Title: Revenge
Author: Lovesfox
E-mail: Lovesfox@rogers.com (Feed me, please)
Web site: http://www.geocities.com/kim_djd/index.html
Rating: NC-17 (violence, consensual M/S sex and strong
language)
Category: Implied UST then MSR, Angst, Story/X-File
Classification: XRA
Spoilers: Not really, but up to mid-S7
Archive: As long as my name and everything stays attached
Summary: An old case of Mulder's resurfaces seeking revenge
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine. They belong to Chris Carter and 1013
Productions.
Dedication: To true friendship, through thick and thin. Thanks,T.
Warning: This story contains some scenes of violence, a rape
attempt, implied character death, references to
incest, and graphic sex.
Revenge Part 7 of 29
by Lovesfox
Unknown Location
Leesburg, VA
Friday
8:45 pm
Elliot slammed the door open as he walked into his room, hands
fisted tightly and his nerves jangling. The pleasure had completely
faded, and only the anger remained. Dana Scully was just like the
others. Snobbish, worthless bitch...acting like she was better than
he and Elizabeth. That he was beneath her. He couldn't understand
why Elizabeth wanted to be friends with them. She didn't need them
because she had him.
He stumbled over to his chair and fell into it. He rested his
elbows on the desk, letting his head fall into his hands. His
thoughts were whirling and he was so confused. An image flashed in
his mind, of the stone monument that was all he had left of
Elizabeth. He moaned softly. Elizabeth was dead. So were all those
other girls.
Dana...Dana was different. She was here because of Mulder.
Elliot's head came up slowly. He hadn't called Mulder in a while.
Time to torment him some more. He grabbed the cellular phone off
the desk and dialed the number for Mulder. It rang twice before
he heard Mulder pant his name. The sound of Mulder's voice had
him perking up. His tense muscles relaxed and he sat back
comfortably in the chair. "Agent Mulder, how are you?" he said
pleasantly. He chuckled at Mulder's terse reply, asking about
Scully.
"She's...tied up right now," he answered. Inspiration struck, and
he almost wiggled in his seat. All those weeks following Mulder and
Dana, and he had never been able to absolutely confirm his
suspicions about their relationship, although Mulder's declaration
of love in the warehouse had been a strong indicator for one. He
was convinced they did have one though, despite Dana's unwillingness
to admit to it. This would tear Mulder apart. He inhaled deeply
and weaved his tale, putting pauses in all the right places. He
smiled gleefully, thinking that he wasn't so bad an actor himself.
Mulder's reaction was all he had imagined. The hoarseness of his
voice, that sharp gasp of breath. Perfect. If only he could have
been able to see Mulder's face, that would have made it so much more
rewarding. He laughed and laughed. He answered Mulder's question.
"Do, Agent Mulder? Why...anything I wanted." He waited a moment
and then added the capper. "Mulder?" He paused for a second.
"Did you know she's a screamer?"
Elliot laughed some more when he disconnected the call to Mulder,
flipping the cell phone once like a cowboy with his sidearm and
tucking it into his pocket. What a stroke of genius taunting
Mulder that way had been! He could only imagine what the agent
looked like after hearing those words, but what he pictured was
more than enough to have his pleasure soaring.
He coasted on that wave for a few minutes, until his thoughts
turned to Dana and his aborted rape again. Then the anger flared
anew and he got up from his chair with a violent motion, kicking
it away from him with a shouted curse. He stomped around the
small room, one floor beneath Dana's, and mumbled under his breath.
"Stupid bitch. Can't even keep me excited." He kicked the chair
again on his next pass, barely feeling the bolt of pain through
his foot.
He contemplated going up and killing her right there and then,
could almost feel her throat in his hands, see the panic and
fear in her blue eyes, was actually heading to the door to go up
there and do it.
NO! He told himself. It's not time yet. He took a deep breath
and then another, willing the rage to subside, forcing himself to
walk over to the chair and sit down again. He was going to leave
her alone, let her lay there and stew. He saw her again as
she had looked when he had lurched from the room. Her pants
down around her knees, bound hands up over her head, blood and
tears covering her face as she lay curled in a ball. Where was
her pride now?
The thought of her tied up and helpless had things stirring again.
He stood up, standing there, body trembling, but for a different
reason now. He began to walk to the door, ready to try again, but
the memory of his failure held him back, causing the desire to wane
slightly.
He would not go to her. An idea formed in his head, exciting him
again, and he scanned the room, looking for the bundle of Dana's
clothing. He spied it in the corner on the small stand, and made
his way stiffly to it, pawing through the pile, looking for
something in particular. His hands touched silk, and he pulled
her panties free. He ran them through his hands and then held
them to his face, inhaling her musky scent.
On quaking legs he made his way to his cot, one hand fumbling at
the button and zipper of his pants. He pulled his semi-erect flesh
out, and lay down, bringing the panties down to wrap around him.
He closed his eyes, picturing Elizabeth writhing beneath him, and
began to move the silk up and down, squeezing rhythmically. Moans
and sighs slipped past his lips, and his hips moved with his
pleasure. The images behind his lids changed, from Elizabeth's
face contorted with ecstasy, to Dana's fear-filled eyes and blood
stained mouth.
Gratification was quick as he came with a shout. His tremors
slowly ceased, his breaths returning to normal. He pulled the
panties away from himself and smiled. What an interesting gift
to send to Mulder.
