Outside its host, blood knows not time.

Blood is in no hurry--it has no agenda to fill, no goal to seek. It flows lowly, ponderously without a heart behind it. Blood pauses at its own whim to form thick, viscous pools of crimson which swell and undulate as though alive. Only when the pool grows too large to contain itself does the blood pour forth to resume its course. The light cascades across its surface as oil on water, the colors of the rainbow visible for a split second before the crimson recaptures control.

Outside its host, blood becomes not the carrier of life but the portent of death.

Tugging at the chains enclosing her wrists, Scully glanced across at the man lying motionless before her--once more, she closed her eyes and hoped Mulder was already dead.

 * * * * * * *

The night had begun like any other. The work day had wound down to its inevitable close, Scully stopping by Mulder's office to offer a quick goodnight before heading home. He had barely nodded at her, his ear pressed tightly to the phone as he had concentrated on the voice at the other end.

For a fleeting moment, she had considered staying, curious as to what had held his interest so completely. But she had promptly remembered it was Friday night--he had most likely been either arranging cheesesteaks with the boys or calling his credit card company to see if Marty could still come out and play. Either way, she had thought it best to leave quickly and quietly. She had gone home, eaten a quiet supper over an old movie, and generally enjoyed the relaxation of the all-too-rare quiet evening.

Then the phone had rung. She remembered glancing over at it, the thought it was someone other than Mulder never even entering her head. Who else calls me at midnight on a Friday, she had thought as she briefly closed her eyes. Or at midnight on *any* night, for that matter...

At the fourth ring, she had simply reached over and picked up the phone, her customary "Scully" exchanged for the more direct "What do you want, Mulder?"

"I'm on my way over, Scully. I'll be there in about 10 minutes--meet me downstairs," he had said in a rush.

"Wh-" was as far as she'd gotten before the click of him cutting her off had reached her ear, followed by the monotony of the dial tone. She had simply stared at the phone, anger rising to the surface as he once again simply commanded her to do something.

Looking back, she supposed she could have simply refused. She could have stayed in the apartment and told him what he could do with his midnight calls and his imperious commands.

But then he'd be here by himself, she thought as she opened her eyes. He would be dying all alone.

For Mulder was dying, she was sure. The pool of blood beneath his curled form was large, even as it crept slowly away from him, following the cracks in the floor. She could see where it soaked through his clothes and matted his hair as he lay on the concrete.

She couldn't tell if he was still breathing. Even as part of her automatically hoped he was, the rational part of her hoped his breath had stilled. Hoped he would not suffer any more pain at the hands of their abductor.

Scully still wasn't sure exactly how it had happened. Mulder had arrived just as she had stepped into the lobby, his arm waving her out even as he pulled the car up against the curb. She had picked her way through the gathering snow in her tennis shoes, cursing herself for not being able to find her hiking boots and cursing Mulder for... well, for needing to find her hiking boots in the first place.

She had forgiven him a little as he had explained his actions. She knew he had been in contact with a new informant over the past few weeks, although he hadn't told her any real details previously. This man, Mulder had told her, had claimed to be tangentially connected to their smoking friend's group. Not a full inside member, but someone they went through for information and materials.

"He says he knows where Samantha is," Mulder had said finally.

"What? Where... how... and you believe him?" she had managed to stutter at last.

"He has too much information that could only be known to an insider, too much that could only be learned from Samantha herself," he had said confidently.

"But what if it's a trap, Mulder? You know they've laid them for you before--what's to say this isn't another?" she had asked softly. As she had feared, her words had crushed his enthusiasm--she had seen the smile drain from his face, seen the same pain return to his eyes that always appeared when he spoke of his sister. The question had needed to be asked, but she had hated herself for doing it.

"I have to know, Scully," he had said after a long silence. "Either way, I have to find out. I have to take this chance." His voice had shook with both apprehension and determination.

So they had driven in silence, Mulder following a circuitous route until even Scully was lost--how he had kept his bearings, she hadn't known. Arriving at a deserted warehouse at nearly 2:00 am, they had parked the car and waited. At slightly past 3:00, the car had shaken suddenly, a violent rumbling coursing over the car as they had exchanged surprised glances.

And then there had been nothing. Scully had awoken at some later point, her body sliding over rough ground as she was dragged down a steep passageway of some sort. As she had struggled to get her bearings, to rise and fight back, a heavy boot had kicked her into unconsciousness with one swift motion. When she had finally regained her senses, the first thing she had seen was a large figure standing in front of her partner...

Methodically slicing across Mulder's bare chest, shoulder to hip, with slow strokes from a Bowie.

