,
then. I'll see you in half an hour." She then turned to Margaret, smiled,
raised
her eyebrows and walked out.
Margaret followed after saying, "I'll see you both soon."
**************************
End Part 6 of 7
*********************************
The Abyss Looks Back - Part 7 of 7 (7/7)
by Kronos
**********************************
Thursday, 2:57 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Agent Jackson was nervous. He knew he was doing nothing wrong, not
really, but he'd heard what had happened the night before and he was worried.
He walked down the hotel hallway, trying his best to be quiet. He glanced at
his watch, noting the time. 2:57 a.m. When he reached the right number, he
slipped the large manila envelope under the door, having to push slightly,
turned and then left. Mulder owed him for this. Big time.
**************************
Thursday, 5:09 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Skinner jerked at the knock on his door. He groaned slightly at the headache
pounding behind his eyes, then said, "Yes?" He was already reaching for his
glasses and the lights. He saw Mulder standing in his doorway, dressed in
sweats and a T-shirt. The man was holding something in his left hand.
Skinner cleared his throat, sat up straight and looked at the time. A little
after
five. He looked back at his agent, wondering what in the world could have
happened that hadn't put him in the loop first.
"Sir, I think I know."
Skinner immediately moved to get out of bed, pausing for a moment at the
slight dizziness that accompanied the motion. When he had faith in his ability
to
maneuver without doing damage, he started for the living area. Mulder had
already turned on lights around the room and now sat at the table. Skinner sank
down next to him, wearily, looking at the papers spread out on the table in
front
of him. It dawned on him that these were copies of the fax received earlier, as
well as new reports he had never seen.
Skinner looked over at his agent, one eyebrow raised.
Mulder looked slightly guilty, then smiled, suddenly looking inordinately self-
satisfied at his accomplishment. He said, "I used my thirty minutes pretty
effectively, sir. Threats and bribery work wonders when you're desperate."
Skinner laughed lightly in appreciation then said, "Okay, so what did your
bribery and threats turn up?"
Mulder waved to the sheets of paper covering the table then started to explain.
"These basically show the progression of Brandon's childhood, outlining major
events and locations where they occurred. This, this, and this," Mulder pointed
to three of the sheets, "outline some new information that was just turned up a
little bit ago. The sister was killed by the janitor at the church, when the
'testing' evidently got out of hand. The man, Cary Ulrich, was disturbed. One
of the priests had gotten him the job when he'd been released from an
institution. He was relatively young when this all happened, just out of his
teens. His family was influential in the church. The priests had no idea what
was going on, of course. But once it came to light, the time being what it was,
things were hushed up. It seems that was also the Brandon's choice, for
whatever reason. The janitor was quietly shipped back to the institution and
the
Brandon's moved away, one child dead and the remaining two affected for
life."
Mulder paused slightly, recognizing the tragedy for what it was. The parents
weren't responsible, except for believing it would all go away if they ignored
it.
It never went away. Mulder knew, it never went away. He cleared his throat
and pointed to another page, the last in the set of twenty or so.
"Cary Ulrich was released from the very same institution a year ago. He lives
alone, in a house that was left to him by his deceased parents. He's fifty-four
years old. He's in Minneapolis. I believe that Jacob Brandon found out,
maybe even tried to talk with this man, and ended up unable to handle it, then
killed himself. Perhaps he told his brother what he was going to do. I don't
know. But Elijah Brandon has changed his rules now. It's no longer about
finding a replacement sibling. It's about finding revenge. He got a little
taste of
it and now he'll want more. He doesn't blame Scully. He blames me for
taking Robby away from him and he blames Ulrich, for his brother and sister.
Whatever happens next, he'll use Scully to get what he wants."
Mulder paused and considered once again what he believed to be true. He was
so exhausted he could barely even think anymore. This all made sense in a
bizarre kind of way. He was certain about one thing, though, Elijah Brandon
was becoming ever more unstable. They would have to end this soon before
the man totally lost any grip on reality. Mulder dragged his head up and looked
over at his boss to gage his reaction. He saw that the older man was nodding in
comprehension.
"So what do you recommend, Mulder?"
"I don't think we can go charging in there. He might have the house rigged.
Maybe ...." Mulder took a deep breath at the realization of what he was
considering. But it seemed the best approach to him just then. "Maybe we
should call him there."
Skinner was shocked at the suggestion, caught completely off guard, and
turned, without thinking towards his agent. "Excuse me?"
Mulder was expressionless now, carefully controlling his thoughts, breathing,
demeanor. "He wants me. Let's give him what he wants ..... for Scully."
Of course. Skinner understood the suggestion now. Didn't think any more of
it than he had before but at least he understood. He looked at his agent kindly
before replying. Skinner considered the real meaning behind his agent's
words, the suggestion of surrender that Mulder was probably not even aware
of.
"Mulder, there are always alternatives. We need to find one. Because I am not
going to trade one agent for another."
After a slight pause, Skinner tried to insert a small degree of levity.
"Besides,
Scully would kill me if I did."
Skinner saw the younger man start to fold in on himself and this time, wasn't
surprised by the tears that started. Mulder leaned forward, putting both elbows
on the table in front of him, and put his hands in front of his face. After a
moment, he folded his arms on the table and dropped his head to them. Skinner
heard the muffled words then.
"I can't take much more of this. I want it to be over. I want Scully back
safe.
I want to go home."
Skinner knew that with every blow to his agent's physical health, the younger
man's ability to handle the psychological blows became that much harder.
Mulder had possibly not slept at all the previous night or if he had, it had
been
for a couple hours only. He was exhausted, hurt, and feeling alone and
abandoned without his partner.
The events of the last week and a half and the way his agent had dealt with them
had raised Skinner's estimation of this man ever higher. He could think of no
one else who would still be functioning after what Mulder had gone through.
This small crack in his agent's defenses tore at Skinner's heart, but he knew
Mulder was strong. Strong enough to get through this.
If it had been Dana Scully sitting here, Skinner would have held her in his arms
and told her it would be okay. He wanted to do the same for her partner, but
understood that Mulder had never known the affection of a father, the desire of
a father to hug his son. He'd known only the slap of a heavy hand against his
face. And Skinner felt like Mulder had become the son of his spirit. So
instead
of holding him in his arms, Skinner stood and put both hands on the younger
man's shoulders, gripping tightly, and tried to convey what he couldn't say in
words. Skinner bent close to Mulder's right ear. His voice was soft, gentle
when he replied finally.
"I know you do, Mulder. I wish I could make it happen for you. I know
you're exhausted and in pain and you miss your partner. I miss her, too."
Skinner moved next to his agent, knelt beside him, but left one arm draped over
the younger man's shoulder, the closest he felt he could come to an embrace.
"Mulder, I want you to listen carefully, so you don't misunderstand anything I
say now."
Skinner felt the shoulders under his arm tense slightly. He put his other hand
on Mulder's arm, before continuing.
"I'm going to call Vickers, Tresky, and Jenkins. I'll have them come here, and
get their teams ready to move in a couple hours. I want you to go to bed and
get some sleep so that when we move, you'll be in shape to be there."
Mulder's entire body had tensed at the suggestion of sleep, but started to relax
again at Skinner's last words. He still lay across the table, head on arms.