***
9:30 pm
Scully groaned as she came out of whatever state she had fallen
into - sleep, unconsciousness, she wasn't sure. She just knew
that she had been unaware for quite some time. A glance at the
small window revealed the pitch black of night, and her body was
uncomfortably sore, most likely from lying in the same position
for so long. She was also extremely cold. She shivered and
stretched painfully. Her thighs had cramped, and they burned as
she forced them to straighten. She realized then why she was
cold. Her track pants were down around her knees.
At some point during her 'sleep' she had brought her bound arms
down from over her head, and they had curled in the space between
neck and shoulder. She bent and unbent her elbows slowly,
hissing at the pins and needles that signaled her nerves were
alive. Once they eased, she awkwardly maneuvered her body until
she could grasp the hem of the track pants and pull them up over
her hips.
Her motions awoke other pains in her body. Pains from the blows
he had rained over her body. Her whole face hurt, but one cheek
throbbed more than the other. Her nose felt stuffed, with blood
she knew, but she could tell it was not broken. Her chest hurt
too, he had landed a particularly good punch between her breasts,
as well as one on her right shoulder.
She managed to pull herself up into a sitting position, and as
she swung her legs around, the material of her track pants chafed
at the skin on her inner thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut,
feeling his hands as they scraped and pulled at her legs, trying
to pry them open.
She remembered the look in his eyes, his excitement pressing
against her lower body. Her fear of her lack of control, that she
was helpless to stop him. Her teeth started to chatter and her
whole body was shivering. Her breaths were coming faster and she
forced herself to draw air in through her mouth and exhale it
slowly. Delayed shock reaction.
He did not rape you, he did not rape you, he did not rape you.
She said it like a mantra, quietly in her mind, until she was
calm.
Rape.
As a law enforcement officer, she had encountered rapists and
their victims on many occasions, had had to interview both
parties, and had even had to autopsy victims who had not survived
their attacks. She had been angered and saddened by such
occurrences. She was aware of the statistics, that one out of
six women in the U.S. are rape victims. She remembered some of
the lectures she had attended on rape.
It was a crime of violence, not a crime of passion. It was
about the need to control and to have power over someone, to
dominate the victim. This domination was often achieved by
physical force, threats, duress or intimidation. One instructor
had compared it to someone breaking into your house and stealing
your valuables, except in the case of rape, it was the body and
the spirit that was violated.
As a woman, she had always had that fear of being raped somewhere
in the corner of her mind. Had been aware that it could happen
to anyone, to her, at any time. Her closest encounter in the
past had been with Donnie Pfaster not too long ago, although she
thought his interest had leaned more towards necrophilia than
sexual assault. Her nightmares that had resulted from his
attack had yet to fade, and she knew she would be adding new ones
from the attack by Elliot.
Although Elliot had not been successful, she still felt the
helplessness, the loss of control and the shame. She told
herself to stop thinking about it. She would only make herself
sick.
With effort, she managed to get herself on her feet, wobbling
slightly. She considered the distance to the door. Did she
really think he would forget to lock her in? She could not
remember much after she had curled up in a ball, could not recall
if she had heard the sound of the lock being engaged. Her feet
were still unbound, so she made her way over to the door. It
was awkward grasping the doorknob, but she did, wiggling it
back and forth.
It was locked.
She sighed; it had been a faint hope anyway. She had not thought
beyond getting out of the room. She had no idea where she was,
or where he was for that matter, and could only imagine trying
to find her way to someone who could help.
Scully shuffled slowly to the cot and lowered herself onto it,
groaning slightly as she lay down. She curled up on her side
again, trying to generate some warmth. She was not really tired,
but there was little else to do. She could try and overpower
him the next time he came in, seeing as he had not drugged her
recently, but she could be standing by the door for hours waiting
for him to come back. She also hoped he would not come back for
a while, she was a little afraid he would return to try again or
to beat her some more.
She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth a little, for comfort
and warmth. She imagined Mulder lying down beside her, curling
his big body around her, his arm around her waist, holding her
tight. Keeping her safe. They had comforted each other before,
with hugs and gentle touches, but she knew feeling him all
around her would be the best comfort of all. Sometimes just
knowing he was near had been enough for her to feel those
ways - safe, comforted, even...loved. She began to drift,
thinking about him, of his declaration in the warehouse when he
had thought she was dead.
Even in her fear and pain at his suffering for believing she was
dead, she had been thrilled to hear those words from him. Yet a
small part of her wondered if they had only been a product of his
grief, not a true representation of his feelings for her. She
hoped not, for she knew she loved him. She just hoped she would
have a chance to tell him.
Please, God, let me have the chance.
***
Conference Room
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Friday
9:30 pm
Skinner instructed Agent Taylor to get back to him as soon as he
and his partner learned anything. The agent nodded and they left
to go interview the owner of D.C. Duct Cleaning Services. One of
the techs had been running the information about the van, much as
Skinner imagined Mulder's three friends were, and had traced it to
a Michael Booth, who operated the business out of Georgetown.
Skinner had spoken to the man himself, to learn that Mr. Booth did
not have an employee named Elliot Andercott, nor did he recognize
the name. Mr. Booth had also told him he was in the process of
replacing the fleet vans with new vehicles, and that there was a
possibility one could be missing. Skinner had told Booth that
two agents would be coming to show him the composite sketch, and
to check on the status of his vehicles.