As she had cried out in fear and anger, desperately trying to twist free of her chains, the figure had paused. He had looked at her, his eyes seeming to stare right through her as though she were of no consequence. Turning back to Mulder, the man had thrust the knife deep into Mulder's abdomen--without expression, without hesitation.

He had simply left then, the sounds of his retreat obliterated by the screams of his victim...

And those of Scully.

* * * * * * *

So now she simply watched and waited. There was no sound, the rock walls and cement floor dimly lit by an unseen light source.

She was restricted by the chains binding her feet and wrists, but could turn her head enough to see the chamber was fairly large, perhaps 30' x 40'. She wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a small, glass-enclosed room behind her against the rear wall--what the hell would that be, she wondered.

The minutes crawled by, each future one passing her slowly to join those already in the past. They seemed to mock her as they went by, their taunting whispers filling her ears in the silence...

'you couldn't save him...'

'he's going to die...'

'you didn't protect him.'

She wasn't sure when she had decided she needed to be Mulder's protector. It certainly hadn't been when she first met him--he had seemed so self-assured, so in control of every situation that she had been slightly awed by him. His ability to leap from a disparate, seemingly unrelated set of facts to a cohesive case resolution had seemed almost as magic to her. She certainly hadn't viewed him then as anybody who needed her help.

But as the months had passed into years, she had realized that Mulder was somewhat lacking in personal survival instincts.

With *her* life in danger, he became a raging fire, doing exactly was necessary to save her, easily and without hesitation. But he very rarely protected himself. He often took foolish risks, alone and without any support in place, relentlessly pursuing his goal beyond the point of caution.

So she had stepped in. She had become the voice of vigilance, the one who protected Mulder while he ran about the world in search of the truth. Even when he took off without her, she still protected him, always finding a way to get him back to safe ground, a way to return him in one piece.

As she glanced at him now, curled in front of her, she feared that she might not find that way this time.

The sound of the chamber being opened broke into her thoughts, a set of footsteps clicking across the floor. The door was behind her, though, so she didn't see the owner of the footsteps until he stepped around her from the side and crossed over to Mulder.

It was the same man she had seen earlier. Perhaps slightly under six feet tall, his broad shoulders tapered to a small waist. The tight white T-shirt he wore did nothing to conceal the heavily-corded musculature of his arms and chest. But the man was not overweight or plodding--his feet barely seemed to touch the ground as he glided forward. No wasted movements, no excess motion--extreme self-control, Scully thought as she watched him.

It was like observing a powerful weapon, something dangerous and savage, but temporarily at rest.

The man knelt by Mulder, swinging a small pack off his shoulder and placing it on the ground near him. He rolled Mulder onto his back and Scully winced as she saw the Bowie still protruding from his stomach. The man removed the knife in one swift motion, his other hand staunching the new flow of blood even as he dropped the knife and reached for the pack. Almost faster than Scully could follow, the man cleaned and bandaged Mulder's wounds.

"Is he alive?" she asked, finally managing to bring her voice to her lips.

"Do you make a habit of bandaging dead men, Scully?" the man replied, never turning from his task. Scully started a little at the use of her name, but even more so at the man's voice. Each word was spoken crisply, a precise British accent flowing over the low and modulated tones. It was like listening to a university professor or a narrator for an educational program.

It certainly wasn't the voice of a torturer.

"What do you want, why are you doing this?" Scully asked, not bothering to waste her time protesting their situation and demanding justice. There was only one person in control inside this room, and she knew it sure as hell wasn't her.

The man ignored her, finally standing to place his equipment in the pack and set it near the wall. He reached down suddenly and lifted Mulder into a standing position with a single grip on the upper arm. Disregarding Scully's screams for him to take it easy, he slammed Mulder up against the far wall.

The man held Mulder in place with his hip as he fastened first one, then the other of Mulder's wrists into manacles set into the rock wall. Mulder's body slid downwards as the man released his hold, his knees sagging towards the ground but not quite reaching it--his stretched arms held his body upright in an almost puppet-like manner. Scully gave no small thanks for the fact Mulder was unconscious through it all.

The man crossed the chamber, lifting Scully from the floor as though she weighed no more than a child. Her feeble attempts at resistance might as well have been no attempts at all--the man held her in place easily. With a key or device she never saw, he removed the chains from her wrists and ankles. Before she even realized she was moving, he had shoved her through a doorway to the small glass enclosure--she would discover later that it was a clear plastic of some kind, completely unbreakable.

Scully stumbled to the floor, her hands grinding on the cement floor as she caught her weight on her palms. She stood immediately, twisting back and leaping towards the entrance. Her efforts were a moment too late, though--only cold solidity met her as she slammed into the door.