Skinner couldn't tell if he were still crying or not. Couldn't tell whether the
trembling was from tears or shear exhaustion.
"Mulder, I'll tell you honestly that I am worried about you. I'm worried about
your health. In any other situation, you'd have been confined to bed days ago.
And I think that if you don't give yourself these next couple of hours, you'll
drive yourself into the hospital -- at the very least -- and possibly endanger
others along the way. I want you to get some sleep now. Do you understand?"
Skinner waited for a moment, relieved to see Mulder's head nod eventually.
Skinner stood and once again took Mulder's right arm, this time to help him up.
Mulder raised his head, dragged it up really, fighting against gravity. He
allowed his boss to pull him upwards, his legs feeling ready to give out on him
at any moment, and didn't argue at the arm that slipped around his waist and the
other that held his right arm.
Skinner sensed the imminent collapse and pulled Mulder's right arm around his
own neck. He had to practically carry his agent into the other room. It was
obvious the younger man had hardly any energy left, even to walk.
Skinner gently lowered him to the bed, and helped to get him under the covers.
He then turned off the light and, still leaning slightly over the bed, put one
hand
on Mulder's forehead, pushing back the unruly hair. Mulder didn't object,
even seemed reassured by the light caress, in fact.
Skinner said softly, "Go to sleep, Fox," and was pleased to see the younger
man close his eyes immediately. Skinner wiped away the tears then with one
hand. He pulled the covers tight one last time, then stood straight, feeling
weary.
The thought came to him suddenly, clearly, that maybe Margaret Scully was
right. He would call his agent's mother, Tina Mulder. However things played
out today, one thing was clear. Mulder would need the support of family and
friends during the upcoming weeks, as he recovered from the physical
hardships he'd suffered, as well as the psychological ones.
After a last look at his sleeping agent, Skinner made his way back to the living
area, closing the door behind him. He paused quietly for a minute, praying that
this case would end today, with both his agents safe and sound. He moved to
the phone and started putting things in motion, then went to shower and get
ready for the day. He would call Tina Mulder after he was dressed.
**************************
Thursday, 7:04 a.m.
Minneapolis, Ulrich Residence
Elijah Brandon was not pleased. He saw the report on the early morning news.
Mulder was injured slightly, along with two other agents, but that was it.
They'd defused his bombs. No one died. No one had paid yet. Well, that
wasn't completely true. He glanced around the living room, at the sparse
furniture, the drawn drapes and shades, then at the body that lay on the floor
where it had fallen. That one had paid, at least. He'd used the gun on that
one
and it had felt good. So good. He'd use the gun on Mulder, too. It was right.
Live by the sword, die by the sword. He smiled at the thought. Live by the
gun, die by the gun. They'd be coming here. He had to make sure Mulder
would come. He had to plan it right.
**************************
Thursday, 7:17 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
"Hello, ma'am, this is Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Your son works with
me."
He had finally gotten the nerve to call and now stood in his bedroom, door
closed to avoid the noise of the agents in the other room from distracting him.
He waited, almost breathlessly, for a response from the woman at the other end
of the line.
"Is Fox hurt?"
At least the woman seemed concerned. Skinner rushed to reassure her.
"No ma'am. That is, nothing serious. That's not really why I've called
ma'am."
"Then I'm afraid I don't understand. What can I do for you Mr. Skinner?"
Skinner swallowed nervously, wiped at the sweat on his brow. Why did he
feel he was being called into the Principal's office?
"Ma'am, Mulder, that is, Fox has been working on a case with me and with his
partner in the Twin Cities."
"Yes, I've seen the news."
Tina Mulder's voice sounded flat, expressionless. Skinner started to wonder if
perhaps this was where his agent had gotten that little talent he displayed so
regularly.
"Mrs. Mulder, perhaps you've heard, then, that Fox's partner, Dana Scully,
was taken by the suspect two days ago."
"Yes, I heard that."
Skinner paused for a moment, assuming more was coming. Evidently not.
"Ma'am, Fox has been working on this case almost around the clock. He's
been profiling both the suspect and the victims. Certain ... aspects of the
case
have caused him great distress. And, on top of this, his partner's abduction has
hit him very hard. I thought perhaps you would like to know. That perhaps
...."
Skinner licked his dry lips again and prepared to continue, although he
suddenly wished he had never called.
"You think I would be able to help him if I were there?"
Skinner couldn't respond. The woman sounded angry. Why would she be
angry?
"Mr. Skinner, the last time I spoke with my son he accused me .... well, let's
just say it was not a very pleasant meeting. I don't believe I could be of much
help to you -- or to him. I doubt very much he1d want me there. Good day,
Mr. Skinner."
Walter Skinner stood staring at the phone in his hand, disbelief coursing
through him. It was a long time later that he finally felt ready to face the
men in
the other room.
**************************
Thursday, 8:09 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
The man was hurting his sister. The man told him the testing was important.
He had passed the test and his brother had passed the test, and now his sister
had to pass the test. In order to go to heaven, they all had to pass the test.
He
had cried when it had been his time to be tested, but he would go to heaven now
because he had passed. Emmy had to go to heaven, too. He couldn't be
without his sister for all eternity. He told her to pray during the testing but
she
hadn't listened and now she was crying out loud and calling for him.
He was on the steps, looking through the slightly open door to the basement
storage area. He shook his head at her, put a finger to his lips, telling her
to be
quiet. She kept crying and the man was hurting her again. Why wouldn't she
do what she was supposed to? He didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure
what would happen if she failed the test. He didn't know what failure meant to
the man.
The man was hurting his sister. The man told him he couldn't interfere. But
she was calling his name. She needed him and he kept sitting there, watching.
She yelled his name and looked at him. Samantha was being hurt. Daddy was
hurting Samantha. "Fox, help me." She screamed his name. His father turned
then too, and laughed at him, at his impotence, at his helplessness. He had
failed her, again.
"No." He lurched awake, gasping for breath, eyes frantically searching the
room, trying to figure out where he was. He jerked as the door flew open, saw
the towering figure, and put one hand up to protect himself, shrinking back on
the pillows. He felt disoriented, sick to his stomach. What was happening?
What was going on?
"Mulder? Mulder, it's me. It's Walter Skinner."
Skinner hadn't considered what his sudden presence in the door would do to
his abruptly awakened agent. He realized his mistake and thanked the Lord
Mulder's first reaction hadn't been to go for his gun. But at the same time he
was disturbed at what his agent's reaction had been.
Skinner stepped into the room slowly, noting that the younger man had dropped
his arm and now held it across his stomach. Mulder suddenly rolled out of bed
and stumbled to his bathroom, closing the door behind him. Skinner groaned
internally, in sympathy and concern. He turned on the bedside lamp, then left
the room, quietly shutting the door to give his agent privacy.
Nodding to the agents gathered around the table, he moved to the phone and
dialed Margaret Scully's room. He needed to speak with her and Janice
Anderson in private.
**************************
Both women were dressed and Skinner noted the breakfast cart in the corner of
the room.
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your breakfast?"
Margaret waved him in further and replied.
"No, we had just finished. Walter, what is it? Has something happened?"
Skinner sat in the offered chair, waiting for both women to sit. He had already
decided to let Margaret know what was happening with Brandon. Now, he
decided to let her also know what was happening with Mulder.