Skinner looked at his watch again. He was starting to grow
concerned. Mulder had been gone for quite some time. At first,
he had thought Mulder just needed to be by himself for a while.
He knew that the agent often liked to walk about undisturbed as
he thought about the case at hand, and was unwilling to
interrupt or interfere. Now he was wondering if something had
happened.
He pushed his chair away from the table and rose tiredly, feeling
the pull of muscles in his legs. It would probably due him some
good to walk around anyway. He glanced around the room, seeing
Allison sitting on the couch in the corner. She looked exhausted,
so he made his way over to her. "Allison, why don't you call it
a night? I don't think much else is happening." She nodded slowly
and he continued, "Agent Mulder and I appreciate everything you've
done."
She stood up, blinking her pretty brown eyes sleepily, and said
in her soft voice, "I'm just glad to be of help, Sir. Poor Agent
Scully, I hope you find her soon." She looked down at her feet
and almost whispered, "Take care of Agent Mulder for her, Sir."
Skinner watched her retreating back in surprise. Take care of him
for Scully? Obviously their connection, their closeness, had been
noticed by others beside himself. He smiled faintly and said in
his head, "I will."
He told one of the agents remaining that he was going to look for
Agent Mulder, and headed out of the room. He moved quickly through
the empty hallway and looked in the nearest men's room. It was
empty, thankfully, no Mulder lying collapsed on the floor, and he
then headed to the cafeteria. Perhaps Mulder had finally decided
to try and eat something. But it too was empty, and the attendant
on duty had not seen him at all, and she had been there the whole
evening.
Skinner frowned, hoping Mulder had not left the building,
determined to go to Leesburg and find Scully himself. He would
check Mulder's office in case he had gone down there for the
needed privacy, and if he was not there, he would try calling him
on his cellular phone. Beyond that, he did not know what else
he could do. Eschewing the elevator, he took the stairs,
reaching the basement in moments.
As he walked towards Mulder's office, he could see the light
shining from the room. Relief surged through his body and he
quickened his steps. The door was open and he entered without
knocking, to find Mulder lying curled on the floor by his desk.
He could see that Mulder's eyes were shut, and he fell to his
knees before the agent, calling his name urgently. He felt for
the pulse at Mulder's neck, sighing harshly when he felt the
reassuring beat against his fingers. The flesh at his neck
was cool though, and Skinner slid his hand up to feel Mulder's
forehead. It was cool too, and damp.
"Mulder," he said, not quietly, but not too loudly either.
He shook Mulder's shoulder, and again, rewarded by Mulder's eyes
opening partially, and his questioning groan. "Come on, Mulder,
up you go." Skinner eased both arms around Mulder and pulled
hhim up until his back was resting against the desk.
Mulder was becoming more alert, blinking his eyes rapidly and
stretching his legs out in front of him, although he still
looked unsteady. He looked around him, as if surprised to
find himself sitting on the floor.
Skinner leaned back on his haunches, ready to catch Mulder if
he toppled over and asked, "What happened Mulder?"
Mulder's face was blank for a second and then Skinner watched
as horror filled his eyes. His head ducked down and he
mumbled something very low.
Skinner could not make the words out and said, "Mulder, what
did you say?"
Mulder did not lift his head but his voice was a little louder
this time, with no infliction whatsoever, toneless.
"He raped her."
Jesus. Skinner knew immediately Mulder was talking about Scully.
His gut clenched, and he lurched to his feet to walk with jerky
steps around the room, trying to control himself before he
responded. The thought of Scully being defiled, being hurt that
way was too horrible for words. Several slow, deep breaths, and
he felt able to talk to Mulder. He turned around to see Mulder
still sitting on the hard floor, staring down at his lap. "When
did he call, Mulder?"
He thought Mulder had faded out again when he did not answer
right away, and was just about to repeat the question when
Mulder lifted his head to meet his gaze.
"A little while ago. Call wasn't long enough to trace," Mulder
said, his voice flat. Keeping the emotions contained.
Skinner still didn't know what to say. Mulder seemed to sense
this, and only shook his head. He tried to get to his feet,
and nearly fell back down. Skinner leaped forward and grabbed
Mulder by the upper arm, steadying him, only letting go when he
was sure Mulder would not fall. Skinner turned away and grabbed
the phone on Mulder's desk. He dialed an extension, and when
one of the agents in the conference room answered, said, "Agent
Mulder and I are leaving the building." He rattled off Mulder's
home phone number, and reminded the agent that they both had
their cellular phones as well. He hung up the phone and
turned back to Mulder. "Come on, Mulder. You need to get out
of here."
Mulder only nodded wearily and scooped up the cell phone from the
desk, tucking it in his inner pocket. He followed Skinner out of
the office, and they walked silently to the parking garage to
Skinner's Bureau-issued sedan. As an AD, he had one that was
permanently assigned to him. He watched as Mulder climbed slowly
into the car and did up his seat belt.
Skinner shot a glance at Mulder, sitting stiffly and silently,
staring out the passenger window. "Mulder, Elizabeth Andercott
is dead." He sensed more then saw Mulder's reaction, a little
jolt of the agent's body.
"That's why he took Scully," Mulder stated quietly. "During
the investigation of the murders she was tried and convicted of,
we learned that she and Elliot had an incestuous relationship."