The man watched her for several moments. He stood easily, his hands clasped behind him in a quasi-military 'at rest' position.

Scully got the distinct impression she was being studied, her movements catalogued and recorded. At last, the man spoke.

Whatever shred of hope to which Scully had been clinging slowly drowned as his words reached her.

"You may call me Kovje," the man said. "In my past, I have been many things, seen and killed more men than you will ever met in your life. My purposes have never been my own--I have been, and remain forever, an instrument for hire. "From this point forward, I serve but a singular purpose: to cause you pain by causing him pain. And I shall not rest until either your mind has been shattered or your body has grown cold in death...

"The choice will be yours."

* * * * * * *

Shocked, Scully watched as the man left the chamber, seeming to simply disappear from the dimness. She heard the whisper of the door as it opened and closed, but she didn't actually see it.

Glancing around, she slowly began searching the small space into which she had been thrown. The three clear walls reached up perhaps ten feet, but were open at the top--there was no ceiling to the enclosure. The wall facing Mulder had a square hole in it, only a few inches in diameter. The back wall was the natural stone of the chamber, the plexiglass-like material somehow fused right into the rock face. The entire area was no more than 8 x 8.

As she ran her hands along the stone, Scully was surprised to feel a slight warmth beneath her fingers. The air temperature, though not uncomfortable, did have a noticeable chill to it, so she was curious how the rock was warmed. Perhaps a heating unit of some kind behind the wall, she though. At the far end of the enclosure, she found a small steel plate set flush into the rock. There were no markings of any kind on it--in fact, it was not distinguished or remarkable in any way. Just a blank piece of steel, nothing more. Curious, she reached out and laid her fingers on the metal.

Out of the very stone itself, a small slot popped open, pushing its way out from the wall near the middle of the enclosure. Scully tensed up, immediately scanning the chamber for any other signs of activity. She knew there was nothing she could do about such activity, but she nonetheless wanted to make sure she saw it before it saw her. When nothing else seemed to happen, she walked slowly over to the slot and peered inside.

A .357 Magnum centerfire handgun with a single round lay inside the slot.

She recoiled from the wall as though it had burned her. She surveyed the chamber quickly, but nothing had changed. Backing up slowly, keeping her eyes on the slot, she returned to the small steel plate and again laid her fingers on it. The slot immediately snapped shut, its outline disappearing completely into the stone surface--had she not seen it seconds earlier, she would have sworn the slot had never existed.

"So you've found your little toy, have you?" Kovje's voice rang out, though she could see no one besides Mulder. "They said you were quick and I see that you are indeed so. I must therefore assume they were correct on other things as well, then."

"Who is 'they'?" Scully asked. She had her share of enemies, she knew, but this seemed a little out of character. Traps and deceptions, sure--but outright torture? It didn't fit.

"It matters not. Even if you knew, it would change nothing," Kovje replied. Scully was startled to see Kovje standing just outside the left wall--she would have sworn the chamber was empty just seconds ago. She realized the murky interior and darkened stone walls were probably designed for just that purpose, to allow people to enter and exit unseen.

"What is it that you want from me?" Scully wondered, trying to keep her thoughts focused on the man in front of her instead of the gun behind her.

"My, my... so full of questions, aren't we?" Kovje said, turning to circle her cage slowly. For that's what it is, she realized--just as not all that glitters is gold, she knew not every cage had bars.

"Do you have the answers, or are you just the puppet?" she asked quietly, testing.

"I have the answers to many things, my girl," Kovje answered easily, almost brightly. Beginning her own informational catalog, Scully knew that this man was not going to be tricked easily or goaded into making a mistake. "The answers you seek? Yes, I have them. I'm not inclined to share them, though," he explained, turning on his heel to circle the other direction.

"Why not?" Scully asked, wanting to keep him talking if for no other reason than to keep him away from Mulder. If what Kovje had said earlier was indeed his plan, Scully needed to keep him talking and focused on her as much as possible.

As though reading her mind, Kovje stopped and looked at her. "Where are my manners?" he said, almost to himself as he turned and strode across the chamber to Mulder.

Reaching the far wall, he seemed to simply touch his belt, but the room suddenly became much brighter. Scully could clearly see Kovje now as he pulled out a small vial, uncapping it quickly. Pulling Mulder's head back, Kovje pried open Mulder's jaw and poured a liquid onto the back of Mulder's tongue. Before Kovje even made it halfway back across the small chamber, Mulder came fully awake. His first instinctive move to stand brought an agonized scream to his throat. The stab wound in his abdomen, combined with the other gashes across his chest, made it nearly impossible for him to contract the muscles necessary to rise.