"Yes, actually. We know where he has Dana. We're going to be moving in
about an hour. We're finalizing plans now. We're pretty sure that he's
expecting us and will be demanding Mulder as a trade for Scully. He blames
Mulder personally for derailing his plans."
Skinner paused and turned to Janice then.
"I'm worried about Mulder. He was up most of the night. He's the one that
made the connection that allowed us to locate Brandon."
Skinner saw Janice Anderson shake her head, noted Margaret Scully's look of
concern.
"I didn't find out until after five this morning. He practically collapsed when
I
put him to bed. He went straight to sleep but just woke up. Tresky, Vickers
and Jenkins are working with me in the suite. He scared the crap out of all of
us
with a scream that took a year off my life. He's been having nightmares since
the beginning on this case but this was different. He's probably still in his
bathroom loosing everything he's eaten in the last day."
Skinner paused again, and cursed himself for what he was about to ask.
Cursed the fates at the situation which made it the only thing to do.
"Janice, we need him today. We need him if we're going to get Dana back."
Skinner's eyes flicked to Margaret Scully briefly, then back to Janice, pleading
silently for her understanding.
"I need you to check him out. Then I need you to do whatever necessary to get
him on his feet. He has to keep it together for just a few more hours."
Janice hadn't changed expression, but Margaret inhaled sharply, and he saw her
shake her head from side to side. Janice's voice was kind when she answered.
"AD Skinner, I understand. I'll check on Mulder. As long as I concur that no
permanent physical damage will result, I'll make sure he can function for the
next several hours."
Skinner noted the stress on the word physical. He knew where Janice was
coming from. She wouldn't be responsible for any lasting mental or
psychological damage. That would be solely his responsibility.
He nodded and stood, then realized Margaret Scully was also standing.
"No, Walter, I don't understand this. I don't understand at all. He needs to
be
in a hospital or at least at home in bed with someone to care for him. You
can't
expect him to go out there like that. He's injured, he's exhausted."
Her words finally came to an end as she realized, looking from one grim face to
another, that she could never do this job. She could never make these kinds of
decisions, these kinds of sacrifices. She felt the tears spill out of her eyes,
but
couldn't summon the energy to wipe them away. Instead, she closed her eyes
and prayed to her Lord to watch over Fox and to bring him to her daughter in
safety and health.
**************************
Thursday, 8:47 a.m.
Minneapolis Center Hotel
Mulder heard the knock at his door and said, "Come."
"Morning, Mulder."
He was surprised to hear a woman's voice. He'd expected Skinner. He turned
quickly from the mirror on the closet door and saw Janice Anderson, standing
stiffly in front of the now closed bedroom door. She held her medical bag in
her right hand and Mulder didn1t have to wonder at what she intended.
He turned his back to her without a word, moving once again to put on his tie.
He decided that if he ignored the woman she might just go away.
Unfortunately, she and Scully shared the trait of persistence as well as so many
other things. He could sense her irritation building behind him.
"Agent Mulder, don't bother with that just yet. In fact, please take off your
shirt. I need to see your injuries from last night."
Mulder continued with his strategy of ignoring her. Ignore her long enough
and she'll go away. He pulled the end of his tie down and through the knot,
then pulled the two tails together, making sure they were straight. He heard
Janice clear her throat behind him and grimly reminded himself to ignore her.
"Agent Mulder, AD Skinner will not allow you out of this room until I have
given my okay. I suggest you cooperate."
Janice saw him freeze then for a full ten seconds, both hands still on his tie.
Then she saw his shoulders slump and arms drop to his side with the realization
that he couldn't win this one.
Mulder turned, finally, to look at her, expression blank. He lifted his arms
slightly, as if in supplication, and said, "I'm fine, Janice. I feel just
fine."
Janice smiled lightly at him before replying. "Well, then this should go pretty
quickly, shouldn't it?"
She gestured at his clothes. "Lose them, Mulder." Janice watched closely as
he removed the just fastened tie, then unbuttoned his dress shirt, removed it,
then pulled his undershirt off slowly, gingerly. She saw the guarded look, the
occasional grimaces, the fight to keep his features frozen. He angled his body
in the right direction, then raised his left arm slightly so she could get
easier
access. He stood motionless, then, patiently waiting for her to do whatever she
needed to do.
Janice pulled the bandages away, checking the stitches and saw they were
healing reasonably well. She removed the bandages altogether, put ointment on
his various gashes and cuts, then applied clean bandages. When he moved to
put his undershirt back on she gestured for him to wait.
"Hang on, Mulder, I want to check you out. Could you sit on the bed, please?"
She ignored the look he gave her and watched him move to the bed and sit. All
in all, he was moving pretty well. She could see the forced control, the
lightly
shaking muscles that were evidence of exhaustion. Still, she was surprised at
how good he looked, considering what AD Skinner had told her. She pulled a
chair over to sit in front of him.
Janice first checked his pulse and recognized it to be quite fast. Given that
he
was pissed as Hell at her right now, that wasn't so unusual. She checked blood
pressure, listened to heart, had him breathe deeply for her. She nodded to him,
then felt his face for warmth. He seemed to be okay, but she pulled out the
thermoscan just to be sure. Only slightly elevated temperature. Nothing to
worry about overly much.
Janice sat back in the chair and looked at the man before her critically.
Without
his shirt, she could see every rib, evidence of the excessive weight loss. She
looked back at his face, once again noting the glare of defiance. Janice smiled
at him kindly to let him know she wasn't his enemy.
"Okay, Mulder. I've got some vitamins for you and I want to give you a shot
that'll help give you a little more energy this morning. You'll crash hard this
afternoon, but it'll help you get through the next few hours. You need to eat
this morning. I'll give you something to help keep it down."
Janice saw Mulder relax and decided it was as good a time as any to break the
news. With a grin she said, "Stand and drop 'em, Mulder, I need a cheek for
this one."
The wide eyes and look of shock was priceless. Then his expression altered,
eyes narrowing in suspicion. Mulder evidently didn't trust her completely. She
couldn't help the laugh that took hold.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm not lying to you. The arm won't do it."
He heaved a sigh, stood and turned, started unbuckling belt and pants, then
turned to look over his shoulder at her, obviously waiting for her to prepare
the
shot before he dropped his drawers. She smiled at him and reached into her
bag, pulling out the already prepared syringe. Removing the plastic tip
protector, she pushed slightly at the plunger, sending a small stream of fluid
flying. She held her right hand up and gestured to him. With a quick pull on
his boxers she had bared the hip, swabbed a spot with alcohol soaked cotton,
and jabbed in the needle, then suppressed the plunger efficiently. She yanked
out the needle, then pulled up his pants, saying, "All set, Mulder. You're good
to go."
Janice stood, picked up her bag, and then swatted him lightly on the rear end.
She was out the door before he could react.
**************************
Thursday, 10:04 a.m.
Minneapolis , Street of Ulrich Residence
They had stopped several houses down. Another SWAT van was in the alley
that ran behind the house. Teams of agents spilled out of the vans and melted
against the nearby houses. The teams were gradually working their way to
Ulrich's house, to fully surround it. The street had been closed off long ago,
all nearby houses quietly emptied.