Out of the corner of his eye, Skinner saw Mulder's fisted hand
pound slowly and rhythmically on his thigh. "He's getting back
at me for her death." He shifted slightly in his seat, still
looking out the window, fist still pounding, as if he were
unaware of the movement. "I think I found the clue he referred
to."
"The pictures on the bed?" Skinner asked.
"Yes. Elizabeth supposedly left a picture of the victim on
their bed. There bodies were usually found a day or two later."
"Supposedly?"
"I kept files on cases that had...bothered me, for lack of a
better word, during my stint in BSU. I had been reading it when
Elliot called. There had been inconsistencies in her statements,
and things that just didn't jibe. I always thought Elliot had
been involved, and now I think he may have been the real murderer."
Skinner's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the knuckles
showing white. "We're going to find her, Mulder," he said.
"We're getting closer."
"Not close enough," Mulder whispered.
***
Mulder's Apartment
Alexandria, VA
Saturday
6:00 am
Mulder moved from the bathroom to his bedroom like an automaton.
He had showered and shaved without thought, going through the
motions mechanically. His hands found boxers, socks, jeans and
sweater in their proper drawers and he pulled them on silently,
staring blankly forward.
When he walked into the other room, he blinked in surprise to
see Skinner, also dressed casually, poke his head out from the
kitchen. Mulder realized he remembered little beyond stumbling
into his bed after the AD had driven them to his apartment, and
that Skinner must have an overnight bag he kept in his car, much
like he and Scully did.
Scully.
His footsteps faltered as a remnant of one of his many dreams
sprang up before his eyes. A man, and although his features
were twisted and grotesque, he knew it was Elliot Andercott,
crouched over a battered and screaming Scully. Screaming his
name.
"...Mulder? You okay?" Skinner's voice faint through the haze
of his mind. He felt strong hands guiding him over to the couch,
and then pushing him onto the cold leather.
Mulder dragged his hands over his face, banishing the horrifying
picture and mumbled, "Fine. I'm fine." He managed to meet
Skinner's worried eyes. "Just a little tired," he said, and
cleared his throat to rid it of its hoarseness. It was true.
He was exhausted in fact. He had woken several times through
the night in a tangle of sweaty sheets, tormented by nightmares
of Scully being raped.
Skinner studied him skeptically for a moment and then turned
and headed back to the kitchen. "We'll have breakfast and
then go in," the AD called over his shoulder.
Mulder rose slowly and shuffled into the kitchen. He managed to
force down some scrambled eggs and toast and drink half a cup of
coffee, although his stomach protested a little at the amount of
food, having had so little in the last few days. As Skinner
efficiently dealt with the mess, Mulder went and found his boots.
He laced them up quickly and pulled on his jacket, Skinner
joining him and doing the same.
In moments they were in Skinner's car and headed to the Hoover
building. The drive was mostly silent, and Mulder kept his
gaze trained on the scenery outside the passenger window, his
eyes taking in very little. Skinner seemed to be of a similar
mood, he made no attempt at small talk.
After about 15 minutes, the AD finally spoke. "Agent Taylor
called late last night. The owner of D.C. Duct Cleaning,
Michael Booth, confirmed he does not employ, nor has he ever
employed an Elliot Andercott, and he did not recognize the
composite. However, one of his older fleet vehicles is missing,
and he supplied the license plate number to Agent Taylor. It
has been faxed to the ASAC in Leesburg, and they are still on
the lookout for the van." He paused for a second as he made
a lane change through the early morning traffic, and then
continued. "Mr. Booth also reported the theft of several
uniforms, white coveralls with the Duct Cleaning logo on one
breast pocket, that he thinks happened several weeks ago.
He didn't bother reporting the incident, thinking it was too
petty."
"Providing himself with a cover," Mulder said quietly. "People
don't get concerned when they see cable or utility vans around.
They tend to fade into the background." He caught Skinner's
agreeing nod out of the corner of his eye, and resumed his
silent study out the window.
After Skinner parked his car in the underground garage, they
headed inside and made their way to the conference room. As
they walked down the hallway, a female voice called out both
their names. They stopped and turned, to see Kimberley
striding quickly towards them, a shoebox-sized package in her
hands.
"This just came for you, Agent Mulder," she said, slightly out
of breath. She held out the package, its wrapping easily
recognizable as the same courier service as the one that had
delivered the photographs from Elliot Andercott.
Utter coldness ran through Mulder's body at the sight of it.
He knew instantly that it was from Elliot, and his mind was
assailed with images of what it could contain. They ran the
gauntlet from pictures of Scully's naked, bruised body, to one
of her fingers. He shuddered violently and had to force
himself to reach out and accept the package from Kimberley.
She gave him an odd look, obviously having noticed his shaking
fingers, and then told Skinner she would be in their office if
he needed her.
Mulder barely heard her words or her fading footsteps as she
left, and stood there for long seconds, staring uneasily at
the box in his hands. The same box lettering that spelled
out his name and the FBI address like the last delivery was
somewhat of a confirmation that it was indeed from Elliot.
Again he felt Skinner's firm grip on his arm, and he was led
inside the conference room, which was empty. He sank into
the first chair, placing the box on the table in front of
him. He took several deep breaths and then finally unsealed
the package.
Skinner suddenly said, "Gloves, there could be prints!" The
AD left the room and Mulder exhaled harshly. He hadn't even
been thinking of fingerprints, just his fear about what he
would find. Cold sweat had sprung out on his forehead, and
his earlier breakfast sat in his stomach like lead.