"It's so much better to be all together, don't you think, my girl?" Kovje said, as though he had just invited another guest to a companionable dinner.

"Sc... Scully?" Mulder managed to say, trying to see past Kovje across the chamber.

"I'm here, Mulder," Scully called out. "Don't try to move, Mulder, you've been hurt pretty badly."

"Oh, he hasn't even begun to be hurt yet, trust in that," Kovje said. "He is in fine condition right now, compared to what he'll be in a few hours."

"What did you give him?" Scully demanded, not really caring but wanted to keep Kovje distracted. Mulder had been out cold, though, not just drowsy or disoriented--traditional smelling salts didn't work on a truly unconscious person.

"An extremely high-potency stimulant, in essence, combined with a few other elements. The chemical compound or derivation would mean nothing to you, though," Kovje said. "Be satisfied to know it strengthens his physical awareness, heightening his senses while at the same time depressing his body's ability to escape pain."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked warily.

"When presented with an intolerable pain input, either physical or mental, the human brain attempts to shut down, to escape the source of the discomfort," Kovje explained easily. Scully was again reminded of a teacher or mentor. "Physically, a person might pass out or retreat into a coma, something such as that. Mentally, the brain seeks to break away from the pain, perhaps partitioning to a separate personality or falling into outright insanity.

"But all of those actions require the brain to respond in certain electro-chemical fashion, virtually the same in every case. The mixture I gave him interferes with that process rather nicely," Kovje finished. He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, the words were spoken with almost child-like glee.

"I mean really, my dear--what fun is it to torture someone if they can't even feel it?"

 * * * * * * *

 And with that, it began.

Kovje first broke all of the fingers on Mulder's left hand, slowly, deliberately. From the agonized shrieks emanating from Mulder, Scully had no doubt that his pain receptors had been made hyper-sensitive. She screamed continuously at Kovje to stop, trying everything she could to break through her cage to reach him. But with not even a chair to smash against the walls, she accomplished nothing.

From another pack against the side wall, Kovje then pulled out a long, sleek device. It looked too polished to be a simple club weapon, Scully thought, but she couldn't see any distinguishing marks on it at all. As he flipped it end for end, though, she finally glimpsed a set of controls set into the device. After punching in a series of codes, Kovje turned and pressed the device to Mulder's chest.

A blue surge of electricity coursed over and through Mulder's body, its crackling intensity a backdrop for Mulder's renewed screams. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod--Scully could do nothing but watch as the horror unfolded before her.

With a calm viciousness almost beyond belief, Kovje performed one cruelty after another to Mulder. He beat him, he cut his hands, burned him, shocked him--all with the same composed manner. He would sometimes wait several minutes between one act and the next, seeming to enjoy giving Mulder the chance to re-catch his breath.

After perhaps an hour, Scully saw Kovje step back. As he began cleaning his tools, she realized he was actually going to stop--she scrambled to her feet to be ready for whatever might happen now. He returned his various instruments to the pack, again positioning it next to the wall. Before sealing it, though, he removed a smaller bundle, tossing it next to Mulder. Turning, Kovje came to her enclosure and unlocked the door.

"The pack contains a meager set of standard medical supplies. You can decide whether to patch him up or not," he said simply, stepping aside as she rushed into the chamber.

"What do you mean, whether to patch him up or not? Why wouldn't I treat him?" Scully asked angrily, kneeling by Mulder's twitching form to try and take stock of his injuries.

"If you leave him, he's just that much closer to death, to the final relief of his pain. Treat him, and you simply lengthen the amount of time he will feel agony," Kovje said, as if explaining something to a small child. "The decision is yours...

"But the pain is his."

 * * * * * * *

 As she heard Kovje's boot heels retreat from the chamber, Scully concentrated on Mulder. His left hand was a twisted, mangled mess--the fingers lying at unnatural angles, at least one bone protruding through the skin. His wrists were basically burned away, the arcing intensity of the electricity having seared away the skin. The beatings Kovje had given him had reopened most of the wounds on his chest--blood soaked through the bandages Kovje had originally placed there.

And the list just went on and on. She knew that Mulder should have been rendered unconscious several times over, but whatever stimulant Kovje had administered left Mulder awake even now.

Rummaging through the pack, she found several sets of bandages and gauze, plus what appeared to be a single dose of painkiller.

She quickly deduced that this pack was going to be the only one she'd ever see--again, Kovje was in control even as he outwardly provided her what she wanted. She would now have to decide how much to help Mulder and when, leaving some injuries untreated and reserving some supplies for... future treatments.

Quickly, she began unwrapping the bandages Kovje had originally used--the blood loss was Mulder's first enemy. The cloth had begun to dry to the wounds, and with no water to soak them off, she knew she was causing Mulder a lot of pain as she peeled them away.

