Scully forced herself to get up. With the aid of the wall she stood, albeit awkwardly and with a distinct preference to a horizontal position. She groped forwards into the unknown with the guide of the brick wall until she reached a lamppost that provided her with a beacon in the swath of black murk she felt she was in. There was a phone.

****

They took her cell phone along with almost everything else. What coherent thought that was left with her cursed at the action. That would prevent easy contact to help. That would prolong her state of disarray. That would prevent Mulder from helping. Help! Mulder! But no-one could hear her.

****

Scully collapsed into the ground again with a defeated air. She had managed to act. His name had brought her around into some sort of purpose. But one that was impossible. Capitalism dictated that she could not reach help. Not without money.

Scully forced herself not to think of what happened. There was no point, she told herself. Concentrate on getting to Mulder. Use the brain patterns taking you back, there, to find him. You have to.

Scully reached out for the phone regardless. She had to have some luck. Someone could have left change or a card in the phone. Please?

It wasn't the phone that gave Scully hope. Ironically it was falling to the ground again. Seeing no hope of ever finding safety in Mulder Scully collapsed into a heap on the sidewalk again. Could she get up? Verging on yet more tears, but tears of utter helplessness, something caught Scully's eye. Something that was going to give her hope. A shiny disc on the ground that would fit into the coin slot of the payphone. Her ticket to an escape.

The phone rang in Mulder's apartment startling him out of his light sleep. He never slept fitfully and the shrill sound of the telephone was not going to help him achieve a good night's sleep. But who called at this time of night? It was only even him who called Scully... Scully!

He answered the phone to light breathing and a sound that resembled the first syllable of his name. Instinctively, he knew it was Scully.
"Where are you?" he asked frantically, nearing a state of panic at the strangeness of the call.
No response.
"Don't put the phone down, I'll find you Scully, just stay put."

Scully again fell to the ground and was now crying with tears streaming down her face but these were tears of relief. He was coming. She could try to return to normal. She could be safe. And with that Scully fell into a listless mud of unconsciousness.

****

Walking from the parking lot towards her apartment there was a strange noise behind Scully. She turned her head but the buzzing overhead light casting a luminous wave across the dark asphalt was all the disturbance on this late night.

Continuing her trip across to the entrance there was another sound. This time a lot closer. Turning her head just to be sure a sharp stabbing pain hit Scully on the left side of her head before she fell.

Coming to in a sea of semi-conscious, Scully heard her attackers conferring over her. She could not open her eyes or even move through shock but she knew very well what was happening. She sensed that she had been pushed into the alley near the edge of the parking lot. If only she'd reached her apartment...

- "Look-y here! We've got ourselves a real important bitch! I betcha she's fuckin' rich too! Cell phone, wallet with not a small amount o' pocket money and one fuckin' expensive coat by the looks!"
- "Get 'em off her and get started. Says here she's FBI. Gotta be quick in case she's got summit on her that'll alert people" - "Don't be stupid! She's still a chick ain't she? Chick are for usin', whether they're the fuckin' President's wife or not! Just for that'un you're goin' second, right?" - "Yeah well just hurry up!"

Scully made an effort to fight she even managed to regain control of her mouth to scream but a rag cloth was imposed in her mouth stopping any of that.

- "Fuckin' hell shut up of die! Got it bitch?"

She could hear her clothes been ripped for access and a sharp pain ripped up her body as the violator started his fun; her torture.

Her senses went numb. She could hear no longer as the sounds of malicious pleasure coming from her attacker were too much for her to bear: she blocked them out as best she could. The only senses she could not block out were the most basic: all she could do was smell and feel as more came over towards her. Maybe to help? No, to serve themselves to what the first attacker had wrongfully claimed as his own. He could have it as far as Scully was concerned. Just as long as he let her go – into eternity. She wanted to die, for how could she live with a dirty body? It would be a dirty existence.

The only thoughts she had left were for her escape. Mulder could help her. He could provide safety without the finality of death, or could he?
"To be or not to be, that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in mind to suffer
rather than to take arms..."
Was that Mulder? She thought she heard him calling for her? Was he there to help?

****

- "Scully wake up!"
He tried unsuccessfully to get her to recognise him and come to consciousness to tell him who he should pound in for getting her like this.
- "Please God, let her wake up"

Her eyes suddenly flew open and she saw his face. He had come to help! He was there! Scully reached up for Mulder and just held on for dear life. Crying with tears so hot that they burned his neck as they fell from her sad eyes.

Mulder just held onto Scully as if she would disappear then and there in his arms. He didn't say anything. Didn’t ask anything of her, of what had happened. They were both so glad that the other was alright that nothing else mattered.

END OF PART II