Skinner returned moments later, carrying a box of Latex
gloves. He handed a pair to Mulder, and put one on himself.
Mulder pulled them on and reached for the box. His heart
pounded with trepidation, and his mouth was as dry as cotton.
He lifted the lid of the box to reveal what looked like
packing paper. He tore it away with shaking fingers and
caught a glimpse of navy blue. He stood up to get a better
look inside, Skinner leaning in beside him to do the same.
He was puzzled at first. What the hell was it? Then something
clicked, and he felt like he had been hit in the solar plexus.
His breath whooshed out and he had to close his eyes for a
second.
It was a pair of woman's silk panties.
He was not intimately familiar with Scully's lingerie, but
just as he had known the package was from Elliot, he knew
these were Scully's panties.
Skinner made a questioning noise, and Mulder poked one
Latex-clad finger at the panties, moving them delicately
aside. There was nothing else inside the box. It didn't
make sense. There had to be more than just the panties.
It was obviously a message of some sort. He stood up
suddenly, the chair nearly tipping over with the swiftness
of the movement, and grabbed the box. "We need to get
this to the lab," he said, and headed out.
***
Unknown Location
Leesburg, VA
Saturday
8:00 am
The door slamming into the wall woke Scully, and she had to
stifle the startled shriek that came to her lips at the very
loud and sudden sound. Her eyes had popped open instantly to
see Elliot stomping towards her. Her heart started to pound with
dread, and she struggled to rise, her weakened body a hindrance.
She only made it up awkwardly on one elbow before he was at the
cot, reaching out to grab her upper arm with a cruel grip.
He yanked her up and off the cot, barely letting her get her
balance before he was dragging her out of the room and down the
hall. She had to step quickly, almost running to keep up with
him. He took her back to the shower room and shoved her inside.
She fell with the force of his push, but managed to twist so that
she took the impact on her side. With her hands bound in front
of her as they were, it was very likely landing on them would
cause some serious damage. As it was, the jolt to her body as
she hit the ground had her teeth snapping in her mouth, and made
her cry out with pain.
Elliot sneered from his position at the door. "Get up and do your
business, before I change my mind." He folded his arms across his
chest, making no move to help her up.
It was even harder to get up this time, her hip and shoulder
ached, but with effort she rolled to her knees, propping her upper
body up by her bound wrists. The pressure was intensely painful,
and with a loud grunt she heaved herself to her feet. She limped
over to toilet, blocked by a metal half-wall, and after wrestling
with her pants, was finally able to relieve her full bladder.
Getting the track pants back up was a little more difficult and
she wanted to cry with frustration. She bit her lip, unwilling to
give him the satisfaction, and with a burst of strength, finished
the job. She stepped clear of the semi-stall, to see Elliot
standing there with a smirk. It was so tempting to rush at him and
wipe it off his face, but she knew she would get no more than a few
feet before he moved. She also knew he had the greater advantage.
"Clean yourself up," was his next command, as he pointed with one
finger at the opposite wall.
Scully looked over to see a sink with a small mirror above it.
There were also some toiletries lying on the small ledge beneath
the mirror, along with a towel. She looked in the mirror and the
sight of her own face shocked her. One cheek had a dark bruise,
her lip was puffy and red, and there was dried, crusted blood
around her nose, with one thin streak across her other cheek, where
the blood had flown as she had lain on the floor.
She turned the water on and moistened one end of the towel, dabbing
gently to clean the blood off. She washed her face with the bar of
soap and then brushed her teeth, mindful of her split lip, which was
stinging. She shot a glance in Elliot's direction, but he did not
seem to be paying her much attention. She bent closer and with
difficulty, cupped her hands together under the water. She drank
several mouthfuls, the coolness easing her parched throat. She felt
it hit her empty stomach, and knew she should not overdo it. She
turned the water off and dried her face and hands off. She saw that
he had even provided a hairbrush, and she ran it through her tangled
hair a few times, wincing as she tugged at one knot at the back of
her head. Her head throbbed there, and she lifted her hand and
touched with careful fingers, finding a small bump.
She closed her eyes, assailed by a flashback, Elliot's angry face
as he crouched above her, his hand connecting with her cheek, his
fist inflicting blows all over her body. She remembered her head
slamming down on the hard, tiled floor a couple times, and blinked
her eyes rapidly to clear the vision.
"You're done here." His voice was in his ear at the same instant
his hand clamped around her upper arm. She jumped, she hadn't even
heard him coming. The hairbrush fell from her hands, clattering
loudly as it fell in the sink. He paid it no mind, and pulled on
her arm.
When they got back to her room, he propelled her towards the cot.
She stumbled into it, and looked up to see him looming over her,
a piece of rope in his hands. Before she could react, his knee was
in her stomach, pinning her to the mattress. He tied her ankles
together tightly and then lifted his knee away from her, even as his
hand was reaching inside his jacket pocket. He pulled out a syringe,
and held it up. "This way I'll know you can't get in any trouble."
He shoved her sleeve up and injected her, giving her a rough nudge
to push her more completely onto the cot. A moment later he was
gone, the lock clicking into place.
Already her aches and pains were fading as the drug took hold of
her system. She felt her eyes grow heavy, and could keep them open
no longer.