"H... how... bad is it," Mulder whispered slowly. She was startled at his voice, raspy and haggard as she had never heard it before.

Theoretically, she could lie to him, try to give him a bit of hope and say it wasn't that bad. But it would serve no purpose, she knew--Mulder could feel the pain firsthand, and was much more aware than she was of how badly he was hurt.

"It's... it's not good," Scully said at last. She managed to remove the last of the bandages, turning to grab a couple of fresh pads to begin re-wrapping Mulder's torso. "You've lost a lot of blood and you've been... you've suffered injuries over a large percentage of your body."

"Yeah, I... feel that," Mulder said, raising his head up a bit to glance at her. Even through the pain, he couldn't stop trying to make a joke of his situation--he was Mulder after all, she thought. "Kovje only gave me a small amount of medical supplies--I'm going to have to ration what I use," Scully said, inspecting the worst of the burns on Mulder's arms and hands. Burns had a way of becoming infectious more quickly than cuts, she knew, but she didn't think she could spare bandages for them.

"Gotta make it last, huh," Mulder said, dropping his head back down to his chest.

"It has to last until I can find a way to get you out of here," Scully said firmly. She decided she would have to settle for simply stopping the bleeding on the rest of Mulder's wounds--she didn't want to use any more bandages than absolutely necessary. As gently as she could, she began applying pressure to each cut.

"Somehow, I don't think... we're going to get out of here unless... that's what Kovje wants," Mulder mumbled.

"I'll find a way, Mulder. There is always a way," Scully said, wishing the conviction in her voice were real. "Mulder, there's a gun up there, with a single bullet. It has to be  there for a reason. Perhaps I can use it to..."

"It's got to be a trick, Scully," Mulder said as he raised his head to look her in the eye. His voice regained strength as he spoke of her safety. "You go for the gun, a bomb goes off or something... or the bullet is a blank, just to crack your mental state. It can't be real, it-"

The sound of the main chamber door opening cut off the rest of Mulder's statement.

"Oh, but it is real, my good fellow. As real as you or I," Kovje said as he walked up to Scully. "Time's up, doctor."

"I still need to set the broken--"

Kovje backhanded Scully across the jaw, sending her wheeling to the floor. Chains rattled as Mulder instinctively tried to help her--only the heat of his anger kept him from feeling the intense wave of pain that washed over him.

"Don't you touch her," Mulder said, each word clear and laced with warning.

"I'll do whatever I please and don't you forget it," Kovje stated, his tone matching Mulder's menace for menace. Scully had scrambled to her feet by this time, and now stepped between the two of them.

"Mulder, it's OK, I'm fine," she said, holding a hand up towards each of them. She turned to look at Mulder, trying to use the contact to calm him down. She needed to break the moment, to make sure Kovje didn't attack again.

After a few seconds of mutual glaring, Kovje finally laughed, the sound completely out of place in the dim chamber. "Well, that's true for now, I suppose," he said, motioning for her to return to the cage. Realizing further argument could endanger Mulder, Scully walked across the chamber and entered the cage. Kovje again locked her inside, even though she still couldn't see an obvious lock mechanism.

Kovje turned to leave the chamber again, but turned at the last second, snapping his fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot. There are a few things you should know about that gun, my dear," he said, stepping into the center of the chamber so she and Mulder could easily hear him.

"The gun is real in every way--the bullet is every bit as capable of killing its target as your own weapons. But there are a few additional enhancements," Kovje explained. "It has been specially altered to release several electronic signals when the trigger is pulled. Upon firing, the exit from this room will be exposed and your enclosure will open. "However, at 120 seconds from initiation, a sequential detonation of explosives will also occur, destroying the entire length of the access tunnel. Running at top speed, unencumbered, you have a perhaps 30% chance of reaching the surface safely.

"If you were to take up that weapon and kill me, as I know you are considering at this very moment, you would accomplish nothing but condemn Mulder to an excruciating death by slow suffocation. You would not have sufficient time to assist Mulder to safety, even if he were only slightly injured--you could barely move him from this chamber before the explosions would occur.

"So the choice becomes yours, Scully," Kovje said, his arms spreading wide in an almost victorious gesture. "If you shoot me, you both meet a certain death. If you shoot Mulder, you walk from this room unhindered, but the weight of that action will kill you just as surely. Of course, you could shoot yourself and relieve yourself of this decision--but Mulder would then know the meaning of true pain, I promise you.

"So you hold his fate in your hands. Will you release him from his pain, end his suffering in one quick motion? Will you give him the quick death he deserves...