Mulder had his vest securely fastened, with a light windbreaker jacket over top
proclaiming him clearly to be FBI. Skinner was beside him in the van serving
as command center, similarly arrayed. Everyone was in place. They were
ready to make the call.
The phone was picked up at the other end but no one spoke. Finally Mulder
said, "Dr. Brandon? It's Fox Mulder."
"Hello, Agent Mulder. I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?"
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Dr. Brandon. I'm here now. How's
Agent Scully?"
It was too early in the conversation to ask it, but Mulder couldn't wait. He
had
to know that she was all right.
"She's here. She's fine. She belongs to me right now. But I'll trade her
.....
for you."
Mulder looked over at Skinner. So far, everything was what they expected.
They had to get Scully out in the open. Then they could take Brandon.
"Dr. Brandon, we can talk about it. But I'm not calling the shots here. I
tried
to explain that to you the last time we spoke. The Assistant Director is here.
Perhaps you'd like to speak with him."
"No. I don't want to hear any of that crap, Fox. May I call you Fox?"
Mulder swallowed, looked nervously to Skinner again, then replied. "Yes, you
can call me Fox. Should I call you Elijah?"
Mulder wiped the sweat of his forehead with one hand, wondering where this
was going. They were off script way too early.
"No, I would prefer if you didn't, actually. I hate the name."
"Well, in that case, why don't you call me Mulder?"
Mulder couldn't help it. This guy was getting to him. They could hear
Brandon laughing, as if he'd just heard the greatest joke of the year.
The negotiating leader sat back in his chair and shook his head, as confused as
Mulder. This guy was difficult to peg. The negotiator grimaced at Mulder and
raised his hand, gesturing slightly. Mulder was on his own for now.
"So, Brandon, let's talk. The best I can do is run any suggestion you might
have past the Assistant Director."
Brandon's voice was hard now.
"No more of that shit. I'm dealing with you. You deal with me."
Mulder licked his lips nervously. The man had blown every possibility they'd
had. Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, then replied. "Okay, Brandon.
You got me. Now tell me what you want."
"Why, Agent Mulder, what do you thing? I want you, of course. You know
that."
Mulder nodded before answering. "Why, Brandon? For what purpose?"
There was silence for a moment, then a harsh laugh.
"Because you ruined everything. You ruined it all and you have to pay."
"What did I ruin, Brandon? You mean that I stopped you from killing and
torturing more children? From abusing them? From hurting them in ways they
never deserved?"
Mulder heard his voice becoming strident, demanding. He consciously told
himself to back off, not antagonize the man. He realized Skinner had placed his
hand on his right arm.
"No! Their parents were the ones who hurt them. I was going to take them
away from all that. All they had to do was pass the test and they'd be fine.
But
they all failed. Robby wouldn't have, though. Robby was different. And you
took him from me. You did."
"You tortured seven innocents, Brandon. You tortured them and then killed
them. You hurt them.ý
Mulder decided to take a different track, to take a visit to the past. He had
to get
Ulrich1s mind off the present, off the fact that Mulder was responsible for
stopping the man1s little test.
3Is that what Ulrich did to Emmy? Did Emmy deserve it, Brandon? Did she
deserve to die?"
Mulder's breathing had quickened. He had to concentrate on slowing it down.
Skinner's grip tightened even more. They could hear Brandon on the other end
of the line, also breathing heavily. Then there was a noise, a crash. Everyone
in the van jerked, wondering what had happened. Mulder was on his feet,
ready to run out the door if it came to it. Skinner was also up, making the van
seem incredibly crowded all of a sudden.
A shot echoed but Mulder couldn't tell whether it came from outside or from in
the house. It was an echo over the phone line. He was looking around the van
wildly, hoping someone would tell him what was happening.
"Brandon? Dr. Brandon? What is it? What's happened? Are you there?"
Mulder couldn't take this. He had to know what was happening, whether
Scully was all right. He put the phone down and had taken a step to the door
when he heard Brandon on the line again. He sank into the chair once again
and picked up the handset.
"I'm here. What was it? Was that a gunshot? Where's Scully?"
"Your partner's feisty, Agent Mulder. She almost managed to sneak up on me.
Good thing I had her gun, huh?"
Mulder was on his feet in a flash. "You hurt her, Brandon, and I'll kill you
myself, I swear to God."
Skinner was next to his agent, gripping his arm, whispering to him. "Mulder,
no. Don't threaten him. Don't antagonize him."
Skinner knew this wasn't going well, but had no alternative approaches to
offer. He had to trust Mulder and his instincts.
"Brandon, where's Scully? Where is she?"
"Don't worry, Agent Mulder. She's still safe. She'll be fine. Just as soon as
I
see you at my door. I'm going now, Mulder. If you're not here in five
minutes, your partner's dead."
The click was decisive, causing Mulder to jerk, the phone dropping from his
hand. He turned to Skinner, somehow hoping the man would know what they
should do. He saw the same indecisiveness as was on his own face.
Mulder pulled out his weapon, checked it and snapped it back in his holster.
He checked the straps on his vest, then closed the jacket over it, hiding it
from
view, but still making sure he had easy access to the gun. He was already
wired for sound and now inserted an earpiece.
He looked over at Skinner, saw the worried expression. He couldn't deal with
it right now. He had to concentrate on getting Scully back. Mulder grabbed the
doors of the van and threw them open. He stopped when he felt the hand on
his shoulder and turned back to his boss.
"Mulder, be careful. Remember, Scully won't be very happy with you if you
end up dead or wounded. And she'd be really pissed at me."
Mulder smiled at him, recognizing the affection behind the words.
"I'll be careful, sir."
Mulder jumped out of the van and strode down the sidewalk quickly, stopping
in front of Ulrich's house. He spoke softly, wanting to make sure they were
picking him up in the van.
"Can you hear me all right?"
"Loud and clear, Mulder. Remember, I don't want to have to explain to Scully
if you get hurt."
Mulder held his arms out to his sides, showing anyone who might be watching
from in the house that he wasn't holding a weapon. He looked around the
house, noting the agents surrounding it, all eyes on him.
Mulder started walking slowly, straight up the front walk towards the house.
He could see no movement in any of the windows, nothing that would suggest
he was being watched from inside. He stopped at the foot of the stairs that led
to the front porch. Raising his voice, he yelled out. "Brandon, I'm here. Now
do what you said you would and let Scully go."
Mulder stood now, not moving, prepared to wait Brandon out. He didn't have
to wait long. A muffled voice from inside cried out. "Come up on the porch,
Agent Mulder. I don't like having to yell through doors."
Mulder bit his lower lip, flicked eyes to right and left again to access the
readiness of the waiting agents, then slowly climbed the stairs, stopping at the
top. He heard Skinner's voice in his earpiece, telling him not to go in the
house, no matter what. He nodded, knowing the man would see. His arms
were shaking from fatigue now. He had to lower them.
"Okay, Brandon. This is it. I'm not taking another step until you send Agent
Scully out."
The door opened a crack and Mulder caught a flash of auburn hair. He felt his
breath catch in his throat. He whispered, "Scully," unable to keep it back.
"A step for a step, Mulder. You take a step and I'll let her take a step."