***
9:00 am
Elliot walked away from Dana's room; glad to know she was safely
secure with her bindings and her drugged sleep. He had forgotten
to take care of that earlier in the morning, being in such a hurry
to get out and set-up the arrangements for the delivery of Mulder's
package. He had not realized his error until he was on the way
back, and he had rushed to her room as soon as he gotten there,
angry with himself, and with her, for making him forget.
Fortunately she had still been sleeping, and he had a small measure
of revenge when he scared her awake. The look in her eyes, her
pitiful struggles to rise. They had almost been enough to tempt
him away from his plans for the morning. He had known however that
he could not. Not then, but maybe later.
He had rushed her into the shower room, to let her relieve herself
and get cleaned up. He had been tempted to leave her alone all day,
but the memories of Elizabeth left in her own waste had always
distressed him so, that he just couldn't do that to Dana, no matter
how much the thought of punishing her thrilled him, or how angry he
was. He had however, enjoyed watching her scramble to keep up with
him, and pushing her around. When she had fallen to the floor in
the shower room, crying out with pain, it was all he could do to
stifle his laugh of pleasure. And the almost uncontrollable urge
to hurt her more.
It was the thought of Mulder that had him stopping. When he hurt
her again, he wanted Mulder to know.
Thinking of Mulder, he remembered his early morning chore. He
looked at his watch, thinking that Mulder should have received the
panties by now. His steps lightened as he tried to imagine Mulder's
reaction. Would he know they were hers? Would he somehow sense
what had been done in them? Elliot hoped so. He wondered if he
should call now, or wait a little while. His fingers itched to
grab the phone, to dial the magic number that would connect him
to Mulder. But was it too soon?
As he debated, the incident that had happened while he was coming
back to the hospital flicked through his head. A dark sedan had
seemed to be following him through town, and he had been able to
make out two men in suits in the front seat. They immediately
made him think of undercover police officers, and he had to resist
the urge to speed up.
Instead he had pulled into a donut shop parking lot and sat for
the longest time. The sedan had not turned into the lot after
him, and when he finally left, he had not seen it again. To be
on the safe side, he had driven around for a while before heading
back, watching in his rear view mirror the whole way. Obviously
Dana's message about the van had been received, and Mulder had
figured out he was using it to get around. Elliot had hoped it
and his supposed cover would have lasted a little longer. More
blame to lay at Dana's feet. Bitch. He was tempted to go back
and punish her, but he needed to go out and ditch the van, as
well as find a replacement vehicle.
The van was parked at the back of the remaining wing, out of
sight of any prying eyes that might drive out this far in the
country. Although the hospital had been gone for over four
years, there had been nothing done about the land on which it
had sat, nor were there any real estate developments nearby.
Which made it a perfect location for hiding out.
Elliot climbed inside the van and drove carefully along the
ruins of the drive, avoiding the potholes he knew were there
from his many trips along it. He had planned to go back into
Leesburg, but if those really had been policemen before, it
might be wiser to go somewhere else to dump the van. Small
towns were too risky; he would have to go to a big city.
He chose Arlington, and headed off.
***
Conference Room
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Saturday
10:00 am
Skinner moved swiftly down the hall and through the fire exit
door to the stairs, heading for Mulder's office. He wanted to
check on the agent, who had gone to his own office after taking
the delivery package to the lab, and Skinner was a little
concerned, as he had not seen Mulder for quite some time.
He hoped that Elliot Andercott had not called again, to torment
Mulder further.
Mulder had been very agitated about the discovery of what the
package contained, and even more so after Skinner had asked him
why he thought the panties were Scully's.
Mulder had almost stammered, seeming very flustered, until he
had recovered, replying that the circumstances almost certainly
insured that they were indeed Scully's.
The agent had burst into the lab, startling the two technicians
on duty, demanding they run every possible test on the box and
its contents. One of the techs had looked hesitantly from Mulder
to him, and once he had ordered them to make it their top priority,
they had moved with haste.
Mulder had hovered, alternately pacing back and forth or looking
over their shoulders, until Skinner had firmly asked Mulder to
leave them to their work. Mulder had acquiesced reluctantly, and
then as they walked down the hallway towards the conference room,
sworn loudly.
Skinner had looked at him, startled by the sudden outburst, and
Mulder had tersely explained he had not finished reading the file
on Elizabeth Andercott, or his notes on her brother. The agent
had then rushed off to his office, and Skinner had continued on
to the conference room to check for any new developments.
Not long after he had arrived there, he had received a call
from the ASAC in Leesburg, informing him of a confirmed sighting
of the white van. The two agents in the surveillance car had not
been able to get too close to the van to identify the driver, but
they had seen a male with dark hair. They noted that the suspect
had seemed to be aware that they were following him, and had pulled
into a parking lot. The agents had broken off the tail, and due
to a radio mix-up, had been unable to arrange for another unit
to continue it. Skinner had royally chewed the ASAC's ass over
the phone, and after he had hung up, had looked up to see everyone
in the room was staring at him. He had growled for them to get
back to work, watching as they scurried to do so, and decided he
needed to get out of the room for a while. And to check on
Mulder.
Allison had been in one corner of the room watching him as well,
only she had been looking at him with sympathy, and something else.
Interest? He had let his admiring eyes sweep her figure, up her
long legs to her pretty, sun-streaked hair. He had felt a flash of
shame for allowing himself to be distracted by a woman, albeit a
very attractive woman, during the investigation into Scully's
kidnapping. There was time for that later, when Scully had been
found. He had nodded briefly at Allison, who had smiled at him
when he looked her over, and had left the room.