"Or will he die in agonizing pain, cursing your name with his last breath?"

 * * * * * * *

 The pattern repeated itself a few hours later. Kovje entered the room, gave Mulder a dose of the stimulant, and tortured him. This session lasted only the half the time, but was just as serious, if not more so. Kovje smashed through Mulder's right shin, dislocated a shoulder and, in a striking act of simple cruelty, poured salt across Mulder's chest.

Kovje did not release her right away this time, instead coming to stand outside the enclosure. He did nothing, said nothing, made no response whatsoever to her promises of revenge, her cries for mercy--he simply watched her. It was a torture all its own, she realized, to have the object of her hatred not three feet away but completely unreachable.

After at least two hours, he finally opened the door, calmly walking from the chamber as she raced to Mulder. She was grateful when she saw that Mulder had finally passed out, despite the stimulant. As carefully as she could, she set his shoulder and tried to clear away the loose salt. Looking down at Mulder's leg, Scully felt the bile rise in her throat at the sight. The tibia was broken cleanly in half, making it appear Mulder had a second knee joint halfway down his shin. Thankfully, the bone had not broken the skin, but it needed a splint or it soon would.

After a futile search for something to use as a splint, she resorted to cutting the soles off her shoes. The hard rubber was relatively flat and would provide at least some stability to the leg. Quickly, she set the bone as best she could, sickened as she bent the leg where it had no business bending. When she felt it was correctly aligned, she quickly placed and wrapped the makeshift splint.

Since Kovje didn't seem to be stopping her this time, Scully moved to Mulder's hand, setting the bones as best she could. She had nothing to use as splints for the fingers though, and wouldn't have had bandages enough to use them if she had. She had to settle for straightening each finger and then letting it bend down naturally.

Slowly, she worked her way over the rest of Mulder's body, searching out every wound, every bruise. She felt the tears rise to her eyes as she continued, scarcely able to believe that so much injury could have been inflicted in such a short time. She bandaged two cuts she deemed too serious to leave open, but otherwise could do little to help him.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she whispered, stopping at last as she reached his face. For some reason, Kovje had deliberately stayed away from Mulder's head--there were no cuts or bruises above the neck. She laid her hand across his cheek, brushing a finger gently across his eyes.

"I'm sorry I can't protect you."

 * * * * * * *

 The hours passed slowly. Scully didn't understand the break from Kovje's previous pattern, but she didn't question it. Every moment he wasn't in the room was one more moment he left Mulder alone. She sat quietly by his side, standing every so often to check him.

What the hell am I going to do, she asked herself over and over.

With each hour that crept by, Mulder was getting weaker and weaker, both from blood loss and lack of water and nourishment. Even though she was relatively unhurt, she could still feel the effects of no water in over... she realized she had no true idea how long they had been held here. Eight hours, twelve, sixteen?

It might have been a full day or even more, she knew, depending on how long she was originally unconscious.

Could I kill Mulder to save him? The thought sprang unbidden to her mind. At first, she pushed it firmly away, burying it beneath the hot fire of denial. No, she would find some way to save him--there are always options, she told herself. There is always a way.

But as time continued to crawl by, the force of her conviction began to fade. As she watched Mulder's body convulse periodically, as she listened to the rasp of his breath, she wondered if she had any right to make that decision for him. Do I have the right to preserve his agonized life simply to avoid my own pain, she asked herself--who am I to make that choice?

A soft moan broke into her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet immediately, reaching out to place a soft hand on Mulder's head.

"I'm right here, Mulder," she murmured to him. "I'm right here. Try not to move at all, Mulder. Don't flex any muscles or attempt to make any motions."

"Leg... hurts," he managed to say.

"Kovje smashed out your shin."
"Shoulder..."

"He dislocated your shoulder."

"Chest..."

"Salt."

Pause.

"Bastard..."

Scully almost chuckled at that one. "Yes, he is," she said quietly, running her hand lightly through Mulder's hair. She wanted to make sure he felt her presence, a gentle touch to war against the agony.

"Talk, Scully," Mulder said finally. He shifted his head under her hand, opening his eyes to look at her. Shackled the way he was, knees bent as he hung from the chains, Scully was at even eye level with him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just talk. Having something... to listen... feels better," he said, too exhausted to make complete sentences. But she understood nevertheless--give him something to concentrate on other than pain.

"Well, let's see. Kovje hasn't shown himself in several hours now, perhaps eight or more," she began. "I'm not sure why he's doing it differently this time, but it must-"

"No, Scully... talk," Mulder interrupted. When she didn't immediately reply, he continued. "Not about this... not about... tell me... you, something about you... something I don't... know." His head drooped back down onto his chest as he spoke, the effort to speak draining him.