Mulder couldn't help himself. He had to see Scully's face. It was worth
getting a step closer to danger. He took a step and saw Scully, finally,
through
the door. She was staring at him, eyes wide. A bruise shown clearly on her
right temple, but she looked okay for the most part.
Mulder could tell her hands were tied behind her back. He still couldn't see
Brandon, didn't know where he was in relation to his partner. Mulder dropped
his hands slightly more, positioning his right hand within inches of his weapon.
He stared at his partner, trying to understand what she was attempting to tell
him with her eyes.
Mulder's throat was so dry he couldn't swallow. He wasn't sure how this was
going to play out because he still didn't truly know what Brandon wanted -- or
what he thought he wanted. Did he want to play with Mulder? Torture him?
Or would he be content with a quick bullet? If it were the latter the man
wanted,
he could get his wish right now, right here. Mulder was certainly close
enough. Brandon's voice, disembodied, came through the door once again.
"Another step, Mulder, another step for a step."
Mulder's eyes never left his partner's. He saw her shake her head, urging him
not to do what the man had said. He heard Skinner's voice, telling him not to
do it.
He took another small step forward, relieved to see Scully standing clearly in
the doorway, now. She'd been pushed from behind, by Brandon.
Mulder still couldn't figure the man's game. He tried to gage how close Scully
was now. How difficult it would be to grab her and throw her out of the way.
It would take another step, at least. Two agents stood within feet of him now,
on either side of the door, but back far enough to be out of sight. But oddly,
he
wasn't reassured.
Mulder moved his right hand yet again, to within an inch of his gun, then took
another step forward. Scully was thrown at him and he had to move his hands
to catch her. He grabbed her and swung her around, pushing her towards the
agent to the left of the door. Unfortunately, he'd had to turn his body to the
side, unwillingly presenting an easy target for the man inside. Before Mulder
or anyone else knew what had happened, his arm had been grabbed and he was
yanked in the house hard and thrown against the far wall. Mulder's head met
the brick wall with a dull thud and he fell to the floor in a heap. He heard a
distant yelling but couldn't make it out, knew only that it was Skinner's voice.
Blood was in his eyes as he tried to get to his knees. It was so difficult to
move, but he'd promised Skinner he'd be careful. Scully would be mad at him.
He had to get back to her.
Mulder felt something at his waist, felt something taken from him. It took him
a moment to realize what it had been. Brandon now had his gun in addition to
Scully's. Mulder stopped moving, stayed on the floor in a heap, huddled over
his knees. His head was pounding from the crack against the wall and he was
just so tired. He was vaguely aware of movement, but wasn't completely sure
who it was or what it meant. He wanted to sleep, to close his eyes and block
out all the noise, the insistent voice in his ear.
There was a scuffle by his head and he cracked open an eye briefly to see the
toe of a shoe, three inches from his eyes. Then there was another noise and
this
time he opened his eyes to the view of a knee. Brandon shoved him, forcing
him to roll over on his back. Mulder thought his head would explode at this
new experience and couldn't prevent the cry and accompanying groan that
escaped. He fought for control over his surging stomach and finally managed
to open his eyes for more than a second at a time.
There was blood in the right one and he lifted a hand to wipe it away. He saw
Brandon, finally, kneeling over him, an intent expression on his face. Mulder
wondered what the man was thinking and then realized he probably didn't want
to know. He didn't feel at all well. Mulder closed his eyes and decided to
take
a nap. Maybe things would be looking up when he woke again.
**************************
Scully was furious. He'd done it again, ditched her. Granted, these
circumstances were slightly different than the usual, but still, the fact
remained
that he'd gone off somewhere that she couldn't follow. By her rules, that was
ditching your partner. She knew she wasn't really being fair. After all, she
was pretty sure he hadn't intended on being grabbed. And by the muffled
cursing she heard from the two agents stationed by the door she was pretty sure
they hadn't intended it either.
She'd been quickly led around the side of the house where her arms were freed,
cut ropes falling to the ground. She was then taken out of the yard, through
two other house's yards, and finally to the door of a SWAT van. The doors
opened and AD Skinner stepped down to greet her.
"Dana, I'm glad you're well. Come on, I'll help you up."
Skinner made no suggestion of a hospital. He had rapidly taken in her
disheveled appearance, the bruise on her temple, the bloodied hands, and
written them all off as minor. If she made it here on her own feet, she could
last a little longer. Besides, he had a feeling he'd need her to get Mulder
back.
He was back at the control board, headset on. He gestured for Scully to sit,
turned to her and said, "Brandon must have thrown him against the wall.
We're pretty sure he's been hurt again. We have him wired for sound and he's
wearing an earpiece. Don't know if it's still operational."
Scully looked at him, mouth slightly open, trying to process what she'd just
been told. One thing stuck out. "Hurt again, sir?"
Skinner realized then that Scully didn't know about the church. Damn. Of
course. How would she know?
"Yesterday we hit the church where you'd been held. It was wired with
explosives. Mulder figured it out in time and managed to prevent a disaster.
In
the process he got a little banged up."
Skinner decided to sanitize the story slightly. There was nothing they could do
right now, after all. He was worried that they hadn't heard from Mulder in over
three minutes. He needed to know what was going on. He spoke into the
mouthpiece of the headset.
"Mulder, Scully's here. She's safe, Mulder. Can you hear me?"
Skinner turned to the operator in the van and asked him to get another headset
for Scully, then turned to her.
"Scully, listen to me. We need intelligence that only Mulder can give us. We
can't rush the house without it. And he's not responding to me. Maybe he'll
respond to you. Try to get him to tell us where Brandon is, what weapon's he
has, whether the house is wired with explosives, what he's doing, anything
that'll give us an idea of what we're dealing with."
Scully nodded and sat shakily. With blood-streaked hands she put on the
offered headset and took a deep breath.
"Hey, partner, what are you up to in there? I thought we agreed you wouldn't
go ditching me again."
There was nothing but rustling coming through the static.
"Hey, Mulder, can you let me know if you hear me? I've missed your voice.
Can you acknowledge in some way?"
Skinner and Scully exchanged quick glances at the groan that seemingly came in
response to her request.
"Mulder, are you hurt badly?"
There was a groan again, with a clearly negative sound to it. Skinner sighed
heavily, realizing Mulder was playing it safe, avoiding talking or appearing as
if
he were lucid. He turned to Scully and grasped one arm.
"I don't think he can talk now. Don't ask him any more questions just yet. Let
him know we're here and working on getting him out, but he might have to try
talking his way out of it."
Skinner took off the headset for a minute, stood and took a step to the rear of
the van. He looked out the cloudy window and tried to think unclouded
thoughts. He heard Scully talking softly to Mulder, making reassuring sounds.
It was clear to Skinner that they had only two options. Rush the house or get
Mulder to talk his way out.
The disadvantages of the first plan were obvious and extensive. Not only could
Mulder get shot by Brandon, he could also get caught in cross-fire by their own
people. Worse, the house was brick and cement, perfect candidates for
ricochets. Even if Mulder were across the room from Brandon he could get hit.