Skinner took the stairs two at a time and in moments was rapping
at Mulder's door. He did not wait for a reply, merely walked in,
to see Mulder bent over his desk, which was covered in papers.
Mulder looked up at the noise and jutted his chin at Skinner in
lieu of a greeting. Skinner's eyes glanced over the mess of
Mulder's desk, seeing the cell phone sitting within easy reach
of Mulder's hands. "Did he call?" he asked gruffly.
Mulder shook his head. "No, but I'm sure he will. He'll want to
hear my reaction to his...gift," Mulder replied bitterly.
"Everything he's done has been aimed at getting a reaction from
me." He slumped back in his chair, one hand going up to drag
across his mouth. "And I'm certainly giving him one," he said
with disgust. "I can't control..." his voice died off, and he
squeezed his eyes shut, face contorted in a grimace of pain.
Skinner knew Mulder was thinking of Scully in the clutches of an
obvious psychotic individual, his own thoughts had been continually
drifting that way. They were starting to go there again, and he
forced them out. He needed to do so, in order to function in his
capacity not only as AD, but as the agent in charge of the
investigation. It was harder to do so with his dreams. Those
the night before, as he slept uncomfortably on Mulder's couch, had
been filled of her being attacked, or of he and Mulder arriving too
late to rescue her. "Mulder, I know you've probably already told
yourself this, but you need to concentrate on the investigation,
try not to think about Scully. I know it's difficult, but you have
to."
He watched as Mulder schooled his features, straightening in his
chair, and then filled Mulder in on the latest information. "The
ASAC in Leesburg called a little while ago. Two of his agents had
a confirmed sighting of the van, and a possible sighting of
Andercott. They had to break off surveillance, and as a result of
a..." He paused, the muscle in his jaw ticking wildly. "...a
screw-up, the second team was not able to continue it."
Anger tightened Mulder's features and he whispered an expletive, and
then took a deep breath. "I think we need to go to Leesburg," Mulder
said. "I want to leave once we get the results back from the lab."
He shuffled through the papers on his desk, and then held the one he
wanted out to Skinner. "The psychiatric hospital Elizabeth
Andercott was transferred to from the State Hospital was on the
outskirts of Leesburg. It's closed now, but he has other
connections there."
Mulder sat back slightly in his chair, and his voice took on
a slight lecturing tone. "Martin and Sylvia Andercott, the parents
of twins Elliot and Elizabeth, were killed in a car accident when
the twins were only five. They were sent to live with Sylvia's
sister, Sandra Doyle in Leesburg. Sandra Doyle died five years ago,
and I had hoped to find that Elliot was living in the house she had
owned. No such luck. The house had been heavily mortgaged, and was
sold by the bank that held the mortgage. I called Frohike, and the
guys are looking into the DMV records to see if they can find an
address for Elliot."
Skinner frowned at the mention of Mulder's friends hacking into the
DMV, and then shook his head. If it helped find Scully, he could
overlook it. "Do you think it's wise moving there now, before we
have anything concrete? What if he sees you, or is tipped off
further by the increased FBI presence? It could push him into...
something hasty." He had been about to say 'killing Scully', but
had stopped the words just in time.
He could see by the look on Mulder's face that the agent knew what
his intended words had been, but Mulder only sighed wearily. "He
could string me along for as long as he wants. He's in control
right now, and I think we need to take the initiative." Mulder's
eyes were dark and tortured. "I would never do anything to put
Scully at greater risk." He looked down, staring at his hands,
which had curled into fists on his desk and then said, "I think
that he's building up to something, and that whatever that something
is, he's going to want me there. He won't kill her yet, not until
I'm there."
Skinner stared at him for long moments and then gave a brisk nod.
"I'll make the arrangements," he said, and left Mulder alone in his
office.
***
Mulder's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Saturday
1 pm
The phone rang in the silence, startling Mulder from his study of
the papers in front of him. At first he thought it was the phone,
but it was only his desk phone. He scooped the receiver up eagerly,
hoping it was the lab with the results on the package from Elliot.
"Mulder," he said briskly.
"Fox? It's Maggie Scully," he heard. Her voice was soft and a
little hesitant, quavering slightly.
Mulder closed his eyes and brought one hand up to pinch the bridge
of his nose. He had not called Mrs. Scully in several days, and he
knew she had to be frantic. He was surprised she had not tried to
call sooner, and then had a vague flash of memory - the red light
flashing on his answering machine, which he had not checked. He
wondered if she had tried to call him, and had not been able to
reach him. He felt like a heel.
"Hey, Mrs. Scully," he replied softly. "How are you?" Idiot, he
thought. How is she? What do you think? Worried as hell about her
daughter.
"I'm fine, thank-you for asking, Fox," she answered, ever the
genteel lady. "How are you doing, Fox?"
Mulder could read her tone. She was not asking to be polite.
She was genuinely concerned for him. He was not worthy of her
concern, but he knew he had it. Just as he would have Scully's,
immediately and without reservation. He revised his opinion;
not only was he not worthy, he did not deserve either of the
Scully women. He sighed and then replied, "I'm doing okay,
Mrs. Scully." He hesitated, and then blurted, "I'm sorry I
haven't called you."
"I understand, Fox, I know you're doing everything you can to
find Dana," she said. Her words wobbled a little, and he pictured
her clutching the phone tightly, fighting back tears. He heard
her clear her throat and when she spoke again, her voice was much
stronger. "Have you heard from her, Fox?"