"Like when my birthday is?" she asked. She smiled as she heard an exhaled chuckle.

"Low blow... I didn't forget... day..."

"You just forgot to get me something, yeah, I know," she finished for him. "Make it up to... later... I promise," he said, raising his head beneath her hand just slightly. She stroked her fingers through his hair, a tear tracking across her cheek as she prayed he would get the chance to do just that.

"OK, then. Um, something new about me," she said, trying to think of something that would fit the bill. "Might be rather hard, Mulder. You've learned pretty much everything about me over the last 6 years that's important to know."

"You like... Exorcist..."

"Yup."

"You liked Loch... monster as a kid."

"Yup."

"You... never played baseball..."

Silence.

"Scully..." Mulder asked, the teasing I-got-you tone becoming clear even through the rasp.

"Well, I may have lied the tiniest bit about that one. I grew up with brothers, Mulder--of course I was drafted into the occasional pick-up game here and there," she said.

"Why... did you say... hadn't?" Mulder said.

"Well, it wouldn't have been very much fun that night if I had walked up to the plate and started banging out homeruns right away, now would it?" she said, laughing as she remembered. God, what a gorgeous night that had been, she thought--every star in the sky had seemed to shine on that field.

"Admit it... you just wanted me... hold you."

"Oh, now, I wouldn't say that."

"But... you think it," he said. When she didn't contradict him, she heard another soft chuckle. "Knew... it."

"Anyway, moving on," she said, a teasing tone of her own clearly audible. "Why don't you tell me something you want to know, and we'll go from there? I'm not very good at just picking a subject out of the air."

"First person... kissed," Mulder said after a moment.

"Joshua McLeary," she answered without hesitation.

"Good... bad?" he inquired.

"Didn't really have much to base quality on then--he was my desk partner in kindergarten," she said, hearing Mulder laugh with her a bit. "It was Valentine's Day and we had just exchanged those silly little cards that all classes do. For some reason, we thought we should seal the exchange with a kiss, just like the grownups."

"Never pegged... you as conformer, Scully," he said.

"I was five, Mulder. Conforming is pretty much required when you're five, unless you want to spend every day in your room, grounded," she explained.

"So... who was first... real kiss?" Mulder asked, not to be denied the answer.

"First real kiss, hhmmm. I'd have to say René Valechaux, ninth grade," Scully answered after a moment.

"You kissed... girl?!" Mulder said, his teasing tone even more apparent now.

"*He*... was an exchange student from France," she said firmly, trying hard to keep the amusement out of her voice. "We 'went steady' for several weeks, which at that time, didn't amount to much more than just holding hands in the halls and sitting at lunch together."

"And kissing him," Mulder amended.

"And kissing him, yes, eventually," Scully said. "The first time we kissed, he had just given me the first gift he'd ever gotten me."

"What did... give you?" Mulder asked. "Something cool... keychain?"

Scully laughed outright at that one. "Oh no, he hadn't quite mastered 'cool' as well as some, Mulder," she said, ruffling his hair a bit as she spoke. "He was forced to stick to a more... traditional gift."

"Football video?" he murmured.

"He went with the necklace that first time," she said, still laughing. "I'd have to wait a few years to receive my first sports video. No, he gave me this very simple silver chain with a beautiful crystal rose on it. It was the first piece of jewelry a man had ever given me.
René gave it to me before the homecoming dance that fall. He said that when he saw it, the rose reminded him of me, bright and delicate. I was too young to realize it was probably just a line to get a kiss--"

"Which you gave him..." Mulder pointed out.

"Like I said, I was too young to know it. Or maybe it wasn't a line, I don't know," Scully said, her voice softening as she remembered. "He certainly seemed to be sincere, and was honestly surprised when I put my arms around him and gave him that kiss."

"Probably just... surprised it worked," Mulder said.

"I'm sure he filed it away for future reference accordingly. Anyway, that was my first kiss--standing in Locker Cube D, teetering on my tiptoes and scared to death Ahab would see us. He was chaperoning the dance that night, you see," Scully finished.

"Would pay money... to see... get caught," Mulder said, managing a weak smile.

"Well, we managed to keep it a secret from Ahab for as long as it lasted, which was only about a month or so. Which, of course, in high-school terms was practically marriage," Scully said, laughing. "No, we broke up several weeks later. I don't even remember the reason why, now that I think about it. We remained friends for the rest of his year at the school."

"Still have... the necklace?" Mulder asked.

As he spoke, he must have aggravated his throat a bit--he couldn't quell an involuntary cough, which then tensed his body and sent another wave of pain coursing through him. He barely had the strength to scream any more, managing only a low moan which was somehow even more terrifying to hear. Scully wished so badly should could reach out and hold him, wrap her arms around him and shut out the pain and fear. But she could do nothing more than just lay her hands on his head.