The second plan had it's own problems, not the least of which was that Mulder
was now past the point of collapse that Janice had predicted, and injured,
perhaps badly, on top of it. Skinner doubted his agent could string a sentence
together, let alone a cogent argument for surrender. The critical question was
whether there was a drawback to the second plan that would prevent them from
using it as a first step. It depended primarily on just how badly his agent was
injured -- whether he needed medical care immediately. Skinner decided to see
how Mulder managed with Brandon. Then if he failed, they could still charge
the house. Skinner quickly gave instructions to the team leaders.
He turned and sat down by Scully again, replacing the headset. He gestured to
her that he wanted to speak and heard her tell Mulder he was coming on line.
"Agent Mulder, the situation is this. We don't want to take the house unless
absolutely necessary. I want you to try to talk with Brandon and get him to
surrender. You know him, Mulder. You know what he's thinking. There's
got to be a way to get through to him."
Skinner closed his eyes at the loud, shaky breathing he heard, knowing his
agent was exhausted, hurt, in pain, and worse of all, alone. He finally heard a
rustling that suggested movement, accompanied by a groan. Mulder must have
moved to see Brandon better. Skinner glanced over at Scully, not surprised by
the hand she reached out to him. He gripped it in his, happy for the contact.
They both jerked slightly as Mulder's disembodied voice was heard echoing
through the van. It was shaky and barely above a whisper, but it was focused
and intent.
"Brandon, what happens now? What about your wife? What about your
practice? All the children who count on you? Are you going to desert them?"
It made Mulder sick to use children as an excuse, but he was desperate. He
didn't know how much longer he could hang on. He'd dropped off for a
couple minutes earlier only to awaken to his partner's voice. It was a good
thing to wake up to.
Mulder had to struggle now to keep his eyes open. He wanted to end this. He
needed it ended. Brandon was out of his sight and he couldn't move. He tried
to get an idea of where the man was and what he was doing, but he could hear
nothing to give him clues. A kick in the small of his back answered his
question.
Mulder gasped and cried out involuntarily at the suddenness of the shooting
pain that made it's way up his spine, settling like a knife in between his eyes.
He managed several shaky breaths, then forced his head to turn so he could
track Brandon. He couldn't help the slight whimper that forced its way through
his clenched jaw. He hoped Scully and Skinner wouldn't think too badly of
him. God, he wanted this over with. He'd do anything to have it end.
"What do you want from me, Brandon? Why don't you just kill me? Just kill
me."
Mulder didn't know who was more surprised at the words, Brandon or
himself. He realized that there must be a part of him that did want it to be
over
that badly.
Scully was not happy with his words. She was screaming at him, cursing at
him. "God damn you Mulder. Don't you dare say such a thing to that bastard.
Don't give him any ideas. Do you hear me, Mulder? You work to get out of
there -- alive. If you let him kill you, Mulder, so help me God I will kill you
again, just for good measure. Then I'll haunt you through all eternity telling
you how stupid you were."
He couldn't help the smile. He couldn't help the feeling of warmth that rushed
through him. She had just reminded him that he had everything to live for. He
had to focus on Brandon. He had to get out of this, alive.
Mulder decided Brandon looked crazed, pacing from dining room to living
room, gaze moving from side to side. Every once in a while, Brandon's gaze
would find its way to Mulder before flicking to other points in the room.
Mulder tried to reason out what was happening. He couldn't understand why
Brandon hadn't just killed him. He would have to make the first move, again.
Mulder cleared his throat, tried to lick his lips, before speaking.
"Dr. Brandon, the man who was responsible for Emmy's death and for Jacob's
death is gone now. You got justice finally."
Brandon froze at the mention of his sister and brother, his face suddenly a
portrait in pain. Mulder had to close his eyes for a second and remind himself
of all the victims this man had created. Mulder couldn't afford to feel sorry
for
him. Not right now. Maybe later. He was surprised by the violence in
Brandon's voice and couldn't help jerking at the bitter words.
"What kind of justice? Ulrich didn't suffer."
Brandon was towering over Mulder, face contorted in fury.
"He didn't suffer for thirty years. He didn't have parents who blamed him. He
didn't have police, like you, who didn't believe him, didn't help him."
Brandon's fury erupted and he once again aimed his foot at Mulder's middle.
Mulder managed to turn slightly in the hopes of protecting his left side and the
injuries sustained the previous night. It wasn't enough. He could feel the
stitches tearing apart with the kick. Mulder's vision started to go black as he
fought the new onslaught on his senses. The pain was incredible. He wanted it
to end. He heard something finally, through the noise of his raspy breathing
and the rushing in his ears. He heard an angel's voice, speaking to him softly,
soothingly. It was telling him to hold on, that she was there and that he'd
make
it through this. It was Scully's voice and he had to believe her. He wanted to
believe her so he could be with her again.
Brandon had been pacing jerkily and now focused his sight on Mulder once
more, taking up where he'd left off, as if nothing had happened between the last
sentence and the present.
"He didn't lose a part of himself. Two parts. Jacob was lost to me when
Emmy was, he was never the same again. Ulrich took them both from me and I
.... " Suddenly Brandon's voice dropped, turned soft as he continued. "I did
nothing. I did nothing. She cried for me to help her and I did nothing. You
couldn't possibly understand."
Mulder knew he had to keep himself separate from Brandon. He couldn't
empathize. He couldn't lose himself in the man's emotions. It could mean his
life. But if he could get Brandon to trust him, surrender was a possibility.
It
was worth the risk.
"Dr. Brandon, I know how it feels to lose a sister. My sister Samantha was
taken from me. She was just eight and I was twelve. I was watching her. She
was my responsibility. I couldn't help her. She called out to me and I
couldn't
move."
His voice cracked, both from exhaustion and the pain of the memory. He
needed to stop for a moment.
In the command center, Scully raised one hand to her face to wipe away her
tears. The tears mixed with the dried blood on her hands and left a streak of
red
across her cheeks. As new tears followed, they turned red, making it appear
that Scully cried bloody tears for her partner's pain.
Brandon was on the move again, this time coming towards Mulder quickly.
Mulder couldn't tell whether he was angry, couldn't guess what the man
intended. He was relieved when Brandon stopped a couple feet away. The
man bent on one knee and looked down at Mulder curiously.
"Was she taken for the testing, too?"
Mulder could hear the twin intakes of breath in his ear. Both Skinner and
Scully must have been surprised by the question. Mulder wasn't. He'd half
expected it.
"Yes, she was taken for testing. It was supposed to be me but they took her
instead."
He could only manage a ragged whisper now, and Brandon had to move closer
to hear him.
"You were supposed to be tested, too?"
Mulder realized the man was empathizing with him and he suddenly felt even
more ill at the thought they had something in common. He managed a "Yes"
and closed his eyes tightly, fighting for control for just a little longer.
Brandon asked, "Did your parents protect you from the testing?"
Mulder almost cried at the question. He wished he knew the answer. He knew
nothing, even after all these years.
"I don't know. It's possible they .... chose Samantha instead of me."
Mulder closed his eyes, tried to think of anything but the image in his mind.
Of
his mother and father arguing, a young Cancerman standing off to the side.
Arguing about what?
"Then you understand? You really understand?"
Mulder opened his eyes and looked into Brandon's, willing himself to be able
to lie boldfaced to this man who held his gun in one hand and had Scully's at
his waist.
"I understand, Dr. Brandon. I do understand."