What could he say? "Yes, Mrs. Scully, the other day. She's
doing okay," he said with a wince. LIAR! His mind screamed.
He could not tell her the truth, and hoped she could not hear the
lie in his voice.
If she could, she chose not to call him on it. "Thank-you, Fox,"
she said. "Are you sure..." Her voice trailed off, as if she was
having difficulty finding words, and then she spoke quickly, "Fox,
are you eating and sleeping properly?"
Mulder closed his eyes again at the rush of warmth and caring
that flooded him after her question. If he were with Mrs. Scully
right now, he would hug her as tightly as he could. His own mother
would not have shown this concern.
She spoke again before he could answer. "Fox, you have to take
care of yourself. You need to be strong for Dana."
"I know, Mrs. Scully. I'm trying," he said. The rest of his words
were in his head. If she dies, I will die. And he knew he would.
If not from avenging her death, then from sheer grief. He shook
his head to stop his dark thoughts. Scully will be fine. She
had to be.
It was as if she had heard his thoughts. "You'll both be fine,"
she said. "You'll find her." She said the words matter-of-factly,
affirming her belief in his abilities. "Fox, you know that if you
need to talk to someone, you can call me, or come by the house, any
time at all."
"Thanks, Mrs. Scully, I do know that. I appreciate it very much.
I'll call as soon as we hear anything, okay?" he said.
"Thank-you, Fox. Now take care of yourself, please, for Dana, and
for me."
"I will, Mrs. Scully."
He hung the phone up gently after her goodbye. As worried as he
was about Scully, the call from her mother had cheered him
immensely. He knew he should go see her when he got a chance.
Mulder looked at his watch, wondering if he should phone the lab
again. He really did not know how long the testing should take, but
hopefully Skinner's order had pushed them into moving as quickly as
they could. The phone rang again, and he scooped it up. "Mulder."
"Mulder, the lab called. They have the preliminary results."
Skinner's voice was clipped.
"I'll be right up," Mulder replied. He hung up the phone, scooped
up the cell phone and shoved it into his jeans pocket and strode
quickly from the room. He took the stairs two at a time, and ended
up jogging down the hall to the lab offices. The force he used to
push the door open was a little stronger then he had intended, and
it crashed loudly into the wall. Skinner was already there,
standing with the tech from earlier at one of the stations, and
they both looked up in surprise at the noise. Mulder grimaced and
shrugged his shoulders, muttering, "Sorry," as he made his way to
them.
The tech looked at him nervously, and Mulder frowned. He didn't
care if he scared the shit out of the man, as long as he got the
results. "What have you got?" he said brusquely.
"Um, as I was about to tell Assistant Director Skinner, these are
just preliminary results. We run them a few times to be sure,"
the tech's voice had started out low, but grew stronger as he
continued to speak. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously though, as
he shot glances from Mulder to Skinner, clearly overwhelmed by
both their presence. "There were no fingerprints on the box, and
as you may or may not know, fingerprints cannot be lifted from
fabrics." He cleared his throat a little. "The um, underpants
are one hundred percent silk, size medium, and made by Victoria's
Secret." He looked down for a minute, and swallowed noisily.
It was obvious to Mulder that the tech was aware of the
investigation into Scully's kidnapping, and that he thought the
panties were hers. "We, uh, found..." He paused and then took
aa deep breath. "There was semen all over the panties," he
blurted.
Mulder grit his teeth, rage stiffening his body, and just managed
to bite back the string of expletives that were on the tip of his
tongue. Even though it was what he had suspected in one corner of
his mind that they would find, it still angered him. His insides
felt like he had chewed glass. He could feel the blood pulsing in
the vein in his head, hard and furious, and wondered how it was
possible that it didn't explode from the pressure. Another thought
struck him suddenly, one that disturbed him greatly and caused his
guts to twist further. How had the semen gotten on the panties?
Had the man used them to clean himself off after he raped Scully,
or had he used them to further his own pleasure? Both thoughts
thoroughly disgusted him, and sent another wave of rage through
his body. The tech was studying the computer screen in front of
him, while Skinner stood silently, his own mouth twisted into a
grimace as well, the muscle in his jaw twitching again.
"Did you test...the semen for blood type?" Mulder asked. Amazing,
his voice sounded normal.
The tech jerked his head in a nod. "Yes, sir. The blood type is
AB negative."
The same as the blood found at the warehouse. Mulder hoped that
meant Scully had been able to hurt the bastard somehow. It was
also the same blood type as Elizabeth Andercott, which was
understandable, as they were twins. "What else?" he asked.
"We also found pubic hairs. Two types. DNA shows that one type
is um, consistent with Agent Scully's DNA. The other is definitely
male, although we had no records on file for the DNA type."
Confirmation that the panties were indeed Scully's, as he had
immediately known. Mulder clenched his fists to hold back the
urge to throttle someone, anyone, and nodded at the tech. He
managed to say, "Thank-you."
He turned and walked stiffly away, listening to Skinner
speaking to the tech, asking him to send the report to him as
soon as it was done. The AD also reminded the tech to enter
the box and its contents as evidence in the investigation for
when the suspect was brought to trial.
Mulder's grin was feral. Evidence didn't matter. There would be
no trial. He was going to kill the son-of-a-bitch when he
found him.
***
end Part 7 of 29
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/kim_djd
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