After a few moments, he seemed to get through it, his body slowly relaxing again. She remembered he had asked a question, and hastened to begin talking again--it had seemed to help him through the last several minutes.

"The necklace? Actually, I only have the chain left," Scully said, smoothing Mulder's hair beneath her hands. "The clasp came undone one day as I was out jogging. Even though I felt it start to slide away, I managed only to grab the chain. The crystal slipped off the end and smashed on the pavement. I remember standing there looking down at it, the sun shining through the shattered fragments. It was an odd thing--it was still pretty, even then, glittering and twinkling in the light."

She paused, remembering. Even though the rose had been the real 'purpose' behind the necklace, she had never been able to get rid of the simple chain. Every time she had sorted through her jewelry, she had always taken the chain out as if to toss it away. But whether because it was a reminder of that first kiss, or of her first love or something else, she had never been able to actually get rid of it. She had always replaced it in its little box and tucked it away safely.

With a start, Scully realized Mulder hadn't spoken since his coughing attack. "Mulder?" she asked, bending down slightly to look up at his face--his head had drooped back down to his chest and she could no longer see his eyes directly. When she got no response, she ran her finger under his jawline, feeling for a pulse up against his throat.

After a frightening few seconds, she was able to feel it, weakened and tired but there.

At least for now. She had felt that type of pulse many times in her life. The heart, exhausted, was simply beginning to shut down, the strength required to keep beating slowly diminishing.

Seeping away as crimson blood through open wounds.

Scully sank back to the floor, slowly giving into the fear she had been fighting for hours now. She was no longer able to contain the wracking sobs. She wept for Mulder, for his pain and his fear, and she wept for herself...

And for the choice she knew she had to make.

* * * * * * *

When Kovje returned a few hours later, he found Scully curled up in front of Mulder, having finally given in to exhaustion. Stepping around her carefully, he was careful not to wake her. At least not quite yet, he thought with a smile--there are much better ways to do that. Kovje brought forth another vial of the stimulant as he jerked Mulder's head back. He poured the liquid down, using his hands to clamp Mulder's jaw shut to ensure he swallowed immediately, even in unconsciousness.

As Mulder began to come awake, Kovje drew up his leg and kicked him square in the chest. The sound of cracking bone was soon buried beneath another sound--Mulder had found the strength to scream again.

Scully was awake and on her feet instantly, but as she whirled to face Kovje, he dropped her with an uppercut to the abdomen. As she went down, he grabbed her shoulder and dragged her across the chamber. She scrambled to regain her feet as soon as she could, but was no match against Kovje's fully-intact strength.

Soon, she was locked inside her cage again.

"I grow tired of the game thus far, my friends," Kovje announced. "You two are much stronger, both physically and mentally, than most I have encountered in my life. So we will begin anew, with a refreshing change of pace. I like to call it five-sixty, but you may, of course, come up with whatever name you feel appropriate--for really, what is terminology among friends?"

Kovje returned to Mulder, reaching into his boot to retrieve the Bowie he had used before. He paused a moment, seeming to glance over Mulder's body as if searching for something. Finally, he stepped forward and placed the knife against Mulder's right elbow...

And began skinning him.

Tiny strip after tiny strip, Kovje peeled the skin from Mulder's living body, elbow to shoulder each time. Mulder writhed underneath the blade, his wordless screams suddenly refocusing to become curses on Kovje's soul and promises of retribution.

Kovje, of course, paid no attention whatsoever. But unlike before, he stopped after only a few minutes. Noticing the change immediately, Scully wondered what it meant.

She became even more wary as Kovje came and unlocked her door.

"You have one minute, my dear," Kovje said, gesturing pleasantly for her to exit.

Five-sixty, she repeated to herself as she saw it. Five minutes on, sixty seconds off. Oh my god...

She ran to Mulder, reaching to scoop up the medical pack as she passed it. Mulder was breathing heavily, his muscles twitching from the stimulant's effect.

"I've only got sixty seconds, Mulder. That's what he meant," she said, working quickly to bandage the new wound. She had often seen skin peeled away and muscles exposed, but always during an autopsy--she had never seen living muscle, glistening in blood as it flexed and contracted. In a way, it was one of the most gruesome things she had ever seen.

"Surprised he... even giving me that," Mulder said, still unable to speak in anything more than fragments.

"Just one more way to make it 'interesting' for him, I'm sure" Scully said, checking the bandage to make sure it was secure.

"Yeah, I-"

"Time's up, darling."
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