Brandon searched his face, looked into his eyes, then pushed himself back,
away from Mulder, standing as if he were dizzy. Maybe he was. It looked as
if he'd lost some anchor or as if a sudden change in perception had caused his
world to tilt. And then Mulder did understand. And it made him sick that he
did.
"You're not alone, Dr. Brandon. I understand."
Brandon sank to his knees and tears started spilling down his face.
Mulder sensed a change. Perhaps surrender really was possible. He heard
Scully speaking to him softly, relaying advice from the hostage negotiator.
"Mulder, Baker says you have to give Brandon something to hope for,
something that would make him willing to give up."
Mulder considered the suggestion. Tried to imagine what would make Brandon
so willing. Finally thought of one thing.
"Dr. Brandon, you need to give yourself up, now. There's nothing more to
prove. No more justice to be taken. It's time to rest."
Mulder took a deep breath before going on, fighting off the blackness, the pain,
the despair.
"Dr. Brandon, you need to think of your wife. She loves you. She's worried
about you. She wants to see you again."
Mulder saw Brandon sink to his knees, Mulder's gun loose in his hand, but still
pointing at the man lying motionless on the floor. Brandon shook his head,
slowly, from side to side, then raised his gaze to meet Mulder's.
"No, I can't let her see me like this. I can't. She never knew. She didn't
know about Emmy and Jacob .... and me."
Mulder tried to move, to roll so he could sit up. It was impossible. He
managed to turn his head so he could see Brandon more comfortably.
"Dr. Brandon, sometimes we try to protect the ones we love. We try to keep
things from them because we think it's for their benefit."
Mulder was gasping out the words. Speaking was becoming ever more
difficult. Brandon leaned forward, seemingly captivated by what the agent was
saying.
"But we do them a disservice because it means we don't trust them. Sometimes
.... sometimes we don't say what we should say. We waste the opportunities.
We lose the chance."
Mulder had to pause again. He kept a picture of Scully firmly in his mind. It
gave him hope. It gave him faith to keep trying for surrender. But it also
made
him say what he'd never planned on saying.
"Sometimes, we should just tell them. Should tell them that we love them and
trust them. Should say ... I love you."
Mulder could hear Scully crying, softly. He hadn't meant to make her cry. But
in case something happened, in case things didn't go right, he didn't want to
miss the opportunity. Now, though, he had to make this about Brandon again.
Mulder opened his eyes and looked at the man once again. Brandon looked
confused.
"Maybe you should try trusting your wife, Dr. Brandon. If she loves you,
she'll understand, too. She's waiting for you. She wants to see you again, Dr.
Brandon."
Mulder saw the man nod.
"You need to give yourself up. You need to surrender so you can see her and
explain."
Brandon nodded again. No words, no other movement. Just a nod.
Mulder had to sit, to stand. He had to walk out with the man, make sure
nothing went wrong. But he was in agony. Every movement sent him nearer
to the edge of consciousness. He had to fight it for just a couple minutes
more.
Mulder started struggling to a sitting position and was finally able to lean
against the wall. Each breath came in hard bursts, accompanied now by
involuntary whimpers. He could do this. He had to do this. Scully was
waiting for him. He heard her voice telling him she was waiting for him.
"Dr. Brandon, let's go outside. Okay, Dr. Brandon? Are you ready?"
Brandon again nodded his head, watching as Mulder struggled to his feet.
Mulder's body was sending him all sorts of signals that he probably shouldn't
be standing. But he knew it would only be for a couple of minutes and then he
could sleep. He could hold Scully's hand, touch her fiery hair, make sure she
was okay, then sleep for a week. He only needed to get through the next
couple minutes.
The sharp pain in his side and the wet stickiness reminded him yet again in no
uncertain terms that Brandon had opened the stitches along his side. Mulder
ignored it, as he ignored all the other hurts. He had to focus on walking out
the
door with Brandon. Then it would be over. Scully was waiting for him.
"Dr. Brandon, you have to give me the guns. Sir, I need the weapons. You
can't leave here with them."
It was obvious to Mulder the man wasn't going to give them up, for whatever
reasons. Perhaps they gave him a sense of security. Mulder stood slumped
against the wall, barely upright, and tried to add some forcefulness to his
fading
voice.
"Dr. Brandon, give me the guns."
Brandon stood, back to the living room wall, hands clenching the gun tightly to
his chest. He looked like a cornered animal, terrified. Mulder knew he
wouldn't be able to get the weapons.
"Okay, Dr. Brandon. But you need to hold your hands in the air when we go
out. Otherwise, the police might think you're going to shoot at them."
Mulder didn't know what to do now. He couldn't tell if Brandon understood
him. But he knew he wasn't going to last beyond the next five minutes, one
way or the other. His legs were shaking so badly, he didn't even know if
they'd continue to hold him. Mulder decided he had to get them both out of the
house, now.
"Come on, Dr. Brandon. You need to go first, with your hands raised."
Each word was a forced whisper, but even so Mulder knew they'd heard him
over the microphone. Mulder heard Skinner shouting orders to the teams
through his earpiece. He knew they were being given instructions not to shoot
as long as Brandon's hands were raised. He was also reassured by the notice
to the agents and officers that one of their own would be following the man out.
Mulder dragged himself the three steps to the door, using the wall as a prop as
he moved along. He rested his head against the front door for a moment,
marshaling his resources, gathering the last of his remaining strength.
He whispered raggedly, "Scully, we're coming out," and was happy to hear her
voice reply, "I'm waiting for you, Mulder."
Mulder rotated his head slightly to see Brandon beside him, still looking
confused and dazed.
"Dr. Brandon, please give me the guns."
Mulder gave up trying, turned the door knob and slowly opened to door,
gesturing for Brandon to go first.
"Dr. Brandon, raise your hands in the air as high as you can."
Brandon took a step out, then another, his hands in the air. In the right hand
he
still held Mulder's gun. There was a noise to the right and Brandon turned in
response, dropping his arms without thinking. Mulder saw it happening, knew
it didn't have to, and couldn't help himself. He threw himself out the door,
grabbing Brandon around the waist, the momentum causing them both to drop
to the ground.
Skinner and Scully saw it on the monitors, heard the twin shots echo out before
the shout to hold fire, then the yell for the paramedics. Someone was hit.
They were both out the door of the van and racing to the house, no thought for
whether the area was cleared or not. They had to check on Mulder.
Skinner got there first, saw that Brandon was being led away and Mulder was
lying on his back on the porch, unconscious, two agents hovering over him.
He knelt by the younger man's side, looking for blood and was reassured by
his initial assessment. He heard Scully then telling the agents to back away,
she
was a doctor.
At her direction, Skinner helped her gently remove Mulder's jacket. Two holes
were clearly apparent in the vest, along Mulder's right side, along the ribs.
Skinner prayed the vest had stopped the bullets from doing any further damage
to his agent. They got the vest off and both Scully and Skinner paused at the
blood that was then horribly obvious, coating Mulder's shirt and dripping down
his left side.
A quick investigation of the inside of the vest showed no bullets had
penetrated.
Then Skinner understood. The stitches must have torn open on the gash on
Mulder's side. Scully had pulled away her partner's shirt to reveal the wound.
She quickly applied pressure then looked over at Skinner. "A little banged up,
sir? That's what you call this?"
Skinner colored slightly at the recrimination in her voice. He really didn't
have
anything to say. He looked back to Mulder, noting again how pale the younger
man was. Seeing the bloodied forehead, recognizing signs of yet another
concussion hard on the heels of the first.
"Is he okay, Scully?"
He looked back to Scully to see her sway slightly, then guiltily remembered
she'd been held for close to two days, put through God knew what, and had
injuries of her own. He helped her to sit then and was relieved to see the
paramedics taking care of Mulder. He gently wiped the still damp blood off her
cheeks.
"Are you okay, Dana?"
Scully was dizzy all of the sudden. The last several days, Hell, the last week
was catching up to her. Once she had reassured herself that her partner would
be all right, the rush of adrenaline had departed, leaving her on the verge of
collapse. She felt Skinner's arms around her, heard his soothing voice, and
decided it was safe to leave things in his capable hands.
**************************
Friday, 2:37 a.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
Scully's first thought on waking was that she felt clean. She smiled slightly,
opened her eyes, and took in her surroundings. Hospital white. She turned her
head to the right and saw her mother, asleep in the chair by the window. Huh,
her mom was here. She turned her head in the other direction and saw
Skinner's face, barely visible on the far side of the bed next to her, also
asleep
in a chair. She then turned her head a little more to look at the person in the
next bed and let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding as she saw her
partner's face.
She heard movement then and saw Skinner standing, looking over Mulder's
form at her face. He moved around the bed quietly and came to her side,
gingerly picking up her left hand in his own. It was swathed in bandages that
continued partway up her forearm. He smiled at her, obviously pleased that she
was awake. His question was a soft whisper.
"How are you feeling?"
Scully took in a deep breath, surveyed her body from head to toe and smiled
back at him.
"I'm fine, sir. I feel good. How's Mulder?"
Skinner saw her trying to look around him so he moved farther down the length
of her bed and turned to glance at Mulder who continued to sleep undisturbed
by their whispering. Skinner had to smile to himself. He was pretty sure
Mulder would continue sleeping even if a conga line came through the room.
"He's doing good. Just catching up on some sleep. I don't expect him to wake
for a bit yet. They're intentionally keeping him under to give him time to heal
and rest. Maybe day after tomorrow they'll let him wake up for a bit. Maybe
let him eat a real meal."
Scully didn't look that reassured. Her forehead was creased in concern, eyes
still categorizing her partner's numerous injuries and the various displays on
the
beeping equipment to which he was connected. She looked back up at Skinner,
eyes questioning.
"He has another concussion. Evidently when Brandon pulled him in the house
he got slammed against the brick wall. CAT scan showed no problems. He
has a gash in his forehead, several stitches. He has bruised ribs where Brandon
evidently kicked him. Unfortunately, that also pulled all the stitches from his
side. He has thirty-seven stitches along his left rib cage. Cuts on his back
and
neck, as well, resulting from the explosion at the church. He's generally run
down. They're slightly worried about pneumonia so have him on an aggressive
treatment of antibiotics."
Skinner was fascinated by the fact that with each piece of data, which added up
to an overall mess, Scully actually seemed more reassured. Her doctor's eye
was evidently able to recognize that, while numerous, none of the injuries were
life-threatening.
"He basically needs to rest for a bit. And so do you."
Skinner was pleased to see her smile again at him, then close her eyes. With
head still turned towards her partner, Scully drifted to sleep once again, smile
lingering.
Skinner put her hand back down over the cover, patting it before letting it go
completely. He then turned to Mulder and walked the step necessary to get to
his side. He pulled up the covers as he had so many times in the past day, then
straightened Mulder's arm, making sure the IV tubing was clear of
entanglement. He brushed the younger man's hair back from his forehead,
letting his hand linger for just a moment.
Skinner decided it would be a good time to check in with Dave Jenkins and
make sure everything was under control. He also needed to check in with the
DC office. Had it only been a week and a half that he'd been gone? It seemed
like a month at the least. Skinner was unaware of the smile on Margaret
Scully's face as he left the room. She had witnessed his tender ministrations
to
his two agents. She was happy they had such a caring man looking out for
their interests.
**************************
Sunday, 3:52 a.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
Scully awoke to find both Skinner and her mother gone finally. After two days
of their nearly continual presence, she was relieved at the solitude. She had
been genuinely touched at Skinner's concern and had felt reassured to wake up
in both her mother's and his presence. It made her feel safe and protected in a
way she hadn't felt since she was little. But she was going to be released
tomorrow and Mulder would be waking up at any time. She missed him,
missed talking with him.
Scully sat up and swung her legs over the bed, put on slippers and robe, then
made her way to her partner's side. She had gotten over the shock of his
haggard appearance pretty quickly the first day, adjusted to the black and blue
marks covering half his face, his swollen eye, his hollow cheeks. Now, she
just wanted him awake.
It felt good to stand and Scully was pleased that there was no one there to yell
at
her. It was a little before four in the morning and it felt as if only she and
Mulder were alive in the world. Silence reined supreme. She heard his slight
snore as he breathed in and out, was reassured by this audible reinforcement
that things would soon be back to normal.
Scully leaned against her partner's bed slightly, resting both hands on his
right
arm, as she had so many times over the past five years. She ran her right hand
down to his fingers and grasped them lightly, careful not to disturb him. She
was shocked when his fingers curled around hers. Scully jerked her head to
look at his face and saw his eyes open, a small smile playing at his lips.
"Hey, Scully, I missed you."
He sounded horrible, voice barely above a whisper, but he was lucid and he
was smiling. Mulder was smiling at her and it was the most wonderful thing
Scully'd seen in weeks.
"You missed me? Mulder, you've been asleep for going on three days."
She said it jokingly, not wanting to cause him alarm. At his widened eyes she
said, "I missed you, too, Mulder."
Scully moved to get her partner a glass of water, but he wouldn't release her
hand. She looked back at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. I was just getting you a glass of water."
He was shaking his head at her.
"No, I don't need it. It can wait. Stay here with me."
Scully gave him an even wider smile, and in a spur of the moment decision,
dropped the rail of his bed and climbed on board. She lay down next him,
careful of the various lines leading from his arms and turned on her side,
resting
her head at his shoulder, barely touching him. She took his right hand in both
of hers and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.
Mulder was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long while. Scully was with
him. She was okay. She'd be here when he woke up. He leaned over far
enough to kiss the top of her head and then lay his head down, closed his eyes,
and fell asleep, a lingering smile lightening his features.
**************************
Sunday, 7:26 a.m.
Minneapolis Hospital
Walter Skinner and Margaret Scully found them that way several hours later.
The hospital staff had let them be, despite violations of various regulations.
Margaret made her way to Mulder's bed and stood for a silent moment,
reflecting on the power of the friendship between these two people. Skinner
had moved around to Scully's bed and now brought a blanket back to cover
them both. He smiled, legitimately happy that his agents were together again
and turned to Scully's mother.
"Margaret, I think they'll be just fine for an hour or two. Can I buy you
breakfast?"
The older couple left the room, lighthearted for a change, knowing that for the
next couple days at least, Dana and Fox would be safe, well, and happy -
together.
**************************
The End
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